Yes, this is, even by my standards, a rather short little thing. But the idea just grabbed me without warning one day and shook me until I agreed to write it...ideas are scary...
Disclaimer: Don't own it, though if I did, I would fix all of Kenshin's emotional problems by buying him an ice-cream and telling him to bloody well cheer up...
---
You get in, you do it, and then you get out again. It's the simplest of instructions, and he's never one to shy away from a task, especially not one as important as this. This is to be the first kill, the first blow he'll strike for the beloved cause.
For the freedom of the people; he is half-blinded by compliments and their confidence in his abilities. He is The Natural, they say. All those older, wiser men smile at the thought of his task, how easy it should be, and it makes him smile too. His mind is young and naïve; he's just fifteen years old and already a master. They smile so widely, and he is blinded. He fails to understand what is truth and what is lies.
When the sword is placed into his hands, he feels beautiful and purposeful.
The time has come to see what he can do.
---
It was beautiful once. This thing that he holds now, folded steel and tough, tight leather, it made things wonderfully clear. He would save the people with this, and when the world was a better place it would be put to rest in a case above a fireside and he would rest. Bright and happy, because the things he did were right.
It had been a wonderful dream.
It had been a beautiful sword.
He puts it down now, missing the ledge by inches so instead it hits the floor with a bang and a clatter. His hands are shaking and his vision is bloody, and when he stares into the filthy mirror the face that stares back is miserable, distorted and no longer his own.
---
Hours later, when the police finally arrive, they find the body lying there, cold and limp and just about as dead as a man can be. The bedroom, they find, is otherwise untouched; fresh flowers in bloom in a vase by the window, bright and exotic prints daubing the gaudy, expensive walls.
And, just like all high-profile murders, for a long time afterwards the people who live nearby will gather and talk about it. About how it had all been so strange; the locked room that was perfect, immaculate, and the dead man in the middle who looked peaceful and unafraid.
Almost, they say, like no-one else had ever been there at all…
---
Definately an odd one. But am I the only one who wondered about how Kenshin must have felt when he killed for the first time? It's got to be the ultimate destroyer of innocence...
Oh, and reviews are nice, if you please.