Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.
What is in a Name?
The streets of Kyoto ran with blood, dripping from the flashing blade of the Hitokiri Battousai.
In the terrible darkness and chaos of the Bakumatsu, a little boy had lost his way. Once named Shinta for his heart and then Kenshin for the tiny pinprick of a sun growing in his soul, tears from heaven soaked his skin and chilled his eyes.
He bore a cross, shackled tightly to his very being by the chains of the damned. Every pitted link was a heavy soul dragging him down to hell.
As the vicious nights and deceiving days tore at his mind, falling stars seared across the crimson sky to score his face. A bloodied tear evaporated as the city burned.
Blood streaked his world, giving the tiny, flickering fireflies dancing over to tomorrow a malevolent glow. Childish whimpers, laced with sorrow, were lost behind victorious cries as the little dragon drowned in tears.
Once named the Hitokiri Battousai for the swiftness of his blade and his tarnished ideals by those blinded to the lost little boy with the shattered heart and extinguished light, his tattered soul was guarded only by the lingering remnants of the scent of bitter sake and bloodied white plums.
By Saevus.