Edited: Just changed some minor things...I hope you like it

Blood splatters the night. Battousai swings the blade one final time and the last man goes down. Or so he thought.

Battousai rarely messes up. Almost never misses his mark. Tonight, however, he didn't see the man in the alley. The man too scared to move. A man who studied as a samurai and, in what he knew to be his final moments, couldn't help but ponder the sword style of the red-headed assassin.

Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu.

The legendary sword style that idolizes Shinsoku, god-like speed.

The sword style of the Battousai.

Lightning fast. Inescapable. Deadly. Nothing can stop it. None can stop Battousai. In a matter of seconds, his opponent is dead. The gleam of the blade's movement, the amber of his eyes, and a flash of red are the last thing they'll see.

Many call it the style of the demons, and maybe it is. Nothing should be able to move that fast. Nothing should be able to strike in nine places simultaneously. It truly must be the work of the devil himself.

How appropriate. The devil teaching a man considered to be a demon.

Blood spills in the streets as the demonic blade is sheathed by the demon-man.

He struck so fast the man didn't even see it coming. The blade was unsheathed and re-sheathed in the span of a breath.

In that breath, four men went down. He, himself, left in the shadows.

The man stops breathing as the assassin slowly turned. Blood froze and mind paralyzed, the man could only watch as Battousai turned to face him.

A pause that seems to last for a moment and an eternity surrounds the two men.

The red, the amber, and the silver joined to form one color as Battousai pulled out his blade to finish the job. If there was ever to be a name for those combined colors, the man thought, it would simply be death. As Battousai took his first step, the man wondered if there was possibly a word in another language to describe it.

When the distance between him and Battousai was cut in half, the samurai couldn't help but think that it was almost beautiful. Life and Death. Both in one sword, held by one man. The one man deciding between two options. Let live? Or die?

With the final step, Battousai swung the blade up before crashing it down, slicing the man's chest wide open. The man fell, his lifeblood squirting onto the navy gi of his murderer.

All was quiet, and in the last moment the man gave a weak chuckle.

"Beautiful," he breathed, blood bubbling in his mouth.

The light faded from his eyes, and the blood stopped pumping as Battousai gave a sigh and turned to walk away.

There was another black envelope waiting. He and his sword would be ready.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this! Please Review