Hi. Disclaimers say I don't own Rurouni Kenshin or the characters involved. My writing format sucks ass so the sentences that are between the arrow marks are suppose to be italizied. This is amoung my first fics so be nice with the reviews
In Dreams
Jan 18, Kyoto
From the Journal of Matsumoto Satarou,
former Shinsengumi squadron 1
I can still hear the sounds ringing in my ears. The sounds of cutting flesh, screaming pain and sheer terror wont go away no matter how I try to evade the memories. They just come in so clear, so vibrant. They haunt my dreams, my thoughts, even my actions seem to be diverted into a distant memory or a fore playing nightmare. I cant think clearly, or sleep properly. My body is fatigued and sore. The injuries I sustained in the past are catching up with my lack of rest. Sometimes I think the wounds are reopening, bleeding. But then I am told that it is only my warrior's mind playing tricks on my battle torn body. It feels as if my memories, my self conscious guilt are all contributors to my slowly creeping insanity. And the guilt raging in my veins is a welcoming beacon for the angry avenging souls of all those I have killed. The smell of blood is going to swallow me alive and smother my soul.
I was told once when I was a child that memories are just events of an aceing mind. A mind that acekes from a lost past or forggon innocence. Is this a true statement? Where was It I left my innocence. What is my mind seeking? Why is playing these crule tricks on my weak eyes. Do I really deserve to suffer as I am suffereing. Is there someone out there that is suffering on my account as I do theirs. Ever body I have raveged, every life I have mercilessly cut down. Are they laughing at the irony in my pain and guilt. Maybe I should be laughing too. Everything I did was out the foolishness of a child's romantic mind. The thoughts of creating a new order, a new way of life. I murdered by the hundreds so that a few petulant, helpless weaklings would be able to continue teaming the lands in their happiness. Were they really suffering the way I imagined them too? Or was it just an excuse I had to travel into the world where I would be branded a murdered.
I have so many questions, so many wonderments. I'm not getting any younger, any better. I'm at the point of not being able to control the actions of my mind. I'm holding on my a mere thread. I'm not insane yet. And even though I know I cant change the inevitable, I still fear what I will feel when that day comes. But I am not insane yet. I am still me. I may be deteriorating, but I can still look up at the evening sky, still wonder what lies beyond the horizon. Where will all the joys of the world go when I leave this reality for insanity? Maybe I will know when I get there. For now I will just simply enjoy the distance of the stars, the glowing pearl that is the moon. whishing I was there, far away from this disgusting world.
From the journal of Matsumoto Satarou,
*********************************************
"Kamiya Dojo. I suppose this is it."
I said out loud to anyone who was willing to listen to me. The newspaper ad I clutched in my fist blew ever so slighty in the wind making a rustling sound. The sound made me nervous as did most sounds. I learned to ignore it. The dojo, though I really couldn't get much a look at it behind the large surrounding wall, look nice enough and well kept. And perhaps there would be friendly, respecticful people living with in the walls. People that would respect my privacy and just leave me to my own miserable being. Then again I didn't want to invade their privacy. I didn't want to invade them with my lingering dense, dark cloud. I was beginning to think I was being to rash on my self. I always did. I nervously flicked at the wrappings on the hilt of the sword that sat sunugly in the tieings of my hakama. What if these people were offended by the presence of a sword? I did carry a licenses for the sword. I could just show them the licenses.
"this is getting too ridiculous. Are you going to go in or not Satarou Matsumoto?"
I said out loud once again. This time my voice did catch the ears of another person other than my self. A smaller man with an older look about his face looked up at me. He was walking hastily and contently towards the entrance of the Dojo. His hair was long and held an oddly red hue. The colour of blood freshly porn. He too carried a real katana in broad day light. This man completely caught me off guard. He just stood there with a quizzical look on his scared face.
"I was- umm- well. Do you live here."
Those were the only words I could find. The man shifted from a frozen walking position into a standing one and faced me. His features were more visable. I looked him over to make sure he wasn't going to attack me with the sword he carried. Not that he really had any real reason to jump me. My only possessions were the piece of new print clipping crumpled up in my fist, my old sword on my hip and a napsack with extra clothing, writing utensils, a bowl, chopsticks, and my journal. There was no money with me at the time.
"I Live here, that I do. Are you here to talk to miss Kaoru?"
The man's voice was oddly high for a man. And brief notion that he sounded like a deep voiced woman sent an urge of laughter seering though my body. But that quickly failed.
"Ummm-there was an add In the press paper for a boarding room at this dojo. This is the Kamiya dojo, am I right?"
The man's face crept a smile and he beckoned me.
"you want to speak to my wife, Kaoru that you do. Please follow me, Satarou-sama is it?"
He continued his route into the dojo gate. After some hesitation I followed.
*
The red haired man had left me to my self on the long Dojo porch wile he fetched his wife from the drill hall at the far side of the Dojo. The place was beautiful. The happenings of the rest of Tokyo were totally forgotten in this unlikely serene place. I closed my eyes and leaned back against one of the pillars that stood embedded in the house ceiling. The thin spring air was so crisp and clear. I breathed deeply as the sound of crashing swords crept into my mind.
Some body get them! It's the Choushu Clan! It's Hitokiri Battousai! Run! Ahhh
In my dreams I stand against the running crowd. My sword brandished from it's sheath is ready to attack who ever dares pursue the hundreds that are running like wild boar behind me. I am backed up in my readiness to fight by few men. Those who stand with me are weak and obviously scared. I am but a young boy of 13, but I carry the body of a man and the soul of a true sword's man. I am ready to fight.
Matsumoto-sama! We can fight them, they are the best of the Insin shishi.
stand your guard you scum.
The men around me, I can feel their fear. The smell of blood fills the air and my nostrils flail as the few unfortunate fall. I slowly seek to distich my mind from the world as a man with a glowing cross shaped scar leaps in the air to attack me. I lift my blade and counter with all the strength I can muster.
"Satarou-sama?"
My dream was broken from the sound of a distant, out of place voice. The events of the swrod fight rushed past me and out of my mind. The voice addressing my name became clearer and more audible. A hand came to rest on my shoulder. Sometimes I act rather impulsively when something alters my senses. The hand startled my and I responded not in surprise, but with the drawing of my blade. Before I could comprehend what I was doing, even before I was fully conscious from my dream, I drew my blade with the swift, deadly accuracy I had been taught. I only came too when the sound of metal clashing metal rang through the air. My eyes opened. I held my sword above the head and throat of a young woman. The only thing standing between my blade and her pale, bare flesh was the blunt blade of another sword. The red haired man had drawn his sword at the last minute. I let go of the hilt and let the sword tumble down the the ground. Everything around me was tense. The woman was breathing deeply on the ground, the red haired man looked serious as he sceathed his own blade. My heart lept into my throat.
"I'm-sorry-you-it's just I was-your-…"
Why did this happen every time someone tried to wake me from my sleep. Even a day dream. I always exercised enough control never to slit a throat when I reacted like this. But why did my nevers jump every time someone touched me. I began to tremble. I looked more frightened of the events than the woman did. She stood and brushed off her drill uniform. Out of guilt I pulled my knees up into my chest and buried my face into my knees. The only thing could see was my own sword through a small crack between my arm and knee.
"I'm so Sorry. I react sometime. I'm all ways like this. Ready for someone to attack. I never would have…tried…."
And I found tears. My body shook with each hard to find breath.
" I know you wouldn't have. You were asleep, and I startled you. I'm the one who sould be sorry, that I should be. But you should try to be a little more careful. That time you came awfuly close. You have a fast blade and skill, that you do."
I looked up. The red haired man leaned down and picked up my sword. Normally I would have jumped anyone who dared to touch my sword, but this man handled it with such an agile manner, I just watched in aw as he turned it over in his gingerly skillful hands. There was something about this man that jarred another memory in my mind. It wasn't exactly a bad one, or one that came in clear. He just looked like someone I once knew, a friend. But there was also the naggin presence that I remembered this man as an enemy. I could see his deep blue eyes as they came down on my from above. His eyes reflecting in the moon light that bounced off the glowing blade of his deadly sword.
"Choushu Clan, you were one of Katusra Kogoro's assassins or something like that weren't you?"
The man placed the bland down next to my lap. He didn't answer my question. He just stood and left as though I has said something terrible wrong. So far I had not made a good impression of my slef on these seemly nice people. The lady, I assumed was Kaoru Kamiya sat on the edge of the proch next to me. I was now afraid to talk, thinking another ruse comment would escape my mouth.
"are you here to discuss the room we have for bording?"
She said. Her voice was clear and high. She had a kind ring behind her beauty that was enough to melt the dense barrier that I had set up incase I was rejected.
"it depends on the price. See, I'm kinda a Roshi now, nowhere to stay really. And your ad said, price negotiable."
"well the person living in the room before you was a free loaner, on of my own students.. We're just trying to fill up empty space now that he's gone."
I nodded. This sounded expensive for some reason. The thought of a free room in such as beautiful area was almost too good to be true. Things like this never happened to wandering Roshis like myself. This never really happened to anyone.
"umm, well I'd have to pay you."
"for get it. Theres too much money already to keep track of. You look like you could use a break."
"uhhuh."
And that's how I came to stay at the Kamiya Dojo
In Dreams
Jan 18, Kyoto
From the Journal of Matsumoto Satarou,
former Shinsengumi squadron 1
I can still hear the sounds ringing in my ears. The sounds of cutting flesh, screaming pain and sheer terror wont go away no matter how I try to evade the memories. They just come in so clear, so vibrant. They haunt my dreams, my thoughts, even my actions seem to be diverted into a distant memory or a fore playing nightmare. I cant think clearly, or sleep properly. My body is fatigued and sore. The injuries I sustained in the past are catching up with my lack of rest. Sometimes I think the wounds are reopening, bleeding. But then I am told that it is only my warrior's mind playing tricks on my battle torn body. It feels as if my memories, my self conscious guilt are all contributors to my slowly creeping insanity. And the guilt raging in my veins is a welcoming beacon for the angry avenging souls of all those I have killed. The smell of blood is going to swallow me alive and smother my soul.
I was told once when I was a child that memories are just events of an aceing mind. A mind that acekes from a lost past or forggon innocence. Is this a true statement? Where was It I left my innocence. What is my mind seeking? Why is playing these crule tricks on my weak eyes. Do I really deserve to suffer as I am suffereing. Is there someone out there that is suffering on my account as I do theirs. Ever body I have raveged, every life I have mercilessly cut down. Are they laughing at the irony in my pain and guilt. Maybe I should be laughing too. Everything I did was out the foolishness of a child's romantic mind. The thoughts of creating a new order, a new way of life. I murdered by the hundreds so that a few petulant, helpless weaklings would be able to continue teaming the lands in their happiness. Were they really suffering the way I imagined them too? Or was it just an excuse I had to travel into the world where I would be branded a murdered.
I have so many questions, so many wonderments. I'm not getting any younger, any better. I'm at the point of not being able to control the actions of my mind. I'm holding on my a mere thread. I'm not insane yet. And even though I know I cant change the inevitable, I still fear what I will feel when that day comes. But I am not insane yet. I am still me. I may be deteriorating, but I can still look up at the evening sky, still wonder what lies beyond the horizon. Where will all the joys of the world go when I leave this reality for insanity? Maybe I will know when I get there. For now I will just simply enjoy the distance of the stars, the glowing pearl that is the moon. whishing I was there, far away from this disgusting world.
From the journal of Matsumoto Satarou,
*********************************************
"Kamiya Dojo. I suppose this is it."
I said out loud to anyone who was willing to listen to me. The newspaper ad I clutched in my fist blew ever so slighty in the wind making a rustling sound. The sound made me nervous as did most sounds. I learned to ignore it. The dojo, though I really couldn't get much a look at it behind the large surrounding wall, look nice enough and well kept. And perhaps there would be friendly, respecticful people living with in the walls. People that would respect my privacy and just leave me to my own miserable being. Then again I didn't want to invade their privacy. I didn't want to invade them with my lingering dense, dark cloud. I was beginning to think I was being to rash on my self. I always did. I nervously flicked at the wrappings on the hilt of the sword that sat sunugly in the tieings of my hakama. What if these people were offended by the presence of a sword? I did carry a licenses for the sword. I could just show them the licenses.
"this is getting too ridiculous. Are you going to go in or not Satarou Matsumoto?"
I said out loud once again. This time my voice did catch the ears of another person other than my self. A smaller man with an older look about his face looked up at me. He was walking hastily and contently towards the entrance of the Dojo. His hair was long and held an oddly red hue. The colour of blood freshly porn. He too carried a real katana in broad day light. This man completely caught me off guard. He just stood there with a quizzical look on his scared face.
"I was- umm- well. Do you live here."
Those were the only words I could find. The man shifted from a frozen walking position into a standing one and faced me. His features were more visable. I looked him over to make sure he wasn't going to attack me with the sword he carried. Not that he really had any real reason to jump me. My only possessions were the piece of new print clipping crumpled up in my fist, my old sword on my hip and a napsack with extra clothing, writing utensils, a bowl, chopsticks, and my journal. There was no money with me at the time.
"I Live here, that I do. Are you here to talk to miss Kaoru?"
The man's voice was oddly high for a man. And brief notion that he sounded like a deep voiced woman sent an urge of laughter seering though my body. But that quickly failed.
"Ummm-there was an add In the press paper for a boarding room at this dojo. This is the Kamiya dojo, am I right?"
The man's face crept a smile and he beckoned me.
"you want to speak to my wife, Kaoru that you do. Please follow me, Satarou-sama is it?"
He continued his route into the dojo gate. After some hesitation I followed.
*
The red haired man had left me to my self on the long Dojo porch wile he fetched his wife from the drill hall at the far side of the Dojo. The place was beautiful. The happenings of the rest of Tokyo were totally forgotten in this unlikely serene place. I closed my eyes and leaned back against one of the pillars that stood embedded in the house ceiling. The thin spring air was so crisp and clear. I breathed deeply as the sound of crashing swords crept into my mind.
Some body get them! It's the Choushu Clan! It's Hitokiri Battousai! Run! Ahhh
In my dreams I stand against the running crowd. My sword brandished from it's sheath is ready to attack who ever dares pursue the hundreds that are running like wild boar behind me. I am backed up in my readiness to fight by few men. Those who stand with me are weak and obviously scared. I am but a young boy of 13, but I carry the body of a man and the soul of a true sword's man. I am ready to fight.
Matsumoto-sama! We can fight them, they are the best of the Insin shishi.
stand your guard you scum.
The men around me, I can feel their fear. The smell of blood fills the air and my nostrils flail as the few unfortunate fall. I slowly seek to distich my mind from the world as a man with a glowing cross shaped scar leaps in the air to attack me. I lift my blade and counter with all the strength I can muster.
"Satarou-sama?"
My dream was broken from the sound of a distant, out of place voice. The events of the swrod fight rushed past me and out of my mind. The voice addressing my name became clearer and more audible. A hand came to rest on my shoulder. Sometimes I act rather impulsively when something alters my senses. The hand startled my and I responded not in surprise, but with the drawing of my blade. Before I could comprehend what I was doing, even before I was fully conscious from my dream, I drew my blade with the swift, deadly accuracy I had been taught. I only came too when the sound of metal clashing metal rang through the air. My eyes opened. I held my sword above the head and throat of a young woman. The only thing standing between my blade and her pale, bare flesh was the blunt blade of another sword. The red haired man had drawn his sword at the last minute. I let go of the hilt and let the sword tumble down the the ground. Everything around me was tense. The woman was breathing deeply on the ground, the red haired man looked serious as he sceathed his own blade. My heart lept into my throat.
"I'm-sorry-you-it's just I was-your-…"
Why did this happen every time someone tried to wake me from my sleep. Even a day dream. I always exercised enough control never to slit a throat when I reacted like this. But why did my nevers jump every time someone touched me. I began to tremble. I looked more frightened of the events than the woman did. She stood and brushed off her drill uniform. Out of guilt I pulled my knees up into my chest and buried my face into my knees. The only thing could see was my own sword through a small crack between my arm and knee.
"I'm so Sorry. I react sometime. I'm all ways like this. Ready for someone to attack. I never would have…tried…."
And I found tears. My body shook with each hard to find breath.
" I know you wouldn't have. You were asleep, and I startled you. I'm the one who sould be sorry, that I should be. But you should try to be a little more careful. That time you came awfuly close. You have a fast blade and skill, that you do."
I looked up. The red haired man leaned down and picked up my sword. Normally I would have jumped anyone who dared to touch my sword, but this man handled it with such an agile manner, I just watched in aw as he turned it over in his gingerly skillful hands. There was something about this man that jarred another memory in my mind. It wasn't exactly a bad one, or one that came in clear. He just looked like someone I once knew, a friend. But there was also the naggin presence that I remembered this man as an enemy. I could see his deep blue eyes as they came down on my from above. His eyes reflecting in the moon light that bounced off the glowing blade of his deadly sword.
"Choushu Clan, you were one of Katusra Kogoro's assassins or something like that weren't you?"
The man placed the bland down next to my lap. He didn't answer my question. He just stood and left as though I has said something terrible wrong. So far I had not made a good impression of my slef on these seemly nice people. The lady, I assumed was Kaoru Kamiya sat on the edge of the proch next to me. I was now afraid to talk, thinking another ruse comment would escape my mouth.
"are you here to discuss the room we have for bording?"
She said. Her voice was clear and high. She had a kind ring behind her beauty that was enough to melt the dense barrier that I had set up incase I was rejected.
"it depends on the price. See, I'm kinda a Roshi now, nowhere to stay really. And your ad said, price negotiable."
"well the person living in the room before you was a free loaner, on of my own students.. We're just trying to fill up empty space now that he's gone."
I nodded. This sounded expensive for some reason. The thought of a free room in such as beautiful area was almost too good to be true. Things like this never happened to wandering Roshis like myself. This never really happened to anyone.
"umm, well I'd have to pay you."
"for get it. Theres too much money already to keep track of. You look like you could use a break."
"uhhuh."
And that's how I came to stay at the Kamiya Dojo