The Devil's Workshop
MysticShadowWanderer
Disclaimer: Er.. yeah...
Ok people, some of you know this already, but I'm going to explain again. Long story short, I yanked my own fics because my parents found them and were going to read them. But I'm back! So enjoy! I'm leaving the A/Ns as theare, because I think it captures my emotions at the time and explains some of the story, whatever.
A/N: Prepare to see Kenshin as you've most likely never seen him. Dark, bloodthirsty, semi-mortal (hey, I write what I know!), and on a mission to rain some doom. By the way, you'll hopefully note that he only has one part of his trademark scar. I decided that, for my purposes, Tomoe never existed in his life. It has to do with trust and love later on, and I couldn't properly work her into this. Nothing against her! Don't hate me Tomoe fans! She just didn't fit in with the plot I'm going to *try* to work.
*****
Chapter One: The Shadow of a Revolution
Darkness shrouded the city as the moon sank into oblivion, but the sun had yet to yield its brilliance to the sky. A distant figure standing on the horizon, where the sun would rise to burn away the frost, was discernable by few eyes, yet was there. The chill wind that whipped through the night air blew crimson silk into the visage of the lone man, temporarily extinguishing the burning fire of his terrifying amber eyes, his loose clothing waving gently and quietly about his svelte body.
Hitokiri Battousai. Once the greatest assassin of the Bakumatsu. A scowl crossed his face. What had happened to those days? When he was free to kill and feel the macabre exhilaration of spilling human blood with nothing but his bare hands and his swords. It had been so much simpler in those times, the law of the land was to slaughter or be slaughtered. Women had flocked to him, not knowing what he was, but loving his look and his reputation. They were always like that, thinking they could tame a beast that fed on blood and the trill of the hunt. He laughed, inaudibly and coldly, at the memory. Fools, all of them had been. But he had taken them. Never for more than a night, but he had taken them. Human pleasures were not to be missed out on, not for the Battousai. He had always gotten what he wished at his mere whim. Who would dare deny him with the choice between life and death staring them in the face?
And now he was here, staring at the sleeping city of Tokyo. He wasn't sure why he had come here, what it was that had led his feet down this path, but he liked the feel of the place. It had an overall wholesome feel, but there was enough darkness around the edges to wreck havoc and have his fun.
Sometimes he wondered for what he did this, why he continued traveling city to city, killing and partaking in the blood of those he deemed worthless or innocent enough to have. It was a useless existence, friendless, lonely, and broken. But he remembered that he had no other choice. Perhaps he was just waiting for another revolution, or any type of war that he could slip into. There really was no other place for him. Doomed to live until he died by the hand of another, which he refused to allow, or his own hand, which he sometimes considered, he wandered the world desultory.
The sun would rise soon. It was best to find some place of shelter when that happened; he was so very feared now. He decided that the time was not yet quite right to cause large-scale panic and chaos, although in the end that was his ultimate purpose. But where could he possibly go if he was feared by all?
"I will not spend a single more night sleeping in the cold open air," he said to himself resolutely. "There must be somewhere." But in his heart he knew that he was lying to himself; it was entirely to much to even hope that one single person did not know his name and his physical description. Sure, he could threaten them, but he was in no mood to start the reign of terror this very night. A long journey had taken its toll even on him. He sighed. "I hate this..."
Sinking to the ground gracefully, he closed his eyes and begin to meditate. A few moments later, he opened his eyes to display a rich violet hue. Silently, his hand trailed up to his left cheek. Could he hide the scar? It was so obvious, the single line that marred his otherwise perfect features. And his hair, it was out of place, as well.
"Perhaps I can find one mortal who believes I've been reformed and will take me in for a short time."
He glanced at the katana and wakizashi that hung at his side. Those would never do for a repentant samurai-turned-wanderer. Only a complete imbecile would be able to overlook the weapons he carried at his side, but he would never let them go. They meant more to him than anything had in some time, he had nothing else of value to him. With another soft sigh, he stood and turned to walk into the city, determined to find some place where there was a soul trusting enough to let him in.
***
He knocked upon the door of the first place he came to, but they took one look at him, politely excused themselves, and shut the door slowly; he listened intently and heard shuffling and things being used to barricade the door. A smirk drew across his face, amused in spite of himself. That smirk would quickly wear off as he scoured the city for somewhere suitable, choosing to try the places that looked most desperate. After the first home, he remembered to threaten a slow, painful death to any who might disclose the fact that he was in town.
It seemed useless after an hour. There was no place for a monster like him. Sometimes he wished he were human, or at least that he had never become a manslayer. Though he loved what he did, and was addicted to the sound of human screams and the smell and taste of blood, it often occurred to him that it might be worth it to give these things up for the convenience of being able to walk down the street in broad daylight.
'This is the last place I stop before I give up and return to the forest,' he told himself as he approached the gate of a dojo. He stopped to read the sign. 'Kamiya Kasshin. Unfamiliar.' He raised a fist to pound on the gate before remembering that he was supposedly reformed, and stopped himself. Settling for knocking, he waited somewhat patiently until a raven-haired, sleepy looking girl stood before him. She seemed to snap awake when she took in his appearance. No words let her mouth, and she simply stared at him.
'Polite, remember, be polite.' "I'm terribly sorry. It is very late, that it is," he said slowly. 'I sound like a yellow bastard.' He paused before continuing. "But I've had no luck in finding somewhere to stay, that I haven't, and I was wondering if you would not be terribly inconvenienced to house me for a few days, or even just tonight." 'That I haven't? What the hell...?'
The girl, he noted that she was very beautiful, maybe he would have her before he left, looked shocked, to say the very least. "I... uh..." she stammered, searching for words. "Aren't you?" Her eyes dropped to her hands which she was twisting in front of her, obviously completely anxious at the situation.
"Hitokiri Battousai?" he finished for her. "I was, but of late I have seen how much wrong there was in that path, that I have." 'Now I sound like an idiot.'
"Oh!" she exclaimed, it seemed involuntary. "Then I suppose... it would be alright. We have a spare room, and, well, actually, I don't have any students right now, due to circumstances, but, oh never mind. Please come in." She stepped aside to let him pass, and when she couldn't see him, his eyes flashed amber and his lips drew into a smirk once more.
She showed him down the hall where there was an empty room that she said he could stay in for as long as he liked. A slight smile lit her face brilliantly; it did her justice, he decided. He listened to her instructions on where to find a spare futon, and then bid her a courteous goodnight. As he unrolled the futon and laid down, he suddenly stopped.
'What am I doing?' he thought. 'A futon? Still, this girl seems harmless enough, and it most likely wouldn't hurt to spend one night in comfort. I'm due that much at least. As long as I'm on my guard.'
***
Battousai awoke the next morning after getting only a few hours of sleep. He required no more than that, and he always liked to be the first up, a habit he'd developed over the years. Reaching out with his senses, he decided that there was no one here but himself and the girl. This was good, he thought. Had there been anyone else, it would make it more difficult to conceal his presence and still maintain his feigned penitence. A low growl rumbled in his throat; he wasn't planning on keeping up that particular charade for very long, especially not if he had a chance to get at that girl.
He shook of the last vestiges of sleep and stood, drawing his messy hair back up into the top knot that it had been so used to for many years. Though he hadn't been shown about, he easily found the kitchen and set about finding himself something to eat. At a second thought, he pulled out more food items and began making breakfast for the both of them, determining that it would be helpful to his renewed innocence act. Was this girl gullible enough to believe him?
'Ah, here she comes now,' he told himself as he heard her muffled footsteps coming down the hall.
The shoji slid open to reveal the girl, he hadn't gotten her name the previous night, standing in her thin yukata with her hair spilling gracefully down her shoulders and back. Battousai sucked in a quick breath, she truly was a beauty. It took all of his willpower not to drag her back to his room at that very instant. She locked eyes with him, and looked very surprised to see him in her kitchen. A slender hand flew to her mouth as she remembered and a light blush stained her cheeks. She looked as if she were about to speak, but he cut her off smoothly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't get the chance to ask your name last night, that I didn't," he said, restraining from wincing at the ridiculous formality he was forcing upon himself.
"Kamiya," she said quietly. "Kamiya Kaoru."
He gave her a smile intended to melt her heart and entice her to know more. "That's a very lovely name, that it is."
Her blush darkened. "And you? Is there something you'd prefer to be called over Battousai, sir?"
"Himura Kenshin."
***
He sat with his arms in the laundry basin, wondering just how he'd gotten himself into this situation. Mentally, he slapped himself for offering to do the chore; he'd always hated laundry. It was beneath him to do such women's work; he threw the soapy clothes back into the basin with a splash and untied the sleeves of his black colored gi. The laundry could do itself for all he cared. Kaoru noticed this from where she was sweeping the porch.
"Kenshin? Is something wrong?" she questioned, worry momentarily clouding her azure eyes.
"Yes, Kaoru, there is," he replied. Up until this point he had addressed her with formality, this point didn't slip past her observation.
"Well? What is it?"
"This isn't who I am, and I refuse to do your worthless laundry."
Kaoru's eyes widened. 'This isn't who I am? How could I be so trusting? This man obviously isn't atoning for his sins; he never gave them up in the first place.'
Slowly, he stood and ambled lazily toward her, stalking her as if she were his prey. She seemed rooted in place, and didn't even flinch when he placed a sword-calloused hand under her chin and tilted her head so that his full-amber eyes could gaze down into her inquiring blue ones. 'She's stronger than she lets on, I'll have fun with this one.'
"You may call me Battousai," he purred. "Only you, my lovely. Consider yourself lucky."
Her tongue darted out to sweep across her suddenly dry lips, and he noticed immediately, raising his other hand to trace the contour of her lips with two fingers. The emphatic smirk that was so characteristic of him once more graced his countenance as he felt her trembling beneath his fingertips.
"How old are you?" he asked softly, his voice dark and full of longing.
"Seventeen," she replied in a voice that threatened to fail her, he could sense her weakening.
"Then you are not so much younger than me," he said with a lascivious grin.
She choked a bit. "H-How... old are you?" she questioned haltingly.
"Only twenty, darling, only twenty." These words didn't seem to reassure her, if anything, she grew more tense. But he could perceive the fire that ran through her veins, she felt the same thing he did. He would give her time, he liked this one. Removing his hands so swiftly that she, being caught off-guard, stumbled back until she made contact with the wall, he went once more into the yard, making for the river to do a bit of thinking before he came back for her.
"Finish your chores, lovely, I'll be back soon."
*****
A/N: I return! Well, technically, I was never actually gone, as I haven't finished Baptism of Blood yet, but oh well. This idea was in my head saying "If you don't write me, I'll spear you with a pointy stick labeled Mr. Roboto!" so of COURSE I wrote it. Anyhow, I'm supposedly reading Lord of the Flies (which I was supposed to have finished a week ago) so I have to finish the other half of the book. Review please, and let me know what you think, and where you'd like to see this go. I'm thinking I see lemony waters ahead...
MysticShadowWanderer
Disclaimer: Er.. yeah...
Ok people, some of you know this already, but I'm going to explain again. Long story short, I yanked my own fics because my parents found them and were going to read them. But I'm back! So enjoy! I'm leaving the A/Ns as theare, because I think it captures my emotions at the time and explains some of the story, whatever.
A/N: Prepare to see Kenshin as you've most likely never seen him. Dark, bloodthirsty, semi-mortal (hey, I write what I know!), and on a mission to rain some doom. By the way, you'll hopefully note that he only has one part of his trademark scar. I decided that, for my purposes, Tomoe never existed in his life. It has to do with trust and love later on, and I couldn't properly work her into this. Nothing against her! Don't hate me Tomoe fans! She just didn't fit in with the plot I'm going to *try* to work.
*****
Chapter One: The Shadow of a Revolution
Darkness shrouded the city as the moon sank into oblivion, but the sun had yet to yield its brilliance to the sky. A distant figure standing on the horizon, where the sun would rise to burn away the frost, was discernable by few eyes, yet was there. The chill wind that whipped through the night air blew crimson silk into the visage of the lone man, temporarily extinguishing the burning fire of his terrifying amber eyes, his loose clothing waving gently and quietly about his svelte body.
Hitokiri Battousai. Once the greatest assassin of the Bakumatsu. A scowl crossed his face. What had happened to those days? When he was free to kill and feel the macabre exhilaration of spilling human blood with nothing but his bare hands and his swords. It had been so much simpler in those times, the law of the land was to slaughter or be slaughtered. Women had flocked to him, not knowing what he was, but loving his look and his reputation. They were always like that, thinking they could tame a beast that fed on blood and the trill of the hunt. He laughed, inaudibly and coldly, at the memory. Fools, all of them had been. But he had taken them. Never for more than a night, but he had taken them. Human pleasures were not to be missed out on, not for the Battousai. He had always gotten what he wished at his mere whim. Who would dare deny him with the choice between life and death staring them in the face?
And now he was here, staring at the sleeping city of Tokyo. He wasn't sure why he had come here, what it was that had led his feet down this path, but he liked the feel of the place. It had an overall wholesome feel, but there was enough darkness around the edges to wreck havoc and have his fun.
Sometimes he wondered for what he did this, why he continued traveling city to city, killing and partaking in the blood of those he deemed worthless or innocent enough to have. It was a useless existence, friendless, lonely, and broken. But he remembered that he had no other choice. Perhaps he was just waiting for another revolution, or any type of war that he could slip into. There really was no other place for him. Doomed to live until he died by the hand of another, which he refused to allow, or his own hand, which he sometimes considered, he wandered the world desultory.
The sun would rise soon. It was best to find some place of shelter when that happened; he was so very feared now. He decided that the time was not yet quite right to cause large-scale panic and chaos, although in the end that was his ultimate purpose. But where could he possibly go if he was feared by all?
"I will not spend a single more night sleeping in the cold open air," he said to himself resolutely. "There must be somewhere." But in his heart he knew that he was lying to himself; it was entirely to much to even hope that one single person did not know his name and his physical description. Sure, he could threaten them, but he was in no mood to start the reign of terror this very night. A long journey had taken its toll even on him. He sighed. "I hate this..."
Sinking to the ground gracefully, he closed his eyes and begin to meditate. A few moments later, he opened his eyes to display a rich violet hue. Silently, his hand trailed up to his left cheek. Could he hide the scar? It was so obvious, the single line that marred his otherwise perfect features. And his hair, it was out of place, as well.
"Perhaps I can find one mortal who believes I've been reformed and will take me in for a short time."
He glanced at the katana and wakizashi that hung at his side. Those would never do for a repentant samurai-turned-wanderer. Only a complete imbecile would be able to overlook the weapons he carried at his side, but he would never let them go. They meant more to him than anything had in some time, he had nothing else of value to him. With another soft sigh, he stood and turned to walk into the city, determined to find some place where there was a soul trusting enough to let him in.
***
He knocked upon the door of the first place he came to, but they took one look at him, politely excused themselves, and shut the door slowly; he listened intently and heard shuffling and things being used to barricade the door. A smirk drew across his face, amused in spite of himself. That smirk would quickly wear off as he scoured the city for somewhere suitable, choosing to try the places that looked most desperate. After the first home, he remembered to threaten a slow, painful death to any who might disclose the fact that he was in town.
It seemed useless after an hour. There was no place for a monster like him. Sometimes he wished he were human, or at least that he had never become a manslayer. Though he loved what he did, and was addicted to the sound of human screams and the smell and taste of blood, it often occurred to him that it might be worth it to give these things up for the convenience of being able to walk down the street in broad daylight.
'This is the last place I stop before I give up and return to the forest,' he told himself as he approached the gate of a dojo. He stopped to read the sign. 'Kamiya Kasshin. Unfamiliar.' He raised a fist to pound on the gate before remembering that he was supposedly reformed, and stopped himself. Settling for knocking, he waited somewhat patiently until a raven-haired, sleepy looking girl stood before him. She seemed to snap awake when she took in his appearance. No words let her mouth, and she simply stared at him.
'Polite, remember, be polite.' "I'm terribly sorry. It is very late, that it is," he said slowly. 'I sound like a yellow bastard.' He paused before continuing. "But I've had no luck in finding somewhere to stay, that I haven't, and I was wondering if you would not be terribly inconvenienced to house me for a few days, or even just tonight." 'That I haven't? What the hell...?'
The girl, he noted that she was very beautiful, maybe he would have her before he left, looked shocked, to say the very least. "I... uh..." she stammered, searching for words. "Aren't you?" Her eyes dropped to her hands which she was twisting in front of her, obviously completely anxious at the situation.
"Hitokiri Battousai?" he finished for her. "I was, but of late I have seen how much wrong there was in that path, that I have." 'Now I sound like an idiot.'
"Oh!" she exclaimed, it seemed involuntary. "Then I suppose... it would be alright. We have a spare room, and, well, actually, I don't have any students right now, due to circumstances, but, oh never mind. Please come in." She stepped aside to let him pass, and when she couldn't see him, his eyes flashed amber and his lips drew into a smirk once more.
She showed him down the hall where there was an empty room that she said he could stay in for as long as he liked. A slight smile lit her face brilliantly; it did her justice, he decided. He listened to her instructions on where to find a spare futon, and then bid her a courteous goodnight. As he unrolled the futon and laid down, he suddenly stopped.
'What am I doing?' he thought. 'A futon? Still, this girl seems harmless enough, and it most likely wouldn't hurt to spend one night in comfort. I'm due that much at least. As long as I'm on my guard.'
***
Battousai awoke the next morning after getting only a few hours of sleep. He required no more than that, and he always liked to be the first up, a habit he'd developed over the years. Reaching out with his senses, he decided that there was no one here but himself and the girl. This was good, he thought. Had there been anyone else, it would make it more difficult to conceal his presence and still maintain his feigned penitence. A low growl rumbled in his throat; he wasn't planning on keeping up that particular charade for very long, especially not if he had a chance to get at that girl.
He shook of the last vestiges of sleep and stood, drawing his messy hair back up into the top knot that it had been so used to for many years. Though he hadn't been shown about, he easily found the kitchen and set about finding himself something to eat. At a second thought, he pulled out more food items and began making breakfast for the both of them, determining that it would be helpful to his renewed innocence act. Was this girl gullible enough to believe him?
'Ah, here she comes now,' he told himself as he heard her muffled footsteps coming down the hall.
The shoji slid open to reveal the girl, he hadn't gotten her name the previous night, standing in her thin yukata with her hair spilling gracefully down her shoulders and back. Battousai sucked in a quick breath, she truly was a beauty. It took all of his willpower not to drag her back to his room at that very instant. She locked eyes with him, and looked very surprised to see him in her kitchen. A slender hand flew to her mouth as she remembered and a light blush stained her cheeks. She looked as if she were about to speak, but he cut her off smoothly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't get the chance to ask your name last night, that I didn't," he said, restraining from wincing at the ridiculous formality he was forcing upon himself.
"Kamiya," she said quietly. "Kamiya Kaoru."
He gave her a smile intended to melt her heart and entice her to know more. "That's a very lovely name, that it is."
Her blush darkened. "And you? Is there something you'd prefer to be called over Battousai, sir?"
"Himura Kenshin."
***
He sat with his arms in the laundry basin, wondering just how he'd gotten himself into this situation. Mentally, he slapped himself for offering to do the chore; he'd always hated laundry. It was beneath him to do such women's work; he threw the soapy clothes back into the basin with a splash and untied the sleeves of his black colored gi. The laundry could do itself for all he cared. Kaoru noticed this from where she was sweeping the porch.
"Kenshin? Is something wrong?" she questioned, worry momentarily clouding her azure eyes.
"Yes, Kaoru, there is," he replied. Up until this point he had addressed her with formality, this point didn't slip past her observation.
"Well? What is it?"
"This isn't who I am, and I refuse to do your worthless laundry."
Kaoru's eyes widened. 'This isn't who I am? How could I be so trusting? This man obviously isn't atoning for his sins; he never gave them up in the first place.'
Slowly, he stood and ambled lazily toward her, stalking her as if she were his prey. She seemed rooted in place, and didn't even flinch when he placed a sword-calloused hand under her chin and tilted her head so that his full-amber eyes could gaze down into her inquiring blue ones. 'She's stronger than she lets on, I'll have fun with this one.'
"You may call me Battousai," he purred. "Only you, my lovely. Consider yourself lucky."
Her tongue darted out to sweep across her suddenly dry lips, and he noticed immediately, raising his other hand to trace the contour of her lips with two fingers. The emphatic smirk that was so characteristic of him once more graced his countenance as he felt her trembling beneath his fingertips.
"How old are you?" he asked softly, his voice dark and full of longing.
"Seventeen," she replied in a voice that threatened to fail her, he could sense her weakening.
"Then you are not so much younger than me," he said with a lascivious grin.
She choked a bit. "H-How... old are you?" she questioned haltingly.
"Only twenty, darling, only twenty." These words didn't seem to reassure her, if anything, she grew more tense. But he could perceive the fire that ran through her veins, she felt the same thing he did. He would give her time, he liked this one. Removing his hands so swiftly that she, being caught off-guard, stumbled back until she made contact with the wall, he went once more into the yard, making for the river to do a bit of thinking before he came back for her.
"Finish your chores, lovely, I'll be back soon."
*****
A/N: I return! Well, technically, I was never actually gone, as I haven't finished Baptism of Blood yet, but oh well. This idea was in my head saying "If you don't write me, I'll spear you with a pointy stick labeled Mr. Roboto!" so of COURSE I wrote it. Anyhow, I'm supposedly reading Lord of the Flies (which I was supposed to have finished a week ago) so I have to finish the other half of the book. Review please, and let me know what you think, and where you'd like to see this go. I'm thinking I see lemony waters ahead...