Discalimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin. I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, nor
any characters afilated with the show. I wish I did though! Then someone
could teach me how to use a sword and it'd be cool and I'd whoop some bad
guy butt!!!!!
Authors Notes: Okay, this is a FOREWARNING for this story. It's not like my other ones, as it is told from Battousai's view (strange, huh?), but this is the thing. It's not like cold Battousai, this is a remorseful, tettering on the edge of insanity Battousai. I'm placing this not long before he went rurouni because he sounds a little like the rurouni in this story. This is really how I think he felt under the cold Battousai exterior. All reviews and opinions are welcome, as everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but try and be nice, okay, I'm sensitive!!!!
~Ever Haunted~
Look at me, and what do you see? Red hair, yellow eyes, short stature, two deadly swords at my side. And assassin. The Hitokiri Battousai, most feared in all of Japan, strongest of all swordsmen.
But do you really know the difference between you and me?
It's not my appearance, nor is it my occupation.
It's not my skills nor is it my morals.
It is simply how I see.
You can all see in color. The brilliant colors that make everything all the more beautiful and distinguish one thing from another.
I, on the other hand, only see things in 3 colors. Black, for the night when I leave to slaughter. White for those I kill. And red.
Not the red of cheeries or that of a new rose. Not the red in the sunrise nor the red in the sunset. Blood red. The red of the blood of all those I have slain.
The water I drink, it's thick like blood and red as blood. My food is red. The sky, the clouds, it's all red. The streets are rivers of blood and stones are souls of those who found their timeless end by my unforgiving blade. It is all a reminder of the sinful acts I have commited.
My skin is tainted with the blood of all those who were cursed to die by my hand. Even, after I wash them vigoruously, the blood is still there, and darker as each night passes. It turns my skin red all over. I fear it will never leave me.
I feel like a demon, a monster sent to destroy.
And it never stops.
Tonight, another will die and I will again see in red. The moon will be red as it cries tears of blood for those I kill as well as for me.
For I am killing myself inside as well.
Authors Notes: Short and strange and to the point. It's a dark fic, I know, but you can blame on reading the words 'red are the waters' while listening to Staind. Okay, do you want my full opinion on Battousai? I don't think he was truelly heartless, just lost and angry. I'm welcoming your opinions. this could be a good topic to discuss someday!!! Well, I'm out, I hope you didn't hate it with a passion! Review me please?
Luv,
Crystal Renee
Authors Notes: Okay, this is a FOREWARNING for this story. It's not like my other ones, as it is told from Battousai's view (strange, huh?), but this is the thing. It's not like cold Battousai, this is a remorseful, tettering on the edge of insanity Battousai. I'm placing this not long before he went rurouni because he sounds a little like the rurouni in this story. This is really how I think he felt under the cold Battousai exterior. All reviews and opinions are welcome, as everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but try and be nice, okay, I'm sensitive!!!!
~Ever Haunted~
Look at me, and what do you see? Red hair, yellow eyes, short stature, two deadly swords at my side. And assassin. The Hitokiri Battousai, most feared in all of Japan, strongest of all swordsmen.
But do you really know the difference between you and me?
It's not my appearance, nor is it my occupation.
It's not my skills nor is it my morals.
It is simply how I see.
You can all see in color. The brilliant colors that make everything all the more beautiful and distinguish one thing from another.
I, on the other hand, only see things in 3 colors. Black, for the night when I leave to slaughter. White for those I kill. And red.
Not the red of cheeries or that of a new rose. Not the red in the sunrise nor the red in the sunset. Blood red. The red of the blood of all those I have slain.
The water I drink, it's thick like blood and red as blood. My food is red. The sky, the clouds, it's all red. The streets are rivers of blood and stones are souls of those who found their timeless end by my unforgiving blade. It is all a reminder of the sinful acts I have commited.
My skin is tainted with the blood of all those who were cursed to die by my hand. Even, after I wash them vigoruously, the blood is still there, and darker as each night passes. It turns my skin red all over. I fear it will never leave me.
I feel like a demon, a monster sent to destroy.
And it never stops.
Tonight, another will die and I will again see in red. The moon will be red as it cries tears of blood for those I kill as well as for me.
For I am killing myself inside as well.
Authors Notes: Short and strange and to the point. It's a dark fic, I know, but you can blame on reading the words 'red are the waters' while listening to Staind. Okay, do you want my full opinion on Battousai? I don't think he was truelly heartless, just lost and angry. I'm welcoming your opinions. this could be a good topic to discuss someday!!! Well, I'm out, I hope you didn't hate it with a passion! Review me please?
Luv,
Crystal Renee