A/N: I do not own anything. If I did, I would be very rich, not very broke.
One hundred and forty years ago in Kyoto, with the coming of the American "Black Ships," there arose a warrior who, felling men with his bloodstained blade, gained the name Hitokiri, man slayer! His killer blade helped close the turbulent Bakumatsu era and slashed open the progressive age known as Meiji. Then he vanished, and with the flow of years, became legend.
In the 11th year of Meiji, in the middle of Tokyo, this tale begins…
"Hitokiri Battosai!!"
A traveler with bright orange hair and a cross-shaped scar on his cheep stopped and looked curiously over his shoulder. A young woman was standing several feet away, and began to walk toward him. The traveler turned to face her, wondering what she could want.
"I've found you," she said, continuing to approach him. "For two months you have murdered at will! Now it ends!"
The traveler blinked in bewilderment. "Oro?"
"Don't play the fool! Who else would defy the law and carry a sword in this night?!" The woman charged at him, swinging her wooden stick at him forcefully as she did so. She connected sharply with his stomach and sent him sprawling against a nearby fence. This seemed to take her by surprise and she stopped moving to study him, her face blank. "…this…is the Hitokiri Battosai?"
"Nope." The traveler grimaced as he rubbed his head and replied, "This one is but a rurouni, a swordsman traveling with no destination." He managed to turn his grimace into a smile of amusement. "After just arriving in town, how can a murder be my fault?"
"Mmm…" The woman was not sure that she believed him. Anyone could have made up a story like that. She wasn't going to give up that easily. She jabbed her finger toward the sword he had strapped to his side. "Th-then how do you explain that sword?! No one's allowed to carry a blade!"
Without speaking a word, the traveler reached down and pulled the sword part of the way out of the sheath, allowing the young woman to pull it out and examine it closely.
Her eyes widened as she stared at it. "It's a…sakabato? A sword with an upside down blade?" she muttered to herself.
"How many people could one kill with this?" the traveler asked, smiling again, patient and understanding, waiting for her to work it out.
"Not many," she admitted. She examined the sword closer. "And the blade shows no wear, no smear of blood…it hasn't been used once." She stepped back and looked at him closely, finally relenting. "Then you're really just…"
Still smiling, the traveler stood and nodded. "A rurouni, yes."
The young woman still wasn't quite satisfied however. Even if he was simply a traveler, like he said, there were more questions she wanted answered. "But why carry a blade you can't use?"
Just then, a sharp sound pierced the night, and both of them were completely distracted from their conversation.
"Police whistle!" the woman exclaimed. "I have to go!" She turned on her heel and began to run, tossing the sakabato carelessly behind her, almost as though she'd forgotten she was even holding it.
The traveler exclaimed, "Oro!" and reached out to try to catch the sakabato. After fumbling for his sword and managing to grasp it again, the traveler watched the woman run away. "It seems there's something interesting to check out here," he murmured to himself, all traces of the smile gone.
- - - - -
The sounds of a battle filled the alleyway. Swords clanged, men yelled. The air hung heavy with the smell of blood, which was spreading quickly on the ground. More was being spattered throughout the alley, along with a few body parts, as a giant swordsman cut down his opponents one by one.
"Weak!!" the swordsman yelled. "Weak, weak, weak! You are all too weak!"
"So strong," one of his opponents gasped. He had watched several of his allies – some of the best swordsmen around – be cut down by this man, and he had no doubt that he would be next. "He must be the legendary Battosai!" Something flew by his left shoulder just then, distracting him from the battle.
A young woman landed on the ground in front of him, between himself and the large swordsman. She glared at the swordsman and exclaimed, "This is it, Battosai!"
I knew it, the policeman thought, at the same time wondering what on earth this woman was doing.
The swordsman – Battosai – fixed his gaze on the woman and swung his sword. The woman jumped out of the way, but not soon enough. She had a cut on her upper arm, just below her shoulder. She didn't have time to examine it any closer than that. Battosai was swinging at her again. She escaped being hit this time, but now she was against a wall.
Eyes wide, she pressed herself back, wishing she could make herself smaller, trying to think of a means of escape.
With a sinister grin, Battosai swung his sword again ready to finish her off.
Before the woman even realized it, the traveler she had met moments ago had appeared and scooped her into his arms, dodging the swinging sword just in time.
"You're quite the risk-taker," he told her, glancing over his shoulder at the swordsman.
"Feh." The swordsman seemed to decide that neither they nor the remaining policemen were worth his time anymore. "I am Himura Battosai!" he shouted, turning to run away. "Master of Kamiya Kasshin-Ryu! People call me Hitokiri Battosai!" He had almost reached the end of the alley by now.
"Stop!" the young woman screamed after him, beginning to follow.
The traveler grabbed at her and managed to get a fistful of her long black hair. "You stop."
Her head jerked backwards and she slid to a stop. Without pausing to think, she whirled around with her stick, hitting the traveler hard for the second time that night – this time on the head.
"Running while wounded can be deadly," he explained, trying to blink the stars out of his eyes. "Now that he's told us his sword-fighting style we don't have to be so—"
"Kamiya Kasshin-Rye is my style!" the woman yelled at him, barely refraining from calling him stupid. "He murders in our name!" She spun around to take off after the swordsman again. "I'm going to—"
The traveler grabbed her hair again, hoping she wouldn't hit him on the head for a second time. "Remember. No running." Another thought struck him – there were still policemen around. Without pausing to think, he scooped the woman up again and began to run away. "You won't catch him anyway. Let's leave before the police decide to question us."
- - - - -
Some time later, the traveler and young woman were in a warm, brightly lit room. She had directed him to the Kamiya Kasshin-Ryu Kenjutsu Dojo. An old man was there, ready to see to the woman's wound. In the meantime, the traveler wandered around, examining the room.
"Kimiya Kasshin-Ryu," he read aloud from a plaque on the wall. "Kamiya Kaoru – Instructor." His eyes widened and he blinked. That was the young woman he had met just this evening. "Oro?"
"We were a small dojo, but we had ten good students working hard together." Kaoru spoke softly while the old man cleaned and bandaged the cut on her arm. "Then, two months ago, that murderer appeared…and now it's like this. One by one, the students left, fearing the name 'Battosai.' The townspeople don't dare come near." Her voice remained low, her eyes downcast. "Even now, in the Meiji era, the name 'Hitokiri Battosai' strikes fear." She sighed. "Why he uses the name Kamiya Kasshin-Ryu, and if he really is Battosai, I have no idea. But we have to stop his killing spree as soon as we can."
The traveler listened to her speech, understanding beginning to dawn. When Kaoru stopped speaking, he turned around to face her, nodded, and said, "But you really should stop this patrolling at night."
"What?" Kaoru's mouth was agape and she was glaring at the traveler in disbelief.
"He's far stronger than you, Kaoru-Dono." The traveler watched Kaoru grit her teeth and prepare an angry retort, but he interrupted before she could say anything. "A swordsman must be honest about his foe's skill and his own. You should know what will happen next time you face him." The traveler spoke seriously, but gently. "Is the prestige of your school really worth your life?"
Kaoru stared at the man. He didn't understand. She struggled to find the words to explain to him. "Kamiya Kasshin-Ryu was developed by my father, who survived the Bakumatsu revolution. He rejected the ethics of the Satsukin-Ken – swords that give death. For ten long years, he struggled to create a style based on Katsujin-Ken – swords that give life. Six months ago, he was drafted for the seinan war and left this world."
The Rurouni was listening hard, staring at Kaoru and taking in every word she said.
"This Hitokiri Battosai," every time Kaoru said his name, disgust laced her voice, "has murdered ten people in our name. Kamiya Kasshin-Ryu – my father's ideal, his last gift, has been defiled!" Her voice rose in tone and she looked over at the Rurouni defiantly. "But such shame cannot be understood by a mere rurouni."
Both stared at the other with no change of expression and no words spoken for several seconds. Finally, the Rurouni smiled and Kaoru's eyes gave away her surprise at this sudden change of expression. "But that arm still says no night patrol for a while," he told her, pointing. He turned toward the door. "You should get some rest now. If you really believe in Katsujin-Ken you have a duty to keep yourself alive. And anyway," the Rurouni paused to look over his shoulder while pulling open the creaky door, "no doubt your late father wouldn't wish to trade his daughter's life to protect his sword-style." He slipped outside with a murmured, "Excuse me," and the door clicked shut behind him.
Kaoru was left speechless. By the time she would have been able to think of something to say, he was long gone.
"We're done," said the old man, breaking into her thoughts.
"Thank you, Kihei," Kaoru replied. She had almost forgotten he was there.
"Kaoru-San…you shouldn't let your guard down with someone like that," Kihei told her in his soft voice. He sounded very concerned and Kaoru was grateful he cared. "A rurouni is one with no destination. Don't be too kind."
"I know," Kaoru sighed. She was staring off into space as she readjusted her sleeve to cover her arm. She sighed again, her thoughts a long way off. "I know…"
A/N: In case you haven't figured out by now, this is basically the manga in novel form. My sister said she'd be more likely to read it that way and so I thought maybe other people felt the same way. It's a lot harder to write it like that than I thought it would be, but fun, too. Let me know what you think, positive or negative - but please be polite. :-) And stay tuned for more!