Disclaimer: RK isn't mine

AN: It's intended to be ironic but well... Whatever. I was inspired by the way Saitou and Kenshin fought in the doujo, and also Santa Claus' naughty/nice children list. Well, I can't help it. It's the sason after all :P I feel like I'm betraying my own fic, but when I was writing, I couldn't help but thought, "geez what kind of kid is Kenshin? Why does he need a lot of tactics just to spin a top?" lol. I hope you enjoyed it. Don't forget to review! :D

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Childhood Game

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The red head boy watched the older enemy intently. He didn't know what this guy was waiting for. Was he looking for a sign of his weakness, or was he trying to read him? He must be thinking of something. Maybe condescendingly, as usual. People tend to take him lightly in the battle because of his youth and his frail appearance. It was true that he was not yet of age, but what was age compared to perseverance and ability?

But then again, this time he was pretty sure that it wasn't the case. If he knew better, the way that guy's body tensed and the way he clutched his pale blue haori signified otherwise.

His brain started turning like wheels on machinery. A Shinsengumi, alone. He was separated from his comrades, because Shinsengumi usually patrolled in groups. He was supposed to be from either Harada, or Okita's group. Okita, the genius swordsman he always heard about in the nightmares of his comrades. He looked at the guy again.

The way he prepared his stance, he was probably came from the same school as Okita. It was a pretty neat stance; he didn't leave any reckless openings. The running pace, the movement and placement of his ankles showed that the guy was aiming for his right side. But which one? Near the knee, or the stomach?

The boy stood quietly, counting the pace. He musn't move too early or too late. Too early, this guy might be warned and he would raise his guard up. Too late, he would be a feast for this guy's blade.

A little more... A little more... Yes, that angle. It had to be the right angle, just like when he was playing with marbles. To shoot the marbles, he had to aim his fingers in the right angle. To outdone this guy, he had to wait until he was in the right angle. It was the same.

CLANG!

Their swords met. The boy jumped back. He inhaled, admitting quietly that his calculations had some errors in it. He thought that the swing would be harder, but it was a soft swing. He retaliated too hard. Not good. Everything had to be precise. Maybe he was a little wrong about this guy. He was old, but he wasn't reckless or conceited like most old warriors. That first strike was a mere test for the younger samurai. The guy charged another attack without hesitation, and another recoil.

The blade, he thought, was like a temari ball. Bouncing, harder and harder. Higher and higher.

Ichi.

Ni.

San.

Another bounce from the clash of the blades, this time it was getting harder. The boy's eyes flickered. Humans were so easy to guess. They moved in pattern.

Ni.

San.

Yon.

This time, the guy aimed faster than he expected. The boy jumped back and then swung another attack to the guy's torso. It bounced again, not smoothly slipped under his guts. He was wearing a chain vest.

San.

Yon.

Go.

His heart beat faster, as if he was excited. He found it. He found the trick to this small game. The guy aimed for his upper body, but the boy was faster. He dodged the attack and then pierced his shoulder. The older guy fell on the floor, but then crawled back and stood up. The wound wasn't deep, again, the chain vest saved him. The pierce slipped from what the boy was aiming.

He took a glance at the guy. He was panting, he had lost a lot of blood. He must have felt dizzy by now, and his vision was blurring. If he lost more blood, he would slowly turn cold right from his wounded shoulder, to the rest of the body, and then he would be finished. The boy sighed. He only needed a one finishing blow. But, what kind? A thrust? A swing? Or should he just slice the older guy's neck open? Or, maybe he could try something more challenging, like trying to cut the torso beneath the hard armour off. It was possible, he calculated. Very hard, but possible.

Just like a spinning top, all he needed was one quick and strong movement to get it going.

The guy charged with a loud scream, it might be so that his patrol group noticed that he was there, or it might be because he tried to draw all of his remaining strength. The boy, however, standing in silence. His eyes pierced coldly towards the charging figure, as if he was analysing even the slightest movement of his muscle, his brain was full of calculations, and his body slowly formed a battoujutsu stance.

Like releasing the rope of a spinning top, he thought. One quick, powerful slash whould be able to go through the chain armour easily and created a big cut on his body.

For the first time in the battle, he charged back, running towards the dying man. He took out his sword from the sheath, and created one quick slash. He could feel everything. When the blade touched the haori and wrecked the kimono. When the metal chains cramped up and finally crushed against each other. When the skin and the flesh got torn off. He could feel everything.

There was a rush in the boy's blood. He just did something impressive; it was a gamble, and if he didn't succeed, he could've ended up with a huge slit on his chest, considering how close that guy's blade to him before.

The pale blue haori was drenched with red. The guy sprawled on the floor with his guts out, blood spluttered everywhere. His eyes were opened, as if he was desperately trying to live even until his last moments. When he was looking at the body, the boy realized something. That gamble, that rush in the blood, the fact that he didn't even kill the guy faster even though he could...

He had fun. He wanted more.

it was like a game. Like marbles, or temari balls, or spinning tops. The difference was, he never once broke any of his toys before.

Cold creeping up his spine. He had never felt like this before. When he realized what he was thinking, it frightened him, even more than the first time he had killed a human being.

He dropped his sword weakly as his surrounding suddenly turned red. There was a whisper in his ears.

It was fun, wasn't it? Let's do it again!