Perfection

Ch 1

Yes, I know I already uploaded this, but there were a few things I found it necessary to change, so I edited and re uploaded this chapter.

Warning: this chapter is very dark and involves examples of child abuse.

I'm sorry, but this story does involve such abuse and therefore I must show examples of what happened in the main characters past. The rest of the story will take place in the present, this chapter will be the only one to contain such implicit evidence of abuse... it will get better.

Another note, this will be KxK, eventually.

Please enjoy... and review!


His entire life was based on pleasing others.

Everywhere his parents took him, they would pretend that everything was perfect, that they were a perfect family.

Because they had to be.

In order to maintain their reputation and public image, everything had to be done perfectly right.

He had to do everything right, just as they wanted.


It was nine o' clock and he was already tired. His jaw ached from all the smiling he had been doing, and his head pounded due to the constant talking taking place around him.

But there were two more hours to suffer through.

So he smiled, and nodded at the person he was currently charming, pretending to be listening while subtly lifting a hand to his mouth to cover a yawn (a case of him trying not to fall asleep on his feet) hoping no one would notice.

His companion didn't, but his parents did.

Suddenly a feminine hand was tightly gripping his arm, and a soft, warm voice spoke above him.

"I apologize, Mr. Anderson, but Izumi-san is asking to see Shinta."

The man smiled and nodded agreeably, "of course." He leaned forward, whispering, "it was a pleasure to speak with you m'boy."

Strong hands now rested on the boys shoulders. "I'm sure Shinta feels the same way," the voice was smooth and deep, but as it spoke the hands tightened painfully. "Say thank you, boy."

"Thank you, sir," Kenshin said, keeping his voice as steady as possible, hiding his fear.

The woman smiled warmly, said her goodbyes, and then steered him away through the crowd by a painful, iron grip on his arm.

When they were far enough from the other guests, she spun the boy around to face her and then pushed him against the wall.

"What do you think you're doing?" She hissed angrily, her blue eyes suddenly full of ice.


But, he could never be perfect.

Not in their eyes


His eyes grew wide, filled with fear, "I, I didn't mean to!"

The man with the smooth voice walked up behind them, and glared down at the boy.

"It doesn't matter if you meant to, you still did it."

Silence hovered between the three of them until the boy whispered softly, his head lowered in an attempt to hide from them, "I, I'm sorry."

The woman gripped both of the boy's arms tightly, and asked coldly, "do you have any idea how disrespectful that was?"

"We didn't raise you to act this way Kenshin, have you forgotten everything we've taught you?" The man stepped forward and knelt in front of the boy, his eyes narrowed angrily, "have you?"

"No, no, of course not."

The woman raised her hand to where the boy could see it and hissed, "Then act like it!"

Next thing Kenshin knew, his right cheek stung and reflexive tears ran down his cheeks.

"Stop crying!"

Now his other cheek stung as well, and the tears were coming faster.

"Pitiful, you're pitiful," the icy voice sneered, and a handkerchief hit the boys face."

Automatically, Kenshin reached down, picked up the handkerchief and wiped his face dry, his eyes never leaving their faces.

The man frowned, "stop acting like a baby." He snatched the handkerchief away from the small hand and, holding it as if it were a disgusting piece of trash, flung it away. "You're our son, start acting like it."


In public, they would act like a family, smiling warmly at each other and acting as if they cared deeply for each other. Behind the scenes, everything was different.

It was then, with no strangers, no cameras and no press, that his parents would scold him, yelling and hitting, sometimes even withholding food from him for an entire day.

That night, they would take his punishment to a completely new level


After the party, he was roughly pushed into the back seat of their car and told to stay out of sight.

His parents sat in the front, and waved charmingly to a few stray reporters before speeding out of the driveway at an incredibly fast pace.

It was then that the boy realized they were drunk.


Under the cover of complete darkness, he was once again forcefully pulled from the car to land with a jolt on the concrete sidewalk, the small covering of snow lending him little cushion.

"Get up."

He quickly obeyed and followed his parents into the house, led by a hand tightly gripping the collar of his shirt.

Once the door was open the boy was thrown inside, landing on his back on the cold, linoleum of the front entrance hall.


It was a night he would never forget, and one that would influence the rest of his life.


The sound of high heels clacking on the hard floor came to him duly as he lay on some cold substance, his entire body throbbing with the pain from his landing. His head hurt the most, but he didn't notice due to his vision swimming in and out of focus.

The clacking stopped, causing the boy to sigh quietly with relief. But the feeling was short-lived when he was suddenly hoisted in the air by a firm grip on his hair. He cried out in pain, but the person just stuffed a cloth inside his mouth, and lifted him until they were face to face.

"Worthless."

A cold voice spat the word at him and then began shaking the small body around in the air while spitting more accusatory words at him. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the hurtful words as well as the pain throbbing through his body, but before he could do so, he was on the ground again.

"Remember boy, you're just a tool,"

Now a heavy object was pressed down onto his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.

He looked up, barely breathing around the cloth, and saw his mothers face hovering above him, her eyes an ice blue color and her lips pressed together into a cold, thin smile.

"Nothing but a tool. A worthless, pitiful, inhuman, tool," the cold voice sneered, pressing harshly on his chest.

Gasping, the boy closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain while focusing his mind. He needed to get away. He couldn't take much more of this, he could barely breathe or move, but he needed to get away.

Fear overtook his mind, paralyzing him as thoughts came to him of what his parents would do next.

Suddenly he was in the air again, held there by a strong hand on his collar, with his feet dangled off the floor.

As if in a dream, the boy felt his jacket and shoes being removed, causing cold air to soothe the small amount of exposed skin, relieving little of the pain.

It also meant his parents had access to more of his body, and could now hurt him more, and make the pain worse.

"You didn't think we were done with you, did you boy?" A deep voice sneered in his ear, "did you think that we would let you go, with just this as punishment?"

The cold voice joined in as well, tightly gripping his hair, "you wouldn't learn if we did. And you still have many things to learn."

Now he was flying across the hall, tumbling over and over until he hit the wall with a crash.

Pain exploded in his head and spread to his entire body, the pain of the abuse becoming worse with every second increasing unbearably from hitting the wall. He slid down it like a doll, and then fell in a heap onto the floor below, leaning heavily against the thankfully solid surface as he fought to keep conscious.

Images faded in and out of his vision, and he felt and heard things as if he were outside his body.

His mother and father smiling amusedly down at his battered body, watching as his breathing slowed and eyes unfocused.

The feel of strong hands ripping his clothes away until he was sitting there, naked.

A cold smile as a knife was run against his skin, bursts of pain as small cuts formed and bled.

Empty words being whispered in his ear, not reassurances but instead harsh insults, telling him how worthless he was.

His face stinging from harsh hands, tears spilling down hot cheeks, unwanted but uncontrollable.

A rough hand grabbing his hair and pulling his head back, slamming it against the wall, causing another wave of pain to shudder through his body.

Something hot, burning hot, pressed against the bottom of his feet and palms of his hands, causing them to burn and shake with pain.

Involuntary gasps and whimpers, muffled by the cloth, came from his mouth in response to their actions.

Being lifted and pressed against the wall into a standing position, even though his body could not support itself.

Another body, clothed, pressing against him, keeping him in place against the wall.

A sudden searing pain, causing his entire body to shudder, and a low, wordless moan to leave his mouth as his body shook with pain and tears flowed down his face.

Finally the world around him went black, and the shadows reached for him as he sank into complete darkness.

The date was November 23rd, 1996.


I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and not too many of you were put off by it. I once again apologize, but it IS important to the story.

As you might have noticed, this story is about Kenshin.

This chapter takes place when he is about 9 years old.

I realize that I used both of his names in this chapter, but there is a reason for this. When he was younger, from when he was born to when he was nine years old, he was named and called Shinta. But his parents changed his name to Kenshin when he was nine. The public and people outside of his family calls him Shinta, while his family calls him Kenshin.

There isn't anything else I can think of to explain, but if you have questions please send them in a review, or a pm.

Thank you for reading... and please review!

ja ne,

mijichan