Ok this is my first shot at a Rurouni Kenshin story so it isn't that great, I'm sorry. I'm still experimenting with different writing styles and I'm trying to steer away from my 'formula' as someone put it. So I got this idea,I justhope it will a better success than my other fanfics.
Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or anything for that matter...except for a chewed up straightjacket...
Awakening of a Lost Soul
Summary: AU, Battousai/Kaoru. When Kenshin's new mission is to kill the owner of a dojo, he gets much more than he bargained for...
(not very original, but I felt like writing it...)
Chapter One: Hitokiri's Mission
Just what is a hitokiri? A high-trained assassin that can slay twenty men in a blink of an eye? The hitokiri were regarded as another race, neither superior nor inferior. Just different. But what is beyond the glory and bulging muscles of these cold-hearted killers?
For one young man being the Battousai was his deepest curse. But curses are like rules…meant to be broken. Just how do you break eternal damnation on one's soul?
Well enough of the questions. The story begins with young Himura Kenshin…or the Battousai…
In the distance he saw his target, a lone samurai. He was staggering out of a bar, obviously drunk. The assassin watched him with amber eyes like dragon and its prey. He felt insulted. Then sent him, the legendary Himura Battousai, to simply kill a drunken samurai without a sword. But a kill was a kill. This was his mission, and he never failed, nor intended to.
This will be easy, he thought. He left the hill he was standing on and started down the street in the shadows. He moved like a wraith, swift and silent. The man he was sent to kill was Tenno Ichiro, a rouge samurai who turned his back on the Choshu. Battousai didn't know him personally, but he felt no pity for the traitor.
Ichiro froze and slowly turned around his hand going to his left hip. When his fingertips brushed against cloth and an empty wooden sheath, he knew he was in trouble now. "Battousai-san…?" He asked rather dumbly. The hitokiri didn't move. He remained hidden in the shadows. "I know you're there…" He said his drunken tongue slurring his words making his speech difficult to understand.
"Good." He finally said. Ichiro jumped back. The hitokiri slowing walked forward. "Then you know you're going to die." The amber-eyed assassin drew his sword and stared at the traitor, a murderous glint in his otherwise blank expression.
Ichiro turned to run but the hitokiri was quicker. Lunging forward the hitokiri's katana ripped across his back. Ichiro looked down in time to see the tip of the blade through the front of his body. He tumbled to the ground, split in two at the waist. He gasped and choked on blood.
The hitokiri looked at the pity remains of Ichiro. He was still choking. Lines ceased in the assassin's forehead and he drove his blade into the dying man's throat. One last cough and Tenno Ichiro was no more. The hitokiri merely drew out his katana and placed back in the sheath, apparently not caring about the amount blood still staining the steel. He turned to leave the site when two men with a katanas charged at him.
"Murder!" The first one yelled. The hitokiri sighed and took the battojutsu battle stance. He whipping out his blade and severed the man's head from his shoulders. The second samurai had hesitated and backed up abruptly. He watched his partner's head hit the ground in shock. The man he knew for years was dead in less than a minute. He looked up at the hitokiri, into his eyes. He was convinced he was staring into the eyes of hell.
"You must be the Battousai everyone talks about." He said. The hitokiri paused. He wasn't interested in having a conversion with his prey, but somehow he allowed it. "You don't have a soul, do you?" He asked. This man is brave I'll give him that, Battousai thought. But a fool... "How many men did you have to kill to make your eyes that charming color? I doubt you were born that way."
"No." was the terse reply. "I have killed countless men for the revolution and one more will not faze me."
"For the revolution, eh?" He mocked. The hitokiri tightly his grip on his bloody katana, Why wasn't this man afraid of him? "You sold your soul to the devil to spill the blood of the innocent in the vain belief of peace." He stated.
Something clicked in the back of the hitokiri's mind. It was true, except for the part about the innocent's blood. He only killed those who opposed him or those he was sent to. He did sell his soul, but it was for peace. To build a new government the old one must be torn down. You have war to bring peace.
The hitokiri eyed the man with a new respect. He looked him over. He was in his mid-thirties. He had bright blue eyes and crisp black hair with streaks of gray. He had the true spirit of a samurai. His face was glued in a stubborn expression that the hitokiri didn't expect.
Battousai bowed his head and sheathed his sword. "Leave with your life before I change my mind…" The man continued to stare at him defiantly. The hitokiri sighed and just left.
The man covered his friend's body with his jacket. He said some prayers and promised he would avenge his friend's death. He looked over his shoulder and say the Battousai was gone. He may want him dead, but he respected him…somehow.
The next morning the hitokiri was leaving from the bathhouse. He held a bundle of clothes and two swords. He could never go anywhere without them.
"Kenshin-san!" a voice called. He turned around and saw a little girl running to him. "Will you play with us today?" As she said this a group of children trailed after her timidly.
He flashed a smile. "No, not today. I have work to do." He said. The girl turned around to one of the boys.
"See! I told you he was busy." She said. The boy reacted by sticking out his tongue. Kenshin found this really funny for some reason. "Thank you Kenshin-san." She said politely. Turning to her followers. "Let's go my little ducklings!" Kenshin chuckled to himself. Those were the local children and he had grown found of them.
He entered the bathhouse to find it empty. He prepared a bath for himself while thinking at the man he met the night before. What astounded him is why did he let him go? He killed everyone who saw him in the job. For all he knew the man could have warned every Shinsengumi member in the entire of Kyoto that the Himura Battousai has been spotted. But somehow in his stubborn expression, he intended to handle him on his own. Kenshin shook away the thoughts as he untied the belt on his hakama. He spilled off his black gi and dark gray hakama. He briefly scrubbed himself before entering the onsen.
He sighed and relaxed in the hot water. He winced in pain as the heat of the water stung one of his open wounds. It wasn't a serious one, but it hurt enough. For the first time he noticed a small graze of his left forearm. He couldn't remember where he could've gotten it, but it wasn't that big of a surprise. His body would always get banged up pretty bad. But he was tough, anything short of an amputated limb would keep him away from the doctors. He didn't like doctors, especially the nosy of working in the closest clinic. She would always harp him about the damage on his body would affect him in his old age. "But of course knowing you," she would said, not missing any chance to insult him. "You will never live to see your old age."
Kenshin grin albeit grimly. He relaxed against the side on the onsen and his eyelids slowly closed. The heat of the water soothed him and his head was filled with steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His thoughts drifted. He slipped into a dream.
He was standing on the aftermath of a bloody battle. He wrinkled his nose at the unmistakable smell of rotting flesh. Looking around he saw the bodies of farmers and civilian as well as soldiers. Everyone was dead, dead to a last man.
But then he saw a lone samurai with his back to him. The samurai had a long black high ponytail. His light gray gi and navy hakama were untouched by blood or dirt. Kenshin took this all in as he slowly moved toward him. Clenched in the samurai's right hand wasn't an ordinary katana. When he was closer he realized it was made of wood. Kenshin stepped on a bone and it crunched under his foot. He looked down and in that instant the samurai had spun around and the wooden sword slammed into Kenshin's shoulder. He jumped back and looked at the samurai's face.
It was pale and youthful; he guessed he was a couple years younger than him. Black bangs artfully veiled large blue eyes. Long tendrils of silky black hair framed either side of his face. Although the samurai was staring straight at Kenshin, he couldn't get a perfect glimpse at his face. There was a slight haze that stretched between them. Kenshin then looked the samurai over and noticed under his clothes was a scrawny frame and he began to wonder how this person could be a warrior, but one last glance at his eyes told another story. They were vivid pools filled in the spirit of twenty men. "Battousai…" He said. His voice was rather high-pitched, but seemed to seep through his ears like calm water. "How do you save a damned soul?" He asked. Kenshin was alarmed. A sharp pain in his shoulder woke him up.
"What!" He demanded reaching for a sword he knew he didn't have. A young man, who must have been a new recruit of the Choshu, waked him. "Katsura-sensei needs you." He said with a farmer's accent. Kenshin groaned and heaved himself out of the water cursing him for falling asleep. His dream was forgotten…for the moment.
Kenshin arrived in Katsura's room. He turned around and greeted his best assassin. "Tonight we need you," he said. Kenshin nodded grimly as he was handed a black envelope.He glanced at the front.
"Kamiya?"
I hope this isn't too bloody, if it is I'll probably change it. My goal is to keep it T-rated. I hope this a good start. I wasn't too sure about writing this, but please let me know what you think...Also if you have any better suggestions for a title let me know, I am not fond of "Awakening a Lost Soul" it just doesn't have the right ring...
Please Review!
Silent. Midnight. Rose.
