It truly is a vicious cycle.
Kill or be killed.
Such is the life of a true swordsman. Everyone understands that a sword is made to destroy life, to take the most precious possession of all human beings. Despite this fact, all swordsmen under various guises hide this fact and kill for all manner of reasons. Justice, honor, freedom, righteousness. Can causes under these labels truly retain their purity while stained with blood? Murder by any other name would reek in heaven just the same.
Kenshin Himura realized all of this.
A lone wanderer, reversing his blade so that he could never take the life of another human being. Finding new friends and creating a new life for himself, it would seem providence has granted him a second chance despite his transgressions. However reality really isn't as simple as all that, at least not for some people.
----------------------------------------------------
It was a bleak night in the hinterlands of Hokkaido, Japan. The night sky was clear and the stars were shining brightly, but there was an air of tangible despair about the small village of Manase that no one could quite put their finger on. There were very few homes in the village of poor peasant farmers. Very few people were out that night, as most people wanted to remain indoors to evade the gloom.
A gentle, pale hand slid open the door leading into her home. Kimiko Sasaki, clad in a purely white kimono, looked out towards the wilderness surrounding the village. Her long black hair hung down to her waist, shimmering in the faint moonlight. Frowning just slightly, Kimiko waited expectantly for her husband to return home. It wasn't that she was mad or angered by her husband's tardiness that evening; it's just that she had been rather concerned about his recent behavior. But then again it had been a fateful day:
The anniversary of the death of his family.
Yasagi Sasaki knelt before the graves he had fashioned for his family. There were five small headstones made of stone arranged in a semicircle. Placing a bouquet of pure white chrysanthemums gently on the ground, Yasagi hung his head low. Every year on the sixth day of the third month he came to this makeshift shrine to honor his fallen family. The Sasaki's were samurai, retainers to a much more powerful lord who lived in Edo. But that was a long time ago, before the Meiji revolution.
Finishing his prayer, Yasagi looked up at the moon and saw the dark clouds hiding it behind their shadowy veil. The silence of the forest, save for the occasional breeze which caused the trees to rustle, made it seem as if even nature were paying homage to Yasagi's family. Standing up, the young man simply turned around and walked back along the lonely path home.
Kimiko waited diligently by the door for any sign of her husband's return. Her wish was granted when she saw the figure of her husband appearing from the thicket of the forest down the path leading into the village. She wanted to jump for joy but given the occasion displays of happiness didn't seem called for. She worried about her husband, and as Yasagi was not a man to show much emotion, her worries were seldom put to rest. As he came up to his house, he simply stood silent near the doorway, looking at Kimiko. Dutifully, she simply nodded and returned to the inside house with her husband following right behind her.
The Sasaki home was rather humble and modest, typical of Japanese farmers. Kimiko had already laid out the tatami mats on the floor, and had prepared a meal of miso and green tea laid out on the kotatsu. Taking her place by the hearth, Kimiko ladled some more water into a rather disheveled looking pot to boil. Yasagi seated himself seiza style behind the kotatsu, his face downcast. Disinterested in eating, he simply sipped the bitter tea slowly. Kimiko looked up from making tea to look at her husband. She knew he was the type to recede into his own little world at times. As his wife she not only knew but came to accept it as a fact of life. Besides he was the man she fell in love with. The glow of the crackling fire on his face seemed to accentuate the definition of his cheek bones and face. Yes, Yasagi was a ruggedly handsome man, but when he slipped into his dark moods the handsomeness was replaced by the face of an oni.
"It really isn't suitable," remarked Yasagi in a low tone of voice, quietly breaking the silence.
"What is not suitable?"
"It is not suitable that their true graves have no real markings."
What was there to say in response? Kimiko tried not to bring up the death of Yasagi's family, but she knew that every year this day would inevitably come. Still, she did not know much about her husband's past, as she met him much later. She always felt, though, that the past was the thing dragging him away from the present with her.
"It's the best I can do for right now at the very least." Yasagi always had a manner of talking in a very grave manner.
"Do you feel as if you have not fulfilled all of your duties?" said Kimiko, inching away from the hearth and towards her husband. It was so rare for him to be this open.
"That is what I ponder each year Kimiko. That is what I ponder…"
Apparently tired, Yasagi laid his cup down and got ready to rest. Kimiko maneuvered towards the lantern and put out the light. Her husband had already gone to sleep, and Kimiko was feeling tired too. At least tomorrow she could look forward to a year of some form of normalcy in her beloved. Without further ado, the couple fell into slumber.
---------------------------------------
Angry flames engulfed a castlein Edo. The heat from the inferno was unbearable, the flames seemed to mercilessly consume everything in their path. Wooden beams fell, with their burden soon following suit. Young Yasagi ran frantically from his room, the other residents of the castle panicking and fleeing for their lives.
Oneesan! Okaasan! Otoosan!
The young boy cried out as loud as he could manage, searching for anyone in his family to come help. The servants were too busy trying to escape with their valuables and seemed little concerned with the lonely little boy. Amidst the chaos, little Yasagi caught sight of his older sister Junkou. The poor girl was trapped in the corner of the main room, a wall of flaming beams barring her way out.
"Help me! Help me!" screamed the young girl frantically.
"Oneesan!" yelled out Yasagi, reaching out to help his sister.
The flames soon grew out of control, however, and the poor boy's sister disappeared behind the inferno.
"Yasagi-kun, we must flee," said a familiar voice.
"Mieko," said the young boy surprised, turning around to see his caretaker. Mieko, a slim middle aged woman, immediately lifted the young boy up and tried to rush out of the castle with the throng of other people.
"Where's mother? Where's father?"
With the young boy in tow, Mieko made it outside of the castle through the back near the river. The sound of battle rang throughout the air, as well as the panicked screams of the castle civilians. Yasagi began to sob uncontrollably, the situation really being too much for a child of his age to handle.
Mieko shushed the young boy immediately and found a thicket to hide in so no soldier would find them. Looking through the shoots of bamboo towards the night sky, Yasagi could make out two figures atop the castle despite the smoke and flames billowing from the castle. One seemed to be a long haired man and the other…
"Father!" cried out the young boy reaching out with his hand.
"Quiet or we'll be found out," scolded Mieko, who had to cover the poor child's mouth. The two figures atop the rooftop battled fiercely. The moon was then stained with blood, however, as the long haired warrior dealt the finishing blow.
"Otoosan!" yelled out Yasagi, who soon passed out from all of the mental trauma.
Yasagi woke up in a cold sweat, beads of stinging perspiration slowly inching down his forehead and body. Kimiko's sleep was disrupted as she heard the heavy breathing of her husband.
"What's the matter? What happened?"
"The same dream…"
"The memory of when you were a little boy?"
"Yes, the same damned nightmarish dream I have every year."
Just then, Yasagi did something Kimiko had never seen him do. He began to sob. Tears of grief and pain that had been dammed up inside the young man could no longer be held back. A bit taken aback by the flood of emotion, Kimiko simply held her husband in her arms, allowing him to sob. Trite phrases like "it will be alright" or "everything will turn out in the end" seemed useless and out of place. Instead, Kimiko felt now more than ever she simply wanted to be beside her beloved and comfort him as best she could.
---------------------------------------------------
Kimiko woke up and noticed she was lying on the futon alone. Still a little groggy, she looked around for her husband.
"He must have already gone to the fields. I guess he wanted to take his mind off things rather than mull things over during breakfast," she thought.
Her assessment was definitely correct. Yasagi found that when life troubled him it was best to set his mind on a task or labor. He had gotten up early that morning and was already on his way to the fields to start harvesting. Yasagi maintained his household through farming and by selling ink paintings and calligraphy his wife would make. He found that manual labor was rather fulfilling in a way, and a good means to focus his mind on something other than nightmares.
It was luckily a quiet morning, the kind Yasagi relished. Getting to work harvesting, his mind began to wander as it did.
"The nightmare I had was more vivid, more disturbing than it has been in previous years. I felt something, as though my family were speaking to me from beyond the grave. My duty to them, have I really done my duty to them…" thought Yanagi as he began to till into the ground. Looking up at the morning sky, a look of longing set into his gaze, the young man thought.
"What is my duty to them? If I find what it is will it replace the pain?"