In Memories: Ko-To-Wa-Ri
A young redhead walked through the wet streets of Kyoto, a splash of color against the gray world. The red hair became drops of blood splattered on a pale white kimono as the whispered words "you made the rain bleed" passed through the air. The red and white kimono became a child's top, sitting in the midst of a consuming fire of red and orange and even blue. The Japanese fire symbol formed, burning bright against the dark mountainside as men ran through the streets of Kyoto, shouting warnings. A blade unsheathed, fire glinting in the metal, as the Meiji banner arose from the flames, tall and proud, the beginning of a new era amid the flames of revolution. The banner's red became the red hair of the assassin once again, the sunset catching in his dark-blue, lonely eyes as peace reigned around him for the moment. His master stopped, eyes widening at the sight before him. A graveyard of rough graves, the headstones no more than large branches tied together to form crosses with three large rocks marking three special graves. Another cross stood behind the rocks, a dark-blue ribbon draped over it. With a sigh, the man closed his eyes, then opened them, turning his gaze to the sky as that first conversation played itself in his mind, a memory suppressed but not forgotten "Shinta." "A child's name. Much too soft for a swordsman. From this day forward your name will be Kenshin." "Kenshin." The ribbon became the dark-blue of the sky beneath which the flames of revolution raged on.
A young redhead walked through the wet streets of Kyoto, a splash of color against the gray world. The red hair became drops of blood splattered on a pale white kimono as the whispered words "you made the rain bleed" passed through the air. The red and white kimono became a child's top, sitting in the midst of a consuming fire of red and orange and even blue. The Japanese fire symbol formed, burning bright against the dark mountainside as men ran through the streets of Kyoto, shouting warnings. A blade unsheathed, fire glinting in the metal, as the Meiji banner arose from the flames, tall and proud, the beginning of a new era amid the flames of revolution. The banner's red became the red hair of the assassin once again, the sunset catching in his dark-blue, lonely eyes as peace reigned around him for the moment. His master stopped, eyes widening at the sight before him. A graveyard of rough graves, the headstones no more than large branches tied together to form crosses with three large rocks marking three special graves. Another cross stood behind the rocks, a dark-blue ribbon draped over it. With a sigh, the man closed his eyes, then opened them, turning his gaze to the sky as that first conversation played itself in his mind, a memory suppressed but not forgotten "Shinta." "A child's name. Much too soft for a swordsman. From this day forward your name will be Kenshin." "Kenshin." The ribbon became the dark-blue of the sky beneath which the flames of revolution raged on.