Crimson Moon
Disclaimer: There is no way I will ever own Rurouni Kenshin or any of its characters. I am way to poor to be in possession of the show.
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The moon was dyed crimson one night.
I remember that time of twilight well. It was a full moon that night, and Father was talking to me about becoming a man. Father was an important Shogun officer, and with that impeccable pedigree came an immense amount of danger. I, even at age eight, knew about the Isshin Shishi and their hitokiris.
Father was walking with me around the courtyard, telling me how I would be the man of the house if he were killed in combat.
"Father, you are the strongest samurai in Kyoto! You can't die," said I, filled -quite foolishly- with a pride for my father only a child could have.
"If only that were true," he said, with a sad smile. He patted my head and told me to go back into the house. Father sat down onto a bench next to the blooming apple tree. Our conversation was over.
I ran back into the house, like the good boy I was. I was halfway to my room when I remembered my geta were still on. I ran back to the doorway to slip them off when I heard a commotion going on outside. I slid open the shoji screen enough to peek though. What I saw then still haunts my dreams today.
My father had stood up suddenly, poised as still as a cat who had sniffed a dog's scent. Then he slowly reached for the katana he kept always at his waist, along with his wakizashi. But before he could unsheathe it, a shadow stepped from the shadows.
"Jugonata Hiro. You are sentenced to depart this life for your crimes against Japan," said the shadow. I was confused then. My father, someone who had followed the way of the bushido, which was the way of Japan, a criminal? Impossible!
"Who are you? If you are one of those rebels, prepare to die!" My heart beat faster as Father slid into the stance for his most effective offensive move.
The shadow stepped forward once more. I inhaled sharply as I took in the blood-red hair and his glowing amber eyes. Unnerving.
"My name is of no consequence. Besides, I don't tell my name to dead men." The man's eyes seemed to pulse and the moon's glow set off the very sharp sword at his side.
Father roared and charged the man, who just stood with the katana dangling towards the earth. Then, the man struck.
It was over in a second. The man stood with his sword lodged in my father's chest. Father's katana slipped from his fingers and feel to clatter upon the ground. The man ripped his weapon upward to split Father in half, and the blood erupting from my father's corpse bathed him to turn him all red. The moon seemed to take on the scarlet hue.
I quaked in fear as I watched the demon that had slain my father without so much as a blink of the eye flick off Father's blood off his blade. Then his tawny eyes turned toward me.
With a gasp, I tore away from the door and ran up the steps towards my room I shared with my older sister, Akari. I heard the shoji door burst open, and heard the menacing walking steps of a killer who knew there was no other way out for his prey.
When I reached the room, I stuck a pole against the sliding screen to prevent the murderer from entering. Akari woke up just in time as the shoji clattered. She took me up in her arms and we huddled against the corner of the room.
The shoji stopped shaking for a moment, and I thought for a second that the demon had given up. Akari and I gasped when a flash of steel ripped though the screen and the bloodstained figure stepped through the hole.
He approached us with an ominous gait. "No witnesses," he said in a dead voice.
He stopped as Akari threw herself in front of me. She glared at him, almost daring him to cut through her to get to me. I watched his hitokiri mask; stained with my father's blood, slip away.
Blood framed his violet eyes, those that were previously gold. His face twitched in emotion, like he was remembering an awful memory. His chest heaved up and down, up and down. Then the surprise left his face and the demonic mask of the killer was slipped back on.
"Leave. And never repeat what you saw tonight. Or I will kill you." With that, the man slipped through the hole in the shoji screen and left.
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I never saw him again. I learned who he was later. Hitokiri Battosai. The Demon of Kyoto. The bloodthirsty murderer. I would have believed those rumors, if I hadn't saw those purple eyes of his. They seemed sad, regretful, and remembering. Sympathy was in them. Not murder. Not evil. Certainly not bloodlust. He was just the shadow who turned the moon red.