I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters. All that belongs to J.K. ROWLING and not a poor ass college kid. Also, any similarties to people, places, or things are by pure accident so no lawsuits please. I do however, own the storyline and my own characters and would like it if no one stole them. Please and thank you.

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"You are a danger to humanity Milord. Surely you can see that?"

Kyoshiro could though he didn't say anything. Let his servant talk; they both knew what lay in the far future. Kyoshiro sipped his sake, gazing out the window at the sunny countryside. Spring was so beautiful in Japan.

"Milord?"

Kyoshiro sighed. "Yes…I know…"

Silence. His servant- Daisuke- stood up on shaky legs, bowing as he moved slowly to Kyoshiro's sheathed wazashi and katanna that lay beside him. His hands were sweaty; Kyoshiro noted how they left greasy handprints on his sheath as he offered it to Kyoshiro. Kyoshiro took it, looking one last time at the country side; off in the distance he could see a blooming sakura tree, the pink cherry blossoms adoring the sky.

"Daisuke," Kyoshiro said, taking a deep breath. A small smile formed on his lips.

"Yes Milord?"

"What we do today will be great. It will steady the world's foundations and yet no one will ever know. Do you not find that funny?"

Daisuke looked up at his master, eyes shining, body bandaged from the latest battle they had commenced in. "I believe you are one of the strongest people I know Kyoshiro-sama."

"Argiato Daisuke," Kyoshiro whispered, unsheathing his waszashi. The blade seemed to sing to him in the bright sunlight, blinding him if only but a second. He loosened his obi and nodded once to Daisuke who now stood up, Kyoshiro's katanna unsheathed. Kyoshiro held the point of his waszashi to his abdomen.

'I believe you are one of the strongest people I know'

'To do the right thing…that is why I must die…'

Kyoshiro shoved his blade in, the pain making him gasp, his blood bright red, dripping along the blade. So this is what it was like to die? Everything seemed so much brighter, everything tinged with pain. He could hear the sound of whistling-no the sound of his blade coming- and then the blessed darkness.