A/N: From here on, things are going to start happening differently than in the manga - way differently. You'll soon see why. Please enjoy!

THIRTEEN

"No..." Takeo stared at the pained face of his father, his own face draining of all color as he realized what he had just done. His father...he had just killed his own father.

"Noo," his whisper turned into a agonized groan, and he fell to his knees before his father. "Father, why...?"

The gray-haired man smiled softly, and reached out a hand to touch his son's cheek, even as his strength left him. "My son," he murmured, "how you have grown."

"But why?" Takeo cried. "How - why did they send you? You, of all people..." He slumped, overwhelmed by the emotions that were flooding him. Shock, disbelief, grief, shame, horror...

"They did not send me," his father answered. His breathing had begun to give off a horrible rattling sound, as his body began to slowly shut down. "They came to me...and I was...foolish. I had heard about you, how you had murdered hundreds of people...and I wanted to see for myself...just who my son had become..."

Takeo just gazed at the man before him, shaking his head slightly as if denying that he had just killed his own father, his face contorted into an agonized expression. "W-what did you...?"

"If you had truly become a murderer...I would have killed you myself..." the old man drew in a shuddering breath, his whole body trembling. He smiled sadly at his son, his blue eyes filled with sorrow, and ...and pride? "But when I saw you with my own eyes...I did not see a murderer...I saw a young man filled with so much pain...so confused...that he no longer knew who he was..."

"Father...stop this!" Takeo reached out, and grabbed onto his father's shoulders. "You do not see! I am a murderer! I have taken so many lives, that every time I look at my hands, I see blood! I have tried to atone for the lives I have taken, but I still can see all the blood. I have promised to not ever take another life, and now look at me! I have just...killed...just killed...my father..." Takeo dropped his arms, and broke down.

"My son..." the old man whispered, "I was bound die soon, anyway...you need not feel pain over my death..."

Takeo looked up at his father, his cheeks wet from tears.

"That cursed blade...that black katana of death...it was slowly killing me all along..."

"W-what do you mean?" Takeo whispered, looking down at the black sheath which was slipped into his obi. "What are you saying?"

"When I forged that sword...I was in contact with that strange black metal...for quite some time. I handled it...with my bare hands...and ever since...that cursed metal...has been poisoning my flesh...my bones. Such...is its curse. It will kill...everyone who touches its naked blade for...prolonged periods of time."

Takeo stared at Kuroshi in horror. He himself had touched the blade once...when he first took it out of its sheath. But ever since he had seen its deadly ability, he had kept it sheathed all the time, unless he was killing people. To clean it, he had just shaken the blood off. He did not worry about it rusting or dulling, because the blade never did either.

"Will it kill me, also?" Takeo wondered sadly. "I would deserve its death, after all."

"Iie...Iie...you must not speak like that..." the old man, too weak to support himself any longer, fell forward onto the ground. Takeo reached forward, and quickly grabbed him. He supported the old man around the shoulders, and looked down onto the lined, weary face.

"I do not deserve to live," Takeo spoke bitterly. "I have taken many lives, and now I have done the worst thing - I have taken the life of the only person I had ever loved."

"Iie...you must live on, my son...if you die now...it will be the death of a coward...you must live on, and stop them..."

"Them?" Takeo whispered. "The...group?"

"Hai...them...I had not seen it until now...but that group does not care about the balance of Japan...they do not wish for peace...iie, they do not care about such things..."

Takeo stared at his father in horror. "W-what are you saying?"

"They wish to rule...to control...Japan...and they are about to join...forces with Shishio...they will aid him...and...when he has achieved...his plan...they will...kill..him...and - " The old man gave a strangled gasp, and shuddered violently. His brilliant blue eyes began to glaze over, and fade to a dull color.

"Father!" Takeo shouted, alarmed. "Please, you can't -"

"Please..." the old man gasped, "Take my blade...it is called Kagayaki...and...stop them..."

"How can I?! You're -"

"Please...Takeo...you must..." the man shuddered violently, then choked out, "I...am proud...to have a son...like you..." Then he sagged, and went still, faded blue eyes staring unseeingly toward the sky.

"Father, no!" Takeo shook the man, trying to awaken him. But it did no good. His father was dead. Dead by that horrible, cursed blade. Takeo let out an agonized wail, stopped shaking him, and slumped over the body. His shoulders shook as silent tears coursed down his face.

Night came and went, and when the sun rose, the morning light shone down upon a fresh mound of dirt. It was at the bottom of a huge tree, so that the trunk formed the gravestone. Deeply etched into the trunk were the words Kurosa Iwa.

Beside the pile of dirt was a kneeling figure. He was mostly hidden by the shadow of the tree, and remained very still, shoulders slumped, head bowed. His hands lay on two swords that rested on his knees; one a black sheath, the other a white sheath.

A set of young blue eyes observed the figure for a long while. The mind behind those blue eyes was thinking, while slender fingers tapped the side of a smiling face.

Hmm, this is most interesting. Shishio-sama would like to hear of this. I'll go tell him right away; maybe he'll let me fight him? The figure gave a cheerful shrug, and scurried off.

Takeo stared at the two blades on his lap, his mind whirring.

Kuroshi and Kagayaki. A blade of night, and a blade of day. How ironic that I wield the blade of death, and my father had this blade of light. It is only fitting.

Takeo closed his eyes, and recalled his father's last words.

So...that group...they lied to me. They told me that they killed and fought only to keep the balance between good and evil. But that was all a lie. They truly are evil...and wish to conquer and control all of Japan. A pretty big goal, but not impossible. Not with the Meiji government so unstable.

That group...they also sent my father to fight me. He is -was...an excellent swordsman...but they probably knew I'd defeat him. Perhaps they even knew that I might end up...killing him. Why haven't seen it until now?

Those men they made me kill...all were outstanding samurai, swordsmen who where neither good nor bad, men who might oppose them, one day. I have been blind all this time. And the true reason they want me dead, is not that I know all about them - it's because they know that if I knew the truth, I would definitely oppose them.

Takeo lifted his head, and looked at the mound of dirt before him. A small squirrel sat on top of the mound, nibbling at some kind of nut. Despite the dead body sitting underneath it, the creature went on with its simple life.

He took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. He would have to do the same. Right now, he didn't have the time to grieve, feel guilty, and want to die. Right now, he had to set aside all his own feelings. Right now, he had to look forward, and stop Shishio and that group. Once it was all over, then could he deal with his emotions and past.

I will take Kuroshi, and Kagayaki, and I will wield them for peace. If I have to, I will kill. If I must, I will become a hitokiri once more. I will do anything in order to stop this evil from spreading.

Takeo arose in one smooth, fluid motion. He tucked the black and white sheathes into his obi, and set off into the forest. He didn't look back.

A certain blue-eyed boy threw open the door of a small cottage buried in a nest of trees, and stepped inside. He smiled brightly at the gathering of men - and one woman - inside, and exclaimed, "I'm back!"

At the sound of his cheery voice, all looked over at him. There were six of them - Shishio himself, Houji, Yumi, and three men who wore entirely black clothing that covered all but their eyes. Those in black frowned at the newcomer, annoyed at his intrusion.

But Shishio just gave a small smile. "What do you have for me, Soujiro?"

"Well, Shishio-sama," the boy, Soujiro, beamed, "I just came back from a most interesting fight."

"And?" Shishio pressed.

"Takeo-san won the fight, but he had to use that fearsome-looking black sword. It took just a scratch from it to kill Kurosa-san - just like all the legends said. It's even more amazing than I thought. And also amazing is the sword that Kurosa-san had. It's that one he always kept in the white sheath, by the way. Anyway, I'm not exactly sure how it works, but he makes it get really hot and then he can slice through anything! It cut right through that kodachi that Takeo-san always carried, and that's why he had to use that black sword." Soujiro had spoke with a brilliant smile all the way through his report, and now he just smiled at Shishio, waiting for his reply.

"So," Shishio mused, rubbing his bandage-covered chin. "He killed his father. How interesting. How very interesting. I never thought he would have it in him... Soujiro," he looked up at the boy.

"Hai, Shishio-sama?" Soujiro eagerly grinned.

"Give Takeo a message from me, will you?"

"Of course, Shishio-sam!"

"Tell him that my offer still stands. And tell him, that if he does, his friends in black here, have agreed to stop hunting him. But if he refuses, just tell him that I wish him farewell. He does deserve that, at least. We are very similar, after all."

"Then I'll be off! Sayonara!" Soujiro skipped out the door, and was on his way. The men in black watched the boy go, slightly confused. Why would Shishio have such a innocent, cheerful boy around?

Shishio chuckled coldly, seeing their confusion. "That boy is the most dangerous out of my Juppon Gatana. Remember the one who I said could kill a hundred men in a mere few minutes? Well, that's him."

The men looked even more confused. Shishio gave a short laugh. "Don't be fooled by his smile. Joy is the only emotion he has, so he smiles all the time. He has no fear, hate, or any other emotion. That's what makes him so dangerous - you cannot read his intentions."

The men in black looked at the empty doorway, a new look in their eyes. They would have to watch their backs around that boy.

Takeo strode quickly on the tiny path through the forest. His white kimono was all but ruined; it hung open in jagged shreds, revealing the horrendous wound that crossed his chest horizontally. Thankfully, the wound had been cauterized the same moment it had sliced through his flesh. While he didn't have to worry about an infection, it would undoubtedly leave a incredible scar.

His face was set as he walked, his teeth clenched in pain. Nothing short of death would stop him. He had a task to accomplish, a task bequeathed to him by his dying father. So. First thing to do was to get to Kyoto. Second thing was to get some new clothes. The ones he had now were practically rags. And after that, he had to find Kenshin, and tell him the latest news.

All at once, he was aware of another presence in the forest, and close by. He swung his green-eyed gaze in the direction that he guessed they were, and called out, "What do you want?"

A few twigs cracked underfoot, and a smiling blue-eyed boy came into view. He stood in front of Takeo, and smiled up at him. "Hello, Takeo-san."

Takeo blinked, taken by surprise. That smile was very disarming, but something felt...off about the boy. He narrowed his eyes slightly, and kept every sense alert.

"Who are you? And how do you know my name?"

The boy just gave a closed-eye smile. "Why, I'm Soujiro. And as for knowing your name, Shishio-sama knows everything." Soujiro shrugged, smiling. "And what he knows, he sometimes tells me."

"Shishio-sama," Takeo muttered in a low tone. "You were the one in the crowd that day...You killed Okubo, didn't you?"

"Yup! That was me, all right. It wasn't very hard, you know. Just-"

"Why are you here?" Takeo demanded, his eyes turning to green ice.

"Oh, Shishio just sent me to tell you that his offer still stands. If you join him, those weird guys in black will stop coming after you. And if you don't, they'll just keep coming until you die. Which wouldn't be very long, in my opinion. You look like you just got chewed on by a shark."

"He wants me to join him, ne?" Takeo let out a harsh laugh. "In his dreams. You can tell him, Soujiro, that I am coming for him. Him, and those in the group. Tell them I'm coming, and nothing will stop me. Not even death." Takeo stepped forward, and past Soujiro, and continued on his way, his silver-hair flowing behind him.

Soujiro watched him go, a small grin on his face. He shrugged. "That man must want to die. Oh well, I'd better go tell Shishio-sama. He'll probably want to kill him himself."

Kyoto... Kenshin mused, looking about the city that he and a certain girl named Misao had just entered. It's been a long time since I've been here...

 Kenshin mused, looking about the city that he and a certain girl named Misao had just entered.

"Hey, Himura!" The certain girl shrieked, jerking Kenshin's attention to her.

"Oro?" He blinked, staring wide-eyed at the girl who had just screamed in his face.

"Wake up, already! Your head's been in the clouds ever since we got to Kyoto!" She grabbed the front of his kimono, and yanked his head down. "And hide that sword," she hissed, "Do you want to be stared at?!"

"Well," Kenshin scratched the back of his head. "You're outfit is hardly discreet either," he said, referring to her ninja outfit that showed a lot of leg for such a young girl.

"What?!" She shrieked, then jumped up into the air. She kicked Kenshin's head, knocking him to the ground.

"Orororo," Kenshin wailed, drawing not a few curious looks from bystanders.

Several minutes later...

"Okina!" Misao yelled, throwing herself on an old man. "I'm back!"

"Eeeee! Misao!" The old man enveloped her in a bear hug, expressing his delight at seeing her again. "Welcome home, honey!" He then held her back at arms length, and frowned. "I was worried, because you were away longer than usual."

"I'm sorry..." Misao looked ashamed. But what happened next had Kenshin gawking, as the old man started beating up Misao, while bellowing, "This is your punishment for taking so long!"

Finally, they calmed down, and the old man, Okina, turned toward Kenshin. "So, you've accompanied her along the way."

"Er...sort of," Kenshin gave a hesitant smile.

"She was hard to put up with, am I right?" Okina pointed to Misao.

"That's true," Kenshin agreed heartily. Indeed, that girl had been a handful, following him around all the time, talking nonstop day and night. She even jumped into a huge gorge, thinking she could jump over it, but nooo, Kenshin had to jump in after her and save her. Boy, but she was a handful.

The door to the inn was opened, and four friendly faces all beamed at Misao. "You're back!" The poor girl was smothered in hugs.

Seeing that Misao was safely home, Kenshin turned to go. "I'll be on my way..."

"Hold on," Okina called out. "We haven't a chance to thank you. Please stay with us for a while. Make yourself at home...Himura Battousai-san."

Kenshin stopped in his tracks, and looked over his shoulder with narrowed eyes. Okina smiled, to put him at ease. "Even if you hide the scar on your cheek -" he gestured to the bandage Kenshin wore on his face - "we recognize you all the same. So, come inside, and we can talk."

Half an hour later, Kenshin and Okina sat alone in a small room, sipping tea. The old man took a small sip, exhaled, and set his cup down. "So, you're here to fight some Shishio guy."

"That's right," Kenshin said. He had his 'serious' look on his face now.

"Well, I am grateful for you bringing Misao back safely. And it's a good thing you didn't tell her about Aoshi and the death of the Obiwaban-shu. Since nothing's going on right now..." Okina rubbed his chin for a second, then jabbed a thumb to his chest and exclaimed, "I'd like to help you!"

"Oro?" Kenshin blinked.

"I love the Kyoto of today!" Okina cried, "To protect this city, this soldier is going to take the front lines!"

"H-hold on a minute," Kenshin interrupted. "All I need is -"

"I'm perfectly capable of fighting, you know. I may look old, but this old duckie is strong and steady! And -"

"Have you seen a man with long silver hair and green eyes carrying a black sword?" Kenshin interrupted, speaking fast so that Okina couldn't continue on his tirade. It worked. The man fell silent, and stared at Kenshin for a long moment, as if he was thinking.

Then, "Nope! Who is he?"

Kenshin sighed. "He is a man who is also going to fight Shishio. He also is a former Hitokiri, Kurosa Takeo."

Okina shook his head. "Never heard of him."

"Your ninja information network must know something," Kenshin frowned. "He's used to be the Hitokiri Kuroshi..."

"Kuroshi!" Okina's eyes widened. "The Kuroshi? The one with the black blade of death that can kill with the slightest touch? The one who killed everyone who knew of him, leaving nothing but death and silence in his wake? The one that -"

"Yes," Kenshin sighed wearily. "That's him. Can you have your men watch out for him? He's supposed to meet me here in Kyoto."

"Sure thing!" Okina declared. "I'll have my men keep a look out, and bring him in when he arrives! Anything else?"

"Yes...two things," Kenshin glanced down at his sheathed blade. "I need a new sakabato...and I need you to find out where a certain someone lives...his name is Hiko Seijuro."

Takeo lifted his green eyes, and looked around at the bustling city he had just entered. It was almost the same as it had been several years ago; there had been a few minor changes. Strangely, reentering Kyoto did not bring back any memories or feelings. His mind remained blank, and his heart remained still.

Strange, Takeo thought, I don't feel anything...not even sadness or pain or fear or anything. For the past two days, I've been like this. Almost like when I was a hitokiri...

He briefly closed his eyes. No matter. Right now, it was necessary to not let any emotions get in his way. He exhaled slowly, and reopened his eyes.

Just stay calm, and concentrate on finding where Kenshin is. And ignore all those stares!

Takeo didn't blame the people for staring at him. He must've looked like a total mess. He hadn't slept in the last two days, opting to travel quickly instead. Now that he was here, he could feel the exhaustion starting to wear down on him. Not to mention his dirty and torn clothing. Or the two full-length swords he carried. In these days, it was rare to see someone carrying a sword, much less two.

It's much like when I first entered Tokyo. People stared then. Who knows what's going through their minds now.

Takeo checked a small pouch he had tucked inside his tattered kimono. There wasn't much, but he had enough money to buy some clothing. After that, he'd be nearly broke.

He entered the first clothing store he saw, bringing no few looks and whispers. Ignoring them all, he quickly picked out his clothing. As he brought it to the clerk, he couldn't help but smile wryly. How ironic that I pick these...

"I-is that all, sir?" The clerk was a small, pudgy-faced man, and he kept throwing nervous looks to Takeo's swords and chest, where the wound still glared, red and angry.

"Hai."

"Th-then that's...that's..." Takeo sighed, and just put his money pouch on the counter.

"Here. Take it; keep the change." He picked up his wrapped bundle of clothing, and left the store. He continued down the street, trying to think of what to do next. A bath would be nice, as would some food, but finding Kenshin took first priority.

"Kurosa Takeo?" Takeo gave a start, and jerked his head to the side, his free hand going to his sword hilts.

"Hey, hey, calm down," a tall, young man dressed in dark blue, loose clothing, waved his hands in front of him. "I was sent to find you."

"Gomen nasai," Takeo apologized. His hand left his blades.

"It's all right," the man offered a friendly smile. "A friend of yours is staying with us, and I'm here to take you to him."

"Kenshin?" Takeo questioned.

"That's right," the man replied. "Come on... We'd better get you out of sight. You're bringing a lot of attention to yourself."

"I'm aware of that," Takeo said, as he and the man started to move quickly through the streets. "I ran into...some...trouble."

"Takeo!" Kenshin exclaimed when he first saw Takeo. "What happened? You're-"

"It's fine," Takeo said quietly. "I know it looks bad, but it's fine. It's...cauterized, so there's no worries of infection."

Kenshin winced. "I see..."

"Is there somewhere I can have a bath and some rest? I've been traveling without stop for two days."

"Of course! Of course!" A old man jumped in front of Kenshin. "Any friend of Himura-san is a friend of ours! Please follow me!"

Takeo did, wearily and painfully. He felt like every bone in his body had been bruised. Yes, a bath and a bed sounded very good...

Several minutes later, Okina returned without Takeo. His excited manner was now serious. "That's him?"

"Hai," Kenshin answered, wondering what was up with Okina.

"That man, he's different from you."

"Oro?" Kenshin was slightly confused. What was the Okina talking about?

"He's got different eyes than you," Okina said, and that was all he would say on the matter. Kenshin was left to himself to puzzle out what the old man meant.

Different eyes? I know he doesn't mean the color. Could it be that Takeo's finally...?