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Chapter 2
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It echoes in my consciousness, a lone utterance that reverberates in my mind.
My nights dwell in the realm of dreams, plunging me headlong into the stream of my memories.
Some are plagued by the distorted spectres of the past where bitter truths resurface while others are far more pleasant, filled with the wonderful imaginings of the times to come.
I shake off the thought, trying to clear my head. The read locks fall on my shoulders in a soft cascade as I sit up.
Stars are twinkling against the velvet sky and the wind is but a mere whisper amongst the leaves.
They seem so unreal in their ethereal beauty, so far removed and untouched by the sins of the mortal world. They are so bright, shining with the intensity of passion that only the innocent possess.
The innocent are ignorant. The ignorant are blissful.
Even if they know not of victory, at least they are spared the knowledge of defeat. Even if they live the war in dumb indifference, at least they pass the bloody days with blind oblivion. At least they take no part in the battle. They are spectators, and we, the performers.
The battle is a stage, with the actors are badly cast. I deign not to play the part of a mere assassin. That is foolishness. I cast the role of a noble swordsman, one whose ideals dictated his actions.
It was idealism against morality, faith against will, dreams against reality.
It was into the heart of this anarchy that I ventured into, throwing myself into its currents and watching as I was swept away in its pulsating waters.
I lived in actions, not emotions.
I submerged myself in the repetitive tediousness of daily routine to drown out time for reflections. When one was an assassin, reflections had no place on one's life. They wrecked a person's soul.
They killed a person by torturing slowly. Reflection meant realisation. It blurred the already wavering line between white and black, and made the unresolved grey areas stand out all the starker.
In essence, it tore down the defined boundaries of a person's mind and sank him into the uncertain depths of war and of suffering.
It drove a person mad. I avoided emotions, for they represented the more fragile side of man that I could never show.
Once the cold façade fell, insanity would burst forth.
***
The sunrise is beautiful, a canvas awash with a myriad of colours melding and running into each other. It changes its appearance as does a chameleon, shedding its violet to don amber in a matter of seconds.
This is the one time of the day where I am allowed the luxury of thought, where no one else may intrude noisily upon my privacy. It is the time where everyone is asleep and silence reigns.
And where silence dominates, my thoughts hold sway.
I always wondered how the sun manages to rise, century after century, in all its fiery brilliance, undiminished by the treacherous passing of age.
It almost hurts to think of the day that this massive light, will too, join the ranks of stars that have faded into nothingness.
Nothing beautiful lasts forever, whereas nothing hideous ever perishes. That is the eternal truth that governs the world.
I am already awake, dressed and ready as I stand expectantly.
The resplendent golden ball rises from the murky darkness of its shadowy residence in its flaming glory, untarnished by its brief dwelling in the gloomy abode of the night. It is fortunate, but many others are not as resilient.
Once dragged down to the bogs of darkness and ruin, there they forever lie, condemned to languish in its depths till they find eternal slumber in the flash of a sword.
I was different. I ran in voluntarily, but I rode on the ideals that I stood for, and that has made all the difference.
I became Battousai.
***
Authors Notes:
This chapter is so short. (and crappy) Sorry everyone! *bows deeply* Oh, I want to thank all the reviewers who reviewed my first chapter. Thank you so much! ^^ Your feedback is very much appreciated and I will make the changes accordingly. Special thanks to ShadowAssasin and Shimizu Hitomi for pointing out those faults :)
This chapter is dedicated to Yui-Mag, without whom nothing would be possible. Your support has made writing this so much easier! And of course to Zansetsu who kind of forced me into this.
This fic is dragging out longer than I thought, so I think I'll focus on Kenshin's past and his life pre-Meiji era first. I will bring things back to the present soon. Hopefully, I will be able to show his transformation from an assassin to a happy rurouni with skill. If there are any points that are still lacking, please tell me ^^
Arigatou! *bows deeply*