Disclaimer: Watsuki Nobuhiro owns Rurouni Kenshin. I'm just trying to find out how many different ways I can say that I do not. This story is for entertainment purposes only so once again please do not sue me. All you would get are my bills.
I just wanted to say thanks to everyone that reviewed the story so far and I hope that you are finding it interesting.
Apologies: I'm afraid this part is a bit short.
A KILLING MOVE
By COLLEEN
Chapter 3a
The wanting is at first a tendril. With each new start it can easily go unnoticed for awhile in the daily grind of work and frustration.
Not for long though.
The power behind the desire may be slow and quiet but it is also very insistent. It will take its time winding its way around your mind; it's coils deceptively loose. When it feels it has waited long enough it will tighten those limbs until it holds your thoughts in an unbreakable grasp.
That is when the want bends you.
It twists at your soul until the craving becomes a basic need. Like water to a man dying of thirst.
It becomes the only way.
Not just to be alive but to actually feel alive. The need to pit yourself against another and by doing so reaffirm your own self worth. To experience, through that other, the thrill and power that you possess. To hunt them as prey and watch as they breathe in fear instead of air. To smell, like perfume, the cloud of pain and regret that boils out of them at the last moment.
It is the only way to live.
It is the only way to BE alive.
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Chapter 3b
*Son of a bitch, this can not be happening to me.*
The thought ran over and over again in his mind. It had run the loop so many times he was no longer aware that he was thinking it. It had become as much a part of him as breathing.
*This can not be happening to me.*
It simply wasn't possible. Everywhere he turned on the path they (*more than one there must be more than one*) were waiting. This was supposed to be easy. Move here, move there and at the end of it laugh in their faces as he left with the money. After all he was strong and able and couldn't be taken down by anyone. Not anyone.
*Can not be happening to me.*
He stumbled along attempting to outdistance his pursuers. Not realizing that the half a dozen or so cuts that his body had already taken left an easily traced path of blood for his hunter to follow.
*Not... happening... to me.*
He was yakuza for crying out loud. He was going places. Had at the early age of twenty-two already arrived at places many wouldn't even know existed much less already be comfortably ensconced in. This could not be happening. He would not let it happen.
*Not... to me.*
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"Can not be happening, can not be happening, can not be happening."
"It already did."
The young man looked up from where he crouched in the shadows cast by nature's moon and man's buildings. He blinked, surprised to see a young woman dressed in a (*green?*) kimono standing a few feet away from him.
"What are you talking about?" He asked her.
"That" she said, pointing to something at his feet. He looked down. To say that the sight shook him to his core would be putting it mildly. His eyes shot open to about three times their normal size. His mind, never that active to begin with, blanked out completely as his senses overloaded on fear. His emotions joined in on the act. Momentarily unheeded in his now mindless state they pounded against his brain seeking for acknowledgement as each sensation warred against the other for his undivided attention. They fought viciously amongst themselves for the few minutes it took his addled brain to collect it's self enough for him to choose how to feel. It wasn't a difficult choice. He simply latched on to the one that had always served him best.
"Ah anger good choice. You may actually be able to do something with it."
"SON OF A BITCH, THIS CAN NOT BE HAPPENING TO ME!"