I would like to thank the readers for their reviews! I feel so happy lol.
So, seems like my story is liked, so here is chapter 2 since it was
requested. I might do a lot of small chapters instead of a few long ones,
so I can update more often, so for now, expect small portions. Once I get
the beat enough and just the right amount of sleep back I might start to
delve into multiple pages at a time. :D
Disclaimer: although I'd love to, Kenshin and co. aren't my personal property :(
Setting : The revolution has not ended yet, we are in the era of the Battousai. The streets resound with his kills and the fear he inspire. This story starts just before the arrival of Tomoe into his life, as in the OVA. However, Kenshin is a bit older, i'd say 18 or 19. Kaoru is around 16, almost 17. The others (Sano, Megumi etc.) are about the same age they were in the anime though.
' ' = thoughts " " = dialogue ***** ***** = dream sequence
_______________________
Chapter 2 : drowning in darkness
_______________________
He awoke suddenly, probing his chest for injury, eyes ablaze and instantly looking around. His hearing sense could tell him there were snores not so far from here. Also, no crickets chirped, no birds sang, no bright light pierced the window.
It was still the middle of the night.
Seems like sleep had embraced him for a few caresses, then tortured him a while and left him awake. He was on edge, a shivering sweat running on his spine and along the curves of his torso, not to mention his neck. His feet getting him up, he proceeded to wash the nightmare away with some water. Tearing away his sleeping clothes, drenched in sweat that smelled of fear, an emotion he dared not feel, he plunged his fingers into the warm liquid.
His vision blurred and he looked down. His hand was soaked with blood from the bowl. His eyelids closed for a second, then opened. Crystalline water was filling the container, pure and transparent. He sighed and surprised himself. He rarely let puffs of breathing escape his frozen features in situations like these. Glaring at his own gaze in the disturbed liquid, he went away and started to dress in his usual attire. His familiar dark blue and white outfit.
The clothing of the Battousai.
..........
She ran, faster than the wind, each further step relieving the stress, the tension, the worries and the memories. To her, it was a form of meditation, of contemplation of life, a time when her thoughts drifted without any attach, doing no effort to grasp emotion, to feel the pain. She concentrated on the moving muscles in each part of her body, on the sparkles of the stars, on the different hues of black that plagued the shadows of Kyoto.
Her ki stirred, she felt malice nearby and abruptly came to a stop. Crouching, ears listening intensely, she heard a muffled cry. The sound, albeit dimmed 'probably by someone's hand.', spoke of panic and despair. 'A girl or woman. Those men of war seem to think we're toys!' her mind screamed, and she did not hesitate. Her fingers delicately fingered the handle of the weapon that straddled her waist, her toes arched, and she jumped.
Leaping and flying on the ground, as if she weighted nothing as she ran, the shadowy figure approached the scene, intending to see what was going on. Her indigo eyes narrowed when the limp form of the girl she had heard was discernable. 'Misao, you stupid, why are you there' she said to herself, her lips pursing together as anger flared in her pupils.
Only the back of the warriors could be seen, they were low-graded fighters of the shogunate she guessed, from their clothing and adornment. 'Bastards. 'she thought quickly, her eyes darkening by the second.
..........
The assassin dashed from alley to alley, hunting his prey. He knew the man usually left the gambling ground at this hour, having heard that detail from his informant. He was the next on his list, even though he had been asked to watch him only until tomorrow, in case he did betray his clan for them. Amber lighted his gaze, who cared about the next day, it was now that he felt like it. Felt like hunting, wanting to smell the fear, willing to hear death's last whisper. Wanting his face splashed with hot blood, blinding his senses, making the most primal urge of his to surface and drown the others.
That was is most urgent desire, the most intense feeling, to transpose which he did not want to feel into the hearts of others, to convince himself while he watched others' face grimace in pain, in horror, in death, that he could and would not let himself bask even a glimpse of those emotions and feelings, no matter their nature.
He was the battousai, a walking death clasped in a storm of blood-red locks, like a rain of blood following his wake, strands of vital and warm crimson liquid surrounding golden pupils, adding oh so much dismay to the void of his expression.
The man stopped, he had sensed a strong ki, the whole air around him hummed with the anger of someone's aura nearby. Precociously, he turned the corner while blending into his surroundings, becoming one with the darkness, calling its veil to embrace him with its chills and nothingness.
Noticing a very quick swoosh of air, he turned his eyes to the other end of the alley, knowing instantly the ki emanated from there, on the other side of the scene. And here his prey lay, with friends of his, bend down on the slim form of a girl or child, he could not see enough to distinguish. But he felt the hormones of those men, he knew their thoughts. Filthy rats controlled by their own passions. Weak.
Movement took his attention, he waited, curious for once.
..........
She came out of her shade in the glimpse of an eye, blurred. Appearing in between Misao's body and the closest man, weapon already in hand, she slashed the tip of her katana toward his throat and slit it swiftly in a long, fluid movement, then continued the motion into the next's chest, gushing him from shoulder to hip faster than he had time to think, rushed one leg under his knees and made him fall, bloodied and mouth gaping, on his back.
Slowly, deliberately, she turned her masked face, shimmering sapphires ablaze, toward the remaining duo, holding her sword like a pick, handle up and blade down, wrist at the height of her face in a half-crouched stance. Her form spoke of cunning agility, speed beyond their eyes' registering and death. But little did they know, from the way she was clothed, black pants and shoes, up-tied hair and starless black samurai overalls that she was a woman.
She smirked, taking the perfect move for her favourite move, one especially made to fight men and make them suffer like hell's flame pits burning their guts.
Divine speed busting her step as surprise still held them paralysed, she brought the reversely handed blade toward the thigh of the closest man and pushed it upward with a full-circle flick of her thin wrist, opening a wound from knee to opposite hip, all around the upper tight and nether parts. Blood oozed like a fountain and a high-pitched screamed echoed in the cloudless sky as he died almost on the spot from pain. She knew too well he would suffer agony for countless minutes before the last drop of his foul blood was drank by the dusty road.
A vicious smile on her hided face, her mind blanked and flared when, as she was about to kill the second warrior, the tip of a katana emerged from his torso, in the perfect middle, stopping a mere inches from her own blade, halting her attack. A single droplet of blood fell from the needle tip, falling over the end of her own weapon, as if to greet her. The katana retracted too quick, the man fell, revealing behind him a black form with gold eyes.
Storming sea met molten lava intensely, and for a minute, the wind stopped.
To be continued.
I hope you all like this. This chapter is longer than the first, even though it might not reveal as much information as you'd like, I beg you to give me more time. It's hard to word my visions lololol.
And oh, please review, I want to know if I'm writing insanity or a story that is worth reading :)
Disclaimer: although I'd love to, Kenshin and co. aren't my personal property :(
Setting : The revolution has not ended yet, we are in the era of the Battousai. The streets resound with his kills and the fear he inspire. This story starts just before the arrival of Tomoe into his life, as in the OVA. However, Kenshin is a bit older, i'd say 18 or 19. Kaoru is around 16, almost 17. The others (Sano, Megumi etc.) are about the same age they were in the anime though.
' ' = thoughts " " = dialogue ***** ***** = dream sequence
_______________________
Chapter 2 : drowning in darkness
_______________________
He awoke suddenly, probing his chest for injury, eyes ablaze and instantly looking around. His hearing sense could tell him there were snores not so far from here. Also, no crickets chirped, no birds sang, no bright light pierced the window.
It was still the middle of the night.
Seems like sleep had embraced him for a few caresses, then tortured him a while and left him awake. He was on edge, a shivering sweat running on his spine and along the curves of his torso, not to mention his neck. His feet getting him up, he proceeded to wash the nightmare away with some water. Tearing away his sleeping clothes, drenched in sweat that smelled of fear, an emotion he dared not feel, he plunged his fingers into the warm liquid.
His vision blurred and he looked down. His hand was soaked with blood from the bowl. His eyelids closed for a second, then opened. Crystalline water was filling the container, pure and transparent. He sighed and surprised himself. He rarely let puffs of breathing escape his frozen features in situations like these. Glaring at his own gaze in the disturbed liquid, he went away and started to dress in his usual attire. His familiar dark blue and white outfit.
The clothing of the Battousai.
..........
She ran, faster than the wind, each further step relieving the stress, the tension, the worries and the memories. To her, it was a form of meditation, of contemplation of life, a time when her thoughts drifted without any attach, doing no effort to grasp emotion, to feel the pain. She concentrated on the moving muscles in each part of her body, on the sparkles of the stars, on the different hues of black that plagued the shadows of Kyoto.
Her ki stirred, she felt malice nearby and abruptly came to a stop. Crouching, ears listening intensely, she heard a muffled cry. The sound, albeit dimmed 'probably by someone's hand.', spoke of panic and despair. 'A girl or woman. Those men of war seem to think we're toys!' her mind screamed, and she did not hesitate. Her fingers delicately fingered the handle of the weapon that straddled her waist, her toes arched, and she jumped.
Leaping and flying on the ground, as if she weighted nothing as she ran, the shadowy figure approached the scene, intending to see what was going on. Her indigo eyes narrowed when the limp form of the girl she had heard was discernable. 'Misao, you stupid, why are you there' she said to herself, her lips pursing together as anger flared in her pupils.
Only the back of the warriors could be seen, they were low-graded fighters of the shogunate she guessed, from their clothing and adornment. 'Bastards. 'she thought quickly, her eyes darkening by the second.
..........
The assassin dashed from alley to alley, hunting his prey. He knew the man usually left the gambling ground at this hour, having heard that detail from his informant. He was the next on his list, even though he had been asked to watch him only until tomorrow, in case he did betray his clan for them. Amber lighted his gaze, who cared about the next day, it was now that he felt like it. Felt like hunting, wanting to smell the fear, willing to hear death's last whisper. Wanting his face splashed with hot blood, blinding his senses, making the most primal urge of his to surface and drown the others.
That was is most urgent desire, the most intense feeling, to transpose which he did not want to feel into the hearts of others, to convince himself while he watched others' face grimace in pain, in horror, in death, that he could and would not let himself bask even a glimpse of those emotions and feelings, no matter their nature.
He was the battousai, a walking death clasped in a storm of blood-red locks, like a rain of blood following his wake, strands of vital and warm crimson liquid surrounding golden pupils, adding oh so much dismay to the void of his expression.
The man stopped, he had sensed a strong ki, the whole air around him hummed with the anger of someone's aura nearby. Precociously, he turned the corner while blending into his surroundings, becoming one with the darkness, calling its veil to embrace him with its chills and nothingness.
Noticing a very quick swoosh of air, he turned his eyes to the other end of the alley, knowing instantly the ki emanated from there, on the other side of the scene. And here his prey lay, with friends of his, bend down on the slim form of a girl or child, he could not see enough to distinguish. But he felt the hormones of those men, he knew their thoughts. Filthy rats controlled by their own passions. Weak.
Movement took his attention, he waited, curious for once.
..........
She came out of her shade in the glimpse of an eye, blurred. Appearing in between Misao's body and the closest man, weapon already in hand, she slashed the tip of her katana toward his throat and slit it swiftly in a long, fluid movement, then continued the motion into the next's chest, gushing him from shoulder to hip faster than he had time to think, rushed one leg under his knees and made him fall, bloodied and mouth gaping, on his back.
Slowly, deliberately, she turned her masked face, shimmering sapphires ablaze, toward the remaining duo, holding her sword like a pick, handle up and blade down, wrist at the height of her face in a half-crouched stance. Her form spoke of cunning agility, speed beyond their eyes' registering and death. But little did they know, from the way she was clothed, black pants and shoes, up-tied hair and starless black samurai overalls that she was a woman.
She smirked, taking the perfect move for her favourite move, one especially made to fight men and make them suffer like hell's flame pits burning their guts.
Divine speed busting her step as surprise still held them paralysed, she brought the reversely handed blade toward the thigh of the closest man and pushed it upward with a full-circle flick of her thin wrist, opening a wound from knee to opposite hip, all around the upper tight and nether parts. Blood oozed like a fountain and a high-pitched screamed echoed in the cloudless sky as he died almost on the spot from pain. She knew too well he would suffer agony for countless minutes before the last drop of his foul blood was drank by the dusty road.
A vicious smile on her hided face, her mind blanked and flared when, as she was about to kill the second warrior, the tip of a katana emerged from his torso, in the perfect middle, stopping a mere inches from her own blade, halting her attack. A single droplet of blood fell from the needle tip, falling over the end of her own weapon, as if to greet her. The katana retracted too quick, the man fell, revealing behind him a black form with gold eyes.
Storming sea met molten lava intensely, and for a minute, the wind stopped.
To be continued.
I hope you all like this. This chapter is longer than the first, even though it might not reveal as much information as you'd like, I beg you to give me more time. It's hard to word my visions lololol.
And oh, please review, I want to know if I'm writing insanity or a story that is worth reading :)