He remembered the chilled feeling he was overcome with every time his
socked feet touched the nearly frosted cobbled stone street. He remembered
the deathly cold breezed in the damp frozen city. He remembered how dry
his lips got and how his teeth clattered. He remembered how convenient the
pitch darkness was. He remembered everything about the present. But the
past, the past was a blank. It was an emptiness that he didn't even try
to comprehend.
Because though he didn't remember the details, he remembered the feeling the past brought. He remembered the pain and the anguish the past put upon his heart. He could almost feel his soul splitting. The dread of these feelings brought him to push the past away. To look onto the future.
The wind whistled in his ears and echoed in his head. He clutched his sword to his side, feeling the sheath through his fuchsia Yukata. His torso covered in chills, as another gust of wind slithered it's way through the slits and tears in his bandages. His bandages did nothing to prevent the chills to cover him completely. No, his bandages were old and in desperate need to be changed with new ones, for his wounds were becoming aggitated.
He looked in the city he was in. This city. He remembered this city. He came here early in the day. He was picking up some rice. He was picking up rice for someone. He couldn't remember who, but suddenly he felt a warm rush of blood run through his body. He felt comforted thinking of this person. He could imagine a young figure standing in front of him. Treating his wounds. It was a good memory.
But was it a memory? Or was it a dream? He hoped it was a memory, that this figure he saw in his mind was real. He pictured the figure in his head again. He saw dark, long hair, pulled up in a purple ribbon. The ribbon struck a nerve. He remembered the ribbon being special to this young woman. He remembered her lending him her ribbon for his injuries.
He focused on her face but it was a blur. He saw her purple kimono with the pink cherry blossom design starting from her waist and spreading out to her feet. On her feet, she wore white socks with sandals. Her sleeves went all the way down to her feet.
He looked at all of her now. She was a beautiful dark haired, slender, woman. He could now she her face. She had deep violet eyes, that could pierce through his heart. She had a small button nose, and full lips. She looked in her early twenties. He found his mouth agape. He knew this woman so well, but all knowledge of her seemed to vanish every time he touched upon her. She was delicate but had a fiery sprit and a temper to match. She was a skilled fighter, who believed that a sword was a weapon to protect people with. That rung in his ears, much like it did when he first heard he say it.
To protect people. That was his intention all along. That was always his intention. His master taught him the technique of the Hiten Mitsurugi style to protect people. But he was a boy and was very impatient. He had nothing other then his master and his sword. And he had no patience to wait when he was far more skilled then most likely all of Japan. But in mind he was still weak. He had visions that of a boy. A boy who didn't want anyone to lose a loved one, the way he had five times.
He wondered about the five people he lost. He remembered visiting a grave for his parents. He remembered the bodies that had protected him from the soldiers. The bodies that whispered to him to live life. He remembered the woman.
He clutched his head. His mind was spinning. He looked to the left where a stream was flowing by. This stream offered him relief. But it was a relief that would not last long. He could still feel that nagging feeling in the bottom of his heart and gut. He felt the most sadness for this memory. He wanted to remember why. What kind of memory could bring him this much pain and anguish.
He remembered feeling betrayed. He felt anger towards the men in uniforms. He could remember attacking. And he remembered the bodies of the lifeless splattered across the floor. He saw a woman, with tears streaming down her cheeks, one after another. She looked away from his eyes to the ground. Then he remembered the big official in black, laughing. He remembered his words had triggered something he thought had died deep within him.
"The HitoKiri." The man had whispered.
He remembered something taking over. He had run, with god-like speed. He had taken out his sakabottou. He had began to chant 'Hiten Mitsurugi style.Ryu no Hira..' But he had stopped mid sentence. She had interjected his attack with her life. His sword slid through her body. His eyes widened and he stared into her eyes. She lifted a knife weakly and put the final scar on his right cheek, finishing the cross shape. He took his sword out, dropping it to the floor as he caught her lifeless body. He held her in his arms as he whispered in her ear over and over how it wasn't supposed to happen this way. That he loved her, and that nothing he did would ever make this moment in time forgivable.
He looked at his reflection in the river. He touched his scar. He whispered "Hitokiri battosai, Kenshin Himura, the legendary man slayer." He sighed in disgust and self pity. He sat against the tree.
"Tohmo." He looked to the sky. That was his memory. The death of his own wife. The day he gave up ending people's lives. That he started protecting them. That's when he met her. That figure. She had accused him of being the man slayer then, after ten years of wondering. After he had saved her from an imposter, she had offered him a room in her dojo. She said that his past didn't really matter. That all that mattered was that he was a wonderer who protected her.
"Kauru. Kamiya Kauru." He whispered. Those were the only words that comforted him. Her name. She had loved him for the wonderer he became, not the battosai he used to be. She had spilt tears for him when he had told her of his leaving. He had been more pained then, then any other time in his life.
He could remember a fight. He remembered blood. He remembered fire. He wanted to stop thinking because he was beginning to frighten himself. But the thoughts flooded back to him. He remembered a bloodied body,
He had been in the city, buying her rice for a feast. He was teaching her to cook. He had just purchased the barrel when he heard the commotion. He grabbed hold of his sakabottou and walked to the crowd, pushing his way through. He poked his head out to see Kauru standing in front of a little girl holding a kitten.
"You should be ashamed of yourselves!" She yelled to the big rugged men, with their swords extended.
"We only wanted her, but if you wanted to join us, you should've just asked." One of the bulky men said taking a step. Kauru held her ground.
"Men like you make me sick!" Kauru said, extending her bottou.
"So you want to fight? I think you're a little crazy but if it's a fight you want, then it's a fight you'll get." One of the others had said.
"I think it would be better if you all just left these ladies alone, that I do." He had said, stepping next to Kauru.
"Kenshin!" Kauru said looking to her right.
"Kenshin? Kenshin Himura?!" One of the men, with a pointy black beard, yelled. Kenshin only smiled.
"He's faking it. The really hitokiri isn't capable of smiling, he's gone through too much hell. Let's take them both." The big one went for Kenshin, while the other two went for Kauru.
Kauru took a fighting stance, hitting the first man in the knee, then following up with a hit upward to his jaw. The other one wasted no time and got right behind Kauru. He grabbed her waist and lifted her up. Kauru, still a little shocked from the movement, took her bottou and hit him in his gut. When he dropped her, she side-stepped and hit him behind his knees, causing him to fall forward.
Kauru wiped her head and looked to Kenshin who looked like he had finished his guy off long before Kauru. She was examining the fallen man, trying to guess the technique Kenshin had used this time. She was so focused, she didn't notice the first guy she took care of, grab a large rock and raise it above her head. He knocked her out, and flung her over his shoulder. Kenshin watched this interaction happen and with the speed of light, he stopped right in front of the man.
"I do not want to fight you, that I do not. But if you don't put down Kauru-dono then you leave me no choice." Kenshin got into a stance, keeping a hand just above his Sakabottou's handle. Just then, the big man, reached into his pocket and threw down pills that exploded into sleeping gas. Kenshin jumped above the dark cloud, but he had already gotten some of the gas into his lungs, when he gasped.
The man took Kauru North. He remembered that. It was necessary to know, in order to find and rescue her. Hours later, when night had fallen, Kenshin awoke. He laid face down on the cobble stone rode. He pushed himself to his feet. He soaked in his surroundings. The town was deserted. He didn't waste any time, he ran North. After a few miles of endless running, he saw a fire. He ran toward the town. When he entered, he saw the town in ruins, fires burning the few trees there were in the area. He saw blood stained on the rubble of the old houses and the grass. He followed one trail to a dead patch of grass.
He walked onto the grass where he saw blue hair glistening in the light the moon was providing. He walked further to see a purple kimono with pink cherry blossom patterns starting from her waist and spreading to her feet, which were bare. Her feet were bound as well as her feet. He turned the young woman's shoulder to face her upward. When he realized who it was, he dropped to his knees and brought her into his lap.
"Kauru, no." He sobbed into her Kimono. He held her to his chest.
He remembered waking up with her under his body. He remembered picking her up and putting her over his right shoulder, holding her with one hand, becuase his other felt sprained or broken. He remembered feeling like he was going to pass out from all the pain to his head. He remembered trudging through the cold wind. He remembered stumbling to his kness several times, losing strength little by little.
He held her tightly as he rested his head in the nook of her neck and shoulder and cried. He remembered how he never told her of his love for her. He remembered her never returning that love. He felt empty. He felt lost. He felt extremely cold. Then he remembered that it was in the middle of Summer. His eyes widened and he looked at his stomache. It was wet. He touched the cold liquid.
It shone red in the Moon light. He realized that it wasn't Kauru's blood that soaked his Yukata. It was his. He'd been stabbed. Not by a sword. Not in honor. By a blade of a knife of a man that had his family taken from him in the Manji Era, in the Revolution, by an Imperalist who killed for fun. By the Hito Kiri. By Kenshin.
He looked down at Kauru who was turning a ghostly color. She was as cold as ice, her lips a deathly hue of blue. He slid down further so that he was comfortable against the tree. He brought Kauru aginst his chest, as to bring her any source of hat he could provide. He kissed her forehead. Blackness.
Because though he didn't remember the details, he remembered the feeling the past brought. He remembered the pain and the anguish the past put upon his heart. He could almost feel his soul splitting. The dread of these feelings brought him to push the past away. To look onto the future.
The wind whistled in his ears and echoed in his head. He clutched his sword to his side, feeling the sheath through his fuchsia Yukata. His torso covered in chills, as another gust of wind slithered it's way through the slits and tears in his bandages. His bandages did nothing to prevent the chills to cover him completely. No, his bandages were old and in desperate need to be changed with new ones, for his wounds were becoming aggitated.
He looked in the city he was in. This city. He remembered this city. He came here early in the day. He was picking up some rice. He was picking up rice for someone. He couldn't remember who, but suddenly he felt a warm rush of blood run through his body. He felt comforted thinking of this person. He could imagine a young figure standing in front of him. Treating his wounds. It was a good memory.
But was it a memory? Or was it a dream? He hoped it was a memory, that this figure he saw in his mind was real. He pictured the figure in his head again. He saw dark, long hair, pulled up in a purple ribbon. The ribbon struck a nerve. He remembered the ribbon being special to this young woman. He remembered her lending him her ribbon for his injuries.
He focused on her face but it was a blur. He saw her purple kimono with the pink cherry blossom design starting from her waist and spreading out to her feet. On her feet, she wore white socks with sandals. Her sleeves went all the way down to her feet.
He looked at all of her now. She was a beautiful dark haired, slender, woman. He could now she her face. She had deep violet eyes, that could pierce through his heart. She had a small button nose, and full lips. She looked in her early twenties. He found his mouth agape. He knew this woman so well, but all knowledge of her seemed to vanish every time he touched upon her. She was delicate but had a fiery sprit and a temper to match. She was a skilled fighter, who believed that a sword was a weapon to protect people with. That rung in his ears, much like it did when he first heard he say it.
To protect people. That was his intention all along. That was always his intention. His master taught him the technique of the Hiten Mitsurugi style to protect people. But he was a boy and was very impatient. He had nothing other then his master and his sword. And he had no patience to wait when he was far more skilled then most likely all of Japan. But in mind he was still weak. He had visions that of a boy. A boy who didn't want anyone to lose a loved one, the way he had five times.
He wondered about the five people he lost. He remembered visiting a grave for his parents. He remembered the bodies that had protected him from the soldiers. The bodies that whispered to him to live life. He remembered the woman.
He clutched his head. His mind was spinning. He looked to the left where a stream was flowing by. This stream offered him relief. But it was a relief that would not last long. He could still feel that nagging feeling in the bottom of his heart and gut. He felt the most sadness for this memory. He wanted to remember why. What kind of memory could bring him this much pain and anguish.
He remembered feeling betrayed. He felt anger towards the men in uniforms. He could remember attacking. And he remembered the bodies of the lifeless splattered across the floor. He saw a woman, with tears streaming down her cheeks, one after another. She looked away from his eyes to the ground. Then he remembered the big official in black, laughing. He remembered his words had triggered something he thought had died deep within him.
"The HitoKiri." The man had whispered.
He remembered something taking over. He had run, with god-like speed. He had taken out his sakabottou. He had began to chant 'Hiten Mitsurugi style.Ryu no Hira..' But he had stopped mid sentence. She had interjected his attack with her life. His sword slid through her body. His eyes widened and he stared into her eyes. She lifted a knife weakly and put the final scar on his right cheek, finishing the cross shape. He took his sword out, dropping it to the floor as he caught her lifeless body. He held her in his arms as he whispered in her ear over and over how it wasn't supposed to happen this way. That he loved her, and that nothing he did would ever make this moment in time forgivable.
He looked at his reflection in the river. He touched his scar. He whispered "Hitokiri battosai, Kenshin Himura, the legendary man slayer." He sighed in disgust and self pity. He sat against the tree.
"Tohmo." He looked to the sky. That was his memory. The death of his own wife. The day he gave up ending people's lives. That he started protecting them. That's when he met her. That figure. She had accused him of being the man slayer then, after ten years of wondering. After he had saved her from an imposter, she had offered him a room in her dojo. She said that his past didn't really matter. That all that mattered was that he was a wonderer who protected her.
"Kauru. Kamiya Kauru." He whispered. Those were the only words that comforted him. Her name. She had loved him for the wonderer he became, not the battosai he used to be. She had spilt tears for him when he had told her of his leaving. He had been more pained then, then any other time in his life.
He could remember a fight. He remembered blood. He remembered fire. He wanted to stop thinking because he was beginning to frighten himself. But the thoughts flooded back to him. He remembered a bloodied body,
He had been in the city, buying her rice for a feast. He was teaching her to cook. He had just purchased the barrel when he heard the commotion. He grabbed hold of his sakabottou and walked to the crowd, pushing his way through. He poked his head out to see Kauru standing in front of a little girl holding a kitten.
"You should be ashamed of yourselves!" She yelled to the big rugged men, with their swords extended.
"We only wanted her, but if you wanted to join us, you should've just asked." One of the bulky men said taking a step. Kauru held her ground.
"Men like you make me sick!" Kauru said, extending her bottou.
"So you want to fight? I think you're a little crazy but if it's a fight you want, then it's a fight you'll get." One of the others had said.
"I think it would be better if you all just left these ladies alone, that I do." He had said, stepping next to Kauru.
"Kenshin!" Kauru said looking to her right.
"Kenshin? Kenshin Himura?!" One of the men, with a pointy black beard, yelled. Kenshin only smiled.
"He's faking it. The really hitokiri isn't capable of smiling, he's gone through too much hell. Let's take them both." The big one went for Kenshin, while the other two went for Kauru.
Kauru took a fighting stance, hitting the first man in the knee, then following up with a hit upward to his jaw. The other one wasted no time and got right behind Kauru. He grabbed her waist and lifted her up. Kauru, still a little shocked from the movement, took her bottou and hit him in his gut. When he dropped her, she side-stepped and hit him behind his knees, causing him to fall forward.
Kauru wiped her head and looked to Kenshin who looked like he had finished his guy off long before Kauru. She was examining the fallen man, trying to guess the technique Kenshin had used this time. She was so focused, she didn't notice the first guy she took care of, grab a large rock and raise it above her head. He knocked her out, and flung her over his shoulder. Kenshin watched this interaction happen and with the speed of light, he stopped right in front of the man.
"I do not want to fight you, that I do not. But if you don't put down Kauru-dono then you leave me no choice." Kenshin got into a stance, keeping a hand just above his Sakabottou's handle. Just then, the big man, reached into his pocket and threw down pills that exploded into sleeping gas. Kenshin jumped above the dark cloud, but he had already gotten some of the gas into his lungs, when he gasped.
The man took Kauru North. He remembered that. It was necessary to know, in order to find and rescue her. Hours later, when night had fallen, Kenshin awoke. He laid face down on the cobble stone rode. He pushed himself to his feet. He soaked in his surroundings. The town was deserted. He didn't waste any time, he ran North. After a few miles of endless running, he saw a fire. He ran toward the town. When he entered, he saw the town in ruins, fires burning the few trees there were in the area. He saw blood stained on the rubble of the old houses and the grass. He followed one trail to a dead patch of grass.
He walked onto the grass where he saw blue hair glistening in the light the moon was providing. He walked further to see a purple kimono with pink cherry blossom patterns starting from her waist and spreading to her feet, which were bare. Her feet were bound as well as her feet. He turned the young woman's shoulder to face her upward. When he realized who it was, he dropped to his knees and brought her into his lap.
"Kauru, no." He sobbed into her Kimono. He held her to his chest.
He remembered waking up with her under his body. He remembered picking her up and putting her over his right shoulder, holding her with one hand, becuase his other felt sprained or broken. He remembered feeling like he was going to pass out from all the pain to his head. He remembered trudging through the cold wind. He remembered stumbling to his kness several times, losing strength little by little.
He held her tightly as he rested his head in the nook of her neck and shoulder and cried. He remembered how he never told her of his love for her. He remembered her never returning that love. He felt empty. He felt lost. He felt extremely cold. Then he remembered that it was in the middle of Summer. His eyes widened and he looked at his stomache. It was wet. He touched the cold liquid.
It shone red in the Moon light. He realized that it wasn't Kauru's blood that soaked his Yukata. It was his. He'd been stabbed. Not by a sword. Not in honor. By a blade of a knife of a man that had his family taken from him in the Manji Era, in the Revolution, by an Imperalist who killed for fun. By the Hito Kiri. By Kenshin.
He looked down at Kauru who was turning a ghostly color. She was as cold as ice, her lips a deathly hue of blue. He slid down further so that he was comfortable against the tree. He brought Kauru aginst his chest, as to bring her any source of hat he could provide. He kissed her forehead. Blackness.