Author's notes: This is probably my thousandth attempt at a Rurouni Kenshin fan fiction, but only the first that I've actually decided to go through with, and I've finally worked up the courage to post it here. I'd really appreciate it if you gave this story and I a chance. I'm not going to beg you, but everyone wants their stories read, right? ^^

This story is going to be a mix of mystery and horror. It will mostly revolve around Misao and the Oniwabanshuu, but I may yet throw the others in somewhere; it depends. I've made this chapter short so the length wouldn't intimidate anyone. ^^ Remember; try to give it a chance, please.

Enjoy!

The Vacated Mind

Chapter One

Misao trailed down the street, moneybag clutched tightly in hand. She didn't have much, but there was no doubt she would need it later. Be tough, Misao, she thought. Be tough.

Today, Misao Makimachi was on her own.

Kyoto was surprisingly quiet, even for early morning. There were many people outside, of course--there always were--but still it was unusual, the awkward silence that hung in the air.

"Eeek!"

The sudden cry broke through the thick wall of silence like a hammer breaking through glass. The townspeople looked up from their work, and children began to cry. Everyone turned to the source of the scream.

A plump young woman, rage incredibly obvious on her face, raised her large hand above the head of a short, slim old man. "Go away!" yelled the woman, "Get away!" Her hand was frozen in the air, ready to strike.

"Please! I need you help!" the old man pleaded. "My--" When she struck him, he stammered back several paces, trying severely not to drop the small bundle his arms were wrapped around.

This was just across the street from where Misao Makimachi stood. She watched in horror as the age-weathered man fell to the ground. He held to himself an object covered in a wool blanket; after a moment, though, Misao realized that this was not an object--but a small child! Almost naturally, it's face turned to Misao, red and panic-stricken. Metallic eyes stared at her. It suddenly gave Misao the overwhelming feeling of fear, and she cowered back, hoping that it would turn its gaze elsewhere.

It didn't. But soon the brazen luster faded from its eyes, and the child turned its head away quickly. Misao let out a breath she had been holding. She contemplated silently whether or not she had even seen the eyes glow in the first place.

Still watching, she observed the old man raising sad, tired eyes to the woman who still stood over him. "Please, miss," he said, "My granddaughter is ill, and--" But the woman had now walked into the safety of her home, shutting the door behind her. Tears glistened in the old man's eyes as he hoisted himself off the ground.

Misao turned away; there was nothing to see anymore. She hated when others were treated badly, but the old man had brought it upon himself--to think, asking a high-class woman for medical assistance when there certainly had to be a doctor's clinic around here somewhere! And besides, Misao had given up on helping anyone other than herself. There was just no sense in it anymore.

Still, she couldn't shake those beady little eyes from her mind.

Without thinking, she turned back to where the scene had been. The old man and the child were gone. However, she scanned the street until her eyes finally locked with the man's. They were a good distance from each other, but Misao felt as though they were the only two remaining on earth right now. When she averted her eyes, his mouth broke into a wide grin, revealing several yellow teeth. She forced herself to look back at him. Metallic, beady eyes--the grin--they were the man's eyes! Misao hadn't realized before, when she first saw him again, that the child was not with him this time, and she hardly noticed now fear. She didn't know what to do--she was too scared to even think.

But when she felt a presence behind her, she had another fear. It was the child--she knew it was the child! Afraid of what might happen to her if she stayed any longer, she ran, bolted away as fast as she could, and didn't look back.

All of that had been a week ago. It had been quite a scare for Misao, and after that, she'd gone running back to the Aoiya. She wasn't even sure why she had wanted to run away in the first place. Misao remembered the incident very clearly still--every detail. She sure had a lot of memory space for it now, anyway, ever since that one day two months ago. That day when . . .

She didn't even know what had happened that day! Dr. Kishimoto only told her that something terrible had happened to her, and that was all. They'd planted that stupid word--"terrible"--into Misao's head, and she had to pretend that she believed it. The truth was: she didn't know what to believe; she didn't remember anything before waking up in the doctor's clinic. And nobody was even helping her out. They wanted her to remember, but they wouldn't help her remember. In fact, it sometimes seemed like they wanted to avoid her; she hardly ever saw the people she lived with, those who were supposedly her "family." Maybe they were always like that. Or maybe they didn't like her. Maybe they were plotting to kill her.

Misao would have laughed at herself had she known it was not true. But it could be true, it could all be true. What did she even know about them? Nothing. She knew nothing about them, aside from the fact that they were all members of the elite ninja group, the Oniwabanshuu, under the leadership of the seemingly anti-social Aoshi Shinomori. The only word he'd ever said to her was "hello."

Now that made Misao laugh. The man's perpetual silence put his looks to shame. She admitted to herself that she did have a bit of a crush on him--he certainly was handsome enough--but in a way he was too mysterious. The woman named Omasu had once mentioned that Aoshi and Misao had been close when they were younger, but Misao didn't remember anything about him. She didn't remember anything about any of them. Which brought her back to the point--

Could she trust them?

Right now . . . right now, she couldn't trust anyone. There was just too much to worry about, too much at stake. For instance, that evil man and his wicked granddaughter--if she was even his granddaughter at all. Misao couldn't shake her run-in with them from her mind, and she had the sick feeling that they would meet again any day now. After all, they had warned her that they would be back.

The warning had come in the form of a note. Misao had found it lying on the desk in her bedroom only two days before, which made her all the more frightened--they had been in her room, had been in the Aoiya.

The note was succinct and to the point: "We'll be back. Wait for us!" It was simple enough to have been a prank, a joke played by a member of the Oniwabanshuu even--Omasu, Okon, Shirojou, Kurojou, Okina, or Aoshi. What did she know about them, anyway?

But when Misao considered the ink color used to compose the note, she knew it was from the old man she had seen on the street. She had only seen black ink before, so this particular color stood out brilliantly: metallic. It was the exact shade that had pierced Misao through the eyes of the old man and the child.

Without a doubt, they would be back.

**

End notes: ^^ If I get a good response, I'll most likely update in a week from now. I hope you like it so far . . .

Please review! :)