Twilight Memories
One foot in front of the other. That is how I got here and that is how I am going to leave.
Ten years had passed since the Meiji revolution. Ten years since the bloodshed and ten years of
my life living as a vagabond - no home, no friends, no family. Somehow I preferred it that way.
I enter a small, quaint village where there was a smile from every villager and a meal for every
travel-weary stranger.
Trust - the town was full of it. Villagers leave their doors unlocked at night and mothers let
their children play away from the village unattended. All that has happened ten years ago had
faded away like a bad dream... something that causes one to be uneasy but other than that, it was
not anything for one to be overtly worried about.
The villagers lived in peace, peace with the government and peace within themselves...
something that always seemed to elude me. I will never be able to forget the bloodshed or the
part I played in the revolution.
Looking up, I saw two children playing in a puddle, splashing about in the mud. A mother was
calling out to them, scolding them for getting themselves dirty just after their bath.
Family - the one thing I have never known. I barely remember my parents who died when I
was still a child. The only 'family' I have ever known was three sisters travelling with the same
slave traders I was sold to. They took me under their wing, a small, frightened child with large
violet eyes and flaming hair. Being the only boy in my 'family' I vowed to protect them should
we come to any harm.
What a joke, I thought bitterly. I couldn't even protect myself at that time and yet I sought to
protect another. This fact was made crystal clear when the slave traders were ambushed by a
group of bloodthirsty robbers. I was the sole survivor of that massacre - one thing I never
forgave myself for. I should have died with them. I should never have lived. I should never have
been saved by my shishiou. I should never have been taken in by him. I should never have
mastered the ancient art of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu and I should never have been an assassin for the
Meiji government.
It all started out with my desire to protect the helpless just like the child I was. I wanted to help
others and I wanted to bring peace to my country. So, I agreed to work as an assassin for the
new government. I was the Assassin known as Battousai.
The Assassin was famous because no one had ever seen him. Those who did never lived to tell
the tale. He never failed a mission and he never made a mistake. It was rumoured that he was the
best swordsman and indeed the title of Hittokiri Battousai was given to him. He was the
strongest and no one had ever beat him in his reign. He killed many well-guarded high officials
without leaving a trace. Indeed, many of the bodyguards did not even know that the man they
were protecting was already dead until the body was found in the morning. Such was the
assassin's skill until mothers use the name Battousai to scare their children from wandering to far
away from home or misbehaving. He was the killer without a soul. Those who opposed the new
government were eliminated quickly, silently and without any fuss.
I never liked killing but I knew that by taking out the minority I was helping thousands of
others. Because of the killer I was, the revolution was sped up. If it had dragged on, many more
innocent lives would be in the line of fire. It was the choice of one life to a thousand. I chose the
former.
I thought that killing for a good cause was worthwhile but I was wrong. Taking a life, no
matter how wicked the person was, was never an easy thing. So I never wanted to know about
my target until a few days before the scheduled task. If I got to know the target, about their wives
and such, I would never be able to go through with my mission.
But no matter what I did, I never forgot the looks of terror on their face as they faced me. I
never forgot the pain of killing yet another person and I never forgot the blood. There was so
much blood.
"Oof!" a boy of three rammed into me headlong. With an apologetic grin, the boy extracted
himself from me and with a last smile, rushed into the crowd.
Stopping at a stall, I bought some provisions to sustain me during my journey. I do not know
where I will be heading. I do not know where I am. I only know that I will stop my wandering
only when I have made peace with the killer inside of me. I never want to revert to that sort of
life again.
I head out towards the setting sun, leaving the small town with its joyous laughter and peaceful
warmth behind me. As I take each agonizing step, I feel the familiar coldness enveloping my
soul.
One foot in front of the other. That is how I got here, and that is how I am going to leave. One
foot in front of the other.
One foot in front of the other. That is how I got here and that is how I am going to leave.
Ten years had passed since the Meiji revolution. Ten years since the bloodshed and ten years of
my life living as a vagabond - no home, no friends, no family. Somehow I preferred it that way.
I enter a small, quaint village where there was a smile from every villager and a meal for every
travel-weary stranger.
Trust - the town was full of it. Villagers leave their doors unlocked at night and mothers let
their children play away from the village unattended. All that has happened ten years ago had
faded away like a bad dream... something that causes one to be uneasy but other than that, it was
not anything for one to be overtly worried about.
The villagers lived in peace, peace with the government and peace within themselves...
something that always seemed to elude me. I will never be able to forget the bloodshed or the
part I played in the revolution.
Looking up, I saw two children playing in a puddle, splashing about in the mud. A mother was
calling out to them, scolding them for getting themselves dirty just after their bath.
Family - the one thing I have never known. I barely remember my parents who died when I
was still a child. The only 'family' I have ever known was three sisters travelling with the same
slave traders I was sold to. They took me under their wing, a small, frightened child with large
violet eyes and flaming hair. Being the only boy in my 'family' I vowed to protect them should
we come to any harm.
What a joke, I thought bitterly. I couldn't even protect myself at that time and yet I sought to
protect another. This fact was made crystal clear when the slave traders were ambushed by a
group of bloodthirsty robbers. I was the sole survivor of that massacre - one thing I never
forgave myself for. I should have died with them. I should never have lived. I should never have
been saved by my shishiou. I should never have been taken in by him. I should never have
mastered the ancient art of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu and I should never have been an assassin for the
Meiji government.
It all started out with my desire to protect the helpless just like the child I was. I wanted to help
others and I wanted to bring peace to my country. So, I agreed to work as an assassin for the
new government. I was the Assassin known as Battousai.
The Assassin was famous because no one had ever seen him. Those who did never lived to tell
the tale. He never failed a mission and he never made a mistake. It was rumoured that he was the
best swordsman and indeed the title of Hittokiri Battousai was given to him. He was the
strongest and no one had ever beat him in his reign. He killed many well-guarded high officials
without leaving a trace. Indeed, many of the bodyguards did not even know that the man they
were protecting was already dead until the body was found in the morning. Such was the
assassin's skill until mothers use the name Battousai to scare their children from wandering to far
away from home or misbehaving. He was the killer without a soul. Those who opposed the new
government were eliminated quickly, silently and without any fuss.
I never liked killing but I knew that by taking out the minority I was helping thousands of
others. Because of the killer I was, the revolution was sped up. If it had dragged on, many more
innocent lives would be in the line of fire. It was the choice of one life to a thousand. I chose the
former.
I thought that killing for a good cause was worthwhile but I was wrong. Taking a life, no
matter how wicked the person was, was never an easy thing. So I never wanted to know about
my target until a few days before the scheduled task. If I got to know the target, about their wives
and such, I would never be able to go through with my mission.
But no matter what I did, I never forgot the looks of terror on their face as they faced me. I
never forgot the pain of killing yet another person and I never forgot the blood. There was so
much blood.
"Oof!" a boy of three rammed into me headlong. With an apologetic grin, the boy extracted
himself from me and with a last smile, rushed into the crowd.
Stopping at a stall, I bought some provisions to sustain me during my journey. I do not know
where I will be heading. I do not know where I am. I only know that I will stop my wandering
only when I have made peace with the killer inside of me. I never want to revert to that sort of
life again.
I head out towards the setting sun, leaving the small town with its joyous laughter and peaceful
warmth behind me. As I take each agonizing step, I feel the familiar coldness enveloping my
soul.
One foot in front of the other. That is how I got here, and that is how I am going to leave. One
foot in front of the other.