Disclaimer: sneaks in the shadows : Shhh: sees red hair and pounces from behind cardboard boxes : EEEYYAA: lands with an oouuff: Darn it all! IT'S JUST A CARDBOARD CUTOUT: kicks it and then grabs it and runs off with it : I'll make it all better……… OH MY GOD I BENT IT!

Author's Notes: For some reason your authoress is EXTREMELY happy. I don't know why. But I want to write. I have 4 stories up and I still want to write and update every single one of them. I think these will be the fastest updates I've ever done. Or at least I hope. I have ALL DAY to sit and do nothing, so why not WRITE? I had to repost the last chapter because I forgot the interlude, and I'm not sure if they'll get rid of the sparse amounts of reviews or not. So if they do, COULD YOU PLEASE go back and re-review to the chapter: beggs you : I would be so thankful. And, the interlude to this chapter is by Linkin Park. It will make sense partway through the chapter.

Building the Hitokiri

Chapter 6- Engulfed Into Darkness

'I can't seperated myself from what I've done,

Giving up a part of me, I've let myself become you'

The quarters for which Kenshin was to call home in his time he served the infamous imperialists were nice, to say the least. They weren't furnished to the point of appearing tacky; the room was simple and clean- wooden floors and wooden walls, oak doors. There was a rice paper divider that could be drawn across the room if he pleased. A stack of books that were meant for leisure was in the corner underneath a window. A table was in a corner, without much on it yet. He supposed that was where the women who cooked and served the men were to place his meals.

And a lone futon was set in the farthest corner away from him upon entering the tiny, cozy room. He had received a full wardrobe of Choshu clan garb, filled with their colors of dark, navy blue and placid gray. He had to put them into the closest that was to right of him. Setting his swords down against the riveted timber next to the door, he slowly made his way over to the shoji doored closet.

To most people, this room would seem nice and comforting. To him, it was just foreboding and an evil tease. He knew he'd never find comfort in the represses of this room- it was a feeling he couldn't explain, only felt and knew. Something that was nagging at him; wouldn't leave him alone. Kenshin decided that staying there would only keep that mood on his mind, so he left to further evaluate his surroundings.

The entire Inn was quite plain in sight, nothing extravagant to the human eye. The only difference you could see were the men who trained outside of its walls in an attempt to prepare for their next battle. They were all strong, but he could tell their fighting skills were limited. That was why they were the ones on the battlefield, and men like him were the ones behind them lurking in shadows, killing people as they were instructed to do. It didn't matter to Kenshin what his instructions were; he would never attack someone without a weapon. If they didn't have a weapon, they didn't have a chance to fight back, and that would constitute as cold-blooded murder, not a death used to help further the imperialist's ideals. As long as he could believe that, Kenshin thought he could do this job of killing on the sidelines. He'd seen so much slaughter when he was young, so the sight of dead corpses lying on the ground in their own blood wouldn't be anything new to him. The only difference would be that he had done the killing himself.

His hands clenched together. The slaughter he had seen when he was young- the things his father did to his family. This was why he was doing this. He was taking this job in order to protect others from the same fate he had. He was doing this to bring a peaceful era, one with no pain and one that would save young lives from the hands of those who sought to destroy them. The backbone to his reason was to protect people from men like his father.

Shaking his head, Kenshin continued down the corridors of the building, sending his sights off to the sides every so often as a warning to everyone around him and to prepare himself for anything unexpected. He had yet to perform his task, but he didn't need to do it until the cover of darkness came. His first thought was of the man Iizuka- could he trust him? Katsura said he would send him out after Kenshin to clean up the carnage that would surely be left behind, but Kenshin had doubts. He shook it off as being paranoid because this was his first day there, and the first time he would ever actually kill with his own two hands.

"Sir… may I ask your name? I'm used to being acquainted with all the men around here, I wasn't aware that Katsura-san had assigned a new man to quarter here." An older woman asked from inside the kitchen.

"Himura Kenshin." He answered, side glancing at the woman. "Do you run this Inn, ma'am?"

She nodded at him. "Yes, I take care of all you men here. I usually have some help, but I really don't know where the other two girls are at the moment. No matter, I'll cook you up something. You look tired and hungry, if I say so myself."

He shook his head. "There is no reason. But, may I ask, if you could prepare something small but filling for me earlier than the others? I fear I won't be able to eat with them all tonight. I have to do something."

"I can do that." She told him. "How does soba and rice sound?"

"That should be good."

With a nod to the woman, Kenshin went on his way down the hall, thinking again of the man whose name was inscribed in the envelope. He was a senator; supposedly heavily guarded at all times, but he carried his own sword, just in case. A chill ran down Kenshin's spine. How was he to do this? Sneak up on them and attack, or let them know he was there and then slice through them like butter? These morbid thoughts plagued his mind and he shook his head. There was no reason for him to be thinking like this, so much about death and not enough about light.

But, could he ever think about light again?

Heartbeats were rapid and pulsating in his ears, his body breaking out into a premature sweat and threatening to deteriorate his living corpse. Kenshin slipped through the back alleyways, regretting his lack of planning at going out earlier, during the day, to scout out a route and get used to the bustling life that was Kyoto. His hands lingered near his sword hilts, his senses high as he awaited his duty to come. His body was fast but timid- his mind refused to register his location or the movements that were to come. At first, he couldn't even remember why he was there.

Why was he so nervous? Was it because he knew he was going to be slaying someone for the first time that night? Or was it because, he only now realized that he was doing the exact opposite of what he had promised Sakura?

'I would never strike another without reason.'

Those were his exact words to his sister the night she died. She had been comparing him to his father. Did he have reason, now, for bringing ultimate darkness in death's bleak hands to the man, and all his guards, as instructed by this simple piece of paper in his hands?

'You say that now, but your still young. Your ways may change and I find the only way to protect is to hide you from how he is.'

His eyes widened in his brooding. Sakura had been right. He had changed; he had been changed ever since that night. Wallowing in darkness and borderline insane. He was dropping down to the acts of his own father- killing people unjustly.

Kenshin gripped his head, his hands flying through his hair. No, he wasn't becoming like his father. The men on this paper deserved to die, their evils were immense against the weaker people of Japan. He couldn't let them live, knowing what they had done to destroy the lives of those people who were only trying to live day to day, just like he had always done. He dropped his hand and readjusted his wrist guards, just to be on the safe side.

He cleared his mind of his broodings and slipped up against a nice corner, one foot in front of him so he could sprint off at his target immediately. In the shadows he hid as well as he could, his purple eyes slowly changing shades to a steely blue the resembled the gleam on his blade as it reflected the colors of his gi. Concentration was imprinted against his brow as he crouched back into the shadows, retreating away like a cowardly mouse running away from the bloodthirsty cat. Only this time, it was the other way around. He was the cougar, hiding until he could pounce upon the unspecting rabbits that were to be his prey.

Sensing he still had time, he began to think over how he was going to complete the allotted task. How could he kill this man? What way would be the most efficient? Katsura had hired him because of his skills and speed; therefore he had to be at some great advantage as it already was. But he wasn't trying to come up with the most gruesome way to kill the doomed men on his paper.

For his own sake, their sake, and the sake of his dead family's memory, he wanted them to die as quickly as possible, to keep them from having to feel the pain. And in their place, unknowingly, he would be carrying that burden for their souls.

A loud footstep pulled him out of his thoughts just as he decided on using the battou-jutsu's Ryu-Kan-Sen-Arashi, an attack aimed toward beheading. It was quick, and the speed would spare them any pain they could feel. And to top it off, he could be out of there before the men fell to the ground and he was spotted.

Sending his piercing eyes to the side, he caught sight of the men that were walking forth ward. Two of them were in turquoise colored gis- the colors of Shisengumi. Silently gulping and standing back, he prayed these men would not be able to fight back. He didn't wish to see the carnage more than he had to when he returned to the Inn. The other man, the one he was supposed to assassinate, was chatting happily, dressed in complete black and a sword at his side. Kenshin didn't think he knew how to use it, but was glad he was carrying one nonetheless. At least this way the man could attempt fruitlessly to protect his life, and Kenshin's guilt wouldn't weigh so much on him, knowing he had killed someone who could have saved their own life. He wasn't attacking someone who was defenseless.

Closing his eyes, he shot out, his god-like speed matching with his call as he stopped in between the three men, sending his sword back and hitting each behind the neck in a swift movement before moving across the way, and hiding in the shadows.

He listened in silence. One. Two. Three. Three bodies had hit the ground with a thud, and Kenshin could swear he could hear the blood falling from their bodies like sake being poured to quickly from it's container. Dropping his head, he realized he'd have to walk back through there to get back to the Inn again. If he had thought more, he could have hid on the other side and never had to walk back through the slaughter again.

Taking a deep breath and keeping his eyes downcast from the sight, he shuffled out from the shadows, katana still drawn before him. Something was different; he could feel it in his body. He felt differently now, like the aggression within him was pointed in different ways.

It had been too easy.

He continued walking, the earth beneath his sandals sending out gritty sounds. And suddenly, a splash.

Opening his eyes, he saw a hand, blood completely surrounding it and tingeing his socks, hakama and blade red. His eyes flew wide, and suddenly he could feel the blood running from his hair and down his face, over his chest and down his arms, soaking his gi and making it stick to his chest. He stepped back quickly, accidentally looking up at the three dead men before him.

The decapitated bodies lay there, motionless for the most part. One was still twitching, the hand lying over as sword and the fingers moving in jerks from spasms in the nerves, like it was trying to grasp the sword once more and seek revenge. Kenshin followed the trails of blood with his eyes, seeing the scattered skulls floating in their own pools of blood, eyes wide with shock, but their mouths never changing from the happy, carefree expressions they had held before their death.

They had never felt a thing.

Kenshin sprinted over the bodies, and turned around once more after he had gotten over the rivers of blood and flesh. There was so much blood; it ran like a lake with waves from wind. The swords of the two Shisengumi members had been drawn; each was covered in blood as they lay near the men they belonged to. Kenshin suddenly wondered if he had been injured, but there was no sensation of pain anywhere. The blood on the blades had belonged to the men that lay strewn around them.

Turning his palm over, the blood flew down from his fingers in straight lines as if someone was pouring it over his body in buckets, not small droplets like the rain. His eyes grew wide once again and he dropped his sword, grasping his wrist in shock. He could kill so easily- his hands could end the life of so many without even trying. His sword, the one in the bleeding mud by his feet, could slice away at an opponent before they could react and steal their lives away from them so quickly.

Lifting his sword up again, he flicked it quickly with a reaction in his wrist, the blood flying off instanteously as he resheathed his sword.

"What are you, a Battousai?" a man asked, glancing at him. "I've never seen someone move that quickly."

Bracing himself, Kenshin spun around, falling into stance with his hand on his sword hilt. The man shook his head and walked forward, brushing past Kenshin easily and walking toward the three deceased men.

"Don't get so defensive around me. I'm Iizuka, I'm the one Katsura sent to clean up after you. You didn't make my job easy. And not even a scratch on you, I'm surprised, Himura Battousai."

Kenshin looked at him. "Battousai?"

"The way you moved, it seems to be a befitting name. Are you upset? Are you going to crack, Himura?" Iizuka questioned. "If so, then don't bother going back to the Inn. It would be a disgrace."

Standing straight and glaring with malice at Iizuka, Kenshin proclaimed, "No. I feel nothing, I never will feel anything. Those men were evil to the ways of which I fight, manipulating the innocent as they did, they deserved more than what I gave them."

Iizuka smirked and went back to work. "Then head back now, Himura Battousai."

Kenshin walked back behind the Inn, toward the well. Drawing up some water, and taking the bucket in his own shaky hands, he poured its icy contents over his skull, numbing and stinging the skin all at once. The liquid soaked through his clothing, stinging his unscathed, toned skin. After drawing more water, he flung the bucket over his head again, drowning his guilt in the minimal pain the extreme cold played against his weathered flesh.

He was no different from his father now. He had killed three men.

Were the families of these men going to cry tonight, discovering their beloved husbands, brothers, uncles, cousins, fathers, and sons could not return to them ever again? Would their friends weep as well for the loss? Would a wife lose her life, due to the grief and the lack of money? Would she have to raise her children on a less than noble way of making money? Would some children have to understand that their older brother couldn't return with the candy and gifts he had promised them? Could a child have to learn that since their father was never coming back, that their mother would never be the same, loving woman she was before?

He tried to pry these thoughts out of his head. He was still a victim of such a crime, and if not anything, he was more traumatized than any of the victim's families would ever be. Kenshin had been the one who had to draw his blade against them- he had to see their bodies lying lithe in the blood that seeped from their severed necks, had to look into their emotionless, dull eyes and watch as their bodies maKe last efforts with bodily spasm to move. He was the one who had been drenched in their blood- he was the one who had to carry their pain on his shoulders.

Anyone who was upset could cry over the loss they suffered, but none of them would know the pain Kenshin had to deal with afterward. The guilt he had to carry for the men he had to slaughter in the name of an ideal that was meant to protect people- people like the ones the men would now be leaving behind in their wake.

Tears began to escape Kenshin's eyes, and he looked at his reflection in the new bucket of chilling water he had drawn. The remaining particles of blood ran down his face in rosy rivers, over his brows, around his cheeks and across his lips. His eyes bore back at him, no longer the gentle violet he had inherited from his mother. Now they were a strict yellow color- one he couldn't remove, and one he didn't wish to dispose of. This was him; this was who would always be. He had to hide behind this mask, for his own sake.

He dumped the bucket onto his head again, looking down at the ground where it collected. It soaked into the ground, not remaining on top as the blood had done in the streets that night. The only thought that kept Kenshin in comfort that night was that, even if he had stooped to his fathers level, three facts rang true that still separated him from the man that ruined his life.

Instead of killing women and children, he would and could only kill men. Never would he draw a blade on someone whose eyes would remind him of his beloved mother and sisters. Sakura, the one who had always protected him, Akane, his twin, and his mother, her name had been Kasumi.

Also, Kenshin would only kill someone who had a means of defending themselves. Unlike his father, who killed and beat the people who he should have been protecting, Kenshin would never drag on a death. His sisters had been defenseless against their father, and that drove Kenshin to never, ever attack anyone who didn't have the slightest chance of defending themselves.

Last, and foremost in importance, Kenshin vowed, that unlike his father, he would not kill someone he had no reason to kill. His father had no reason for killing four people that night. He had killed his wife and daughters, and also, he had killed Shinta and caused the birth of Kenshin in his place. His father had killed and enjoyed it- Kenshin would never be able to kill and not feel remorse.

Unless…

Shaking his head and treading off to the bathhouse to change into the clothing he had prepared and set out for himself beforehand, he stopped thinking about that. He had pushed himself into a new life that night, and another form of himself had been built and formed.

Funny- despite his anger and hatred to his father, he still carried his name.

Walking out of the bathhouse and padding up the stairs to his room, he looked up at the moon through a window. It was red; red with tears for his sake. Kenshin shook his head again, trying to stop thinking like he was. He arrived in his room, glancing at his futon. There would be no need for that. No longer could he sleep in comfort he did not deserve. He leaned against the books, hefting his katana next to him in case someone decided to attack him in his sleep.

And with that, Himura Battousai fell into the first sleep of his life as a hitokiri.

Author's Notes: Wow. That was longer than the last chapter. I hope it was good. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. I hope you guys liked it…………… because I won't be updating for a while, I fear. I apologize: bows down to you : Thank you so much for the reviews (especially you, HTC) they mean a lot to me.

Love and hugs,

Crystal Renee