REPOSTING!

Same chapter as before, but an author's note attached to the end…sorry for any confusion.

Rurouni Kenshin Fanfic

Rurouni Kenshin & Samurai X Original Japanese Version ©N. Watsuki/Shueisha * Fuji-TV * SME Visual Works Inc. * Sony Pictures Entertainment

All Fanfics created by Chiruken (me) were written for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale.

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The Madness of the Hitokiri Fanfic By:  Chiruken

Part 7

        Slipping almost furtively through the shadows, Battousai swiftly left the inn behind him, taking cover in the alleys of Kyoto.  Pausing at an intersection, breath emerging on soft puffs of vapor in the chill air, he narrowed his amber gaze on the empty street, straining to see in the moonless night.  Sighing softly, he acknowledged that his sight wasn't worth much on a night such as this and instead strained his other senses, casting out his ki in search of hidden danger.  "Nothing…" He murmured softly and stepped forward silently, turning in the direction of the river and the solitude he sought.

        Idly he wondered where the Shinsengumi patrols were.  The streets of Kyoto should be swarming with them, yet all was silent.  Not a soul moved in the stillness of the night, even the breeze was still.  It was as if the world were holding its collective breath, awaiting…something.  Shrugging off the strange thoughts he continued up the street and finally stopped at the bridge.  Looking around cautiously before stepping onto the weathered and worn boards, he breathed a soft sigh of relief.  He was alone and for this he was grateful.  Crossing the bridge swiftly and silently he paused at the other side and turned towards the steep bank.  Quickly slipping down the bank he stepped under the bridge and sat slowly, setting his daisho on the ground beside him before drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them to stare sightlessly at the black water moving sluggishly before him.

        The end of the revolution was drawing near.  Already rumors were circulating that the Shogun had surrendered Edo without a fight.  He wasn't certain he believed those tales, but he had noticed a change in the attitude of his comrades.  He had a feeling that he was about to become the next target.  He knew too many of their secrets…had committed too many murders at their orders.  He would have to exert extreme caution from now on if he wished to continue walking amongst the living.  With a soft sigh he closed his eyes.  For all he'd done for the cause he would've expected at least a thank you.  He didn't desire riches or fame, but he neither wished to be discarded as rubbish, eliminated for merely carrying out the duties assigned to him.  He found the situation grossly unfair.  He'd given up everything for the Ishinshishi…including his sanity.  He could never go back to being the person he was before the revolution.  It was impossible.

        He fought down a wave of bitterness.  His Shishou had been right.  He hadn't accomplished anything.  All he'd succeeded in doing was bring dishonour down on himself and stain his hands with blood.  He'd allowed himself to be used by the leaders of the Ishinshishi…and he had no one to blame but himself.  Hiko had tried to warn him and Tomoe had also tried to alter his fate.  He was truly sorry that he'd ever left the mountain.  If he'd have stayed to complete his training he never would have alienated the only father figure he could now remember and Tomoe would be happily married to Kiyosato Akira…her fiancé he'd killed.  With another sigh he shook his head.  Wishing for a different path wouldn't bring one to be.  All he could do now was try to atone for all he'd done.

        The heavy tread of footsteps above him drew his head up quickly.  He was no longer alone.  The steps paused and he looked up, knowing that he couldn't see, and held his breath, waiting.  A moment later he heard the rustling of fabric and then the sound of a match being struck followed by the acrid scent of burning sulphur accompanied by the flare of a tiny flame.  It took only a moment for him to recognize the individual standing above him.  He suppressed a shiver in the cool air and held himself rigidly still, silently willing Saito Hajime to continue on his way.  He didn't feel like fighting.  It was a night for introspection and deep thinking of his future.

        "You may as well come out, Battousai.  I know you're there."  Saito's harsh voice startled him.  "What are you doing hiding under a bridge?  Awaiting your next target?"

        Stepping out from under the shelter of the bridge he looked up and could just make out the tiny flame of the older man's cigarette.  "Hardly."  Hurrying up the steep slope he stood at the edge of the bridge watching the Shinsengumi captain warily.  "What do you want, Saito?"

        "Nothing in particular, Battousai."  Drawing on his cigarette he studied the young hitokiri with narrowed eyes.  "So.  What were you doing down there?"

        "Thinking."  He leaned against the rail of the bridge, amber gaze cautious as he regarded the taller man.  "And you?  What are you doing?"

        "I'm on patrol, of course."  Tossing his cigarette over the side of the bridge to the water below, he turned to face the smaller man fully.  "How is your wound?  Healed, I trust."

        Nodding curtly Battousai backed away from the Shinsengumi captain.  "Yes.  What do you want?"

        "At the moment, nothing."  Leaning against the rail he folded his arms across his chest nonchalantly.  "I wished for a moment of peace, that is all.  I didn't expect you to be here."

        "My apologies.  I'll leave."  Stepping back slowly, he continued to watch Saito, prepared to draw his katana at a moment's notice.

        "No need.  You were here first, obviously."  There was something very strange in the hitokiri's demeanor, something that made Saito uneasy, though instinctively he knew the smaller man didn't intend to attack him.  "What's wrong with you?"  He asked abruptly.

        Hesitating for only a moment before stepping up to the rail and leaning on it beside the older man, he stared down at the slow moving river below.  Drawing in a deep breath he chose his words with care.  "Saito…when the revolution is over…what do you intend to do?"

        Starting at the odd question, Saito turned to face the younger man.  "What do you mean?"

        "What will you do?  Where will you go?"

        "Home to my wife, of course."

        "Wife?  I didn't know you were married."  He smiled, a sad twist of his lips, amber gaze wistful.

        "It isn't common knowledge."  Leaning against the rail again he stared out over the river as well.  "And you?  What do you intend to do?"  He blinked in surprise at the short, bitter laugh the hitokiri uttered.  "What?"

        "I'll try to stay alive, of course."  Shaking his head he folded his arms over the rail and lowered his head slowly.  "Now that the end is drawing near, my necessity is drawing to a close.  Soon, I will become the target of another hitokiri…eliminated, silenced…" The words trailed off slowly.  He couldn't hide his bitterness.

        "That is a harsh fate indeed."  Saito glanced at the younger man's profile.  "You are still young, Battousai.  You can begin a new life…"

        "A new life?  Don't make me laugh, Saito.  I don't deserve a new life.  I'm not sure I deserved this one."  Shaking his head abruptly he straightened.  "All I can do is try to atone and avoid ending on the blade of another like me."

        "I'd offer my condolences, but I'm afraid that my sympathies don't quite reach that far."  Though he spoke harshly, Saito was aware that there was a hollow ring to his words.  He did sympathize with the hitokiri…and he pitied him.  He'd discovered through their brief encounters in the past that despite outward appearances, there was more depth to the man known as Hitokiri Battousai than first met the eye.  True, he was mostly insane and a deadly swordsman, but beneath it all he was a man torn by duty and his own idealistic heart.  It was all very sad, Saito decided.  The Ishinshishi had destroyed his life and now they were most likely out to end it as well.

        "I neither need nor want your pity, Saito.  I was simply stating a fact.  I may not like it, but I suppose I deserve it."  Shrugging he tilted his face up to the sky.  "I don't think there's a place for me in the new era, even if I did help to bring about the change."

        "What will you do, Battousai?"

        "As I said, I will seek a way to atone for all that I've done."  Smiling sadly he turned to face the older man.  "I know what I did was…wrong."  His smile faltered, replaced by a frown.  "I see things more clearly now.  I lost myself for a while and I did things I don't like myself for, but I can't change the past, nor can I bring back the dead."

        "This is true.  You can't run forever.  Someday you'll have to stand and face the judgment.  You know this, don't you?"

        He nodded slowly.  "Yes, I know that.  Perhaps I'll take your advice after all."  Tucking his hands into the sleeves of his haori he tried to stifle a shiver of cold.  "I'd like to see more of Japan…and maybe see the results of this revolution…after it's finished."

        "You are aware that that path is also a form of running?"  Saito shrugged and turned away.  "I must return to my patrol.  Unless you wish to die this night, I would suggest leaving the streets."

        Laughing softly he stepped away from the rail.  "Is that concern for my well being I detect behind your words, Saito?"

        "Hardly.  Merely a cautioning word, that is all.  The revolution is far from over and we are still enemies, despite our momentary truce."

        "True."  Slowly stepping around the captain of the third squad of the Shinsengumi, Battousai paused and looked up at him intently.  "Congratulations on your marriage, Saito.  Cherish her while you can…"

        Saito's eyes narrowed suspiciously.  "Is that a threat?"  He growled, resting his hand on the hilt of his katana.

        "No.  Merely advice from one who has known the grief of losing a loved one."

        "Ah, yes…your wife.  Tomoe, wasn't it?"  It had been a shock to discover that the hitokiri had been married and widowed at such a young age.  Briefly he wondered, not for the first time, just how old Battousai truly was.

        "Yes, Tomoe."  Sadness welled within him and he brutally pushed it aside.  He didn't have time for grief…not now.  Later, after the revolution was over and the fighting had ended…then he would properly honor her memory.  "Farewell, Saito Hajime…I doubt we'll meet again."

        "Farewell, Himura Kenshin…I hope we don't meet again."  Saito watched as the smaller man walked away, steps silent and deadly, his smaller frame quickly merging with the shadows of the moonless night.  He knew that if by chance they did meet again, there would be no other choice but to fight to the death.  He no longer wished for the younger man's death, but he also knew that his sense of duty would dictate his actions.  If they met again he would be honor bound to kill the hitokiri or die trying.

**To Be Continued…**

Author's Notes:

I just wanted to thank the reviewer who went by the name "none" for pointing out that this story ended…badly.  **shrugs**  I hadn't realized I did that.  Sorry.  So, I'm going to try to continue it so that it ends on a better, more solid note…and hopefully doesn't leave the readers hanging in the lurch again.  I don't know what possessed me to do that…**shrugs**  I'll plead temporary insanity and a sever caffeine withdrawal…I haven't been receiving my normal quota of coffee in the mornings lately.  Hopefully more will be added SOON.  Again, thanks, "none"…I really appreciate your review, that I do.