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: ChirukenPart 8
Turning his face up to the warmth of the midday sun, he closed his eyes and breathed in the fresh, clean air of the countryside. No blood…no stench of death…just good clean air… Smiling tentatively he touched his fingers to the hilt of his katana and paused, listening to the sounds of the birds twittering in the trees lining the road. It was finally over…the bloodshed had finally ended. He no longer needed to use his blade to take men's lives under cover of the night. He was free of his self-imposed sense of duty to the cause. His smile slowly faded. Now he had to try to piece his life back together…seek atonement for his crimes against man. "Where do I start?" He whispered softly to the breeze blowing loose strands of his recently cropped hair into his eyes. Reaching up to absently caress the crossed scars marring the otherwise smoothness of his cheek he sighed deeply. He had to find a way…no matter how long it took, he had to find a way to try to set to right all the wrongs he had done during the revolution.
Shaking his head he continued to move slowly up the deserted road. First he would stop at Terumi's house and pay his respects. He'd heard that she'd recently lost her husband. It would be difficult for her to raise her children alone, but she was a strong woman. He hoped that her children would grow up to enjoy the peace of this new era their father had died to bring into effect. Peace was hard won. There would be turbulent times ahead as the people adjusted to the new government being brought into power. He hoped that the leaders of the Ishinshishi remembered their ideals in the coming years and protected this fledgling new era well.
Shaking off the heavy thoughts he concentrated instead on the beauty of the day…something he hadn't had time to notice in too many years to count. When was the last time he'd looked upon the blue of the sky and not wondered if it were the last cloudless day he'd see? When was the last time he hadn't felt the dread of awaiting the black envelope to reach him, its contents sealing the fate of some unknown man? "Too long…" He murmured under his breath. Idly he wondered what the members of the Shinsengumi would do now that their units had been disbanded by the new government. He hoped they would be able to adjust, but he doubted their warrior hearts would be able to rest easily now that their usefulness was at an end. It was only a matter of time before the changes he overheard being discussed would be implemented. The abolishment of the samurai class would be a great blow to their pride…but far worse was the proposed banning of arms, including the traditional katana. He fingered the worn hilt of his own weapon uneasily. He wondered if he'd be able to adjust to the changing times. Shrugging he dropped his hand again to his side. "I have to. There's no other way."
He felt a weariness that had nothing to do with physical fatigue. He was eighteen and set adrift in a world that was changing. For five years all he'd known was bloodshed and distrust. He'd been Hitokiri Battousai for so long he wondered if he could ever return to being Himura Kenshin. Did that person even exist anymore? He longed to return to his shishou's mountain and seek his guidance, but he knew that he couldn't. The rift between them was too great to cross. His actions during the revolution would repulse the sword master. He knew that Hiko Seijuurou the thirteenth would never accept him back. That path was closed to him, his old life dead. He sighed deeply and shook his head. There was no point in dwelling on it now. What was done, was done and no amount of wishing would ever change that fact. He'd consciously stepped onto the path that led him to where he was now. He'd known the consequences to his actions the moment he agreed to be hitokiri for the Ishinshishi. He had no one to blame but himself for the predicament he now found himself in.
Grimacing, he paused at the familiar crossroads and looked to the left, seeing the small clearing where he'd faced Saito Hajime not quite a year before. "Saito…" What was he doing now? Was he even still alive? He snorted softly. Probably. He was too stubborn and arrogant to die. "Where is he now I wonder?" Turning back to the road he frowned when he spotted a thin tendril of smoke curling up into the clear blue of the cloudless sky. He was close to the small traveler's inn Terumi ran. He'd be there before the hour was up. If he hurried he may even be in time for the noonday meal. He smiled, feeling his stomach rumble. He hadn't eaten for nearly two days. He was hungry, he realized with some surprise. He'd been so intent on getting as far from Kyoto as possible that he'd neglected his body's needs in his haste. Shrugging, he continued forward. He could eat at Terumi's table. He looked forward to seeing the children again…especially Akane-chan. He especially liked the young girl and her bright, trusting smile. She reminded him of a little girl he'd once seen on a mission to Edo, now renamed Tokyo, the new capital of the fledgling government. He frowned, trying to remember her name. He finally gave up after several moments. All he could remember were her large blue eyes, full of innocent curiosity as she'd gazed at him through a partially open shouji at her father's doujou. He'd been sitting watching the front gate warily from the shade of the engawa while the envoy he'd been ordered to protect discussed strategies with the master of the doujou, the girl's father. It bothered him that he couldn't remember their names, but supposed it wasn't important. The incident had been engraved on his memory because, unlike her father's students, she hadn't appeared to be afraid of him. She'd even smiled shyly at him from her concealed position when he'd turned to look at her.
Pausing in a small stand of trees he observed the quiet yard of the inn, Terumi's home. Tilting his head to the side he wondered where the children were. He stomach rumbled again. He smiled ruefully. They were probably inside, gathered around the tables preparing for their meal. He wondered what new games he could learn from them. He enjoyed playing with the children. It helped him forget what he was…had been. He grinned, happiness entering his eyes, banishing the shadows. Now that the madness of the revolution had ended, his eyes had returned to the soft violet hue of his youth, before he'd began killing and lost his mind to the blood.
Continuing forward with a lighter heart and step he allowed himself to feel hope for the future for the first time since he'd begun his decent into the darkness of the role of hitokiri. "It's finally over…" Stepping closer he paused, uneasiness filling him. It was too quiet. He couldn't hear laughter drifting out through the doors and windows. He couldn't hear the voices of the children squabbling amongst each other or the good-natured scolding of their mother. All was still and silent. Eerily so. Feeling dread crowding out his momentary sense of relief he slowly, silently, stepped forward, hand moving to rest on the hilt of his katana automatically. Biting his lip he crept forward, eyes moving warily over the building, noting for the first time the broken door yawning wide before him. He cast out his senses, searching for the family he knew dwelled within. Nothing. His hand trembled as he neared the house, catching a familiar scent before his eyes spotted a horrifying sight. Eyes widening in sudden, horrified realization he halted, gaze transfixed on the small, bloodied arm lying motionless over the threshold. His trembling intensified as he slowly shook his head in denial. It couldn't be… Not wanting to see any more he forced his legs to carry him closer, knowing before he even looked what he'd find within. He shook his head again and halted in front of the door, staring straight ahead. The scent was clear now. He could smell blood…a lot of it. "No…" He whispered and slowly lowered his gaze. A soft, keening moan escaped his trembling lips when he saw the tiny body of a child, brutally slashed, her blood stained kimono torn, her doll covered in drying blood. "Akane-chan…" He whispered the name of the little girl with the wide, trusting smile and felt the ground heave beneath him before he staggered forward half a step. His legs finally refusing to bear his weight, he fell to his knees, hands catching himself before he fell forward, atop the child's still body. Crawling forward slowly he gently touched his fingers to her cheek, feeling his chest tighten with grief. He carefully lifted her small body into his arms and held her close to his chest, ignoring the blood smearing onto him, and cried for the first time since Tomoe, his wife, had died by his hand.
**To Be Continued…**
