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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Battousai

By Chiruken

Revolution

    He was in his element.  The darkness of the moonless night called to him, a siren's song of suppressed violence.  The scent of blood was intoxicating, luring him, enticing him.  His blade rose and fell, cutting a swath of carnage, raining more blood down to soak the streets of Kyoto.  At last he'd found his place in this new world that he'd been thrust into!

    Amber eyes blazing with bloodlust, he used his full strength to bring down his enemies, a mocking smirk curving his lips upwards.  This was what he'd been born for…death, blood, battle.  It was who he was…Battousai.  The fools had named him aptly.  Half remembered legends, to them, had fit him so well that they thought to name him after the demon of their distant past.  "If only they knew…" He muttered, executing a curt chiburi to rid his blade of the blood staining its gleaming perfection.

    He was careful, throughout all his activities, to shield Shinta from his actions.  He'd grown fond of his 'host' and had no wish to cause him harm.  If the boy were aware of what was happening it would destroy his gentle mind.  He didn't like the thought of causing pain to the child who'd unwittingly freed him from his imprisonment.

    There was one drawback to his newfound freedom, however.  He scowled, feeling the unfamiliar emotions raging through him.  In the past he'd been without emotion, unhindered by what the human's referred to as guilt, compassion, sorrow.  He hated the feelings he was now forced to endure, yet there was no way to stop them.  He was trapped just as surely as when he'd been caged in the oblivion he'd been sealed into, only now it was a prison of his own making.

    He turned his back on the corpses and strode away into a darkened alley.  He wondered if freedom was worth the nightmares he was now plagued with.  Every night he relived the battles he fought and won, seeing the faces of the men he killed, heard their voices cursing him for all eternity.  Thankfully Shinta hadn't noticed…not yet, at least.  In a way, he wished he were as oblivious as the boy was.  He didn't like the way his heart raced with panic, tears filling his eyes as he awakened in the dead of night from the nightmares, but he refused to share his torment with the child.  It wouldn't be…right.

    He returned to the inn housing the faction he'd joined and turned his steps immediately towards the bathhouse.  He wished to rid himself of the stench of blood and death before Shinta awakened again.  He wasn't certain how long he could keep the child oblivious to his nightly excursions, how long the boy would remain blissfully unaware of what his body did during the night when he slept.  Part of Shinta's consciousness was aware that he now worked for the Choushu clan, but he didn't seem to know what, exactly, it was he did.  It was just as well.  Battousai intended to keep the child unaware for as long as possible.

    He dumped bucket after bucket of cold water over his head, shivering in his dripping clothes, watching as the blood ran in pink rivulets down the drain.  **So much blood…so many deaths…** He sighed and finished cleaning himself, stripping from his soaked clothing and donning a clean yukata before leaving the bathhouse.  In one hand he held his katana, in the other he held a child's toy.

    He entered his room and sat with his back to a stack of books, staring out the window at the dark yard below.  He shifted, raising one leg and tucking the other beneath him, resting his sheathed katana against his shoulder as he bowed his head.  With a soft sigh he closed his amber eyes and relinquished control once again to the boy he shared the body with.  He would sleep, for now, until he was called upon again to use his skills to kill in the dead of night.  Until then he would continue to shield the child from the visions plaguing his memories, the death and blood coating his hands and soul, never to be cleansed from his body again.  He would protect Shinta from the horrors of his actions.  Innocence such as his should never be touched by the nightmares of his reality.

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