He stalked the gates
Flirting with the edges of madness and doom
Flitted along with the shadows
Feet pounding in silence
Leaving the echoes behind
While the shadow himself was long gone
His mind was in turmoil
A whirl of insanity and blood
A mansion rose up before him
The shadow surges up and above
Tumbled in the emptiness
And flew along the peripheral sight
The whirlpool engaged him
Sank within him and grew without
Stayed his thinking
For his instinct protected him from his own thought
Knowledge and action of his terrible deeds
Of which he rode, a runaway steed
A white paper wall was his only barrier
Behind him the wind whispered
And toyed with his night dulled blood crimson hair
The moon shone innocent virginal white
Cherry blossoms fragrance wafted through the air
All of which he was unknowing
Too engaged in his endless mind-war
He sank and rose his thoughts a swift current
In them he gasped and drowned
Inside him an innocent boy resided
And died again and again
Died every death he had caused
And of those there were a thousand and more
Tis many a times to die
A scything blur of dark grey steel
Glinted deadly in the moonlight
A red tassel flew
And the pathetic barrier faltered
Parted as skin had parted from flesh
Flesh had parted from flesh
And flesh had parted from bone
T was the self same blade
On which his madness was honed
The boy that had died and died again
Looked through luminous, large gold flecked purple
Stricken eyes
Yet the man saw through mad gold eyes
Looked with gold eyes as he killed
As every life absorbed and taken from a thousand and more
Once living bodies
Looked with gold eyes as he drank sake
And slaked himself of burning lust
Those luminous purple eyes had not
Seen the light of day
From that fateful crimson night
From which he saw
His parents die
And felt flecks of their rich rich blood
Upon his parched tongue
The shadow burst from the split wall
And launched himself within
Upon a startled sleep drowsed couple
The woman shrieks and leaps up
Vainly, virtuously protecting her man, her mate
The battle crazed half insane cool cold assassin
Raises his dark blade and sheathes it in her warm flesh
The man cries out
The word, the meaning lost on the silhouetted assassin
Whose blade had been wetted by the blood of his beloved
And she slides limp
Her night darkened death dulled eyes wide
The freed blade whips up in a whip lash
Flicks across the throat of the man
And sanguoire drops fly
And lands on the assassins parched tongue
For a moment an instant no more
Purple flecks rise in the those merciless mad molten eyes
But they vanished as if they never were
Gone
Finished
Like the boy
Living only in passing memory
The Hitokiri Battousai
Rose up and wiped his dark steel blood soaked blade.