Author's Note: You know when things are going bad... I guess you've just
have to wait, because God will help you even if you think it's not fair
what he's doing. He does everything for a reason. I guess I lost sight of
that for a little while....
Disclaimer: All rights and privileges to Rurouni Kenshin belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shuiesha, Sony Music Entertainment, and associated parties. The characters of these series are used WITHOUT permission for the purpose of entertainment only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. Original portion of the fiction included here is considered to be the sole property of the author.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
chap. 8 ~ remember
Kenshin sighed tiredly, but had to smile when he saw Kaoru sprawled onto their futon, taking up the whole space. He didn't mind at all, she needed the rest more than he did, and besides, it was only for a night. He rested his head against the wooden wall next to the low window in their room. He enjoyed the soft breeze that carried inside during the late months of winter and early months of spring, after the snow had freshly melted off the ground. Leaning his Sakabato against his left leg, he turned his head to stare out into the night, counting the so few stars that hardly filled the cloudy landscape.
The day had worn him out, and Kenshin found himself nodding off to sleep, his eyes slowly closing as his mind drifted. Just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard a muffled yell, and from what he could make out, it sounded very similar to Wolf's. He dragged himself out of his near- slumber, and rose from his position next to the window. Careful so as not to wake Kaoru, he slid open the fusuma and decided to find out what was keeping Wolf up so late at night.
When the cold air whipped at his face, Kenshin was surprised to find the air had seemingly dropped twenty degrees. He shivered and made his way to where he had heard the barely audible yell. What he saw caught him by surprise.
"Gotcha," a stranger muttered under his breath, swiftly putting away a damp cloth in a small pouch on his belt. Wolf lay limply unconscious in the stranger's outstretched arms. Clad in a black gi, his eyes widened at the sight of Kenshin. Cursing under his breath, he departed in the opposite direction, Wolf tossed carelessly over his back, a gust of cold wind trailing behind him.
Kenshin's eyes widened in shock, and then narrowed, naturally following the kidnapper. The air whistled past his ears as Kenshin ran after the man into the vast foilage towards the back of the dojo. Leaves and brances stuck out at weird angles, and Kenshin had to dodge them or knock them out of his way, painfully slowing him down. Anticipation and anxiousness pounded in his head, his perception telling him that this was no ordinary kidnapper that stole kids off into the blackness of the night. Kenshin had a feeling that this man knew who Wolf was, and was determined to get him back, going to tremendous efforts to achieve that goal.
Realizing that Kenshin had no means of giving up the persuit, the man skirted to a halt in a clearing in the woods, loose dirt lashing upwards, swirling in the wind before resting onto the ground again.
The man's face was set, his anger fueled by his frustration of having to deal with a witness. He had hoped this would have been a clear cut task, but he had clumsily been too noisy, and this was how he had to pay for it.
"If you insist on chasing me like this," the man growled, "then you shall die tonight!"
Kenshin suddenly noted the Katana tied to the man's waist, and only kept his hands on his Sakabato, not daring to draw his weapon. Not wanting to...
The man unceremoniously tossed Wolf to the ground, a small sound escaping the boy's lips as he crashed to the ground; the man's right hand was on the hilt of his weapon, "You seem to be no opponent, judging by the distaste of shed blood in your eyes...but you shall have the honor of dying at the blade of my sword!" With that, he charged, and slashed upwards, creating a distraction for his actual attack. Kenshin, however, read his movements, and defensively lifted his sheath to block to attack.
Successful with his defensive stance, Kenshin decided that there was no other option that to go onto the offensive, and reluctantly unsheathed his sword, its blade reflecting the leaves that fell around him. The two fighters stood there, swords drawn, held high in front of them, resulting in a vigorous staring match, each trying to figure out their opponent's next move.
'Red hair...a cross-shaped scar on his left cheek....I believe I know this man....through legends....' thought the man, thinking his situation through before rushing at Kenshin, sword ready to slash through whatever defense Kenshin may have ready. However, Kenshin had no intention of defending and seemingly disappeared into thin air instead.
Seeing this, the man turned around, finding Kenshin lunging towards him with a vicious lowercut, and their swords clanged, sparks flew as each man pushing at eachother in order to gain the advantage. The wind swirled, whispering eerily through the trees.
'Hitokiri Battousai...' the thought abruptly struck the man's mind, not knowing entirely why he didn't recognize such a legend right away.
"You...are the Hitokiri Battousai...!" he grunted, making one final thrust, the impact sending them both sliding back several feet.
Despite being in the thick of a match, Kenshin's eyebrows creased, wondering what in heaven's name this man was talking about, "Hitokiri? I am no assassin. Nor have I ever spilled blood, and I do not want to start with you!" Kenshin attacked once more, both fighters blocking and attacking, none of the attacks landing.
"Denying? Denying your bloody past? You can't deny anything Battousai, I know for sure you are the exact manslayer I say you are, from your fighting style and you possess every characteristic known to identify the Battousai. Everyone in Japan knows that scar, and the man that goes with it." Kenshin's eyes widened in astonishment and stared back at the man in an unbelieving manner. The man smirked maliciously, and yelled, "And I, Katsukawa Gensou of the Choshu Clan, will kill you! I just wish you had put up more of a fight!"
'I... I am...no....killer....am I?' Kenshin asked himself, ignoring the fact that Gensou was running straight at him. He glanced at the sword in his hand, barely gripping its ragged hilt, 'Swords kill....did I?'
Breathing heavily, pain struck his head, and he winced, closing his eyes, and watching images flash through his unopened eyelids. He saw, felt, warm blood on his hands, felt two swords in his hands instead of one. Saw a body spread out on the stone ground he now stood on instead of the soft dirt. Blood...that ran down through the cracks and crevices that lined the concrete blocks. And felt blood pour down around him like rain....he had brought the bloody rain....
Just as in his vision, blood stained through his pink gi, but instead, this blood was his. Kenshin kneeled there on the ground, gasping, both from the physical pain and mental pain as a small bit of his memory came flooding back to him.
Gensou stood over Kenshin, a disgusted look on his face, "I will let you live for now, Battousai. I want a fair match with you, I want to bring down the Battousai when he is at his fullest, and perhaps the next time we meet, you won't hold back...and I swear, I swear, that we will meet again."
He pursed his lips, and spat onto the ground in front of Kenshin before flicking the blood off of his sword and throwing Wolf over his shoulders, departing into the darkness of the forest.
It seemed the clouds could no longer carry its heavy burden, and at last, the heavens above opened, pouring down the rain that it had forever kept; pouring the rain down onto Japan, soaking into the soil, and trickling down branches and leaves. Crystaline drops that cascaded, dotting and streaking the dirt. The heavy drops thudded onto the earth, creating a steady rhythmic beat. Water mingled with blood and salty tears that ran down Kenshin's cheeks. He wasn't exactly sure why he was crying. He wasn't even exactly sure of what he had just seen flashing through his mind. It was no ordinary vision that he normally had when he dreamed, but it was more of a scene that had happened before in his life. A...moment that had occured before, and was playing again. A memory? But how could it he had forgotten in the first place? If that little vision of his memory had affected him so much....how would it be if he saw himself kill dozens of people over and over again? How much pain could he take...? How much could he handle...before he broke apart, and shattered into a million pieces?
Hitokiri....Battousai.... An assassin...a murderer, a killer. So many words that described the horrid, heartless person he was... Ignoring the pain in his head and his sides, he stood, and sheathed his sword as he slowly made his way back to the dojo. The dojo...
What would Kaoru think of him now? She wouldn't want a killer for a husband... She'd hate him...or at least throw him a despicable look every time she saw him. His eyes reflected confusion; passionless amber that mingled and fused with soft, blue-tinted violet, swirling together in an endless combination of color. The drops of water seeped through the threads of his gi, matting his hair, and allowing the blood to trickle down his face and neck. They say when it rains, the earth cries. Was the earth crying for him? Were the angels crying for him? Did he deserve such pity...?
The mud oozed onto his feet and between his toes as he reached the front of the Kamiya Dojo. The only place he knew as home. As he approached, he saw Sano there, leaning against a post, arms crossed over his chest, a concerned expression written on his face.
The rain continued to fall as Kenshin answered the unasked, "I....I don't know who I am anymore...."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Disclaimer: All rights and privileges to Rurouni Kenshin belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shuiesha, Sony Music Entertainment, and associated parties. The characters of these series are used WITHOUT permission for the purpose of entertainment only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. Original portion of the fiction included here is considered to be the sole property of the author.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
chap. 8 ~ remember
Kenshin sighed tiredly, but had to smile when he saw Kaoru sprawled onto their futon, taking up the whole space. He didn't mind at all, she needed the rest more than he did, and besides, it was only for a night. He rested his head against the wooden wall next to the low window in their room. He enjoyed the soft breeze that carried inside during the late months of winter and early months of spring, after the snow had freshly melted off the ground. Leaning his Sakabato against his left leg, he turned his head to stare out into the night, counting the so few stars that hardly filled the cloudy landscape.
The day had worn him out, and Kenshin found himself nodding off to sleep, his eyes slowly closing as his mind drifted. Just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard a muffled yell, and from what he could make out, it sounded very similar to Wolf's. He dragged himself out of his near- slumber, and rose from his position next to the window. Careful so as not to wake Kaoru, he slid open the fusuma and decided to find out what was keeping Wolf up so late at night.
When the cold air whipped at his face, Kenshin was surprised to find the air had seemingly dropped twenty degrees. He shivered and made his way to where he had heard the barely audible yell. What he saw caught him by surprise.
"Gotcha," a stranger muttered under his breath, swiftly putting away a damp cloth in a small pouch on his belt. Wolf lay limply unconscious in the stranger's outstretched arms. Clad in a black gi, his eyes widened at the sight of Kenshin. Cursing under his breath, he departed in the opposite direction, Wolf tossed carelessly over his back, a gust of cold wind trailing behind him.
Kenshin's eyes widened in shock, and then narrowed, naturally following the kidnapper. The air whistled past his ears as Kenshin ran after the man into the vast foilage towards the back of the dojo. Leaves and brances stuck out at weird angles, and Kenshin had to dodge them or knock them out of his way, painfully slowing him down. Anticipation and anxiousness pounded in his head, his perception telling him that this was no ordinary kidnapper that stole kids off into the blackness of the night. Kenshin had a feeling that this man knew who Wolf was, and was determined to get him back, going to tremendous efforts to achieve that goal.
Realizing that Kenshin had no means of giving up the persuit, the man skirted to a halt in a clearing in the woods, loose dirt lashing upwards, swirling in the wind before resting onto the ground again.
The man's face was set, his anger fueled by his frustration of having to deal with a witness. He had hoped this would have been a clear cut task, but he had clumsily been too noisy, and this was how he had to pay for it.
"If you insist on chasing me like this," the man growled, "then you shall die tonight!"
Kenshin suddenly noted the Katana tied to the man's waist, and only kept his hands on his Sakabato, not daring to draw his weapon. Not wanting to...
The man unceremoniously tossed Wolf to the ground, a small sound escaping the boy's lips as he crashed to the ground; the man's right hand was on the hilt of his weapon, "You seem to be no opponent, judging by the distaste of shed blood in your eyes...but you shall have the honor of dying at the blade of my sword!" With that, he charged, and slashed upwards, creating a distraction for his actual attack. Kenshin, however, read his movements, and defensively lifted his sheath to block to attack.
Successful with his defensive stance, Kenshin decided that there was no other option that to go onto the offensive, and reluctantly unsheathed his sword, its blade reflecting the leaves that fell around him. The two fighters stood there, swords drawn, held high in front of them, resulting in a vigorous staring match, each trying to figure out their opponent's next move.
'Red hair...a cross-shaped scar on his left cheek....I believe I know this man....through legends....' thought the man, thinking his situation through before rushing at Kenshin, sword ready to slash through whatever defense Kenshin may have ready. However, Kenshin had no intention of defending and seemingly disappeared into thin air instead.
Seeing this, the man turned around, finding Kenshin lunging towards him with a vicious lowercut, and their swords clanged, sparks flew as each man pushing at eachother in order to gain the advantage. The wind swirled, whispering eerily through the trees.
'Hitokiri Battousai...' the thought abruptly struck the man's mind, not knowing entirely why he didn't recognize such a legend right away.
"You...are the Hitokiri Battousai...!" he grunted, making one final thrust, the impact sending them both sliding back several feet.
Despite being in the thick of a match, Kenshin's eyebrows creased, wondering what in heaven's name this man was talking about, "Hitokiri? I am no assassin. Nor have I ever spilled blood, and I do not want to start with you!" Kenshin attacked once more, both fighters blocking and attacking, none of the attacks landing.
"Denying? Denying your bloody past? You can't deny anything Battousai, I know for sure you are the exact manslayer I say you are, from your fighting style and you possess every characteristic known to identify the Battousai. Everyone in Japan knows that scar, and the man that goes with it." Kenshin's eyes widened in astonishment and stared back at the man in an unbelieving manner. The man smirked maliciously, and yelled, "And I, Katsukawa Gensou of the Choshu Clan, will kill you! I just wish you had put up more of a fight!"
'I... I am...no....killer....am I?' Kenshin asked himself, ignoring the fact that Gensou was running straight at him. He glanced at the sword in his hand, barely gripping its ragged hilt, 'Swords kill....did I?'
Breathing heavily, pain struck his head, and he winced, closing his eyes, and watching images flash through his unopened eyelids. He saw, felt, warm blood on his hands, felt two swords in his hands instead of one. Saw a body spread out on the stone ground he now stood on instead of the soft dirt. Blood...that ran down through the cracks and crevices that lined the concrete blocks. And felt blood pour down around him like rain....he had brought the bloody rain....
Just as in his vision, blood stained through his pink gi, but instead, this blood was his. Kenshin kneeled there on the ground, gasping, both from the physical pain and mental pain as a small bit of his memory came flooding back to him.
Gensou stood over Kenshin, a disgusted look on his face, "I will let you live for now, Battousai. I want a fair match with you, I want to bring down the Battousai when he is at his fullest, and perhaps the next time we meet, you won't hold back...and I swear, I swear, that we will meet again."
He pursed his lips, and spat onto the ground in front of Kenshin before flicking the blood off of his sword and throwing Wolf over his shoulders, departing into the darkness of the forest.
It seemed the clouds could no longer carry its heavy burden, and at last, the heavens above opened, pouring down the rain that it had forever kept; pouring the rain down onto Japan, soaking into the soil, and trickling down branches and leaves. Crystaline drops that cascaded, dotting and streaking the dirt. The heavy drops thudded onto the earth, creating a steady rhythmic beat. Water mingled with blood and salty tears that ran down Kenshin's cheeks. He wasn't exactly sure why he was crying. He wasn't even exactly sure of what he had just seen flashing through his mind. It was no ordinary vision that he normally had when he dreamed, but it was more of a scene that had happened before in his life. A...moment that had occured before, and was playing again. A memory? But how could it he had forgotten in the first place? If that little vision of his memory had affected him so much....how would it be if he saw himself kill dozens of people over and over again? How much pain could he take...? How much could he handle...before he broke apart, and shattered into a million pieces?
Hitokiri....Battousai.... An assassin...a murderer, a killer. So many words that described the horrid, heartless person he was... Ignoring the pain in his head and his sides, he stood, and sheathed his sword as he slowly made his way back to the dojo. The dojo...
What would Kaoru think of him now? She wouldn't want a killer for a husband... She'd hate him...or at least throw him a despicable look every time she saw him. His eyes reflected confusion; passionless amber that mingled and fused with soft, blue-tinted violet, swirling together in an endless combination of color. The drops of water seeped through the threads of his gi, matting his hair, and allowing the blood to trickle down his face and neck. They say when it rains, the earth cries. Was the earth crying for him? Were the angels crying for him? Did he deserve such pity...?
The mud oozed onto his feet and between his toes as he reached the front of the Kamiya Dojo. The only place he knew as home. As he approached, he saw Sano there, leaning against a post, arms crossed over his chest, a concerned expression written on his face.
The rain continued to fall as Kenshin answered the unasked, "I....I don't know who I am anymore...."
~~~~~~~~~~~~