UPDATED AUTHOR'S NOTE 3/15/05: As some of you may have noticed, I changed the prologue. The old prologue will be the prologue to the sequel to this fic, The Dark Side of the Moon. Sorry for any inconveniences! elinviel (my only reviewer) said she liked this bit and it made the story sound like a legend, so I moved it here. Hopefully it's a more effective prologue.

Please review!

Warning: Mild Shounen-Ai in later chapters.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've taken many, MANY liberties with the characters, their personalities, and their ages, so please bear with me (trust me, I KNOW when I'm screwing something up from the graphic novels or the show). I've also altered the storyline a bit… You'll see when we get there. Also, any historical information you can provide would be most helpful and I'll take it into consideration when writing! Please read and review for me—I have emotional attachments to these characters (don't ask)!

Prologue: The Four Swords

"Ojiisan! Tell me a story!" the little girl cried as she settled on her grandfather's lap.

"Me too!" her little brother echoed, scrambling onto the bed and plopping down beside the old man.

Smiling, he drew his grandson in and watched their big eyes fix on him. "Well… what kind of story?" he asked playfully, pinching his granddaughter's nose.

"An old one," the boy said solemnly.

"One with lots of interesting people," the girl added thoughtfully.

"An' adven'ure" the boy supplied.

The old man smiled, eyes crinkling in mirth. "I have just the one. Have I ever told you about the village where my sister and I grew up?"

The two children shook their heads, coming even closer in interest. "Well, it was a little village in the mountains. We were a peaceful, rice-growing village, with only—"

"This is boring," the boy pointedly informed his grandfather.

The old man laughed. "Sorry, son, I just got carried away. During the Bakumatsu, a lord came to the village and took over. It was a terrible time for the village, though it only lasted a few months. Things got very bad for us… the lord took all of our food supplies to feed his army—"

"Why did he have an army?" the girl asked.

"He was raising an army to fight the Shogun and the Meiji Government. He didn't like either of their policies, so he promised men that they would fight to reveal all of their lies. Anyway, the army was stationed outside the village. They were not honorable men. They, too, took advantage of the village and its people. One day, they attacked my sister, Akemi."

The little girl gasped. "Was she hurt?"

"Yes," her grandfather whispered, "Very badly. I tried to help her, but all that happened was this," he said, holding up his useless hand. The bones had healed many years ago, but they had not been set properly, leaving the hand completely worthless.

"But one night, a great commotion happened down at the camp. No one knows exactly what happened, but somehow, four men infiltrated the army camp and attacked it from the inside. One of them even managed to slay the lord in his mansion. They say one of them was captured as a spy, and the other three came to his aid.

"After that night, they disappeared for a few days, probably to let their wounds heal. While they were gone, they discovered the others' identities. One was a member of the Shinsengumi—"

"The great swordsmen of the Bakumatsu?" the little boy asked, excitedly.

"Yes indeed."

"I want to be as good as Okita Soushi someday!" the boy cried, eyes gleaming bright in the lamplight.

"Then you'd better train hard! They say Okita was matched only by the Hitokiri Battousai in skill, and maybe by Saitou Hajime."

"I will be better than all of them," the little boy boasted proudly.

His grandfather laughed, then continued with his story. "Another was a member of the Oniwabanshu. You remember, I told you about them last week. They protected Edo Castle from the shadows—some of the greatest, though least known, fighters of the time. One was an Ishin Shishi, a member of the Sekihou Army."

"But I thought they were bad," the little girl said, frowning slightly.

Her grandfather sighed, sadly. "I met a man from the Sekihou Army, once, one of their leaders. They were not bad, darling. They believed in what they were doing, and they were doing nothing wrong." He made the mental promise to tell his granddaughter the truth someday—that the government had lied about the Sekihou Army.

"And the last was an independent assassin, loyal to neither side. According to the story, the only reason the assassin killed was to avenge innocent women and children, like Akemi."

"But then how did they get along?" the little girl asked, clearly seeing the problems with this story.

"The story goes that they put aside their differences, just like that. They realized they were fighting for something higher than a side in the Revolution."

"Sounds fishy," the girl noted suspiciously.

Her grandfather shrugged. "I just tell you the story I hear. After just a few days away, like I said, they came back and swept away whatever remained of the lord's army. The village was free again."

"Is that the end of the story?" the little boy asked, clearly disappointed.

"No, of course not. That was just the beginning."

"What is it called, Ojiisan? You said all good stories have a name," the little boy reminded.

"Most people that remember call it the Legend of the Four Swords. Four swords, they say, to protect the people. Four swords raised against evil. Four swords for Japan's future. Would you like to hear more?"