Hello everyone, welcome to my first fanfiction. Once upon a time I swore to myself I'll never write fanfiction in my life as long as I live.

Unfortunately, as you all can see, I've broken that promise. :slaps self in that self-sacrificing Watsuki-esque way: Do I offer an explanation? Yes. Simply put, I adore Rurouni Kenshin and can't get enough of it. So sue me. No wait...Speaking of suing, (I'm new to this) I DO NOT OWN Rurouni Kenshin. Wow. First time I've ever written those lines.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

titaness

Love and Revolution: Chapter 1

Blind Bride

I've had it, her mind was telling her. This is enough. God. I've had it.

She gripped the pistol she hid beneath her bag. Pearls of sweat dripped from her neck.

Bracing herself, she grabbed it and shot at the man in front of her.

Missed.

Shit.

"You're always so incredibly cute, Kaoru," Enishi said.

The shot resonated all across the room, sending the celebrating people on the other side of the

hall into a pandemonium of gasps and yells. Kaoru didn't care. She shot again.

This time it hit him on the shoulder. She was horrified to see that Enishi hardly winced. He merely stared at her with the same expression she's always known—that expression that brought

storms flying down her nerves, the one of mild amusement, sardonic, painful, scorching.

The wound was blossoming like a red flower on his snow-white shirt.

"Hurt me, Kaoru. It turns me on."

By this time a horde of tall officers raced into the room, stopping in their tracks to see that the shot came from a pair of delicate white hands. They belonged to Kaoru Kamiya, daughter of Kamiya-sensei, respected scholar and patron of the private army of Jinsa. Quickly one of the officers closed the heavy brass doors, to keep the high-class wenches next door from walking into the scandal of the century.

"Kaoru!" a voice shouted, shattering the air. "KAORU!"

Kaoru snapped her head up to see Misao, her face trembling, rushing to her and pulling her into a hug. Misao whispered into her trembling friend's hair. "Kaoru…you're shaking…"

Quickly she glared at the smirking man in front of her. "ENISHI! What have you DONE to her! I SWEAR, if you continue to harass her, I will personally see to it that my Aoshi-sama will murder you with his bare hands!"

"Your Aoshi is in Russia on business," Enishi said coolly. "Even if he were to return, he couldn't cut me with a sheet of paper." He rubbed his wound and put his finger in his mouth, licking the blood. "Only Kaoru is allowed to hurt me."

The officers all stood stupefied, unable to tell what was the problem or who was the victim.

In the next room, a ballroom is crowded with panicked people. Fluttering taffetas, scattering heels, muffled gasps sounded all through the riot of music. In the midst of it all, a man was scanning the room. He had hair the color of sun-dried apricots, worn in a ponytail that trailed down his back. His eyes did not show the panic that brewed inside of him.

He had a bride. But where was she?

It was an arranged marriage made by the parents of his bride. Aeons ago her parents owed his father something priceless in value, so in exchange they promised to wed their most beautiful daughter to his only son.

But his father died fifteen years ago. Now he would uphold a promise he had absolutely nothing to do with.

All around the ballroom he scanned for the girl—his would-be new wife. He only heard a vague description from his foster father Hiko. "She's stunning," he had said. "Long black hair. You would know when you see her."

Himura Kenshin rubbed his temples. The stiff formality of ballroom dancing and wine had been bad enough. With this ensuing chaos it would be even harder to find her. The music had a jubilant beat along with the rushing of people. He vaguely wondered what went on when he heard the shot of the gun in the next room, but that was put out of the question when obviously his entire future is placed on this one night. He would not screw it up.

He continued to scan the room, barely tall enough to see over the gaudy displays of feathered hats and spangled hairstyles. None caught his eye at all. More than a number of girls either coyly asked him to dance or attempted to drag him by the wrist into iron-clamped arms, but he managed to evade them by saying he was looking for his wife. Well, it was true, anyway. Normally he wouldn't refuse so steadfastly, but he had a mission. He was intent to fulfill it. Even if it was held in this ridiculously garish display of coquettish pretension.

Suddenly he just couldn't take it anymore. The reeking scent of musk perfume dizzied him. He needed air. Stumbling past the people, he made it to the entrance of the hall.

He felt his heels grazing a Persian rug the size of a whale. He recognized this was the hallway where the sound of the gun came from. Suddenly he had a thought. He surely had not found the girl he was looking for in the ballroom.

What if…

No. It would be the most tragic paradox in the world to see that Himura Battousai, strongest warrior in the entire Jinsa army, would lose his wife before he even had the chance to protect her. He found his fingers clamping around the hilt of his sword. The dimly lit hall had an eerie red glow, the color of blood. There were gargoyles lined across the walls, each wearing a different expression. He came to a stop at the double brass doors. He was certain the sound came from here.

He sliced open the door.

The officers in front of him, upon seeing him, quickly dispersed. "Hi-Himura." One of them squeaked.

"What happened here?" he demanded. He quickly averted his eyes. It had been a man who was shot. He was smiling with his wound still gushing out, his spectacles curved across his nose, his hair in tangles of silvery white.

Good. So it hadn't been his bride who was shot. No. Actually. His eyes wandered to the hands holding the gun. They were delicate, supple. A girl held it. She had long, almost iridescent black hair swimming like a slippery belt of liquid across her shoulders. She was breathing irregularly, her cheeks colored a raw, ruddy pink. For a minute their eyes clamped to each other. Her eyes held so much fervor, so much fervor they almost rose with the sea tide. Her eyes were night skies clawed with brilliant rakes of lightening. He felt himself being tossed and turned. He found himself almost seasick. Or was it lovesick?

"Are you…" he tentatively let the words out.

"Am I..." she whispered. Her eyes were now staring directly at him, unflinching in their gaze. Entranced, he walked toward her, his gait strangely relaxed, his muscles unwinding.

"Do I know you?" she whispered.

"Maybe…" he said unwittingly.

The moment was cut short by a cracked voice.

"And who the hell are you?" the wounded man demanded, words laced with poison.

"Himura Kenshin."

"Himura Kenshin?" Suddenly the man's face grinned. "Oh, so you're him…You are the one who is going to marry my sister."