Prince Aoshi – Yep, different. I'm hoping to be a little different. Thanks for reading!
Regan84 – Thank you for the kind words. Well, it is based on Dr. Zhivago, which is a Russian novel (that I've never read – only saw the movie). To be honest, I haven't figured out what time period it's set in yet. Maybe the 1940s. I'll figure it out somehow
Gabyhyatt – Thank you, I'm glad you like it! It gives me actual incentive to continue, hehe.
Nishikaze – Yes, writing fanfiction isn't that bad, I find it much easier to write than the short stories I write. Less craft, more action. I hardly get any writer's block, for a change…
Half-breed-demon-fox – Rest assured, this going to be VERY BK. My favorite couple in existence.
Sangoo – I'll try and get the chapters rolling in. . Thank you! Autumn Shadow – Thanks so much! I'm glad! Keep reading, it gives me the "will to continue"…lol… .Anyway, I'm having trouble figuring out how I can get a dash or a few paragraph spaces between certain paragraphs (i.e. a line break) to indicate a change in circumstance. Going over my previous chapters, the lines sort of disappeared in my posting them. (I'm a total novice to this whole thing). Sorry if some of it was abrupt or didn't make sense.
And I don't own Rurouni Kenshin. But I DO own a kazoo that "oro's". It would belong to the "Priceless" category of Mastercard commercials.
Chapter 3Tempest
Outside the door, Kaoru heard footsteps. In the darkness of the storage closet, even her abnormally keen eyes faltered a little. She would have to rely on her reflexes and instinct. Arms taut, she shuffled for a weapon. The first sturdy thing she found was a mop.
That would do. As she grabbed it a flurry of dust breached her nostrils and she sneezed. Stupid wussy lungs! she cursed to herself.
The door opened. She crouched, ready to pounce. Just as she emerged from the ashes, she heard a familiar voice call her.
"Kaoru!"
Instantly she halted. A pair of green eyes met hers. "Thank God!" Misao blurted out. "I've been looking all over for you."
"You shouldn't be here."
"Hell, Kaoru. You shouldn't act like you're the only one. You could have told me if you wanted to kick his ass. My kunai are in need of a good chiseling anyway."
"Oh, Misao. You know I've been wanting to from the beginning."
"What did he do this time?"
"Oh, just the usual. Attempt to grope me. Uttered his tired platter of sick and sadistic words. Threaten to kill my father."
"He didn't!"
"By now, it's hard for me to believe anything he wouldn't do."
"But to threaten the life of your father—even Enishi isn't that brazen."
"I was fed up. I needed to kill him."
Misao gripped her friend's hand. "At least you did take out a chunk of him." She chuckled.
"Misao. You're so macabre."
"Not as much as you, pistol girl."
"Are they looking for me? Are you going to arrest me?"
"They've dispersed, but I'm not sure if they're looking for you. I've assured them it was self-defense."
"Not that I Care. As long as that man doesn't visit me in jail."
"Oh, Kaoru."
"He'd probably bring me a bouquet of roses rubbed with his blood."
"I guess that's just his style."
The two girls huddled behind the cobwebbed storage boxes, washed in the pale luster of starlight. The wind from the narrow window rushed in, sending Misao a hint of a shiver. She glanced at her best friend whose face was illuminated with a drowsy, faraway stare. A fixation on the sky.
"Say, Kaoru—Tonight, when the Battousai showed up, what was that all about? The events were so strange to me. First the bullet, and then just to top everything the legendary hitokiri that holds the foundation of the Jinsa just happens to pop up out of nowhere. I never thought I'd actually see him in person. He is gorgeous, isn't he? Those high cheekbones, that build, those strands of billowing red hair… I don't think I've ever seen anyone move with that kind of grace other than Aoshi-sama. God, just thinking about it gives me chills, y'know?"
Kaoru listened to her friend chatter away, the glint on her azure eyes shadowed with memory. She almost snapped at herself. Why had he made such an impression on her, Kaoru, Ms. Untouchable? Why? Every time she tried to slice away a thought, it would come crashing back down on her like a waterfall.
"Kaoru." Misao's singsong voice interrupted her. "Don't think I didn't see what went on in there. You and the Battousai were staring at each other in utter captivation. It was so plainly obvious."
Kaoru blushed. "Well, who wouldn't be captivated? It was him—the Battousai."
Misao laughed. "Don't pretend. Kaoru, you're so kick-ass in everything else—fighting, living, surviving, being utterly gorgeous—but you'll never have the poker face of Aoshi-sama."
"I love how you bring Aoshi into every single conversation in existence."
"I guess it's habitual—but don't change the subject. I swear, it wasn't just plain wonder. You were staring at each other with the intensity of soul-mates finding out they're soul-mates for the first time. That moment I almost squealed in delight."
"If you did, it would have completely ruined the moment."
"So you admit it. Something ethereal happened in that room. I would have squealed in delight because my best girl has finally found a someone who is worthy of her fierce and undying affection."
"Not everyone obsesses like you, Misao."
"Oh yeah? You'll be surprised at the kind of dreams you'll have."
"He's getting married, Misao."
"In this day and age, loveless marriages multiply like rabbits."
"To Tomoe. I think it's fair to say that in this day and age, any man has got to be homosexual not to fall for that woman."
"Which makes it all the more interesting."
"Drama-sucking vampire."
"Guilty as charged."
They laughed. Kaoru couldn't help hugging her friend as they laughed so hard their stomachs hurt. It's been awhile since she could openly laugh. The truth is, the strong-girl demeanor was partly just a façade. Partly. As much as she held up her backbone to defend her father and keep her faith, sometimes she felt like weeping into the lap of someone who would be able to support her, if not just for a little while. Not just physically also, but emotionally as well. Emotions. Now there's something she shut off so long ago. All this time she's been keeping herself so busy that it's almost become laughable to return to being a girl and doing girlish things – like worry about the other gender. Enishi, though he'd never been a boyfriend, strained the idea of romance in her mind. Scarred forever and utterly without experience. Kenshin—in her mind she called him Kenshin now—had been different. Different enough to utterly torment her.
"It's almost midnight," Misao said. "I'll get a carriage for us." Kaoru slowly stood up, her kneecaps feeling slightly wobbly.
"Let's go."
Meanwhile…
Kenshin entered the huge house. The first thing he saw was a chandelier, lazed with hissing candles and Austrian crystals. His coat was sodden with rain. "This is your new house," said the booming voice of Hiko. "Tomoe's family is very rich. You are endowed with a considerable dowry."
Behind him Tomoe appeared, holding a red umbrella. She bowed to Hiko and then Kenshin before excusing herself to go upstairs.
"By the way," Hiko said, his voice lowered. "Katsura has an assignment for you. Be at the quarters by two."
"But Hiko-san," Kenshin said, his voice quiet and eerie. "I thought we were through with this single-man killing. I thought we were ready to abandon the shadows and street corners to prepare for true insurrection."
"It's not your place to speak such things, boy."
Kenshin scowled and proceeded to change. Another long night in a storm.
Katsura had been late. He was usually never late. The assignment was to take out or intercede a gang of ninjas targetting an area near the Kamiya house. Kenshin almost gasped at the mention of Kamiya. Katsura had always told him Kamiya was important to the Jinsa; that any harm attempted on Kamiya must be extinguished covertly in the shadows.
But in the shadows Kenshin lost his humanity. He metamorphosed into the true Battousai, the one not written in legends but in the gutter stories whispered into shivering ears, in the long forgotten memories of souls lost. As Battousai he devoured his prety with his sword, unquestioningly, instinctively, a tiger to its food. Humans were just that—food to him, another kind of sport game. Humans didn't deserve to be placed above other beasts.
He proceeded to his destination, his hair tied up with black twine. He walked slowly, lithely, his face stoic and grim. His eyes were always intent. They never strayed. The rain only enhanced their ardent gleam. Thought there was utter darkness, he saw in plain view the outlines of his targets, their bodies pulsing, their vessels pumping blood that was destined to be spilled. They were clothed in all-black, clinging to the walls near the gate as if in fear, as if sensing his presence, his approaching.
Himura Battousai let a slow smile crawl over his face. He usually did not enjoy killing; he regarded it as a somewhat tedious chore. But this time he had a purpose flicking in his mind: the purpose being that exquisite, feral-eyed girl he saw earlier that night. He killed merrily, and without mercy.
(inside)
Kaoru couldn't sleep. The rain pelted on the roof like a chorus of nightingales. Usually her nights of insomnia were filled with an eerie, lonely silence—a stillness that drove her mad. But tonight there was a music—an entire symphony of sleeplessness, of unrest. She stared outside her window, steel-blue moonlight pouring on her bed. She tiptoed out of her room and grabbed a heavy coat. She slipped into her boots and unlocked the front door. Sometimes in her nights of insomnia she liked to take walks. The breeze always soothed her. Kaoru was the kind of girl who loved the rain, so naturally she decided to leave for awhile, stepping outside to let the cool raindrops fall on her feverish neck.
It felt so good.
Suddenly, she heard a piercing scream. It came from outside the black gate. She ran toward it without thinking, without even finding a weapon or a guise. She pulled open the gate, her hair swinging wildly behind her.
What she saw was rivers of blood. Red, red rivers, painfully bright, hot and liquid, thick as magma, gushing, pooling at her feet, trapping her. Heaps of torn bloody clothing. All like crumpled garbage in the rain.
Then she saw him. The only pair of upright legs. Her eyes drifted from his feet, to his torso, to his dripping hands, to the tip of his sword, to his chest, neck, and face. Familiar copper eyes, with none of the warmth. Hair so wet it plastered on his face like streams of blood.
"Wh-who are you…" she managed to stammer, her hands on the ground, her knees reddening in the dissolved blood. She knew who he was. But it was so surreal…so much like a dream, or a figment of her madness that had so long been buried and neglected.
"Hitokiri Battousai."
The words cut through the icy raining air.