Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Rurouni Kenshin, whose personalities I have laid into my own twisted plot.

When We Are Alone

By Faablen

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Chapter One: Harsh Realities

The rain fell in light thrashes upon the wind, berating the night with its heartless throws. Crimson bangs did little to shield his amber eyes from the storm, and his red mane weighed heavily on his head. Rain and blood mixed as they dripped down the blade of his katana. Hitokiri Battousai stood alone on the sidewalk staring into the face of his victim, as if he could watch the soul escape from this world. He pulled his chin to the sky staring down the heavenly waters that mocked him in their vain attempt to wash clean the scene that lay written in blood on the sidewalk.

He sheathed his sword with one practiced stroke, feeling only the rain on his cheek. Before long a black sedan pulled smoothly to the curb. A tall man stepped from the vehicle, wincing as the rain stung his face. Frustrated, he jerked an umbrella open before he set to his task. The Battousai watched silently as the man identified the corpse and searched for plausible evidence. Satisfied, the tall man stood, regarding the katana-bearing man with a fearful respect, before nodding the assassin's dismissal.

Battousai walked the streets alone silently, cursing the rain as he pulled up his collar. The lighted windows of scattered bars chimed with the street lamps as the only guard against the storm. He ducked under one of the eaves to make his alibi of a few drinks at a pre-designated bar. His final instructions for the night: Clean-up in the washroom, make his presence memorable, take the scenic route home. The night would be made longer by the rain. He glided softly through the dimly lit room towards the restroom.

The florescent lights flickered overhead as Battousai stared at his own reflection in a cracked mirror. He traced a finger along the line of blood that streamed from the gash in his cheek. He had been careless, he knew. He should have been untouchable. Cold water burned at his fingertips as he rinsed the blood from his face, from his clothes, from his mind. He reeked of it. Even now, he could hear the last pleadings his past victim, this supposed threat to the governed:

'I cannot die here…'

'You do not have a choice.'

The Battousai slowly approached the man that lay sprawled before him, unarmed. Fear plastered the man's eyes; twisted his features.

'I cannot die here!'

The man launched himself at the Hitokiri, desperation in his screams.

The katana's edge silenced his cries.

Cold water raked down his face as the Battousai tried to pull the thoughts from his mind. It was not his place as an assassin to become involved with the lives he was ordered to dispatch. Ask no question: a formidable ruling of his trade. He quickly bandaged the irritating wound - no need to be bleeding all over the place - before returning to muted lights of the bar.

Outside, a woman of small stature noisily stalked in, out of the rain. She pushed her hair roughly from her eyes. Shrugging off her coat, Agent Kamiya chose an isolated barstool. The assassin watched the woman with interest. He had been attempting conversation with the bartender, who was obviously more interested in returning home than acting as an adequate host. Battousai would have been more than willing to leave the bartender alone if he didn't need her to front an alibi - especially with the prominent scratch that lined his cheek.

Kamiya had stormed out into the rain to escape the presence of her most recent assignment: an irritating, pig-like diplomat who was currently involved with questionable business. She found him more than a little difficult to deal with and even more impossible to keep a cool cover when he started spewing idiocy from his flapping lips. Sipping at her grey-goose martini, Kamiya wished her patient and placid sister had been able to take this assignment in her stead. She let out an irritated sigh when she felt eyes on her back. Setting down her drink, she casually glanced around for the culprit. Her eyes landed accusingly on a man sitting four chairs to her right.

He was striking, to say the least. Flaming red hair framed empty amber eyes that seemed to look through her. She suppressed a shudder and fought back the suspicion that she was looking at a fellow killer. Still, she felt a sting of familiarity. His gaze pressed into her eyes and stopped the breath in her throat. Her heart pounded in her ears as she strained to discern what stirred behind those dreadful orbs. She choked as she wrenched her eyes from his… a monster.

The Battousai had not been watching her long before her eyes locked with his. She was noticeably disheveled from whatever life she had walked out from, but her eyes seemed collected and calculated. As he stared, he blinked in surprise to see a hint of brilliant blue in her dark eyes. Contacts? But she looked away, as expected. She had a whisper of strength as she had held his raw gaze longer than most could withstand.

Apathetic to attempting another conversation with the ill-mannered bartender, Battousai pulled money from his pocket, setting it on the counter with a metallic rattle. And without a word, the amber-eyed assassin slipped away into the dark streets of New York, leaving only the hushing of rain puddles in his wake.

Kamiya turned to watch him go. The pain of his presence lifted from her chest with a heavy sigh. The man - if he could even be considered human - wielded the gaze of a vengeful God, leaving only fear and desperation in his wake. She pulled her hands from her lap, ignoring their tremors.

'What was he!'

She pressed her palms down onto the bar, forcing herself to stand on shaking legs. His eyes still haunted her mind. Throwing her money on the counter, she pulled her coat around her in a whirl. She had been gone too long. She strutted out into the night, welcoming the rain upon her face, wishing the cold droplets could wash the chaos from her mind.

'Who was he…'

And why did her throw her mind into such turmoil with naught but a glance? Her hastened steps carried her down the dark path that returned her to the life she was growing to hate. Once, she had believed it wrong to kill in cold blood…

She arrived on the steps of a grand estate, with her heart still quivering in her chest. She cast her gaze to the heavens as the rain dotted her eyes with blindness. The cold shocked her eyes like the prick of tears. Sorrow closed around her throat as she tried to swallow. It had been years since God had washed her eyes with tears. And she knew there would be years yet to come. She dipped her chin, her breaths billowing from her nose and mouth.

'What am I doing? I have come too far. Too far to be taking hesitant steps now.'

Kamiya lifted her head with a proud thrust. Glaring at the door as though she could see the horror that lay within, these words escaped in whispers from her trembling lips:

"I will bring a sword upon you, thus saith the Lord."

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AN: End Chapter One. To be continued…