SHADOWS OF RED
by Hime-kou

Author's Notes: Continuing with the revisions. The more I read the first couple of chapters, the more I dislike it. Grrr...So I'm waiting until I revise all the chapters that I oh-so-intensely-dislike to upload a new chapter. Sorry. Suffice to say I think this revision will ease many troubled minds (mine included). Veerrrry troubled minds (mine). And the more I revise it, the longer the chapters get...ohmy...poor readers will go blind reading this. I'M SORRYYYY!

Thanks for reading, as ever, and please drop a comment :holds out comment box and dances:

Disclaimer: I keep forgetting this! Ah, not mine. Will not ever be mine. Sadness. All I can do is mess upwhat is mine (Sachiko, my computer, etc.)

Chapter Two-As Shadow and Day (Rev.)

The alley was still and silent. Outside, separated from the darkness of her world, people continued to talk and laugh, if tremulously, shop and eat. Here, it was different. Here, light rarely penetrated. Here, memories haunted.

Trembling, Sachiko rose from her knees where she had been crouched. The man lay where he had fallen, in a pool of dark crimson. The liquid gleamed dully in the darkness. Besides him was his own victim, throat sliced. A young woman. Her throat was crusted with black. Sachiko turned and ran, slipping on cursed blood.

These things that attacked her, these things that she remembered. She didn't know when they would strike, she didn't know when they would grab her and pull her into a swirling vortex of black and red. However, it was the emotions that truly scared her. Always, that horrible, drowning, sense of sorrow. Sorrow so deep it could overwhelm even a trained hitokiri. Emotions and images that she could almost remember? She was scared, and she knew it, of what her own mind held from her. So she ran away.

It was raining, she found. Lightly, she jumped up onto the roof of a lower shop, along the back streets were few frequented. The wind still twisted along the roads, forced into a path by the buildings on the street. The wind caught her hair and tugged it back vengefully, driving streams of cold rain into her face and onto her body. It chilled her, this autumn rain, yet it helped to wash away the blood on her clothing. But the blood on her hands remained. It always remained.

Sachiko didn't think as she ran. She let the cool water beat down upon her, washing away everything until nothing remained. Her feet obeyed her unconscious mind and they took her towards her quarters—not her home. Absentmindedly, she jumped down from a house and stopped at a small building off a side street. No signs adorned it. The street was empty.

Stretching to both sides, lined with occasional houses, rain hissed onto the stones and down the sides of the buildings. All the way, towards the horizon, grey masked the neighborhood. The only sound was the rain. Quietly, Sachiko slipped into the house. She slid the shoji open, calming at the sight of the familiar quarters provided by her employer. A sense of peace filled her as she glanced about familiar territory. The house was plain and sparsely furnished but she liked it that way. A foyer opened towards the door and the main room was connected to the small room. Shaking out her hair, heedless of the drops that fell onto slightly worn floors, she headed for the washroom.

Once there, she scrubbed as hard as she could at the blood all over her hands. The water in the washing tub turned red, murky. In haste, Sachiko stripped and poured water over herself, cleansing…trying to cleanse. But the blood remained. It always remained. She gave up.

No one was visible as she made her way towards her small room, but she knew that the serving girl, Mayumi-chan, was somewhere in the house. Uneasy silence soaked through the house. Sachiko didn't feel truly comfortable in it. After all, it was only her second month living in the house. Katsura often moved his assassins around.

She slid the shoji aside to her room. Nothing marked it as hers. In all her years as a hitokiri, nowhere she lived ever actually grew in her heart. She felt nothing for the house, except a gratefulness to be out of the rain. There was a clean black gi and grey hakama by the shoji door. Mayumi-chan, the serving girl, must have left it there. Sachiko was grateful for the warm and dry clothing. She quickly donned them and headed into the main room once more.

She settled herself onto the tatami mats and closed her eyes. The rain hissed and drummed against the roof, quietly filling the house with soothing sound. Sachiko settled her katana more comfortably and allowed herself to relax. Those "episodes" had only begun recently. Always filled with bloody swords, screams, and scarlet.

They drained her.

Before, she could complete her assignments in relative peace. Now, the past couldn't seem to leave her alone.

Who was Michiko anyway? Where did this bloody chapter fit into her life? The rain gave no answer to her inward cries. Water hissed outside, against the cobblestones. Listening to the rain, here, she could forget everything. The rain always soothed her and calmed her. She preferred the rain to sunlight. It cleansed the whole world, let her thoughts and feelings wash away in the calming water.

Sachiko stared idly at the katana sheathed at her side. She pulled the handle and a few inches of steel came sliding out of the sheath. It shone, momentarily. Memory came; flashes, unbidden and unwanted.

Happiness. Fireflies and fishing on blue days. Mother, father, sister? People. A family. Laughter. Comfort and warmth. No blood. Walking on paths.

No blood. No blood staining her hands, no blood on the sword she didn't own yet. Her soul not yet weighed down by the death of so many others, all at her hands. Peace. Happiness. Comfort and joy. Bliss. Freedom. The sky so blue, so high, clouds white and soft. Sunlight and breezes, shining seas. Joy. Then…

Screams.

"Why? Why are you doing this!" Sobs. Someone…who? A long blade, crimson, thick, dripping. "NOOOOOO!" Pain-filled, heartrending shriek. Michiko? "RUN, Sachiko-chan! Run away from here! Hide! Go!"

Dazed. Hiding. But…a shadow. Man-shaped.

Michiko, screaming, eyes tortured and fearful. Insane eyes…Lovely hair trailing to the floor, stained red. Then…steel. Blood. Waves of blood. Every person she ever killed…innocent bystanders who merely saw what they should not, criminals, assassins…all crying out tears of blood. She scrubbed at her hands. Blood. Blood! Blood everywhere! Harder, harder, get the blood OFF!

Sachiko found she was clenching her fists. The pain woke her from her horrible images. Little white indents were left on her palms from where the had nails bitten in. She half expected to see her pale hands drenched in blood—but they were clean. Clean of visible blood. They were still soaked in memories.

"Well, Sachiko-san. We meet, finally."

She hadn't noticed anyone in the room. Briefly, worridly, she realized her defences were down. Whipping towards the sound of the voice, she bared her katana against smooth skin, voices pushed away in the face of a fight, silver eyes dropping to a deadly sheen. She stopped when the person didn't move at all. She was leaning over him, her torso unguarded in a moment of mistake. They were at a standstill.

"Ah. Hello to you too." The voice, a deep baritone, buzzed in her ear. Red hair tickled her cheek as it swished slightly.

Instantly, she threw herself backwards and crouched as Hitokiri Battousai ducked and flew upwards, katana extended, and landed silently behind her. If she had been there, the sword would have disemboweled her. Now, it only served to mark her spot as she moved.

By the time Battousai landed, Sachiko was there. Once more, a blade pressed into soft skin.

Battousai chuckled. "My! How did Katsura-san ever hide you? I call a truce, Sachiko-dono. I come on more important matters than fighting tonight."

Sachiko didn't delude herself. She knew Battousai could have flicked her blade away and dismembered her. He could have won. But not before getting dealt a couple of mortal wounds, she thought wryly. One great swordsman knew another.

So she smiled back. Legendary Hitokiri Battousai. The name enough to strike fear greater than an army of soldiers could. Her…associate? Yes, in employ of Katsura. But…perhaps the only one who was her equal, if not better.

Therefore, the only one who could possibly be a threat to her. She would have to tread carefully.

"And what would that important thing be, Battousai?" she asked quietly. Battousai gave a feral grin, amber eyes dangerous.

"No telling till that blade goes down, Sachiko-san." She complied. When her katana was in sheathed, she spoke again.

"While we're being oh so polite, Battousai-san (he snorted), then please, grace my humble floor with your most illustrious ass."

She was slightly angry at this man and the unease she felt around him. Battousai grinned again at her barb.

"Why thank you, Sachiko-dono. That will suffice admirably." Gracefully, fluidly, Battousai slid onto the floor and settled there, adjusting his katana to comfort. Sachiko sat also, placing her hands across her lap, easily accessible to her sword.

She observed the most feared man in all of Japan.

Sachiko's met Battousai! How in the world can Kyoto house those two (the way a zoo does)? Don't worry, I am a Karou & Kenshin supporter and Sachiko and Battousai won't have anything going on...unduly. Heehee, I'll leave everyone to wonder what that means! I'll look forward to more tormenting of Sachiko and angsty darkish drama. Thank for reading, please review! (My mantra)