Disclaimer: I do not own rk. If I did I'll make a sequel and introduce new songs into the anime.
Hitokiri
My name is Kaoru, and I am a hitokiri. I am four thousand years old.
You used to think a hitokiri was an ancient Japanese assassin. You used to think they were human, just like everyone else, but with superior martial art skills. And you also used to think they only went after important people, that they had masters and clans and organizations they belonged to. Well, I'm sorry to say, that you used to think WRONG.
Hitokiri… the word is ancient. Over time, it has come to mean an assassin, but you don't know where it originated from. My species, my kind, we take different names in different cultures. Perhaps you should know that they call us vampire in Europe, but hitokiri in Asia. I should think that we were first given that name because one of original species used to refer to himself as hitokiri battousai. Familiar? Maybe. Anyway, he went around killing people in the name of Ishinshishi, and he called himself hitokiri. As his occupation was a secret assassin aka manslayer, the term eventually came to mean that. He was famous after all… He plays a big part in this story, I'll tell you more later.
All those horror stories you've heard and read were real after all. Remember the nightmares you had after watching a vampire movie, or reading a vampire story? Have no doubt about it- vampires do exist. I'm living evidence.
For convenience's sake, I'll refer to myself as vampire… just in case all of you get confused.
The first vamp story was definitely Dracula. You know, the original one by Bram Stoker? Well… I'd known Dracula. He was English, and he wasn't known as Dracula. From what I've heard, he actually developed a kind of telepathic bond with this said Stoker fellow… Probably just one night. And no, Dracula was not gay. Vampires usually don't have long-term relationships. Normally, our victims wake up with nothing more than a headache- no memories, no bite marks, no messy blood. Nothing. Stoker had been an exception. After the encounter, he had written his book, about Count Dracula. I highly suspect the idea came from my friend.
Hitokiris/Vampires are more than what you humans think we are. It is true, we are evil and we don't have souls. Garlic doesn't stop us though… Neither does silver crosses, or the currently popular wooden stakes. None of that nonsense. vampires are immortal. When we gave our souls to the devil, we got back something in return. Our flesh heals when we get injured, and no ordinary human can kill a vampire. Our blood is infused with magical powers, but no, we cannot convert a human to a vampire with just a bite in the neck. That makes no sense at all! Imagine- if all our victims became hitokiris, there wouldn't be any humans left at all. It is, in truth, very hard work. A full blood transfusion is necessary, and the effort drains us. However, if humans have got one thing right about us, it is the fact that blood sustains us. I cannot explain why- I'm not a scientist. There's just this strong life force in blood that draws us to it. We cannot survive without blood. We crave it. It gives us energy, it gives us strength. That's just the way it is. As the story evolves, I'll tell you more about me and my kind. On the spot, right now, it's kind of hard to think of everything.
The story that follows is my story. It is my autobiography, one I record now because I fear I'll never have the chance to do so again. My life is rich, my memories many- it would be too much of a waste if they just disappeared along with my body and my mind. You realize I didn't say my soul. I'd already lost my soul a long long time ago.
No one is born a hitokiri. I was born Kaoru Kamiya in a rural village somewhere in Japan. Life was simple, life was good. Born to a relatively outstanding man and a beautiful woman, I lived a contented. I've no idea what the date was… When (not where, I know) I lived, time was told by the sun's position in the sky, and no one cared exactly when it was.
As a child, I'd always been more intelligent than most. Adults often marveled at my ability to comprehend things they themselves could not understand. Because of this, I was known and although I was a child, my views were still considered. I had dark ebony hair and bright blue eyes. My skin was relatively pale just like the rest of my village. Even at ten, I already had some admirers. After all, when and where I come from, a girl should get married by the time she goes through puberty. You know, the blood thing, my best red friend? Yeah.
That wasn't the point. I loved my life, I loved my family, I loved the stars. My life seemed so perfectly simple. Everyday, I gained knowledge from my father in the mornings (he was a teacher and thus respected) and learnt how to weave/sew/wash/etc from my mother in the afternoons. At night, I slept peacefully in my bed. Life was routine, yes, but at least it was pure.
Like this, I lived happily.
Most unfortunately, everything began to change when I was ten years old.
Remembering it now hurts, but… what the heck, I'll try my best.
A few months after I turned ten, people began collapsing suddenly in the streets: no warning, no prior cough, nothing. These externally healthy people just fainted, fell into a coma, woke a few days later, bled from various orifices, then keeled over and died. A wave of disease swept through my village, mysteriously killing off half of our population, seemingly randomly. I was lucky, and so was my family- none of us contracted the deadly virus. However, the illness took someone close to my heart- my best friend.
Now, my best friend wasn't one of my neighbours' children. As previously mentioned, I was intelligent and mature, I couldn't find the kind of companionship I enjoyed in those kids. No. Instead, my best friend was the daughter of the village priest, Tomoe Yukishiro. She was 19, beautiful, and pregnant when she died. The loss of both mother and child truly upset me. I knelt beside her body, out in the open, regardless of the fact that the virus might be contagious, and cried for hours.
We used to sing together, soulful and religious hymns that inspired us. We were such good friends, we could chat forever. The age gap was no hindrance- in fact, we enjoyed each other's company tremendously. I remember, I'd been so happy for her when she'd finally agreed to marry the man of her dreams, we spent an entire week sewing her wedding dress together. But the curse of the illness and changed all that. All had been lost, the golden girl, the child, their future. She'd died in my arms, blood seeping through her pores. But that was not the worst of disasters which struck my village.
As the plague continued, the people despaired. Normally god-fearing people, times of great need encouraged rumours of a pagan priest from a neighbouring village who could help us get rid of this demon of an infestation that would kill us all. I couldn't blame them. We were really desperate for help, for the dying to end. Soon, six men were elected to get his help. One of them was my father.
According to the priest, a yaishino demon had come to our town, causing the plague. Only a batotsu demon, as the yaishino's mortal enemy, could help us get rid of it. Of course, I disapproved heartily of this. Who knew what the batotsu might do to us after eating the yaishino? Who knew what damage it could do? But, no one wanted to listen to a 9-year-old, darkhaired, blue-eyed little girl. Everyone just wanted to disease to go away. Even my educated father didn't believe me, casually pushing aside my concerns as childish paranoia.
On that day, I slipped out behind my mother's back while her eyes were diverted away. I used to think it was curiosity, but now I feel it was fate. Anyway, I had a really bad feeling about the ritual which would summon the batotsu. I normally went with my instincts, so off I stole, into the woods, hiding behind a large stone around the circular clearing where 7 men gathered. One of them was my father, and another 5 were similarly respected men in the village. The seventh was odd-looking, dressed in nothing but a loincloth. Jineh. Even his name sounded weird.
The weather agreed with me. This ceremony was wrong. Cold wind blew, but it was summer, it should have been sweltering. The moon was in full view, her eerie light illuminating the party of 7. I was freaked out, but still I stayed. I don't know why, maybe it was really fate.
The ritual started, and man was doomed.