Hitoezakura - I don't own Rurouni Kenshin...it's property of Watsuki (until I build my time machine, of course...)

Anyways, I can no longer give reviewer responses in my author's notes anymore, but I will be sure to reply to any reviewer who left a review and email address(except for my editor, who left a "Hi! It's me!" review and had not read this chapter since she didn't have the time).

Please give me feedback about this chapter, I really want to know if I am expressing Enishi correctly.

Anyways, each chapter is going to start with Tomoe's diary entry in italics, and then Enishi's thoughts. Each chapter will end with a small conversation between Oibore and Enishi (there's a reason for that...but I'm not going to disclose it...)

Happy reading, and happy thanksgiving to anyone who celebrates it!

TO INSANITY AND BACK

Chapter One - Innocence

The skies poured tears of agony, of pain, of deep regret, as we stood gathered at my mother's grave. She lay under that simple stone marker adorned with flowers I had plucked the day of her death as an offering to the Gods, begging them to spare her death. I pleaded them to allow her to live for the sake of my father and me, and if not for us, then for the young baby boy she had left behind, for her son, for my little brother. However, my pleas and prayers remained unanswered, and as I stared at the grave stone marker solemnly, a single tear slid down my cheek, mingling with the fresh cool rain.

My eyes traveled to my father who stood there, staring lifelessly at the grave of his beloved wife, his once cheerful and gentle eyes dead and dull. I could not see his tears, but I knew they existed within him. On the exterior, he seemed lifeless, emotionless, but in the interior, his tears filled his lungs and brain, snatching his life away from him, snatching his love away from this world.

A shrill cry suddenly erupted through the air, and I turned to see my little brother reaching out of from the blankets underneath the umbrella, seated in the only area sheltered by the biting rain. His cries pierced my soul – he was calling out for a mother, a woman who no longer existed, a woman who could never enter his life again. I turned to father, begging him to reach out to his son, though the emotions never surfaced my face, a trait that I so dearly hated, but father weakly fell to his knees in front of my mother's grave and kneeled in front of the grave, his head in front of his hands and knees, his back a perfect arch. I stared at him for a moment, sensing his pain, but as I heard the shrill cries of my little brother call out repeatedly, I slowly lifted him and the umbrella from the ground, shading him and I from the biting rain. I gently rocked him, trying to ease his cries. For a moment, he stared up at me, his turquoise eyes shining with tears, memorizing my features. His tiny fingers reached out to snatch a handful of my hair in his fist before gently closing his eyes, leaning his head on my shoulder as he sighed softly and fell asleep.

It was the first day I understood the gravity of his name, Enishi – connection, relation, affinity. He had no mother to cling to, and he therefore chose me that fateful day. He would discover someday that his birth ultimately led to the death of mother, despite the fact that it was not his fault…he would someday bear the guilt of her death, and desperately search for a love-filled connection so that he would obtain the love he so dearly wanted. And I would be there to offer him this love – that was the vow I took as a nine-year-old child that day. I would be his mother and his sister; I would shower him with the love he deserved until the day came when he would need my love no longer…

Edo…my birthplace as well as the origination of the Yukishiro family, a middle class family who lacked extravagant living, but still managed to live through the years with smiles on their faces. The Yukishiro family was a rather simple family – my father, according to my sister Tomoe, was a kind and loving man, who knew nothing of scholarly and martial arts, but was still well-loved by our neighbors and family. My mother was always weak, but she maintained a sweet and good-natured disposition in order to maintain everyone's spirits. They gave birth to a daughter whom they christened Tomoe, and then, nine years later, they gave birth to their son – me.

However, mother's weakness finally destroyed her. My birth ended her life. Because of me, my sister was deprived of a mother, and was forced to grow up so quickly. Because of my birth…I was deprived of a mother's love. Perhaps that is why I clung to my dear sister so tightly – she was the closest thing to a mother's love, she was the closest I could get to family.

My father was deeply in love with my mother, as Tomoe had written in her diary, and upon her death, he became a lifeless shell. I know my sister constantly hoped that he would someday recover from his depressed stupor and realize that he still had children who needed his love, but he never seemed to glance our way. He instead spent his days in a dreary room where only darkness reigned, save for the shred of candlelight emanating from a single, thin, tapering candle. He bleakly stared at mother's silk kimonos, fingering them gently, as if by fingering them he could communicate with her. He was obsessed with my mother, constantly mumbling soft words of comfort to her, communicating with her in the quietest of whispers.

That is why I held on to Tomoe so dearly – my own birth had destroyed my own mother, the woman who would shower me with love if she were alive, and I never had a father. Tomoe always reprimanded me, always insisted that I was a harsh judge of character, and that if I opened my heart just a little more, I would be able to understand the behavior of other people. However, in this case, I truly do disagree. Could anyone admire the man who became a lifeless shell after his loved one's death, lost in depression of losing his loved in instead of caring for the two children he still had?

My first memory of Tomoe is a maternal memory. I believe I had just begun to crawl, and I had hit my head hard against a tall sakura tree. I was sobbing furiously when I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see a face devoid of emotion, the face of my sister, but when I stared into her eyes, I saw the emotions – I saw the love, the caring, the concern only a mother would show for her child. I saw that all in the eyes of a ten-year-old girl, one who gave up her childish dreams and fantasies to raise her little brother with as much love as she could shower on him. I stopped crying as she carefully lifted me and rocked me back and forth, the tiniest of smiles on her face, so tiny that perhaps it would've been invisible to someone else's eyes, but not to mine.

She never liked the fact that she could barely smile, barely convey her emotions to anyone, but I always made sure that she realized that I understood her. She showered me with love, and in return, I always showed her that I understood her emotions that I knew when she wanted to smile, wanted to speak sternly, and wanted to cry.

However, that did not always mean I agree with her emotions. Now, in all honesty, I was a bit of a brat, because I did throw quite a few tantrums, some of which upset my sister dearly. However, perhaps my most severe tantrum thrown was when I was eight. Tomoe had just turned seventeen, and a proposal from the family Kiyosato had arrived…

"Hello youngster!"

I quickly snapped the diary shut and hid it behind my back as the annoying old man everyone called Oibore arrived and sat by my side, bringing with him a whole flock of birds. I could only wonder why the birds did not fly away; his singing and constant cheerfulness was quite awful. I did not answer, hoping that Oibore would understand that I did not want to talk today. Unfortunately, I am not that lucky.

The birds immediately flocked over me, settling down next to my feet or creating a comfortable perch in my head. At that moment, I was just too tired to bat them away, so I simply let them perch.

"You're a good guy."

I turned to Oibore, staring at him incredulously. I may have appeared villainous to the residents of Tokyo and Kamiya dojo, but I was no villain. I had only undertaken Jinchuu as a revenge plot for my dear sister. However, despite the fact I was a villain, I could assure you that I was no saint either. Certainly, my past actions have proved that.

Oibore laughed looking at my surprised expression, but then he indicated the birds that hovered around me, for my head turn had jilted many of them, and they were impatiently waiting for me to remain still so that they could recreate their perches.

"The birds know a good soul when they see one" replied Oibore matter-of-factly, raising his hand, allowing a bird to perch on it. "They only flock around those who they know are repenting for any wrongs they have ever committed, those who are trying to purify their heart, and those who are accepting their deeds…"

"Oh" I replied emptily, slumping against the wall once again. I longed for my wonderful shades, but unfortunately, Battousai destroyed them in our last battle, and I had no money to purchase a pair. In addition, the Tokyo police were probably on a lookout for me. After all, I had escaped from their very clutches.

"I know you'll be out of here someday," replied Oibore with a grin. "Just like the other guy…you won't throw away everything just because you lost someone…"

"Why are you here?" I asked, sounding rude of course, and interrupting the man's thoughts, but he simply smiled sadly and sighed.

"I lost a family because I mourned the loss of a loved one…" he replied quietly, staring out into the sunset. My one loss destroyed the whole family…and all because I didn't have the strength to pull them back together…"

"Then why don't you go and reunite your family?" I asked curiously. He looked broken inside all of a sudden, and I knew that he must have loved his family and his lost one dearly, but it perplexed me that he had done nothing about it. When I lost Tomoe, I thirsted for Battousai's suffering, and toiled to make my dream of revenge come true…but this man…

He chuckled slightly. "You're a strong and stubborn boy…just like my son was…but as for reuniting my family, I cannot…My wife was the one who died all those years ago, my daughter is now dead, and only Kami knows where my son is…"

"So look for your son," I suggested quietly. I know I ran around all of Kyoto, asking anybody if they knew where my dear sister was. I was so desperate at that moment…but I so dearly wanted to bring her back home…

"My son will never come back," replied the man with a sigh, rising from my side heavily. "Perhaps you know as well as I that old wounds never disappear…and he will never forgive me..."

He suddenly smiled, as if he had forgotten about the whole incident in a single second. "Anyways, it's time for the stars to light up. Sleep as well as you can in this dump, and have fun mulling over any thoughts!"

He disappeared from my view, whistling his annoying song once again. However, for a moment, I overlooked my annoyance and stared into the distance. He had lost everything…that was his whole reason for sitting in Rakuminmura…I had lost everything, which was why I was residing in this dump currently…he and I shared some similarities after all, and for some reason, he looked vaguely familiar…

With a shrug, I closed my eyes, clutching Tomoe's diary in my hands, ready to sleep for the night, hoping to see the smile of my dear sister in my dreams.

Please review, and offer feedback! I want to know if I'm doing this well, because Enishi deserves plenty of respect and understanding!

Ja ne, and hopefully I can update soon!