Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin
Prologue:
Winds churned through the starry dark sky. Shadows crept silently along the alleys. Death lurked in the air.
A meek child sat hidden in the corner, blanketed by shadows. He trembled with anger and fear as masked men rummaged his surroundings. He lifted a small, shivering hand to his tiny pale face and felt blood. A silent angry tear trickled down his cheek. It stung as the tear touched the wound and merged with his blood, but it hurt no more then what he felt in his heart. His heart now turned as cold as winter and as hard as stone.
The masked men tipped his family's valuables into their rugged rucksacks. In their haste, they trampled upon his parent's corpses as if they were mere toys. Anger flared in his pores as he watched his parents' dead bodies treated with such disrespect. Dark, red metallic fluid oozed like a waterfall from his father's wounds.
The killings were of ill feelings of the past. His father had left the triad of assassin for the sake of his mother. His father has left for love. Assassins were to know no love. They had no feelings and his father had broken that sacred rule. The terrible irony of the situation was that his father had bowed down to love and now this child was to be open to hatred.
A light from a passing car flickered through an open window. The leader of the pack of skilled assassins turned his head and eyed the crouching young boy in the corner. In return, the small child glared back with a gaze of defiance. The leader saw fire in the young one's eyes.
He sensed an impeccable aura of strength from the child that filled the room with a coolness that depicted the iciness of the young one's heart. The leader stood staring at the child as the masked men continued on emptying the house. Katsura had been the leader of his pack for as long as he could remember. But yet there was never a soul he had seen as strong-willed and powerful as this young boy. This boy portrayed an immortal-like sense of presence. His small limbs flexed in anger showed the agility of a man that could kill an army in the future.
Katsura walked cautiously towards the boy. The boy did not move. His amber gaze of fire shining brighter and stronger towards this impending enemy. Katsura studied the boy closely and smiled. This boy could be his descendent, to lead the army of assassins. What more better than to initiate a man into his own enemy's lairs?
"What is your name?"
The boy slowly looked up, and in a quivering whisper, he responded: "Shinta."
"Too soft for a swordsman. How do you expect to ring fear in the hearts of men, when you become a great assassin in the future? You will be name Kenshin, Heart of the Sword."