Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin

Chapter One:

10 years later…

(Kyoto)

Man running

"Oh Kami, please I beg of you, please don't let him slaughter me tonight, I don't wish to die this way. Please…" The man whimpered in silent prayer as he ran down the alley, that led to a dead end.

'Oh no.'

The man looked around, desperately trying to find a place to hide himself, from the one they know as the legendary Battousai, however to no avail.

"You can run as far as you like, hide in the deepest corners of the earth; but as I have told you, you will never escape from my hands, alive." A low, mysterious voice escaped from the shadows of the still night. The frightful man turned to face his assassin, he knew he could never stand a chance against him but he would not die without a fight.

Yet, before he could even draw his sword, Battousai had already made a swift move to draw his powerful katana, metal shone momentarily, before it sliced his victim in half. Blood dripped from the blade, once again; it has claimed another's life.

A man appeared soon after to survey the work that has been done.

"Difficult one this time round. He actually tried to make an effort to fight back, knowing his chances are like one in a million." chuckles "Pathetic." He spat.

The assassin looked down at his bloody sword. And in one swift motion, he swung his sword through the air to rid it of its grisly remains. Blood splattered off its blade onto the brick walls, as he sheathed it once more.

"Clean up the mess Iizuka, or else you will have to answer to both the authorities and Katsura himself."

"Yeah, yeah, I know that, Battousai, don't need you to remind me how to do my job. You just stick to yours, and I'll handle the rest." Iizuka smirked.

Battousai remained quiet at that comment, and as silently as he came, he as silently left the bloody alley, amber eyes glowing but hidden behind his crimson red bangs.

His resounding footsteps echoed away as he neared the junction of a busy street. His silence was soon invaded and replaced by the violent honking of cars jammed in traffic, and obscene remarks made by the hawkers on the roadsides. They garbled for attention to sell their hot noodles in greasy porcelain bowls.

Groups of youths, hair coloured like the rainbow and dressed in the latest fashion garbs, were scattered like peapods along the roadsides, chattering among themselves. They held the latest technological accessories that Battousai did not need. He had a photogenic memory that registered everything and everyone he met. His mind was swift.

Businessmen were either seen hurrying off, or frantically trying to flag a cab for late meetings or family dinners.

Such a bustling nightlife like tonight would make any assassin think twice before carrying out such a mission. A mission to strike and take lives in such a prominent alley of such a bustling and crowded city street.

Yet, it did not make Battousai hesitate at all, instead this only made him feel all the more excited. He did not fear, not even a little bit, not at all. He hated fear. And by the fact that he might be caught any time, only made him feel more challenged, as it would be like putting his skills to the test.

Battousai soon made his way to his favourite usual pub. It was located at one of those abandoned back-alleys, where it was hardly seen and secluded. No attention. He was pretty low-key so these places were the best. It was hardly crowded and very quiet.

As Battousai walk into the dark back-alley, he saw skimpily attired women, hanging around outside of the pub. Some were busy entertaining their 'customers', others were just looking out for 'new fish' to catch.

Battousai was popular with these women; they were attracted to him because of his cold amber eyes, his crimson red hair that shone brightly under the moonlight, and his mysterious aura that revolved around him. It would most definitely make any women fall under his charms.

Occasionally, they would wink at him, trying to draw attention, yet he would simply ignore them, and acted as if they never existed.

He was about to enter when his gaze fell upon a young beggar-boy, draped in rags. He looked rather frail, and bruised, as if somebody had been constantly abusing him. He was hidden in one of the corners of the alley, among the trash; eyes wide with fear and anxiety. With one last look, Battousai entered the pub.

"The usual, Mr. Battousai?"

He sighed; as he received no answer from him, and went on to prepare a glass of Scotch Whisky on the rocks.

"Here you go sir," the bartender said as he placed the glass on the bar top.

Battousai said nothing, he held the glass, and swirled the whisky before lifting it up to his lips. Slowly, he sipped the brown liquid, and allowed it to trickle down his throat. The liquored stench was strong, and powerful. The hot sensation spread like wild fire from his throat to the crevices of his chiseled, and muscular chest.

He placed the glass back on the bar top. He closed his eyes, allowing the intoxicating influence of the heavy alcohol drive his effects into his senses. His mind kept on wondering back to the young beggar-boy that he saw outside, flashing back into his broken past.

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Flashback:

(Ishinshishi's training grounds) Katsura held two swords in his hands; one had a shorter blade than the other.

"Today is your first day of training, Kenshin. I am going to train you in the art of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. It's a lethal killing sword technique that so far none of our assassins has succeeded in learning. I expect nothing less from you Kenshin."

The small boy meekly nodded in reply.

"This here is a Katana which you will receive further along your training, I will be passing you a Wakizashi. It's a smaller version of a Katana." Katsura said, passing the young redhead the sword.

Kenshin flinched when he caught it. "It's a little too heavy sir." He whimpered.

Katsura walked up to the young lad, and immediately slapped him."What insolent words you speak. Did you just realize that you shown a sign of weakness! Whimpering is a form of weakness! And I DO NOT expect that from you, understand?"

Kenshin looked up at Katsura, and shot him a gaze that could kill. His right cheek began to bruise into a deeper shade of red.

"Affirmative." Was his reply.

"Good, now get your ass up! I want to see what you can do with those nimble hands of yours. Brace yourself, for I will treat you like every other assassin here."

After a few sparring matches, Kenshin was battered up so badly to the extent that he could not even stand. When he finally found the strength to rise to his feet, Katsura stopped him.

"Enough! I have seen your skills; your defense is average, but your attacks aren't even enough to scratch me. That is so…pathetic. I saw a fighter in those eyes! Now where is that fighter? Why are you hiding that monstrous fighting spirit within you? You had better unleash it if you know what's good for you." Katsura said walking away.

End of Flashback

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'The flesh of the weak will always be food for the strong. (A/N: That sounds familiar) That was what Katsura has taught me.' Kenshin thought while staring at his glass.

"I was not that weak. I will never be that weak" he murmured under his breath as he gulped the rest of the vile liquor down his throat.

Battousai finished his drink and walked swiftly out of the pub. He has had enough for one night. As he walked back out onto the alley, he saw the young boy still trembling there in the dirty corner.

He suddenly felt hollowness in his heart. He dipped his calloused hands into his pockets and fished out a coin. He flipped it towards the boy and walked silently out of the alley, leaving the weak behind.