Author's Notes: Yeah, the title might seem suited to that of a horror story, but I don't do horror. This is strictly action/adventure/romance. No horror. Still, it'll be fun to write!

Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own Rurouni Kenshin. But I reserve the right (if it is a right) to toy with Watsuki-sama's characters as I please, just so long as I make sure it's in fan fiction.

Haunted Isle

Prologue

The boat bumped against the shore of an island shrouded in darkness. As soon as its passengers set foot on dry land, a cloud moved from in front of the moon and allowed the moon to throw down its silvery light upon them. The remaining members of the Ishin Shishi - those who had fought in the war, that is, not just mere politicians who claimed to be supporters – cast glances about what was, in essence, to become their home, or at least a base for them to return to every now and again.

These were the best of the best fighters – they had to have been, to survive the war. Hardened and battle-scarred warriors, the lot of them. No room among these men for cowards that hid behind their comrades; those men had already moved on to become high-ranking officials in the new government. But for the men on this island, there was little room in today's peaceful era. They could have easily become high-ranking government officials themselves, but it wasn't so easy just to put down a sword and dedicate themselves to a life of manipulation and words behind closed doors.

There were little more than twenty of them. Their leader had been killed, though few knew when or where. They had a new leader now, the most fearsome fighter among them. He wasn't officially their leader – and if he had been asked to be he might well have refused – but every man looked up to him and obeyed his commands.

He was the last to step from the boat, his customary high ponytail waving a little in the slight breeze. He took in his surroundings in one or two glances and nodded approval, and then turned to the men standing waiting for him.

"This will be fine. We'll make camp," he informed them softly, having no need to raise his voice on the quiet isle, and they nodded and set to work unloading what little supplies they had from the boat.

"Himura. Himura!" Later that evening, one of the soldiers came running over to their leader, urgency in his voice. Kenshin Himura stood up. "What is it?"

"The Shinsengumi!" the soldier replied. "They're here, on the island!"

Another of the men who was nearby had been listening. Now he partly drew his sword. "I'll get rid of the scum," he said.

Kenshin shook his head, motioning for the man to stay where he was. "Sheathe your sword. There will be no bloodshed on this island."

He walked down the slope on which he and his men were camped, down to two figures standing frozen at the island's edge. Another Ishin Shishi, who had been standing watch, had his sword at their throats. "Shall I finish them, Himura?" he asked.

Kenshin shook his head no. "Sheathe your sword," he said again, then turned to address the two Shinsengumi. "What brings you here?"

The two enemy soldiers drew in sharp breaths at the sight of whom they were talking to. With his red hair in a high ponytail and his cross-shaped scar, the legendary Battousai was unmistakeable. The younger of the two took a step backwards. Both were taller than Battousai, and yet the assassin's reputation preceded him.

The older man scrutinised Battousai carefully as the redhead waited for his reply. It was unmistakeably Battousai, and yet… the other man had called him 'Himura' – and the amber eyes he was reputed to have appeared to have been replaced by a soft violet colour. And he hadn't killed them yet. That alone was reason not to flee, but for them to remain and try their luck.

"We came to join you," the older spoke, careful not to stutter or to show any signs of fear. He shrugged in a helpless manner. "We were trained for war; we live for battle. Yet what use are our sword skills now, in this new era of peace?"

Kenshin nodded slightly. The man was speaking the exact thoughts that he had had not long after the war had ended; the same thoughts which had led him and his men to this island.

The Shinsengumi unbuckled the sword belt from his waist and laid it, still in its sheath, at Kenshin's feet. He motioned for his companion to do the same. "We mean no harm, only seek a peaceful existence," he said.

Kenshin shook his head a little. "Keep your swords," he told them. "You may yet need them." He turned and began to walk away. Over his shoulder, he added, "We will speak again in the morning. Get some rest."

The two Shinsengumi looked at each other and then at Kenshin in disbelief. They had almost not dared to hope that they would keep their lives.

The sentry was also staring at Kenshin in disbelief. After a few seconds, he ran after him and caught him up. "Are you sure?" he asked, glancing back at the Shinsengumi. "Think of how many of our men those scumbags must have killed-" Kenshin held up a hand to silence him.

"Do not insult your fellow warriors so, Okura," he said softly. "We will keep no record of past crimes here." Okura obediently kept quiet, feeling a little foolish, and followed Kenshin back up to the top of the rise, where a fire had been started. Kenshin dropped down silently by the fireside, and Okura followed suit. For a while, no one said anything. Then the man who had volunteered to kill the 'scum', asked,

"What made you spare them, Himura?"

Kenshin stared into the fire, its soft glow illuminating his delicate features.

"I bear those men no personal grudge," he began slowly. "Although Ishin Shishi and Shinsengumi were enemies, they fought for the same thing: the good of Japan, and its people. We only happened to be fighting on opposite sides. Now in this new era of peace, can we not allow ourselves to live peacefully?"

There was truth in his words, and men around the fire nodded in accord. Kenshin looked down to the bottom of the rise, where the two Shinsengumi were bedding down as best they could. "Besides," he added, "I feel more empathy with those men than I do with most in the new government."

With a slight sigh, he walked a few paces from the fire and sat with his back to it, resting his sword on one shoulder as he was accustomed to doing. He clearly intended to sleep.

"Get some rest," was his last instruction to his men before he succumbed to sleep, and dreams of blood and war.