Hey guys! Sorry its been such a long time1 I've been really depressed and everything lately, so my heart really wasn't in writing. . . Also I've had massive writer's block. . . Such a terrible thing, that it is, but now I'm back and ready to tell you more!
Okay let's get down to business. . .
Kasumi: I don't think we've been properly introduced in this story. . .

Ikumi: Well. . . you really don't need to be. . . as this is almost over. . .

Yumi: Please princess? stars in eyes

Ikumi: Fine. . . These are my muses, Kasumi and Yumi Masako.

Kasumi and Yumi: HEY!

Ikumi: They will not appear in this fic. . . so don't even ask. They're just here for support.

Anyway. . . This chapter is really weird, but yeah whatever. . . You all are going to find out why Makoto has a grudge against Kenshin. (right at the very end of the chapter) Also, we find out some of Makoto's past, how she got so good with sword techniques and everything. . . wait that might be the next chapter

Oh wait! P.S. don't freak it's kinda mean. . . .

Thaniez! Read and Review!

WARNING! This chapter is sort of disturbing, so if you don't like it then don't read it! I also seem to beat up on Makoto a lot. . . but she. . . well. . . find out. . .

Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon or Rurouni Kenshin, regrettably. They rightfully belong to their owners, so you can't sue me (trust me you won't get much) I do, however, own the personages Yumi, Kasumi and Hikaru, if they appear in this fic, but I doubt it so yeah whatever. . .

o.o

Chapter 11: Memories of the Past - Part I

"Makoto!" a voice cried deep in past. She was five now, a short three years after she was left with the Kokomos name I made up thank you.

"Coming!" she called back, with a slightly smaller voice. She stood from where she knelt, scrubbing the hard wooden floors to perfection. Her ragged kimono drenched her damp legs with freezing water. Her scarred hands carefully wrung out her clothes, revealing her bruised and battered legs.

"MAKOTO!" the old woman bellowed once more. Jumping, Makoto ran, slipping entirely, across the soapy floor to the main hall, where the old woman stood with an opened letter in her hands. " It's from your brother," she said irritably.

'Yea!' she thought. 'Shita wrote me! Please, please let it say he's coming to get me!' Her hope and desperation must have shown as she reached for the letter, because as soon as her fingertips touched the paper, the old woman yanked it away.

"Have you finished your chores?" she spat nastily.

"No ma'am," she sighed knowingly. "I have yet to finish, but may I please have Shita's letter now?" Her three torturous years with the old woman and her husband had taught Makoto to hold her tongue.

"No, you may not," the woman sneered, her original intent in keeping the letter from her. " Not until all the cleaning is done."

"Yes, ma'am," she sighed. There was no point in arguing with the woman, lest she never wanted to see that letter again and be beaten. She turned on her dampened heel and walked slowly back to her work. It had always been this way, for as long as she could remember. If wanted a meal or needed anything, the entire home had to be scrubbed spotless, including the floors and clothes. She was now basically a slave girl, forced to nothing but obey or be beaten. The woman had said, "It will turn a nasty, horrible girl like you into a good wife, although. . ." the woman had continued to insult Makoto's family and lifestyle, right down to the ragged clothes that she wore, only because the woman hadn't supplied her with anything else.

The beatings from her rebellion and misconduct were no ordinary picnic, either. Most children her age would be given a spanking or something, but not Makoto; she wasn't a part of the family and deserved to be disciplined in the most severe manner.

Once, for example, the old woman was gossiping with her friend while Makoto was serving tea with her face hid away. They were talking about the most evil things, saying things about Shita; his actions were barbarous, he left Makoto to fend for herself, all lies, all lies.

Earlier that day, the woman had torn apart Makoto's letter from Shita, simply because she couldn't see herself reflected in the floor. Makoto had been angry then, as anyone would have been, and screamed back at the old woman, but the woman would not stand for this insubordination, and slapped the poor child as hard as she could. Poor child, she was crushed, both emotionally and physically. The woman's hand mark bruised into her skin, swelling the child's face with a deep purple, blue and black color. Within a few moments time, her eye had swelled shut from the rough impact.

Later, now actually, here the woman was badmouthing Shita and her family. That was the final straw, Makoto could not take sitting there listening to this anymore. Without so much as a warning or a second thought, she stood and started screaming, calling the women a liar, a cheat, anything she could thing of to be taken away. To top it off, when the old woman started denying it, that those were the vivid imagination of a four-year-old, the mark on her face was from her slipping on the ground, Makoto walked over to the woman, and hit her as hard as the brandished body could muster, still screaming about liars. The old woman's friend slipped silently out the door, never to be seen again, leaving the old woman to deal with the rouge child. The woman eventually managed to subdue the child, tying and gagging her to prevent her from running and crying out some more. She still fought against the woman, kicking and trying to remove her self from the bonds, until the woman came back in with the full scalding hot tea, and dumped it all over Makoto's body. aie! Sorry, Makoto! Her sobs rang in the night, bit she no longer fought against her bonds, or the woman for that matter. When her husband came home, she showed him her face, claiming that the child had bruised her and destroyed her beauty. Her husband, who was just as cruel as his wife, beat her as hard as his oldening bones would allow with the handle of a blunt knife, before turning it and slicing up and down her back to glory in her pain. owie! Gomen Makoto-chan!

That painful memory still rang in Makoto's ears, and the old woman loved it. Her body was still tender, though a year had passed, and the woman would come and slap her on her back, just to hear her cry out in angst.

The old woman and her husband were entirely torturous to the poor, poor girl, but never once did anyone dare help her. But that was all there was to it. She was alone in the cruel world, and despised it true, but she knew no other and suffered day in and day out. Shita's monthly letters were one of the only things to put a smile on her face. They were a comfort, an idea that someone out there still loved and cared about her, though he was so far away, last in a place called Kyoto. She couldn't even remember his face, let alone his voice, but his elegant words she looked forward to monthly. Her body aching, she swiftly returned to her work, with more excursion and excitement as the prospect of having his letter loomed before her.

Several hours later, her tired arms finally held the long awaited letter and her weary eyes darted up and down the page, absorbing his latest letter. He told her of his travels and how much he missed her as normal, but there at the bottom of the page were the words that made her heart soar among the clouds:

'I am heading through town soon, Makoto, within the next month, so we will be able to see each other soon, that we will. Maybe I will take you with me when I leave again, we will see. I miss you. Love Shinta'

Those words would sear into her memory for years to come and bring her torture in later years.

The next month, the newspaper beheld horrible tales and happenings. A man, known as the Hikitori Battousi I hope I spelt that right was slaying many people in the name of the revolution and a new government.

Anxious and worried, Makoto looked everyday for any sign of her big brother; a letter, a photograph, anything. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. After several months of waiting, she gave in. Her brother, along with her hopes and dreams, were dead, slayed and torn apart by Battousi.

o.o

I think that's good for a chapter. . . .
Yumi: That was. . . uhm . . .interesting. . .

Ikumi: I know it's sad, but I kinda wanted her to have a past like Sojiro. . . . So give me a break!

Kasumi: laughing

Yumi and Ikumi: WHAT'S SO FUNNY!

Kasumi: Sorry wipes tears from eyes

I honestly didn't want to be mean to young Makoto, but it had to be done sniff So please not flames.

Kasumi typing

No Flames please about the Makoto's history. . .She did warn you. . .

She'll post the next chapter soon!