Chapter 1: False Demon

1878—Eleventh year of Meiji

Pebbles crunched under his feet as he traveled wearily down the long road toward Tokyo. He had been walking for a long time, and was exhausted. And the trouble a few miles back had only further worn at his tired frame. He fingered the katana at his side, his hand gently caressing the hilt of the longer sword, before slipping up and readjusting his wakizashi, the shorter blade having most recently been used during the incident.

He sighed, annoyed. He honestly didn't have time to deal with every bandit he met on the road. And each time he had to stop, he'd lessened his likelihood of reachingTokyo before daybreak. As it was, he was lucky to be approaching just as the eastern sky began to lighten.

It wasn't long before he entered the city's boundaries. Here he stopped for the briefest moment to take in his surroundings. It was still early enough that a cool damp clung to his skin. The air had the fragrant scent of wet earth, of cooking, of life. It was nice for a moment to be able to stop and experience it. Before the sun rose, banishing the shadows.

Shadows like him.

He continued walking. Best to keep moving. He had to find a place to rest soon. Somewhere away from prying eyes. It wouldn't be long before the city woke up, and there would be crowds, something he'd never grown completely comfortable with.

He froze at the sound of a bell clanging in the still air. Some sort of warning? His instincts told him to retreat, that this bell was bound to draw undue attention, but his feet were ignoring his instincts, and he found himself drawn to the source of the sound, now only echoes among the buildings.

He paused, listening. Reaching out to sense something. Anything. He felt the clash of strong ki before he heard the voices.

Again, his feet were working before his common sense could stop him. This time running. He turned one corner. Then another. He could hear people now, those few who were awake, frozen in their tasks of working or setting up shop in this early hour by the ominous clanging of the bell.

He turned down another street, and just as the people came into view, he heard a girl shout. "Hitokiri Battousai!"

The blood froze in his veins, and finally, finally his feet realized that this was not an ideal situation. He stood like a foolish statue on the outskirts of the crowd, watching the girl fight a man over twice her height. Her proclamation of his name rang through his mind just as the warning bell had rung through the city. Time seemed to stand still as he waited for everyone to turn to him, to try and kill him.

To sacrifice their lives to the bloody demon, Himura Battousai.

It wasn't until the giant swung down his blade, slicing the girl's shoulder open, laughing crudely, proclaiming his own name as "Battousai," that Himura realized what was going on, and he found that he was able to breathe again. Another Battousai. What was this? The third or was it the fourth village that had claimed his name? Although this was by far the most disgusting display he'd seen yet. He snorted disdainfully and turned to walk away. He didn't have time for this again.

"I won't let you dishonor my father's name! I'll defeat you!" There was such defiance in her voice. She was fighting for her honor. For her father's...

Almost against his will, Himura turned back to look at the girl. Unfeminine. She was short and smudged with dirt, her back against the wall of a nearby building. One hand clutched her wounded shoulder while the other firmly held a bokken. She was a plain girl. Nothing special.

But his eyes were drawn to the fierce set of her mouth. The venom in her eyes. The unwavering stance. She was willing to die to fight this man...

The tall "Battousai" laughed crudely, armed with a huge, gleaming blade. It's edge already glistening with a ruby sheen of her blood.

"My sword will protect his name," she whispered, her soft voice still carrying over the hushed, frightened crowd. "My sword will protect..."

The false demon's blade swung down in a death blow, stopping only inches from her face. Easily blocked by Himura's katana. He could feel her surprised ki behind him. Could hear the excited voices of the crowd as they exclaimed in astonishment at his speed, the way he'd just materialized.

More frightened voices drawing attention to his swords.

But they were only a quiet buzz in the back of his mind as the cold amber of his eyes focused on the giant before him. "So," he said softly, "you are hitokiri Battousai, are you?" He easily flicked his blade, forcing the taller man's sword away. "You are the legend who could kill six men with one swing of his katana?" He took a casual step toward the man, his frightening eyes never losing their focus. "You are the demon, the nightmare of Bakumatsu?"

For some reason the giant seemed unable to speak, hesitating a moment, and then choosing action to speak for him, striking once again with brute force. This time, he not only missed his target, but was given a wound to the side as an additional gift.

The false Battousai's eyes narrowed in pain and confusion. "Who do you think you are, runt?" he growled viciously, finding his voice again.

Himura responded with a dark, narrowing of his deadly eyes. "It doesn't matter who I am. I'm merely a traveler. But you... if you are Battousai, then it seems the government didn't finish their job with you, did they?" His lips curved into a small sneer. "The hitokiri were eliminated... Perhaps I should help the police exorcise this relic."

He was in motion again, his longer blade slashing out against the bearded giant. One slice. Then another and another. None deep enough to kill, but each effectively weakening the giant until, in a motion reminiscent of David and Goliath, the large man's weapon dropped, and he fell first to his knees and then to the ground. All of this within moments, before the small redhead had even broken a sweat. Sheathing his katana, Himura casually approached the body, crouching beside the wounded man.

"Baka," he whispered, drawing his wakizashi. "You have no idea what you're dealing with, do you? You're playing with fire." He pressed the blade to the man's exposed neck. "Now..."

"NO!" He froze at the sharp cry from behind. The girl's ki so strong that he could feel her fear and her fury. She ran to him, wrapping one of her slim hands around his wrist to pull it back, and keep him from slashing. "Don't kill him."

He shot a dark glare in her direction, "Are you crazy, girl? He'd have killed us both. Why shouldn't I?"

"No... If you kill him, you'll be no better. A sword should protect, not kill." She still held him, as though her grip could stop him.

Somehow it did.

"You are crazy," he muttered, relaxing the tensed muscles of his sword arm.

"Please," she whispered. "Stop."

He snorted softly. "Baka," he muttered. "Don't you realize that I already have?" He easily pulled his arm from her grip, sheathing his blade.

"Stay right there!"

"Don't move!"

Himura turned sharply to look behind him. Already two police officers, their eyes on his forbidden blades, on the blood and the wounded girl, were forcing their way through the reluctantly moving crowds to apprehend their criminal. "Great," he snapped, looking for an escape. This was all he needed... to be taken before he could even complete his business.

A small alley caught his eye just as the officers burst into the clearing. Himura was moving again, pushing past the girl and running for the shadows where he belonged. The police were right behind him, and if it weren't for his unnatural speed, he'd have been arrested for sure. As it was, the only reason he managed to dodge through the crowd was because of the combination of fear and curiosity that he elicited in the people that caused them to clear a wide path as he ran, and closing behind him before the police could make it through.

He raced through alleyway after alleyway, unsure of what he was searching for. A safe haven perhaps? He wasn't likely to find one now. Not with the undue attention he'd drawn to himself. Or he could finish his business early...

The buildings were thinning out, and he was losing his cover. The voices of the police had faded into the background, but it wouldn't be long before they split up, searching every building, every alleyway. This wasn't the first time he'd been in such a situation. He needed to find somewhere safe to duck into now. Before they recognized who he was, and completed the sentence he'd barely escaped ten years ago.

Author's Note: OMG... I updated something. Possibly not the best update I could have managed, but it's something right? A big thanks to sueb262 for her beta work, and to lolo popoki and FrostPhoenix for looking at it as well!

Thanks for reading, feel free to drop reviews. I feed on them!

And on a random note, happy Valentines Day!

Dewa mata!