Late, 1862

The bright sun bore down on the locals gathered against the tall fence to peer at the event unfolding. Low murmurs of inquisitiveness was shared amongst those in attendance.

The calmness; a delusory.

A few supposed soldiers were taking their stands to ward any trouble for the upcoming executions.

Their backs adjacent to those peeking from the wiry gape. Although the men, clad in blue coat with mountain white stripes on the lower sleeves earned appreciation visible on the locals expression.

Mibu Roshingumi.

A makeshift dais on the opposite as an official sat alongside a proud man whose name was Serizawa Kamo and Kondou Isami.

Standing at attention near to the dais were a company of men dressed in the same haori accompanied with forehead band; white cord criss-crossed and bearing weapons. Yet one clutched a spear in one large hand.

Their expressions as grim as the circumstance. The roshingumi were chosen as guards by the influence of their lead captain; Serizawa Kamo.

"... today, we shall proceed with public execution rogue samurais. Those participated in assassinations and brought havoc in Kyoto."

The voice ringing loud and clear when silence befall amidst the assemblies. Those guarding the fence heard an audible squeaked as a few leaned closer.

"Bring them out!"

A straight line of men shuffled together whilst being restraint by a cord of thick rope around their necks and hands tied behind. They were attired in a simple white kimono to commit seppuku.

Murmuration resulted, watching those charged for crimes were ordered to kneel by the officials escort.

A pole was set on the dirt before securing the rope which was cinched around their upper chest so their hands. A bowl was presented in front of them.

"Do you have any last words?" The official's messenger glowered down from his nose.

"Choshu will win the war!" The plump male raised his voice.

An escort was situated behind the yapping samurai, a katana between the strong gripped glinting from the sunlight. As one shoved a small knife against the perpetrator's hand whose feature was dull red in rage.

Those waiting in line, either gaze straight ahead or peered at the other. Sweat broke out knowing they were expected to reciprocate the same act one by one.

Although the said person had proudly proclaimed; reality was a cruel game. Fisting the short yet sharpened blade in sweaty palm, behind he heard the unmistakable clang of a katana.

Roaring like a true warrior, he inserted the cold metal into his lower abdomen before slicing it across. Wet sound of intestines spilled out before the captive could register a blade whistled in the air and cut his head clean off his neck.

At the other end, the mass of captains never flinched whilst one smirked a little at the display of bloodshed.

The same fate was bestowed to several men when three stood out amidst the other samurais.

Everyone's view was locked on the colourful back contrasted by the white kimono. A foreign despite not an unfamiliar vision of certain men exhibiting tattoos on their bodies.

They represented the vast community of gangsterism.

Rumors of yakuzas staking claim section of Edo had arose. Whereas the soldiers were prepping for the upcoming war, hoodlums from undergrounds begun their move.

The same escort paused near the trio kneeling three arms length from one another.

Squinted eyes visible with unrestrained rage as they locked onto the official. As numbers of convicted decrease the three gangsters neither made a sound or flinched.

The acrid scent of human intestines and thick liquid never detered either one. None cared about the ongoing war between high ranks. Even if they did, it was purely business reasons.

"It is said that association of tattooed men are running illegal business," the messenger read about their crimes. "You have exchanged weaponary arms with the enemy-"

"I am not part of these," a man last of the line growled.

"-henceforth, to justify your crime is by death."

"This is an excuse to get rid of us!"

The person whom retorted defiantly was well built. Crop white hair due to his matured age but the man's voice was rough around the edges.

"Be quiet and follow your other dead peers."

"Think I'm feeling fear?" He spat. "I will meet you in Hell and crush your skull, bastard."

"He doesn't deserve a proper seppeku!" The messenger glared before raising a hand high. "Off with his head."

All of the spectators at the back of the fence witnessed in silence as the man's head rolled on the ground as blood splurted onto the escort's front chainmail.

Another of the fallen's companion quietly slit his belly exposed, sporting a grim expression. Finally, last one of the same kind remained.

Sun warming his bald head as one sweat rolled down.

"What is the name of your gan-"

"Amanozako," He replied in a quiet voice.

A tattoo of the temperamental Goddess proudly displayed on the lower left abdomen. The gangster's eyes piercing into messenger's own who felt a chill down to his spine.

"I am not part of this exchange," he explained. "You caught me because we have tattoos and assumed I'm with them."

"We shall find each of your kind and flush them out once and for all!" The messenger spoke on behalf of his official. "We know your type very well, harming the innocents and stealing from the temple."

Mibu roshingumi's lead captain inwardly praised the other's resolute with no ounce of fear. Mildly musing about recruiting such men just as he peered sideway at a stony faced Kondou alongside a silent Toshizo Hijikata.

It was a perfect opportunity for all of them. Their current engagement would eventually spread by the aid of from Aizu clan.

"Pray to your Goddess to show mercy on your departing soul," Serizawa piped in all of a sudden.

The rest of the soldiers peeked at their leader seated regally beside the official. Serizawa's smile was cold.

But precious time was slipping away when the lone rogue gripped the handle of it's short blade firmly. Pressing the tip against the softness of his skin as a trickle of blood trailed downward.

The noise alerted him from behind instantly, succeeding in piercing the knife against the flesh of the escort's thigh.

A shrill cry emitted from the wounded man as another shot in the neck cut short of his life. The enslaved sliced at the rope, all of a sudden he came face to face with a "demon" in blue haori.

"Okita!" Someone yelled at the background. "Don't!"

Apathetic olive hued orbs stared down on the cornered man. The audible hiss of a katana as tiny sparks illuminated from it's sheath.

In lightning speed, the first captain of roshingumi took out the captor's head. But the killing was intigated for personal goal.

Speckle of blood dotted both his grimaced countenance and ruined both haori and hakama. The stunt head had halted near his sandal feet.

Gazing over his shoulder at a chuckling Serizawa and spying an appalled Kondou who turned away from disappointment.

"Carry the decease away to heap them together together and burn their bodies."

At the command, the rest of roshingumi soldiers set to disperse the still abuzzed folks and clearing away the headless bodies one by one.

October 30, 1863

The barbarous expression of Serizawa was lit by the sliver of moonlight as it appeared once again from behind clouds.

"So, you will dirty your hands with my blood, Toshizo?" He cackled. "Both Kondou and you are against killing-"

"We'll make Kondou san the commander of mibu roshingumi," the man attired in lavender kimono top and gray hakama.

The other captains stood behind: Sanosuke Harada, Okita Souji, Yamanami Sannan and Genzaburo Inoue.

At the entrance of private room a blonde haired female watch the men exchanging blows. She was handed a blade by Serizawa before the two of them were assassinated.

In the end, the victorious team neither experience elation nor dejection. They had to eliminate an opponent.

Note: that I have chosen to alter the history slightly yet remain loyal to the actual event. It is not easy to pen down meticulously. I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter and if you spot mistakes which is definite as well as grammar, forgive me.