AN: If someone was waiting for "fall to the madness"... well, wait no more. Be warned that in this chapter there is occasionally very questionable logic as Kenshin's path is starting to take toll on him. However, the good news is that after this plunge to teen angst, things will slowly, but surely, start to change.

Special thanks for Animaniacal-laughter for beta reading this.

Also, thank you for all your lovely reviews!

Warnings: violence, murder and Kenshin's terrible life choices.


Chapter 18. Demon among us

Every night following Kenshin's first assassination was a struggle. Often, he would wake up gasping from the dreams of blood, screams and shouts – leftover in his mind as a random mix of nearly indistinct voices.

The dreams from which he did recall the words were even worse, in their own way. It wasn't just Mochizuki-san's final moments that would repeat before his eyes, but far older memories, too. Those two samurai in Settsu gurgling in their death throes, little Miya screaming wildly, her eyes wide in terror… and Kasumi, the girls, and other slaves dying before him, just like they had all those years ago.

Frankly, it was embarrassing to have these nightmares.

So in the following days, Kenshin forced himself to run through his kata for hours. If he attracted an audience, he would escape to the town, wandering until his nervous energy was spent and he was exhausted enough to sleep.

It worked.

Well, in the sense that he was no longer in danger of waking in the middle of the night screaming his lungs out. No, instead he woke at the slightest noise, feeling like he was drowning in blood. Almost like he was suffocating on it.

It was disgusting. Thank god Kenta was there to help him calm down.

The other men would think I'm a weak little kid if they knew. Kenshin thought, scowling at the thin paper walls separating his corner room from his neighbors. The walls didn't hide any noises, a fact he was already all too familiar with – after all, he could hear the others perfectly well, even when he didn't want to.

However, if there was a mixed blessing in the manner his nightmares had chosen to manifest, it was the fact that they weren't as bad as they had been in his childhood. No, Kenshin much preferred drowning in blood every night to crying out and wetting his bed. He really didn't want to consider how humiliating that would be.

Kenshin shook his head and wrapped his arms around his knees. No, the nightmares will pass.

They always do. I just…have to get used to this, that's all.

However, even that resolution didn't help when the time came for his second assassination.

Katsura-san had invited him to tea, and then proceeded to hand him the name of a government official, warning him that the old man tended to travel with a bodyguard. Kenshin had nodded numbly, before asking for a better description of the men, just in case.

After all, the last thing he wanted was to repeat the mess that had tarnished his first job.

Katsura-san had obliged him, simply nodding in understanding and then listing the most significant characteristics of the man and his favored retainers, as if he was describing people he knew personally. It was all very efficient. Then, before he had time to ask, Katsura-san continued, telling him exactly why these men needed to be killed and finally… he reminded Kenshin that no one could know of his existence.

The implication of those carefully chosen words was clear. If anyone saw him in the act, they too would have to die.

So Kenshin had headed to the politician's planned route to lay in wait. The place selected for the ambush was on the outskirts of the city, on a secluded street. He had planned the whole thing in advance, to insure the kill would go smoother than last time, and so he wouldn't have time to hesitate. He had even sworn that no blood would touch him. After all, the blood had been the cause of him almost breaking down last time.

The right time, the right place – and then, the right man had come along, escorted by his burly bodyguard.

…But still, it had been so hard to just go and kill them.

Both of the men's ki presences had been almost pathetic. The old politician's presence was barely even there, it was so weak and wavering. And the bodyguard? Slightly better… but still, not a threat. Right from the first glance Kenshin had known he wouldn't have any trouble killing these men. Two against one? No, even that wouldn't matter. It was like these men were even weaker than the samurai he had faced in Settsu when he was eleven…

The men had walked right past his hiding spot, totally oblivious to the danger, while he had been battling against himself… and they had almost gotten away. When Kenshin realized it, he sprinted after them and cut them down. Just like that.

It had been easy, like child's play.

There hadn't been any blood spilled on his clothes… but the politician had had time to scream. Somehow that wordless noise made Kenshin feel even worse. The man's terror lingered in his memories far longer than the smell of blood.

Iizuka-san had found him there, staring at the men he had cut to pieces, trying to keep breathing. The examiner had merely patted him on the back and said, "Good job." Then, he had pinned Ishin Shishi's call sign, the Tenchuu note, to the corpses.

It seemed a disrespectful act, all around. To the dead, and to the people who would see them.

But Kenshin knew the main reason these kills were ordered was to threaten the Bakufu. For that to work, they would need to know who was responsible. After all, there were numerous revolutionary groups in the Capital. The Choshuu Ishin Shishi was merely one of many.

Katsura-san seemed to be talking, wheedling information, and negotiating alliances with them almost every day.

Kenshin couldn't say that he was surprised when some time later, Katsura-san told him that he needed to leave the Capital on business. While his leader was away, Iizuka-san would give his orders and handle any problems that he might have. Concerning practicalities, Kenshin's stay in Okami-san's inn was paid for and he would be getting a monthly stipend, just like the other Choshuu samurai fighting for the cause.

His job just included killing people on orders.

The only problem with the arrangement was that Kenshin didn't much like Iizuka-san. The older man had a sort of two-faced feel to him, like his face and ki were telling completely different stories. Iizuka-san's face was friendly, confident and able… but his ki was wavering, weak and hesitant. It was quite similar to the duality of Katsura-san's ki, but in reverse: Iizuka's outer friendliness masked weakness instead of strength.

Or perhaps he was just making things too complicated again? What did it matter what he thought about his closest superior? Katsura-san had asked him to do this, and he would do it… because it was all for their shared goal, to create a world where people could live in peace and happiness.

So Kenshin nodded, and that was it.

After that, the jobs seemed to come at an increased pace. First it had been once every week or so. Then it was twice, then even three jobs a week.

His nightmares seemed to be a nightly event.

It was practically impossible to exhaust himself completely, just so he could sleep better. No matter how hard he tried to train alone in the backyard… it just wasn't working. Besides, training alone seemed so pointless. Running around the town? He had already learned his way around the streets and he didn't have that much extra money or the need to buy useless things. He wasn't one to engage strangers in talk, either. But sometimes…. sometimes it was relaxing to simply watch people.

The only problem was that it didn't do anything to tire him out.

No, he needed to figure out how to sleep better. Preferably before he totally wrecked his sleeping pattern. It was bad enough to stay awake all night nervous about a new job, but what if people found out he was having night terrors like a little kid?

Kenshin scowled. He wasn't a kid. He really wasn't. Even if he happened to still be small like one.

Speaking of sleeping, his soft futon remained neatly folded in the corner of his room. He still hadn't managed to use it. Not when he was keyed up like this, hearing people all around him and knowing all that awaited him in dreamland were blood and screams.

One evening, Kenshin noticed Kasumi's top sticking out of his travel bundle. It just was a child's toy, but seeing it… he remembered her. Not her dying gasps or the unseeing eyes he had closed before burying her, but good things. Her maternal soft voice, how she had comforted him, allowed him to be a child a little longer. It was shameful, but he was so sick and tired of feeling like this, not being able to sleep, that he swallowed his embarrassment and tied the yarn around the top and set it spinning. The merry colors spun wildly, merging together and creating a rainbow.

It was like something was stuck in his throat, constricting his breath. But he did it again, setting his top spinning once more.

Little by little, the feeling passed, leaving behind a strange tranquility. He didn't feel so restless anymore. No, instead it seemed, if he just leaned against his stack of books and clutched his sword in his arms….

He was dead to the world before another thought could arise.

The next morning, he woke up at sunrise, hearing the servants passing down the corridors. He was distantly aware that he had dreamed of blood and screams again. But somehow, it hadn't been so bad, now that he could recall Kasumi's soft voice whispering, "Live Shinta. Live. Live for me!"

It was just a little thing… but it made the nightmares almost bearable.

After that, he kept the top close to him. Always.

Somehow, the job seemed a little easier, after that. The spirit was his unquestioning support whenever he needed it, and rest of the time… he was learning how to cope with things.

…Or maybe he was just getting used to the job.

However, one afternoon, late in the autumn, Iizuka-san gave him a black envelope carrying the name Shiomi Daisuke.

It wasn't exactly a rare name, but it reminded him of something…

As if struck by lightning, Kenshin's eyes widened.

Osumi!

Osumi-san's family name had been Shiomi.

It had to be a coincidence, but still, Kenshin found himself asking, "Shiomi? From Matsue?"

"How did you know that?" Iizuka-san scoffed in disbelief. "Yes, the target is Shiomi Daisuke of Matsue. He is here negotiating an alliance on behalf of his lord. They are planning on supporting Bakufu and we cannot have that. No, we need to make an example of them. However, this will not be an easy job – Shiomi will have at least three bodyguards. Can you handle it?"

It was like a stone had dropped to the pit of his stomach, and all Kenshin could think of was Osumi-san.

But the thing was, he had never heard of any Daisuke, not on any of the many trips he and master had taken to visit Osumi-san in Matsue. The man could be Osumi-san's relative, or… hadn't Osumi-san remarried? This Daisuke could very well be her husband.

Kenshin swallowed in veiled panic. He had no way of knowing.

Iizuka-san wouldn't know who the men they needed to assassinate were married to. It wasn't important information, not for the Ishin Shishi.

But, but… how could I kill him? How could I do that to Osumi-san?

There's no way…

But what if this Daisuke wasn't even remotely connected to Osumi-san? After all, Kenshin couldn't be sure. And it was for the cause. It was on Katsura-san's orders. And, and… he had promised to kill any man Iizuka-san named for him. It was for the betterment of the people, for the new era.

Iizuka-san was looking at him oddly.

Why? Err, right… he asked something. What was it..?

Oh…

"Yes, I can handle it." Kenshin murmured. Three bodyguards, five bodyguards… it made no difference. All these samurai were so weak and slow. Hiten Mitsurugi was built to pit one against many. He hadn't had any trouble thus far, even with multiple targets.

So that night when he settled to wait for the targets, Kenshin was uneasy. Doubts kept bothering him and when he finally saw the group of samurai approaching his ambush spot, he couldn't focus properly. The street they had chosen for the job was near the city center, one of the narrower streets in the older part of the town. There were people around them, but far enough away that no one should see or hear anything.

It was near midnight. The right spot and undoubtedly the right targets.

Why am I still hesitating?

Kenshin tried to focus… but for some reason, even Kenta was having trouble finding the cracks in the wall separating them to push through the ki.

It was the worst thing.

But the men were coming closer… and he really, really had to kill them.

Kenshin swallowed. He didn't know which of the four samurai was his target. They were all dressed similarly enough, and it was too dark to recognize for sure the features that Iizuka-san had spent time describing to him. But even from a distance, he could recognize the shape of the crest on their clothes, the same one he had seen as a child in Osumi-san's house.

He couldn't let these men get away.

Iizuka-san was waiting. That was the reason there even was an examiner of assassinations, to ensure that the killer wouldn't chicken out or fail, that the job would be completed successfully. If he let these men get away… Katsura-san would hear of it. He wouldn't be trusted anymore.

What good was an assassin that let his targets get away?

And if he wasn't trusted anymore, if he failed Katsura-san… he wouldn't be allowed to help the Ishin Shishi anymore. He wouldn't be allowed to fight for the new era as the other men were doing. As a student of Hiten Mitsurugi had to.

There was no question. He had to kill these men.

Kenta sensed his hesitation too, and nudged him worriedly. It was just enough for Kenshin to notice how late he was; the men had nearly reached the end of the street.

No!

Kenshin gasped in panic and sprinted after them, only managing to strike one of them down before the others saw him. In seconds, the narrow street became an unholy chaos.

There were three men and him, trapped between high walls that blocked the moon, trying to fight it out. There was nothing clean about it. Their shouts and screams echoed all around him and their dropped paper lanterns illuminated the street just enough that he could see the blood that sprouted from their wounds.

It was too much, way too much to handle and then, at the worst possible moment, his concentration wavered, cutting off Kenta… and his internal ki enhancement trick.

Suddenly, he wasn't fast enough to dodge their strikes. His sword become too long and unwieldy to parry in the tight quarters. Kenshin gritted his teeth and pulled out his wakizashi with his left hand to block the strike coming at his right shoulder…

Oh god, I could die here.

Seeing him held still by his comrade, another samurai screamed, charging at him, all his weight and reach behind the strike. The man was over a head taller than him, and he must have weighed more than double compared to his measly frame.

And in that moment, Kenshin couldn't do anything but think: I could die here. I could truly drown in blood.

'NO!' Kenta screamed at him and rammed against the wall, surging to his side – and everything slowed down.

The strike he was was blocking with his wakizashi…

Yes, if I push like that.. Kenshin pushed with all his strength, unbalancing the man holding him pinned and striking his shorter blade through his jaw, all the way to the soft brain.

Then, with both hands on his katana, he dashed around the corpse, and jumped… The tall, heavy samurai charging at him had no hope against his whirlwind strike.

"Ryuukansen: tsumuji!"

The last one standing was still holding his own… no, the man was stepping backwards. The abandoned, burning paper lanterns illuminated his face. It could be no other than Shiomi Daisuke.

The man looked absolutely terrified.

"Demon… red hair and yellow eyes. Oh gods, no…"

Kenshin stalked closer and sheathed his sword. Not out of hesitation. No, that had left him long ago. This man had to die. However, the fastest strike he knew was battoujutsu – the quick draw. It was a useless strike, anywhere except in duels. Or so he had always thought… but it was the fastest way to kill. And for Osumi-san, the woman who had been kind to him and who his master had liked so much, for her, he wanted to kill this man in the kindest way he knew.

Kenshin sprinted towards the man, and at the last moment, drew his sword with the godlike speed of Hiten Mitsurugi.

A thud… followed by another.

It was a clean strike, Kenshin observed idly. It had cleaved straight through the man, cutting him in two pieces, from left hip to right shoulder.

No matter his terror, Shiomi-san couldn't have felt much pain.

At a distance, two presences approached him. One was Iizuka-san. Weak and wavering, like the man always was. But another was… Furutaka?

What was Furutaka doing here?

"Oh my god…" the older, stout samurai uttered in shock.

Iizuka-san merely grinned, and patted him on his wet shoulder. "Good job, Himura. I didn't doubt you for a second!"

The wet touch felt disgusting. He felt disgusting. "Don't touch me," Kenshin all but growled. "Please take care of this. I need to take a bath."

But somehow, despite being covered in blood from head to toe… the scent of it wasn't fogging his nostrils. Why? Why wasn't he shaking desperately, trying to keep breathing like he usually did?

I just… feel numb.

The feeling didn't leave him as he made his way back to the inn, sticking to the shadows and avoiding people. It wouldn't do for people to see him covered in blood. When he finally reached the bathhouse, he started by dumping a bucketful of cold well water on his head. It felt good. Fresh.

But why wasn't he freaking out like usual?

Why was he feeling like this? This strange emptiness, like he was numb all over?

…Speaking of which, what had happened back there, exactly?

And where was Kenta?

Kenshin frowned, trying to concentrate. There was a slight pounding inside his skull that was becoming more noticeable.

He could feel the spirit, albeit in a somewhat muted way. There was the wall, but behind it… Kenta wasn't there.

Oh god…

Kenta isn't there!

In the fight, Kenta had pushed through the wall again, hadn't it?

No, no, no…

Kenshin whimpered, clutching his head. The pulsing pain was getting worse. No, it was going to be just like before…

Falling to his knees on bare earth, Kenshin clutched his wet hakama with enough force that his knuckles bled white. He needed to concentrate, to pull Kenta back to its side of the wall.

Yes, there is my coldness… and there, Kenta's ki.

It was faint, but he knew it was the spirit. Was it already mixing with his own?

What?

NO!

No, this can't be happening!

Gritting his teeth, Kenshin closed his eyes and focused, focused like he never had before and grasped at the sliver of Kenta. Painstakingly, slowly, he drew it to its side of the wall. Then another droplet. And another.

It was slow work. Just a trickle here and there… already, Kenshin was beginning to pant from the effort. But he needed to do it. What would he do without the spirit?

He couldn't do this shitty job without the spirit!

Kenta was his cornerstone. It had been always there for him!

So he searched and pulled and drew the droplets of the spirit's coldness to its proper place. It was almost morning when he finally felt the best thing in his life: the petting comfort feeling.

'Here, here. Kenta is here.'

Thank god! Kenshin sobbed in relief.


Kenshin woke up on the floor of his room, feeling like death warmed over. His head was pounding, his neck felt stiff, and his eyes were dry. Idly, he rubbed them with the back of his hand. The sun was shining brightly – was it already midday? Had he slept through the whole morning? Why? And for that matter, why didn't he feel like he was drenched in blood?

What happened?

Then it came back to him, everything.

"Kenta!"

The petting comfort feeling answered.

Oh, thank god! Kenta is alright.

Kenshin slouched back down, rubbing his aching neck awkwardly. He hadn't slept on the futon, or against the bookstack like he usually did. Instead, he had just curled up on the floor. It was weird. He shoulders and back ached… Actually, he ached everywhere.

And he felt…. empty.

Kenshin rolled onto his back, lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling for a long while. It was almost nice, this feeling of emptiness. Kenta continued petting him, its coldness rubbing him gently through the wall – just being there for him.

His katana lay next to him, abandoned on the floor. It was filthy. There was blood on the handle again. Kenshin wrinkled his nose. That wouldn't do at all.

…And last night, didn't I sheathe it, while it was still stained with blood?

Oh fuck!

Scrambling to his feet, Kenshin dived toward his possessions and sorted through them hastily, trying to find his sword cleaning kit. If he didn't take the katana apart completely, the blood could rust the blade! And what would he be without his blade? Nothing, that's what!

A katana was the swordsman's soul, Master had told him time and time again. If he ever heard how badly Kenshin had treated his sword, he would give him a tongue-lashing like no other!

So the whole afternoon, Kenshin cared for his sword. He took it apart diligently and cleaned it until it shone like new. It truly was a good weapon: simple but practical, almost elegant. Just from the surface, one would never know how good of a blade it truly was. It had been made just for him; Master had finally admitted getting it custom-made, because it had been impossible to find a ready-made sword suitable for Kenshin's size, style and needs.

The katana was a tangible sign that Master had cared for him.

It was a beautiful blade and Kenshin loved it.

Yet, last night… he had disrespected it by not taking proper care of it.

Even so, he couldn't help but feel it had been right to use battoujutsu. It had been the best death he could offer Shiomi-san.

'Yes.' Kenta whispered, nudging at him comfortingly.

There was no faster way to cut through a man than the godlike speed of quick draw with internal ki enhancement. It was the kindest way to kill, truly. It was as painless as possible. And now, if he and Kenta had to kill people, for the new era and for Katsura-san… then they should offer the men they killed this small kindness.

Kenshin nodded solemnly, staring at his shining sword. Yes, whenever it's possible… I will use battoujutsu.

It wouldn't be easy, though. He frowned. With one target, it was the obvious choice, but with two? It would depend a lot on the situation. With larger groups… Kenshin paused.

No, I will find a way. If I concentrate enough… I can do it.

Speaking of concentration, last night Kenta had slipped all the way through the wall… why?

Had it been because of his hesitations?

Instantly, Kenta nudged at him and showed him a memory. "You let your fears and doubts guide you, Idiot student."

…Oh. Hadn't master said that to him right at the beginning?

Kenshin's gut clenched painfully with shame. He had almost lost Kenta because of his fears and doubts. Even now, he still hadn't grown out of having such a childish weakness!

But last night, his hesitation had been because it had been Shiomi-san he had to kill. He still didn't know if the man had any connection to Osumi-san… but did it matter? Even if he did, could Kenshin have avoided killing him?

The ugly truth was: no.

When Katsura-san commanded him to kill, when the black envelope came… he had to kill.

It was so simple.

Kenshin buried his face in his palms as the realization struck. It wouldn't matter who the targets were, what they had done… or why they needed to be killed. If Katsura-san commanded it, he would kill them – for the new era.

Besides, so far the directions had always been right. There were no mistakes in his orders, the Ishin Shishi made sure of that.

Did he really need to know so much about his targets?

No, I don't.

After all, knowing led to thinking and thinking led to speculation… which made room for doubts and fears. He had almost lost Kenta because of those. Never again.

It's just killing… and I am good at that.

So Kenshin resolved to tell Iizuka-san, the next time he saw the man, that there was no need for him to know details about his targets. Just the location, time, and names. That was the only information he truly needed.

The fact was that Kenshin was good at this. He could do this. He could fight for the cause, for the new era. He had always managed his kills properly. He had never been wounded, never had any troubles… he was good.

'But yesterday we were better…' the spirit whispered. 'Together… on the same side.'

'What..? What are you talking about?' Kenshin countered in surprise.

'You could start to lower the wall again. We were good together.'

No, absolutely no way.

'Don't even think about it!' Kenshin thought furiously back. 'I couldn't do this without you.'

'Together… not alone.'

Yesterday, hadn't they been faster together? Using their ki enhancement trick, they had failed. But together, they had been almost impossibly fast. Far faster than usual.

But still…. no.

'No.' Kenshin thought firmly to the spirit.

Acceptance.

Caring.

Petting comfort feeling.


That evening, when it was time for dinner, Kenshin was feeling alright. The food tasted bland and he didn't have much of an appetite, but that was the norm these days. He felt tired, every movement made his body ache… but it wasn't a problem. All in all, things were almost good. He had Kenta, yesterday's job had been completed successfully… and there should be no more envelopes for the next couple days.

So Kenshin finished his meal, took his sword, and rose to leave. In the doorway leading out of the common dining room, he passed a few other men… and Furutaka-san. But instead of walking past him normally like the others, Furutaka stepped out of his way in a hurry, and stumbled—

Instinctively, Kenshin reached to steady the older man.

But instead of being grateful for the gesture, Furutaka stared at him with wide eyes, slapped his hand away and hissed, "Stay away from me, you unnatural freak!"

What? Kenshin gasped in shock, utterly stunned by the words.

It was so silent that he could hear Furutaka's heaving breathing, like the man was genuinely furious. Swallowing, Kenshin looked away… only to notice that everyone in the dining room had turned to stare at them.

What's going on? Why are they…?

Then Furutaka turned around, and scrambled into the dining room in haste… and Kenshin was left standing there awkwardly. He swallowed slowly, and as calmly as he could, escaped upstairs.

Why had Furutaka done that?

The older samurai had been friendly enough to him earlier. He had spent hours in his company, showing him around Kyoto.

…And unnatural? A freak?

Why?

Yesterday night, hadn't Furutaka been there, too? Alongside with Iizuka-san, he must have seen him covered in blood after that messy job…

Oh.


After that, it seemed that people did their best to avoid him. Furutaka was most obvious and vocal about it; even Kenshin had heard him telling others to stay "the hell away from that dangerous freak." Furutaka seemed set on talking to everyone, telling them that while he couldn't say what had happened… he had to be a good friend to the men and warn them about him.

Suddenly, Kenshin noticed that he wasn't alone because he preferred it, that his loneliness wasn't something he had chosen because he was hesitant to talk to strangers and didn't know what to say to men so much older than him.

No. Now, even the people at the inn would stare at him suspiciously and seek to avoid confronting him. All of the sudden, there was always a spot left empty on both sides of him during dinner. When he walked in the hallways, people would make room for him and whisper. It wasn't that they were afraid of him, not exactly… but all the same, everyone avoided him.

Iizuka-san hadn't been of much help with it. After Furutaka had been a bit too loud about his opinions… the examiner had merely arranged for him to leave the inn. Which, of course, made others think Furutaka had been right about his suspicions.

It made Kenshin feel lonely in the crowd like never before.

Feeling lonely was possibly the most stressful feeling in the world. It was getting harder to sleep and his nightmares flared up again.

And the worst thing?

He was busier with jobs than ever before.

Kenta kept suggesting that he start breaking down the wall again. It kept saying that they would be better together, that the wall was holding them back from growing stronger. Kenshin didn't want to think about it. Kenta had always been there for him… and if he did break down the wall, wouldn't that mean Kenta wouldn't be there anymore?

He couldn't do this alone!

The problem was, though, that the warm feelings hidden within the wall were incredibly tempting. Kenshin knew how comforting they were, all those feelings and memories of good things. And he was feeling so lonely.

Even Kasumi's top was hardly any help these days.

But when Kenshin had created the hole in the wall, all those years ago… the things he had touched and moved away had disappeared. He didn't know why. He couldn't even remember the things he had touched back them. It was like, moving things away from the wall would erase them completely. But just touching them, that wouldn't give him anything but tantalizing flashes.

But maybe… what if he merely lowered the wall? Just a little bit? It couldn't be harmful, right? The wall would still be there between him and Kenta, and he could have the comfort of the memories and feelings stored in the wall.

So one night, when he was feeling particularly bad and lonely, Kenshin gingerly touched the wall, lifting one of the things that made it.

Instantly, the warmth of mother's hug spread all over him.

He gasped, panting desperately for air. He had forgotten that feeling! It had been so long! Kenshin covered his eyes, and tried not to think about how much he had missed it… how good it had felt to feel unconditional love, to be touched.

In the silence, his eyes began to tear.

'You need this' Kenta whispered to him.

The spirit was right, of course.

He had been so alone lately. The job was horrible, and it was becoming too easy. He didn't even think anymore, he just went out there and killed and killed and then killed some more. Even with his godlike speed, trying to use only battoujutsu… If there were many targets, they would have time to shout or scream. The memory of their blood lingered, seeping into everything.

He felt restless, high-strung these days. It was like he was covered in blood all the time. Even food was starting to taste like blood.

But that feeling, oh god, it had felt so good! Maybe, at times like these… just every now and then, it would be okay to take comfort from the things hidden in the wall?

'Yes.' Kenta whispered, nudging at him. Then, it began petting him.

It was childish to cry.

…But maybe, just for tonight, it would be okay?

Kenshin cried until his eyes were dry.


The way people behaved at the inn, avoiding him and staring at him like he was some sort of monster, Kenshin really didn't feel like spending any more time there than necessary. No, he very much preferred it when people didn't notice him at all. So, he stayed in his room, or practised in the backyard at odd hours. Or more and more often, he would just go to town and watch people.

In the busy streets of Kyoto, he was just one among many. He wasn't anything special and right now… it was the only thing he wanted to be: a nobody.

However, it seemed the city was slowly reaching a boiling point.

There were so many people, so many samurai from all over the country… and because of all the political chaos going on in the sidelines, it seemed many groups from both sides had been lured into the mess. The Ishin Shishi was very much divided and people didn't seem to have a very good opinion of them. But neither did they like the Bakufu troops, such as the new policing group, the Shinsengumi.

"Wolves of Mibu," people called them, scowling at their flashy blue haori overcoats, decorated with those bold white mountain stripes. A bunch of ronin and low class mercenaries, claiming that they would protect the city people in these turbulent times.

Kenshin hadn't yet seen any Shinsengumi nor had he come across them in his work. Mostly, his assassinations had been planned to be done in secluded areas. However, he had been having more and more jobs come his way; soon he might need to start working in the city. He didn't like the thought. It might bring complications. What if some innocent bystander saw him at work?

No one was allowed to see him and walk away, Katsura-san had been very clear about that. But to kill innocents, just because they had been in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Even the thought of it left a bad taste in his mouth.

No, I can't let it happen. Never.

After all, avoiding bystanders wasn't outside of his capabilities. Kenshin knew how to sense ki, and no matter how difficult it was to focus on all the tiny flickers of ki in the city, he could make sure that the area was clear before going in.

Kenshin exhaled slowly. Yes, I can do it. I have to.


It was a really nice day, late in winter. The sun was shining brightly and it didn't matter that it was bit chilly. There wasn't even a hint of snow. Well, it wasn't like snow fell often this far in the lowlands, and it was quite nice. Kenshin felt perfectly fine dressed in his normal, everyday clothes.

The good weather reflected on the people around him, bringing many to the marketplace. Kenshin smiled sadly, enjoying their banter. It felt good being just one among many.

For these people's sake he was doing this. For their happiness, for the new era.

"…And all those murders by that horrid battoujutsu killer," someone said right behind him, whispering in a gossipy manner.

What?

"Yes, but they say that he only targets Bakufu officials and their bodyguards. Just cuts them all down. They say no one can stop him."

They are talking about…

"I heard from the flower seller that he is called Hitokiri Battousai. It's because because he cuts them all down, not caring about anything… and they say he does it all with the same strike. I don't know anything of swordsmanship but my husband's friend knows someone in the Shinsengumi, and he said all of it was done like that…"

…about me?

"But what if it's just rumors? What if he isn't like those Ishin Shishi terrorists… what if he kills anyone who comes across his path? Maybe no one is safe!"

"It's terrible, indeed. But the worst thing is that no one knows what he looks like! They know nothing about him, just that battoujutsu thing…"

Kenshin blinked dazedly. And then, he didn't know why… but he couldn't help but head down the street, trying to listen in on all the rumors. Maybe it was just morbid curiosity, the horrifying realization that people were actually talking about him. It might just be a fluke, after all!

But it wasn't.

Everywhere he went, people were talking about this manslayer, this uncompromising killer who cut down everybody in his path with the same strike: the Hitokiri Battousai.

Kenshin didn't know what to think about it. It was bad enough that people were talking about him… but why were they so disturbingly accurate with their rumor mongering?

However, the more he thought about it, the easier it was to realize how the rumors had been born.

He had been doing jobs almost every other night. And just as he had decided, he had tried to use battoujutsu as often as he could manage. It worked perfectly fine on most nights. And when it didn't, well… his mistakes had pushed him to learn new tricks. Nowadays, even when he faced groups, he hardly needed to use anything else.

But the thing was, quick draw was a very specific and easily recognizable strike in most sword schools. And Hiten Mitsurugi Battoujutsu? The speed, the power, the cutting ability, the wounds it left on the targets were unmistakable. So the people who found his kills, if they saw more than one… they could quite easily recognize the killer. And apparently, they proceeded to mention it to their friends and families, who in turn, seemed to delight in the gossip.

What a mess, Kenshin sighed bitterly.

To pour salt in an open wound, it seemed that Ishin Shishi appreciated the additional fame. At least if Iizuka-san's happy crooning was anything to go by. "Yo Battousai, how does it feel to be the talk of the town?"

Kenshin looked aside sourly.

It was the worst thing he could have done. Because for whatever reason, Iizuka-san found it amusing and started calling him by that name all the time. "Himura Battousai," indeed…

However, now that the work was increasing and rumors of hitokiri hunting down Bakufu officials were on everyone's tongue… well, it seemed that every single one of his targets had doubled the amount of bodyguards they employed.

It didn't matter much, not when it came to his work. The constant practice had made him and Kenta more efficient, and lowering the wall seemed to made it easier to use their ki-trick.

Unfortunately, the increased amount of targets required him to have more observers, just in case things went awry. So instead of having to deal with only Iizuka-san and his quirky sense of humor, Kenshin had to endure the fearful gaping of two or three additional guys. Never for long, though.

He didn't know why, but it seemed that watching his assassinations was a job no one seemed to like.

Well, no one except Iizuka-san.

So the helpers would rotate the duty. Kenshin didn't even bother trying to learn their names after the first few. And the worst thing? It seemed that Iizuka-san's fondness for his nickname had stuck with the other observers.

Reluctantly, Kenshin had to agree that it was kind of catchy.

It was accurate, too, in a way. During the job he was a hitokiri – a manslayer. It was his duty to cut down everyone who saw him, not just his target like an assassin would. And Battousai? It meant master of quick draw. No matter how unintentional, Kenshin had become quite good at using the dueling strike lately. So, maybe it was proper. An alias… just like the name "Himura."

Maybe he should give up resisting and simply become this Himura Battousai everyone seemed think he was.

After all, it best described what he was now.


It didn't take long before he was doing jobs in the city.

Kenshin wasn't particularly happy about it, but he understood the necessity. The officials didn't dare take trips out of town anymore, at least not without heavy protection. No, instead it was far more practical to target them in the city where they thought they were safe.

It was just, he didn't want to become what the rumors suggested, a bloodthirsty killer out to kill everyone who came across his path. So, Kenshin tried to be really, really careful about checking his targets and the area before going in for the kill. There could be no mistakes. Not with this.

There was already enough blood on his hands.

To ensure this, Kenshin had taken to listening in with his ki hearing trick to determine if his targets really were the right ones. Especially during nights like this, when they couldn't be sure of the target's planned travel route.

Kenshin was hiding in a shadowed corner of the street. There were dozens of ki flickers in his range, but none of them were particularly near or flaring in curiosity. No, even the closest ones seemed muted in sleep. It was as safe as it could be for a job this near the city center.

Then a pleasant, young man's voice remarked anxiously, "It's getting late. We should hurry a bit."

It was just across the street and getting closer!

"Lately there have been more of those hitokiri." A lower voice remarked, speaking in a firm, confident tone.

Ah.. that voice, it must belong to the strong ki-presence.

Out of the three, only that one showed promise as a fighter. Not dangerous enough to be a threat, but he should be taken care of first.

"Like the so-called Hitokiri Battousai?" Another remarked with a scratchy, older man's voice.

Hmm, so most likely, that is my target. Kenshin stalked closer, intent on listening a bit more. Just so he could be sure.

"Whether he exists or not, we will crush the rebels soon."

"Now now, let's not talk shop when we have a reason to celebrate. Kiyosato, you are going to be married next month, aren't you?"

"That's right…"

Is that young guy supposed to be a bodyguard? His voice is so hesitant and young…. he doesn't sound like he would be able to guard a kitten. Kenshin frowned, a bad taste rising to his mouth. He hated killing targets like this one. And the guy was getting married?

This was exactly why he didn't want to know details about his targets anymore!

But he couldn't move in, not yet – not before he got confirmation. Was the older guy Shigekura Jubei? These days, every guy with even the slightest bit of influence employed bodyguards. And while this place matched Iizuka-san's predictions, it was a bit too early.

"Marrying your beautiful childhood sweetheart, you lucky dog."

"Thank you. But I can't help worrying, in these troubled times, why should I…"

"What are you talking about? In this world, everyone's trying to find a little happiness. If anything, if we make a new age with this work of ours, that's the form it should take."

…Work of ours?

Kenshin tensed, and risked looking at them, trying to see their clothes. His heart sank, when he noted that yes, indeed, the older man wore the correct clan insignia and his guards were both from the Mimawarigumi, the more respected of the Bakufu's policing forces in Kyoto.

Exhaling softly, Kenshin stepped out in the open. "You must be Shigekura Jubei."

All three of his targets spun around in surprise.

The left Mimawarigumi member really was young. He couldn't even be in his twenties yet, and he was getting married… Kenshin didn't like this at all. He hadn't wanted to know that piece of information. But now that he knew, he couldn't help but pity the man.

Still, he needed to do this. He didn't have a choice. So he tried to explain it to them. "I bear you no grudge, but for the sake of the new era, I must have your deaths."

The young bodyguard and the old man were both caught off guard by his words. However, the strongest, the heavily built and experienced fighter on the right, didn't let his surprise control him. Instead, he reached for his sword and demanded, "Who are you?"

Maybe because of his bad habit of answering direct questions, or simply because it would have been rude not to answer, Kenshin said, "Choshuu Ishin Shishi. Himura Battousai."

Then, he gripped his sword, concentrated…and once Kenta flowed over to his side, he sprinted.

His first strike, the battoujutsu, went to the most dangerous guy. The heavy man was too slow to react, he simply dropped dead in two pieces, just like they all did.

Kenshin turned and jumped, coming down with "Ryuutsuisen: zan!"

The piercing strike from above sank into the skull of the old man like chopsticks into rice paste. The target was dead.

Now, concerning the last one…

Kenshin twisted his sword, pulling it out.

"Shigekura-san! Ishiji-san!" The young guard screamed in shock, his eyes wide as saucers from sheer terror. The way he held his sword was laughable. Even as a child holding a sword for the very first time, Kenshin had done better.

…And this is the guy who is getting married.

It was so pathetic.

What is the point in killing this guy, anyway? Kenshin thought morosely as he charged. His own strike was weak and slow, far slower than usually – but still, if the guard had been a fraction of a second slower, he wouldn't have had time to block.

Kenshin's sword was at to the guard's throat, held back by that shaky block. If he pushed just a little, he could easily slit the guy's throat and be done with it. It was all too easy.

I really don't want to do this.

"Give up." Kenshin heard his own voice saying.

Yes, what if this guy, just a boy really… what if he just gave up? No one knew how many bodyguards Shigekura-san would have. And it's dark, this boy can't have seen much of me, not enough to be a threat to the Ishin Shishi…

If he just ran away now, he could live and get married.

The Ishin Shishi doesn't need his death. No one will benefit if he dies here…

However, before Kenshin could find the words to explain even a fraction of these musings, all of the sudden the boy's eyes focused. Like he had just realized something…. and then, the boy pushed back.

The young man was in his late teens or early twenties. He was a head taller than Kenshin and more importantly, a lot heavier. In a battle of physical strength, it was no contest. The Mimawarigumi guard pushed him and his blade aside with ease.

…Huh. Kenshin frowned.

And before his eyes, the guard settled into an attacking stance. He was sweating heavily, but his gaze was focused. Determined.

Well… shit.

Kenshin knew that look. He had seen it often enough in his own reflection, when he needed to make a decision. This guy wouldn't give up, not anymore.

…But I don't want to do this.

Maybe because of his torn feelings, Kenta hesitated too… and let go of their ki- enhancement trick. They would overpower this guy badly enough even when it came to basic swordsmanship. There really was no point in using the godlike speed, was there?

And then, the guard attacked. His strike was slow, but it was executed cleanly. This boy's teacher would be proud to see him handling his nerves this well, Kenshin thought while blocking. He dodged around the guard, and yes – good. Again, he needed to defend. On the next pass, the guard was even better, more focused and desperate… but during his next charge, Kenshin saw a perfect opening.

It was instinct, nothing more. From his early childhood, every time he saw an opening like that, he had been told to attack it with his best shot. It had been a common training tactic with Master and no matter what he had tried, not one of his strikes had ever gone through.

So Kenshin took the opening and cut.

His blade cut through… not as fast, nor as clean as it would have with the ki enhancement boosting his strength, but it cut cloth and skin, causing flesh and blood to sprout out.

A flash of pain flared on his cheek.

..What?

His left cheek was hurting? And there was wetness, flowing down his jaw to his throat? Kenshin raised his hand to it, and looked at his fingers.

It was blood.

…Oh.

Behind him, the young man who had cut him had fallen to the ground, struggling to crawl to his sword. He was crying, mumbling to himself, "I don't want to die… not yet… not yet…"

And as if the haze shrouding him had been lifted, Kenshin swallowed in panic.

I did that.

His stomach twisted, like a dozen snakes coiling tight and he felt like he was going to throw up.

"…was… finally going… to marry her….can't die… not yet…"

Kenshin swallowed, once, twice… before gripping his sword. That boy was already dead, he just didn't know it yet. Bleeding like that, his blood and guts spilling out from his left side, was an ugly way to die.

It would take a while.

This was the exact reason why Kenshin had tried his best to make his kills as fast possible, to spare his targets this kind of pain. But through his hesitation, he had managed to cause unnecessary suffering, yet again.

The shame of it was nearly overwhelming.

...Again, because of my hesitations.

No, this really wouldn't do.

"…would have… loved… her… forever…."

The only reason Kenshin killed was for the happiness of innocents. And even if he couldn't have avoided killing this young man, this boy… at least he should have been kind enough to kill him quickly.

"To… Mo…. e…."

Kenshin walked to the boy slowly until he was standing above him, his legs spread on both sides of the boy's gurgling head, still mumbling words… and then, he struck his blade through the junction of that neck and twisted, just so.

Silence.

At a distance, two ki presences approached hesitantly… the examiners. Fairly new guys, these two. But where was Iizuka-san? Well, to be fair, Iizuka-san had been quite busy lately, so he shouldn't expect the man to check every single one of his many jobs…

"We have come to check…"

Kenshin flicked most of the blood from his sword before sheathing it. Then, he nodded at the new guys. "Thank you for examining them."

"Your cheek!" one of them gasped, pointing at him in shock.

Kenshin looked aside. "It's nothing."

The fact was, the wound didn't hurt, not when there was this ache in his heart and the shame of his failures kept twisting his stomach. No, compared to those, the little pain in his cheek was nothing. And blood? It was just a little more blood on him. The only difference was that it was his own. It didn't matter.

"…But if he reached your face with a sword… he must have been very good." The other examiner said curiously.

Just for cutting me? No, it wasn't that. I hesitated and screwed up, again.

"…No. His skill itself was nothing. But his will to live… was incredible. I will leave rest to you." Kenshin murmured, and turned to leave.

It made no sense to stay here any longer.

However, he shot a final glance at the young Mimawarigumi guard who had cut him. He really would have preferred to let the boy go, but how could he fault him for deciding to fight for his beliefs? It had been mere chance that they had faced each other. Just chance. But still, it was sad.

"May you find happiness, in your next life."

"Eh? Did you say something?"

"No. It was nothing." Kenshin denied softly. No, tonight had been just another night of blood among many others. But now, he was filthy and the smell of blood was fogging his nostrils. He really needed a bath.

As he walked away, he heard the examiners speaking softly behind his back. "Will to live huh? I guess a first class swordsman can tell that just by crossing blades with someone…"

"Yeah, but… Maybe he could tell that, but he still killed them all without blinking. He really is a manslayer."

Kenshin sighed tiredly.

Yes, I am.