A/N: Yeah, rereading it, I just realized how short that prologue was... OO; My bad. But, eh, it's a prologue. Prologues are meant to be short, and, you know, induce a sense of mystery! Thanks to Aniwolf for being my very first reviewer ever, this first chapter is dedicated to her!

(And also, sorry for any little slip-ups in spelling. My spell-check has been wonky lately. And, err, you'll notice that unlike some AU stories, there will be definite changes to canon details that are usually "set in stone.")

Disclaimer: I own a few things: A computer, some raggedy clothing, a copy of Harry Potter (also don't own that), and two kitties. Notice that "Rurouni Kenshin" is not one of them? ):

Before the Dawn

Chapter One:

Strength in Engagement

-

"Bill... bill... take-out menu, take-out menu... bill... pamphlet for -" Kaoru's eyebrow twitched considerably as she tore her eyes away from the folded sheaf of bright paper and crumpled it in her fists before slamming the mailbox shut. For the love of all the gods, I don't think these people have yet realized that sending offers of 'amazing, hot-off-the-market herbal male-enhancement creams' aren't going to sell well here, considering that the names registered at this address are both female ones...

Rolling her eyes heavenward in a brief prayer for sanity, the young woman turned and vanished back into the small, low-lying house, closing the front gate behind her. Any passer-by could take a mere glance at the house and come to the conclusion that it was not new, nor in good repair – The pale paint on some of the walls was faded and peeling, and the roof shingles needed replacing. It might have once been a modest, yet elegant place to live, but if it ever was, it was now just a shell compared to the previous glory.

Winding her way through the house and stifling one of those body-shuddering yawns as she did so, Kaoru set the mail down on the table for her mother to see when she got home early the next morning. Smiling at the thought of the woman, she reached for a familiar picture above the kitchen sink, the one that she studied every time she washed the dishes.

The woman smiled back at her from behind the dusty glass had a face that was lined with age, but was still truly beautiful. Kaoru never cared to notice that happiness really wasn't a strong point in the photograph – The woman's blue eyes were shuttered, and the curve of her lips was quiet, tinged with sadness and regret. But that didn't matter; there was also a kind of fortitude around the line of her shoulders, defiance in the tilt of her chin.

The gods always seemed to laugh at Kamiya Manami, Kaoru reflected. But her mother, through the loss of dignity, the shame, and the tragedies of life... Always managed to laugh back.

Setting the frame back down on its respectable spot, the teen gave it one lingering glance before turning away to start dinner at the stove. Despite her mother's attempts to teach her some inkling of grace and mastery in the kitchen, it was a rather sad fact that Kaoru was not destined to be your typical housewife. Her mother often said this was because instead of being handed a doll when she was a toddler, her daughter was given a shinai

It had been the beginning of a tomboy.

Wincing to herself as she added vegetables to the pot and set it to a boil, Kaoru looked out the window with a calculating look evening her facial features. The brightness of late afternoon was fading into night as she watched the sun dip below the horizon, painting the sky with dazzling hues of red, orange, and yellow.

If she hurried, she would be able to practice for a fair amount of time.

Abandoning the kitchen, Kaoru slid open one of the shoji and dove across the sandy expanse of yard toward the training hall. Even though she was not out of breath at all, she couldn't help but stop and inhale deeply as she entered, the dojo smelling of both old and newer wood, the lemon of cleaning products, the perfumed saltiness of dried sweat, and let the tide of emotion overwhelm her.

This was were she belonged, where her father had spent hours training her as a young, soft child. He was no longer there, no longer anywhere, but she could still feel him, hear the rumbling baritone of his voice and the bark of his laughter, even the grip of his steady hands on her shoulders.

The dead leave their loved ones behind, but they always leave traces for those loved ones to collect and relish.

Shedding her clothing where she stood, Kaoru pulled on her gi and hakama with deft fingers, savoring the feel of the worn fabric settling over her slender frame. In moments, her bokken was in her hands, the wood an easy extension of her fingertips, conforming to the countless calluses. Stepping forward, she began the katas.

Step, block, thrust, repeat.

Lunge, center, block, retreat.

Advance, thrust, sidestep, parry.

Strike, step, parry, block...

By the time she paused, droplets of sweat were sliding down her temples and moonlight splintered through the slats of the windows, and washed through the door that she had forgotten to slide close. Breathing through her nose, Kaoru couldn't help but grin humorlessly. It was pathetic, but she knew little about joy in the world, aside from kenjutsu. The bitterness of his mysterious death and the financial troubles that her and her mother struggled with had hardened her. Most teenagers were busy with school, partying nightly, having a good times with friends, the girls laughing with the boys.

Glaring hard at the single wooden plaque along the wall that signified her as the assistant-master of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu, Kaoru had to fight back tears of anger and frustration. Her last pupil, both flustered and simpering, had withdrawn only the week before. It just added more strain for her mother.

Her mother. The prostitute, weaving her way through the brothels of downtown Tokyo, selling her beaten, fatigued body nightly. This night, even. Right now, she was probably...

Closing her eyes against the migraine that was suddenly threatening to implode her head, Kaoru refused to cave to floor. Just another challenge. Cursing the deities with every fibre of her being, she met it head-on as she snapped her eyes open and continued, her tense muscling radiating power.

Step, thrust, lunge, sidestep.

Advance, center, block, strike.

Parry, retreat, step, thrust.

Center, strike...

His voice was cool, utterly confident, as he spoke into the cellphone clasped between his shoulder and ear. It was only 6 o'clock, but it had fallen unusually dark that evening – All to his advantage, in the end. A smirk traced his lips.

"Yes, I'm at the house. I'm sure she's home, I can see some of the lights on... No? Alright. It will be quick and quiet, just as you promised. I'll go on, get the girl, and – Yes, I'm sure. It's a quiet street, no other cars. Do you doubt my ability, Nakamura-san?" The man's voice took on a mocking tilt. The response he received was clipped, impatient.

"Of course I don't. Just get going. His orders were strict: She has to be in by tonight, 9 o'clock at the latest. You know how he is."

The man exhaled, raising an eyebrow contrarily, even though he knew that Nakamura wasn't around to see. He spoke casually, freely, taking liberties. "Sure, whatever. Don't get your panties in a knot, she'll be delivered... Relatively unscathed, if she doesn't put up a fight."

"I'm sure she won't – You're, er, a fairly intimidating man, and you'll have those knives with you, won't you?"

Smoothly ignoring the little pause – which really said more than words ever could – he reached down to the floor to find his belt, outfitted with several knives, balanced for throwing, and a holster with his favourite handgun, a Jericho 941 with extra magazines, just in case things got really messy. "Yes, I have them."

"Good. Now, go." The click and then the buzzing of the dial tone in his ear informed him that Nakamura still hadn't mastered the graciousness of manners. Clipping his belt into place, he deposited the cell phone into his pocket and slipped out the door of his car, some model that was black and sleek, and prowled towards the front gate, silent as a panther. And probably just as deadly.

Kamiya Kaoru, prepare yourself.

Almost immediately, thanks to some inner woman's intuition, a kind of primitive instinct that was maybe a throwback from prehistoric times, Kaoru knew something was wrong. Her mother had often said that she had had a "sixth sense" when she was younger, but that had been a joke...

Narrowing her eyes in bemusement as she paused in her katas once more, she took a step towards the open door, blinking through the shafts of pearly moonlight. She could see the light from the kitchen, the flowers planted along the outside walls. Not a tumbler out of place. But -

Not bothering to change back into other clothes, Kaoru padded out into the yard and towards the gate. There; it was so small, but... The gate was ajar, not more than an inch or two. But she could have sworn that she had closed it.

It was just the wind that pushed it open. Quit over thinking, idiot, she thought darkly. But looking beyond the gate, she saw the car, flashy and supremely out of place in the dank, lower-middle-class neighbourhood. Unless old Mrs. Sato across the street had won the lottery... It just sat there, an obelisk with its owner not in sight.

Frowning, the teenager turned on her heel and headed indoors, intent on pushing the bizarre thoughts from her mind and checking whether the vegetables needed more soy or not. Unfortunately, a woman's intuition is usually doomed to be correct in most instances. In this case, it was no different.

Having not taken not more than a step through the main living area of the house, Kaoru suddenly and inexplicably found her air supply being cut off. Fighting for at least a gasping breath, she heard her bokken drop to the floor – she had brought her bokken, hadn't she? - as she drove the sharp point of her elbow into what she thought was the solar plexus of her assailant.

She aimed right. As her attacker released her from his (it just had to be a 'his') grip, Kaoru didn't even pause to choke in air as she tumbled to floor and rolled to put a good several feet between them. Looking at the tall man doubled over in front of her, she immediately thought : Burglar. Who else would break into the home of another person? Well, he picked the wrong house: Because I'm the one who'll fight back, and because there's nothing for him to steal.

Not even risking a grab for her bokken, which still lay at his feet, Kaoru dove away, planting the coffee table as an obstacle between them. He finally looked up, his light hazel eyes piercing hers, but there was no anger on his face, only a vague look of annoyance. Dumbstruck, Kaoru backed up another few paces.

He blinked at her, nostrils flaring. "So... Not going to come quietly, eh?"

Still completely flummoxed, Kaoru kept backing up and consequently felt the cool touch of the fall at her shoulder blades. Come quietly? But.. burglars!.. Obviously, not a burglar! Her thought processes were all in overdrive, and she struggled to comprehend the situation.

What the hell did this guy want with her?

Swallowing, she felt the first traces of fear tingling down her spine. He was lean, all muscle, and radiating a kind of lethal grace that made her think twice about attacking. But that wouldn't matter, because he came for her first. Still a bit too shocked, Kaoru's response to his leap across the low table and dive towards her torso was purely instinctual: Crouching to the floor, she swept her leg out, aiming to trip him.

It worked only partially – his reflexes were as good as hers, if not better. He caught himself as he hit the wall and immediately turned to send a solid kick to the girl. It caught Kaoru in the side, and she felt the knives of pain lancing through her as she hit the floor, her should jarring against the edge of the table. He was upon her in an instant, caging her with his arms and knees.

She didn't have even half a second to think, only a second to react. Bringing her knee up into the man's stomach, she simultaneously locked her arms around his as leverage as she rocked to the side, and --

Even with her on top, she was not any more in control as she had been underneath him. Even winded, he brought his head up against hers in a vicious head butt, which caused stars to burst in front of Kaoru's eyes as she felt her body crumple to the side. She felt him surge upward, dragging her with him as he locked her into a bear hug. Disoriented from the blow to her head, she felt her air being cut off again as he squeezed her.

No... no... nononono – Don't pass out, Kaoru, don't fucking pass out! You can win this thing – Just-

Flailing and thrashing, Kaoru's arms were of no use, trapped between her chest and his, but when she saw the inky spots beginning to stain the edges of her vision, she truly panicked. Moving in an almost drunken-like haze, she made one last, desperate move – She looped her right leg around his, twining for that same leverage that she had found only moments earlier, and pulled, not enough to break the leg, but enough to -

She didn't even see him hit the coffee table, shatter the glass, lay there in agony as the shards pierced his flesh... She was on the floor, sucking in air frantically. That had been too close for her; for one moment, she had thought that she had been going to die. Die. Such a final word.

Struggling to feet, limbs still shaky, she wasted no time in leaping over him and taking hold of her bokken. She drew a small measure of comfort from holding it, as if it were the weight that would tip the scales. She knew that she had no time to spare, and settled into a defensive stance as she stood, waiting...

He was up in what seemed like no time at all, breathing uneven, bruised and blooded slightly, but still with that same strength, an aura of power. He was frowning now, dark brows just a slash across his shadowy face as he turned to face her. "Just give up already, girl."

Even with the absurdity of the situation, Kaoru snapped back (in a rather contrary manner), "Fuck you!"

His eyebrows rose out of the frown, almost disappearing into his hairline. "Maybe later, princess, but for now -" His boots crunched through the glass which laying glittering like snow on the floor, and she did not hesitate as she lunged forward, thrusting the tip of the bokken at his throat.

He was ready for her, however, his clenched fist coming across her face in a staggering right hook that caused her head to snap back. Pain exploded inside her head again, consuming her, but Kaoru was past caring. It was all about survival for her now; they were two animals, enclosed in a tight space. She tumbled back into one of the reclining chairs, but she lashed both of her feet out – aiming for the groin, missing, and catching him in the knees instead as he came hurtling forward.

As the assailant was nearly atop her, caught off-balance, Kaoru didn't waste her moment of opportunity: Enabling her bokken, she rushed upward in a wave of upper-body strength, and brought it under his jaw in a forceful uppercut.

He was forced backwards and lost the match with gravity, hitting the floor hard. But now he was mindless as well, frenzied with adrenaline. She had less than a heartbeat to move as her eyes followed his hand as it reached towards his belt, which held --

Her stomach knotting and convulsing with terror, Kaoru hauled her ass out of that room so fast that at first, she didn't even realized she was running, but not before the knife buried itself in the wall where her face had been, relieving a few strands of long black hair from her head. She knew that he was right behind her, felt his breath on the back of her neck as she sprinted down the hallway and burst into the kitchen, looking for an escape.

One of his hands caught the back of her gi, pulling her back against his chest, but not before she saw the godsend. Against the bright light of the room, her pupils contracting, she saw the knife block. It might have been futile, but Kaoru wasn't about to give up just yet. She was defiant. She was strong. She had dropped her bokken in her mad dash for freedom, so needed a weapon.

He made a move to yank her backwards, but it was a futile attempt as she felt the smooth handle of the butcher knife in her hand, and then it was oh-so-simple to be pulling up and out, whirling to send it in a silver arc across his face. At any other given time, this probably would have disturbed me... She found herself thinking with unsuited humour, watching as the dark drops of blood peppered her hands.

He lurched back with an agonized hiss, and without thinking, without feeling, without a rat's ass of consideration towards the principles of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu (somewhere in the back of her mind, Kaoru thought that her father could forgive her for defending her own life), she made a wild stab towards his chest.

Kaoru's luck would run out right then and there, though, as he caught her wrist and twisted, causing her to drop the knife with a gasp of pain. This time, she felt the pain as the punch to her face brought her to her knees, but she couldn't even try to break loose as he wound his fingers through her hand and jerked her chin up.

Opening her eyes wide, she watched dazedly as he brought something else out from his belt, not another throwing knife, but a scrap of dark cloth. She could barely even think. Was he going to gag her, strangle her? Death was imminent, but the fight seemed to drain out of her right then and there.

I'm sorry, Mama... Father. I'm sorry, world, for giving up like this. Haven't... haven't I proved myself enough?

She did not resist as the cloth covered her mouth, and a foul smell sent two of her senses reeling in disgust. This wasn't right. Blinking as the kitchen began to swim, she managed to bring her gaze up to the man, her .. her killer? He was smiling at her though the ribbons of blood trekking down his cheeks.

The teen's last thought was an inane one, as most thoughts in this case as inclined to be: But... The vegetables... They'll boil over.

And the darkness – sweet, glorious, darkness – came rushing up to meet her, and she sank to the tile in a heap.

Inhaling deeply, and in a ridiculously nonchalant manner, the man pulled out his cellphone and quickly tapped in a number. Three rings, and some one answered. He surveyed the girl on the floor, beaten and blood-splattered and unconscious, with her dark hair spread around her like a angel's halo. Only then did he speak.

"Yes, this is Shinobu. I've got her, right on time, just like he asked. I'm leaving right now."

When Kaoru awoke, the coppery scent of dried blood met her nose as she sat bolt upright, her body aching and protesting. She was in total darkness, and on a bed that was not her own.

Something was very wrong here.