Thank you for the alerts/favorites and I've already thanked the one who reviewed. :)

Anyways, this does not go in any particular order. There will be stories that come before this piece and after, though nothing will be earlier than "The Start of Something."

Disclaimer: don't own anything you recognize.

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"Transitioning"

"Hitokiri Battousai!"

The redhead stops and Kaoru gets a sight full of fine features and wide, wide light eyes. For a moment she feels unsettled because he looks like a boy no older than sixteen, not some fearsome warrior capable of killing so many in her family's name. But he's the only one with a sword at his waist that she's seen and looks can be deceiving, so she hardens her resolve despite the disquiet in the back her mind.

She continues, trying to intimidate him with her determination, "At long last I found you! Your two months of bloodshed in the streets ends tonight. Prepare yourself!"

In retrospect, maybe shouting "prepare yourself" wasn't the greatest idea in the world, but it's too late to take it back now. As the guy squeaks out something that sounds suspiciously like "Oro!" she charges head on, willing to risk her life if means defending the family name. The cute naivety of the sound irritates her. "Don't play innocent with me!" she shouts. "Who else would ignore the edict and walk around with a sword?"

She attacks with a swipe and realizes too late that he jumped faster than she could fully see and the blow connects with nothing. What truly surprises her, though, is when he suddenly topples backwards, ending up on the ground with a bashful look. Accidently she says, "That didn't take long, Hitokiri Battousai," aloud.

"Rurouni." She pauses before she can do anything else - attack or call loudly for a police officer to come and arrest him. "I'm a rurouni with no family or possessions. A wandering swordsmen. I just arrived in town. I don't know anything about bloodshed in the streets."

A rurouni? That's about the last thing she expected. Before she can get distracted, she shakes away the thought, deciding that this needs to be dealt with first. "How would you explain this sword at your waist? Swordsmen aren't allowed to carry real swords."

He removes his katana from its sheath and she puts her own weapon up as defense. He doesn't attack though, instead literally handing it out to for her to take. She accepts it, analyzing because she knows a lot about swords even though she's just a woman. "What's this?" she says, flipping over the blade in disbelief. Okay, she thinks to herself, I have to be dreaming. "A sakaba?"

When he smiles, she gets a good look at him for the first time and realizes that there's no way he could be the Battousai. Not with eyes that kind and face so soft. He holds a certain air of quiet about himself like she remembers her father having and, again, it's doubtful he's any older than sixteen. "Could this sword kill anyone?" he asks.

Though she normally hates being wrong, she'll allow it in this case. For once. "It couldn't," she answers, lightly touching the tip. Even if it's reversed, it's still sharp. "The nicks don't smell of blood and there're no clouds of tallow on the blade. Like it's never been used." She smiles too. "You really just...Yes, a rurouni."

Before he has the opportunity to explain that outside of Tokyo carrying a sword is not unusual, there comes the shrill sound of alarm. Both snap their heads to the general direction of the noise and without thinking she darts, throwing his sword. "The police whistle!" she says more to herself than the rurouni. "This time for sure!"

The young man watches her back retreat and this chance meeting causes her life to take a dramatic turn.

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It's been five minutes since she met the redhead and in the wake of the Battousai's descending blade, she's already forgotten him. Or, that is, until she's scooped up in his arms, getting pulled away from the scene. Her first thought is, he isn't human.

Then he tumbles again, dropping her. She barely has time to straighten herself before she falls too. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

The young man's curled up into himself gripping his sides. In a shaking voice he says, "I think I dislocated my pelvis."

With the adrenaline rushing in her ears and the distraction of her enemy shouting, "I am the Battousai! Himura Battousai of the Kamiya Kasshin School!" she misses one small detail: the rurouni is clutching his ribs, not his hips.

She goes to chase after the Battousai, anger flooding her because this is her family he's ruining, her livelihood, her father's legacy - but there's a hand on her ponytail, pulling her back gently. It's surprise rather than pain that makes her cry out. She turns around, smacking him in the side of the face with the side of her sword. He's still on the ground and says, "He waited long enough. Chasing after a man too far when you're wounded -" The rushing energy in her head blocks out her ability to feel the pain and the dripping of blood is nothing too usual. "- is putting your life in danger. He gave the name of the school so you can track him down without all this haste."

Of course, an outsider knows nothing. "Kamiya Kasshin is my school," she says, wanting him to understand. "He's been committing these atrocities in our name!" Even years later, "my" is synonymous with "our" and that will never change. The stranger's already big eyes widen further and - wait, are they purple? Yes, she realizes, yes they are. Red hair, purple eyes. If she weren't so panicked, she would've picked up on the oddness earlier. What is this man? But that doesn't matter right now, Kaoru reminds herself, and she turns to run, mind back on her target. "Once I get my hands on him I'll -"

There it is, that hand in her hair again, tugging her backwards. He's standing now and suddenly the dizziness begins and all she can think is Oh, please, no. "I said chasing him too far won't help, didn't I?" Even if he's right, who gave this rurouni the audacity to dispense his words of wisdom? "Either way," he continues, picking her up again and considering how dizzy she is, walking on her own seems borderline impossible anyway, "he's long gone." All she can do now is hope this redhead isn't some sort of creep. "But let's leave before the police start to ask too many questions."

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Red hair, purple eyes, an X-shaped scar. By far the weirdest looks on a person she's ever seen. And people call her unique because her eyes are blue. She sits half naked in front of him, for some inexplicable reason not caring, and he doesn't seem affected all.

"Whatever happens," he says, eyes away from her revealed (but bandaged) body, and focused instead on her wound, "you can't keep a night watch with that arm."

"Oh?"

"The best thing for you to do now is act with caution. That kind of philosophy is useless if you get yourself killed." He's at the other end of the room then, hand placed against the door, ready to leave. "Besides," he says with that smile of his again and Kaoru won't pretend her heart doesn't speed up at the sight of it because as weird as he might look, there's no denying that he's the most handsome man she's seen in a long time, "I'm sure your honored father wouldn't want his school protected at the cost of his own daughter's life. Excuse me."

There's an intake of breath, a hit of logic that comes too close to home, and she has no chance to say something before he leaves. His words bounce around in her mind and get absorbed into her subconscious, unwanted but appreciated at the same time.

Then Kiheh tells her, "It's all taken care of."

Her arm already feels better. "T-thanks," she manages to get out, trying to recover from everything that's happened tonight.

"Kaoru-san," her friend adds, "you mustn't let your guard down. After all, rurouni is just another word for failure. You're to kind to such people for your own good."

With speed like that, she can't imagine him as a failure but she doesn't know how to express that without sounding crazy. Besides, he has a point.

"I know, you're right. I'll be more careful for now."

But she won't because in that moment, she knows she's already in love.

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Here, have a small break:

After Kaoru-san leaves, the rurouni decides to follow the single lead he was given. Not getting involved would probably be difficult anyway, but having someone impersonate him has turned this personal. He wants nothing to do with the title of Battousai, it's true, but it's his burden to bear on his own. Having another man use it as a fear tactic is both disgraceful and annoying.

Now he stands in front of the doors of the other dojo, knocking incessantly. On the eighth, "Excuse me," an irritated man opens the door. "All right!" he says. "What do you want?"

The redhead smiles politely. Just because he plans to negotiate and possibly maim his impersonator if he doesn't cooperate doesn't mean he has to be rude about it. He begins, "About the leader here -" but gets cut off.

"Master Himura -" He bristles at the sound of his name. This is different than a title because Shishou gave that to him and though he left him up on that mountain, he still loves him the way a son loves his father. "- is out! Come back later!"

(patience might be a virtue he possesses, but once his temper flares he needs to get the ordeal over with as soon as possible)

"Oh, is he called Himura?"

The man looks down at him, irritation giving way to anger. "You here and didn't even know that little?"

The rurouni shrinks his smile. "No, I was certain he was called the 'Street Killer Battousai,'" he answers, emphasizing Street Killer to let the guard understand that he knows the leader is a fake. Shock flits across his face. "Looks like Kaoru-san was right."

"What's the problem, Nishiwaki-san?" a man asks from behind the one in the doorway. "Who's the shrimp?"

Then he's surrounded by at least twenty men and from ki alone he knows their skill level is abysmally low. Normally he doesn't draw his sword for personal reasons, but this is for Kaoru-san as well.

"He's just a rat," says Nishiwaki and he should be happy insults have no effect now. "He's finished."

Within a minute and a half, all twenty-two are taking a nice, long nap.

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Kaoru has never been a complacent person, never one to give up, so when the Battousai stands in her doorway, she does the only thing she can think of and grabs a sword off the wall. Even if it means her life, she refuses to have her family name soiled like this any longer.

Unfortunately, no stubbornness, no determination, no amount of training can prepare for a fight against a legend and his followers.

It doesn't take long for her shoulder to be struck. With her sword arm immobile, the Battousai is able to pick her up easily, holding her about his head. Kaoru never really believed in her own dying - she's skilled for a women, she too kindhearted, too beautiful, too loyal, too educated - but now she knows she's staring it in the face. His beard looks prickly, his small eyes narrowed with malice. He exudes the smell of blood. Since he's only gripping her by her shirt, it tears and it isn't like when she was with the rurouni, when she didn't feel threatened by the revealing of her body. Now she feels vulnerable and young and thinks that beauty might not always be a good thing because she might be naive in many aspects, but she's still smart enough to know this.

"My goal is violence!" says the Battousai but she's barely paying attention. Kiheh has a knife. "My essence is killing! That's what kenjutsu is about!"

Kiheh cuts her thumb, forces her hand to smudge her own blood across the paper and she hates herself for not lasting longer. "That's it," the traitor says, "the land is ours. The Kamiya Kasshin Ryu is no more."

Then the door slides open. There stands a man, face drained of color and eyes wide with fear. The Battousai asks, "Nishiwaki, what's wrong with you?"

The man says a word she doesn't quite catch before he's tossed aside. Behind him stands the rurouni and she strangely gets the impression that he's annoyed rather than anything else.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he says, directed at her before turning his attention back to the others. "This man told me everything."

"You again," says the Battousai. "Do you believe in 'the sword that protects life' like this girl?"

Though the rurouni seems kind, his "No" is anticipated. He answers, "A sword is a weapon. Kenjutsu is the art of killing. Whatever pretty words you use to speak of it, this is its true nature. What Kaoru-san says are the words of one who has never dirtied her hands. A Utopian ideal."

"R-rurouni," she stutters.

"However," he continues, "when I compare the two, I like Kaoru-san's idealism better than kenjutsu's true nature. If I want to ask so much, I want the world to accept her ideal one day."

No one has the right to be that perfect, she thinks.

"Brother," says the Battousai, "you don't mind if I kill him, do you?"

"No," answers Kiheh. "He's in our way. Get the guys to do it."

In that instant, as the men surround him, Kaoru can see it: his small stature his down fall, only one man unable to finish so many, her dojo floor covered in the blood of that lonesome stranger. "Run, rurouni!" she shouts out of desperation but he doesn't listen.

"I don't want to needlessly cause a lot of injuries." Kaoru has learned enough about the different styles of kenjutsu to know the stance he falls into isn't a normal one. "All those who don't like visiting the doctor should go now."

There's some inane shouting from the group, too loud and confused for her to be able to pick out any individual phrase other than "death." She holds her breath, terrified and unwilling to see the redhead die because how can he -

Then there is no one left. Everyone is knocked out and alone, not bloodied and hurt, stands the stranger. His soft eyes are different, narrowed and dangerous and she gets a horrible image in her head of seeing that right before death. The great Battousai is nothing in comparison and she doesn't know whether or not she should feel relieved. It's not sorcery, as Kiheh says, but speed. True, unapologetic speed. No human should be to move like that. Again, she thinks, who is this man?

"One thing," says he redhead, those killer's eyes focused on the man holding her as her insides turn cold with secondhand fear, "I forgot to mention. Hitokiri Battousai's style of fighting is not that of the Kamiya Kasshin School. It's an old style of fighting, which arose during the Sengoku era, designed to face many opponents at once. It's name is Hiten Mitsurgi Ryu and without the sakaba, it's slaughter with deadly swiftness."

This is the Battousai? A young man shorter than even most women she's met, mostly likely weighing less than she does? It seems unbelievable, but she trusts her own eyes and the skill difference between the imposter and the real one is astronomical. The fake drops her and pain rockets up her spine. He towers above the real one, over a foot taller than him. This should be a clear cut battle but it's just not.

"I didn't think you were were that strong the other day," says that fake and here she is, sitting here on the floor surrounded by a mass of broken bodies, doing nothing. "You were hiding your strength!"

Then the Battousai - the real, honest to god killer from the revolution - says, "I don't like violence," like it should be common knowledge. And why isn't she moving? Why isn't she moving? "But I should've finished you then. I regret it now."

Later she realizes that the sheer energy of standing in the room with him paralyzed her, her body unused to that level of fear. But for now she stays ignorant and watches with terrified eyes as Battousai is one second standing on the group, the next up in the air, dulled end of the sword coming straight down on the back of the larger man's neck. He falls, blood flying, but most definitely still alive. She gives a sharp gasp when he hits the ground so hard the wooden floor breaks.

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The gap is small, ten minutes at most. But the ten minutes is enough to hold the transition of Before to After. It starts with the shutting of a door, and a name.

"Kenshin." Kaoru, barely daring to believe that luck has finally come her way, turns. "Himura Kenshin. That's my name now." He smiles at her again, eyes back to normal, the upturn of his mouth contracting the scar. "I'm a little tried of travelling. A rurouni never knows where he's going or how long, but if you don't mind that...for a little while, I'll stay with you."

Irrational relief floods her because she hasn't know this Kenshin for very long. Yet here it is anyway, and all the tragedy of the past two months and especially the past hour bleeds away. For that moment everything is -

Something dawns on her. "But, wait a minute," she says, horribly confused, "if you fought in the Bakumatsu, how old are you?"

"Oro?"

"Don't 'oro' me!" This is not a sentence she ever thought would be used in real life. "You don't look that old! You'd have to be at least thirty!"

His cheeks flood with color and he looks down at his hand as if counting. "Um," he answers after a moment, "twenty-three."

Kaoru nearly falls over from shock and this is what marks it: Before was a black depression seeping through the walls; After is the silliness of early morning darkness. And she loves it.

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Review please! I happen to like those kind of sort of a lot. And I don't think I'm going to do any pairings besides Kenshin and Tomoe because I seriously don't like Kaoru. Yet somehow writing this sort of made me.