Here's my first Rurouni Kenshin fic. Takes place right when the Meiji Era
begins and Kenshin has to make a choice. Okay on with the story.
Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or its characters or the poem 'The Road Not Taken'.
**************
He stood there, in the middle of the forest in the middle of the night. Tonight was the night. Tonight was the night he was to repent for his sins and murder. Tonight was the night he was to die. Death, it called him. The Hitokiri Battousai, the god of death as many soldiers called him earlier on. It was no longer a joke to him. He brought death and he should receive the same treatment.
He unsheathed his sword and pointed it at his own chest. Suicide. The only true thing he thought he could do for those that were massacred. He was about to do it when his hand jerked and missed his vital organs. The man winced, not because of the pain, no, he knew too much of that, but because of his reaction. "Why? Why did I miss? Am I afraid of death?" he questioned himself. The question remained unanswered but someone began to speak to him. "Are you really that selfish to toss your own life away and say it is for those that were sacrificed?" "Who's there?!" he demanded to know but no one answered. The red head began to scan the woods for any kenki but found nothing but an old man.
"You have killed many, yes you have, but that is not the point. Death is the easy way out," the man continued.
"What are you saying? I deserve to live and experience happiness for killing men?" the Battousai shot back.
"No, you do not deserve anything. You are obligated to live for the ones that had died in your place and for the ones you have killed. You are to live to make sure mistakes of the past are never to be repeated. You are to live for yourself." he told, his hat covering his face as he leaned against the tree behind him.
"What do you mean? I do not-" but the red haired man was cut off.
"As I said before, you are to live. Put away your blade. Put aside your self-pity. Take the harder way and live and see what others had helped create. You owe it to them." he took a slight pause, "You owe it to yourself."
"Who are you?" the red haired man asked, still slightly confused.
"Who am I? I am nothing more than a rurouni. But the question isn't who am I but who are you?"
Now the young man was befuddled. All around Japan have spoke of his name in the Underworld and yet this man was asking him his name. He was the feared Hitokiri Battousai. "I am.." he stopped. Who was he? He himself did not know anymore. He didn't wish to be the Battousai anymore so who was he now. What happens to the lost souls of war after the fighting is over? What happens within their hearts? Who was he?
The question had struck a cord. He was no longer the person he thought he was. He was no longer the young orphan boy named Shinta. He couldn't go back to being the Battousai any longer for the war had ended. The only logical answer to tell the man was his real name. "I am..I am Himura Kenshin."
The old man chucked a bit, "It took you long enough. I recommend that you figure out what you're going to do with your life, Himura Kenshin, otherwise you'll just end up killing again. The title 'Battousai' doesn't seem to fit you any longer so I suggest you change it."
"I did not choose the nickname I acquired. What are you talking about anyway, old man? What title should I use?" The red head replied sarcastically.
"Rurouni would do you fine. You do not seem like the type of person that would kill for fun. I see as a person that would rather save people. That is why you came to fight in this crazy revolution, right?"
"I promised I would not kill anymore. With the exception of myself, this blade shall never taste blood again. How can I save people when I murdered so many others?"
"Throw away your sword. I heard that the Battousai uses the Hiten Miserugi (sp?) sword technique. I also heard that the only sword that could not kill with that technique is the sakabattou. Use that and you can not kill anybody." he told, getting up from his resting spot, turning to leave.
"Wait! Why are you helping me?" the red head questioned the man's back.
"Because I was once like you myself. I understand most of what you have been through. Besides the young should live and the old should die. You're too young to decide to die yet. You have yet to live a full life." the old man smiled and left.
The young man broke into a tearful smirk. The man had made sense. "I am Himura Kenshin. Rurouni Kenshin. That sounds good. Rurouni Kenshin." with that he discarded his weapon. It lay in the soft, blowing grass as his footsteps faded away, towards a new life. "Thank you, old man."
************
-.I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. -
~Robert Frost
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Well that's it. Umm I got really bored and thought it was a good idea to write a Kenshin fic. Hope you like. Read and Review, kay. Ja ne.
Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or its characters or the poem 'The Road Not Taken'.
**************
He stood there, in the middle of the forest in the middle of the night. Tonight was the night. Tonight was the night he was to repent for his sins and murder. Tonight was the night he was to die. Death, it called him. The Hitokiri Battousai, the god of death as many soldiers called him earlier on. It was no longer a joke to him. He brought death and he should receive the same treatment.
He unsheathed his sword and pointed it at his own chest. Suicide. The only true thing he thought he could do for those that were massacred. He was about to do it when his hand jerked and missed his vital organs. The man winced, not because of the pain, no, he knew too much of that, but because of his reaction. "Why? Why did I miss? Am I afraid of death?" he questioned himself. The question remained unanswered but someone began to speak to him. "Are you really that selfish to toss your own life away and say it is for those that were sacrificed?" "Who's there?!" he demanded to know but no one answered. The red head began to scan the woods for any kenki but found nothing but an old man.
"You have killed many, yes you have, but that is not the point. Death is the easy way out," the man continued.
"What are you saying? I deserve to live and experience happiness for killing men?" the Battousai shot back.
"No, you do not deserve anything. You are obligated to live for the ones that had died in your place and for the ones you have killed. You are to live to make sure mistakes of the past are never to be repeated. You are to live for yourself." he told, his hat covering his face as he leaned against the tree behind him.
"What do you mean? I do not-" but the red haired man was cut off.
"As I said before, you are to live. Put away your blade. Put aside your self-pity. Take the harder way and live and see what others had helped create. You owe it to them." he took a slight pause, "You owe it to yourself."
"Who are you?" the red haired man asked, still slightly confused.
"Who am I? I am nothing more than a rurouni. But the question isn't who am I but who are you?"
Now the young man was befuddled. All around Japan have spoke of his name in the Underworld and yet this man was asking him his name. He was the feared Hitokiri Battousai. "I am.." he stopped. Who was he? He himself did not know anymore. He didn't wish to be the Battousai anymore so who was he now. What happens to the lost souls of war after the fighting is over? What happens within their hearts? Who was he?
The question had struck a cord. He was no longer the person he thought he was. He was no longer the young orphan boy named Shinta. He couldn't go back to being the Battousai any longer for the war had ended. The only logical answer to tell the man was his real name. "I am..I am Himura Kenshin."
The old man chucked a bit, "It took you long enough. I recommend that you figure out what you're going to do with your life, Himura Kenshin, otherwise you'll just end up killing again. The title 'Battousai' doesn't seem to fit you any longer so I suggest you change it."
"I did not choose the nickname I acquired. What are you talking about anyway, old man? What title should I use?" The red head replied sarcastically.
"Rurouni would do you fine. You do not seem like the type of person that would kill for fun. I see as a person that would rather save people. That is why you came to fight in this crazy revolution, right?"
"I promised I would not kill anymore. With the exception of myself, this blade shall never taste blood again. How can I save people when I murdered so many others?"
"Throw away your sword. I heard that the Battousai uses the Hiten Miserugi (sp?) sword technique. I also heard that the only sword that could not kill with that technique is the sakabattou. Use that and you can not kill anybody." he told, getting up from his resting spot, turning to leave.
"Wait! Why are you helping me?" the red head questioned the man's back.
"Because I was once like you myself. I understand most of what you have been through. Besides the young should live and the old should die. You're too young to decide to die yet. You have yet to live a full life." the old man smiled and left.
The young man broke into a tearful smirk. The man had made sense. "I am Himura Kenshin. Rurouni Kenshin. That sounds good. Rurouni Kenshin." with that he discarded his weapon. It lay in the soft, blowing grass as his footsteps faded away, towards a new life. "Thank you, old man."
************
-.I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. -
~Robert Frost
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Well that's it. Umm I got really bored and thought it was a good idea to write a Kenshin fic. Hope you like. Read and Review, kay. Ja ne.