Kenshin Himura reclined in his richly carved arm chair- long legs propped up precisely upon a matching velvet stool.  The vermilion colorings matched the dark fluid he swirled haphazardly within the confinements of an elegant glass.  The contents of which, he downed with a single tilt of his head.  Long red hair, often compared to flames was fastened neatly in a high ponytail.  Stray strands fell across the bare skin of his arms and chest; Toned, hard, and gleaming in the flickering light of the fireplace. 

            Gold eyes glance unseeing at the priceless grandfather clock standing proudly in the far end of the room, before they shifted to the crystalline windows.  Arched to cover the expanse of the night sky.  A soft sigh passes over him as he closes his eyes and leans comfortably back into his seat.  Moments later those lashes sweep up and glaring gold gems are trained upon the intricately designed ceiling of his room.  It was funny.  Why was it that he, the Marquis of Drakgon, a man who was rich enough to have his ceiling embroidered, so utterly unhappy?  It seemed unfair, after all—there were people out there who didn't have food to fill their children's bellies.  Yet ironically, when one had such monstrous material possessions like he—there seemed to be a lack of motives or ambitions in life.  Women, whether drawn from his dark good looks or from his ungodly mass of wealth, threw themselves like so many pretty flies at his doorsteps… his feet.  His bed. 

            Outside a lone coyote howled—and inside a muffled mew was heard.  The rumpled head of a lovely tempest woke up confused.  One delicate hand fell across the empty sheets next to her.  An agitated wrinkle of that fair brow, a dark scowl rolling in, as she quickly scanned the room.  Upon seeing the lanky object of her search, the unbecoming frustration was instantly dispelled.  Skillfully pouting the luscious redness of her lips and hinting with those dark smoky eyes, she patted the vacant spot next to her.  Kenshin watched with passive amusement.  How predictable.  Well like he said—he was never short of bed warmers.

            Perhaps that was his dilemma in life.  He simply didn't have any.  Everything was at his disposal—what Kenshin wanted Kenshin got; Women, clothes, titles, horses, and that unmentionable sum of wealth.  It is said that men thrive off of challenges- thus it must be imperatively damaging for a man to not have this fundamental basis of an unreachable goal.  In other words, it was good and all to be king of the mountain, until one discovers that sitting on it is rather boring.  And he, Kenshin Himura, was one bored puppy. 

            A more defined thump could be heard from the direction of the bed as his eyes refocused on the maid that was quickly falling into frustration mode once more.  He raised his brows, and vaguely wondered if she would start pounding the bed in a most un-lady like manner should he ignore her antics much longer.  Rising obligingly from his lethargic position he padded his way over to her willing arms.  It would get his mind off of things for the moment—at least, until the morning. 

            The cup of coffee was steaming.  Kenshin watched the white steam puff its way laboriously out of his cup and into the air.  Sipping delicately at the rims, he looked past the wisps of vapor at the rather large pile of unanswered letters and invitations.  Long fingers tapped agitatedly.  There they were sitting nice and neat, growing progressively larger as the weeks passed.  If the servants were ever lazy about something, it certainly wasn't this. 

            Granted, it wasn't illogical for someone of his status to receive mammoth amounts of letters; Most of them direly hinting, and some blatantly short of demanding his presence.  It was fun, for the first few times anyway.  Every other event after that was suspiciously repetitive.  Flicking a finger resentfully at the pile of loving perfumed paper, he sent the entire neat stack into satisfying disarray; spilling besides themselves over his carpeted floor. 

            A loud knocking sounded at his door as it simultaneously swung forward, and Kenshin looked up.  A tall-distinguished man walked through, filling the frame.  A wide smile offset his trimmed look as he grinned unabashly at Kenshin.  Crossing his arms he leaned against the bar counter.

            "You look like hell."  He grinned.  "Rough night with the ladies?"

            Kenshin only smirked.  Sanosuke Sagara, practically known for his unannounced visits, had once again barged past his footmen and charged up uncalled for to his room.  Bold, brash, and rude—he possessed an undeniable charm and a heart-stopping grin.  He was also a heavy drinker and loved to gamble-- the very bad boy that every mother would steer her daughters clear from in hopes of avoiding financial ruin.  If he wasn't the son of a well-established Viscount, Kenshin imagined that Sanosuke would have already been kicked out of higher society.  And if he wasn't Kenshin's best friend, Sanosuke would have been deftly thrown off of The Drakgon estate by now.

            "Well in any case" the man continued, gesturing to the mess on the table and floor.  "You don't have to take it out on the cards, it's not their fault you are so very popular with the ladies-- As well as their money grubbing mothers." 

            Kenshin pursed his lips, feeling particularly moody, and not enjoying this particular brand of jest.  "I will have them cleaned up later."

            Sanosuke ran a hand up through his hair, unapologetic in the least.  Rather, he was already busy searching the ground for something in particular.  Shifting the cards unceremoniously with his foot, trying to uncover the letters below.  Kenshin watched with mild interest before he asked testily.  "Would you like to take them for further scrutiny?  Perhaps there is one with a particular smell you would like to keep?"

            "Not at all."  Sanosuke replied without looking up.  "In fact, I'd imagine you'd be rather sorry if I did."  With a satisfied muffle that sounded uncannily like 'A ha!' He stooped down and pulled a single paper off the ground.  With a knowing smile he looked up.  "It seems my dear friend that you have been invited to the English Debuts in London."  Kenshin obligingly, looked thoroughly unimpressed.  Every eligible man with a decent amount of money was invited. 

            "Anyway" Sanosuke continued, pressing the paper at Kenshin.  "I hear there's a big fish in the waters this year.  You know, a diamond among the diamonds.  I also hear that practically every eligible man in London, and many from Paris have already thrown themselves at her feet.  Mysteriously, their efforts seem to wane drastically after the first week.  They say not even the 'great rake' of Drakgon can win her over." 

            "Perhaps she has some unsightly disfigurement."

            Sanosuke shook his head.  "Nope, she is as pretty as they come.  Arguably, the most beautiful woman to have ever graced the London ballroom.  She's a Kamiya, very wealthy family— The Thousand Cranes estates are among the oldest and most prestigious."  Sobering somewhat from his normal tirade he added on a more serious note.  "You aren't getting any younger Kenshin—the Drakgon title needs an heir.  Your ancestors would have you shot and quartered, if they found out you left the castle and its accompanying wealth to the government to dispose of."

            Kenshin scowled, acknowledging reluctantly, the truth of Sanosuke's words.  He, Kenshin Himura had no qualms when it came to beautiful women willingly jumping into his bed.  However, it just so happened that he didn't particularly want any of them to stand besides him permanently.  If it was an heir he was missing, surely he might have impregnated someone at some point in time-- ladies sometime came to him claiming it was his child that they carried.  Unfortunately, after the child was born, it seemed to suspiciously not resemble Kenshin at all… in any case, he couldn't have a bastard for an heir. 

            "Alright.  I will go."  Kenshin decided.  It couldn't hurt to look at this woman, who – as Sanosuke put it, was more beautiful than any he had seen.  It certainly was quite a statement to make if nothing else.  On top of it, if no man could get her—it made her all the more desirable.  A trophy wife as beautiful as Helena of Greek myths— on top of which would greatly advance his already gargantuan bank account, would be the perfect wife.

            Sanosuke grinned.  "I knew the great rake couldn't resist such an offer."  Punching Kenshin's shoulder approvingly, he turned, heading towards Kenshin's limitless collection of rare wines.  "This calls for celebration."

Kenshin smirked good naturedly, grumbling just loud enough for Sanosuke's ears.  "You just want to drink my wine."

            The rhythmic pounding of Kenshin's horse drew up nearer to Selendrile of Drakgon, a charming castle situated in the lovely woods of England.  There was another, he could have gone to in the vicinity of this country.  Kenshin had such castles situated all over the best sites of Europe; most of them had exquisite vineyards that generated more income than he could spend in a hundred lifetimes.  Granted, none of them were as prestigious and grand as The Drakgon Chateau itself.  Few castles in Europe could hope to compete in age, and even fewer could match the French estate on which it stood in beauty or value—the Drakgon vineyard reaching nearly legendary heights. But out of the two he possessed in England, Selendrile was by far his favorite.

            Selendrile of Drakgon, used to be called Selendrile of Alys.  It was owned and run by the accomplished Lady Alys.  Certainly unconventional, despite its illustrious beauty, no one had wanted to purchase Selendrile because of its female owner and the history behind it.  Definitely male masochism in full blast, Lady Alys had refused to marry, using her wealth as leverage she had built a castle in the middle of the woods to escape her pursuers.  It is said that she later fell for some peasant—a slap in the face to her high status hopefuls.  She passed away leaving the castle to a female successor, but that female fell on hard times-- English families ever resentful, would not buy the castle from her.  Kenshin imagined that if Lady Alys knew what befell her beloved castle, now owned by some illustrious rake, she would most likely have turned in her grave.

             Reaching the marble arch of the doorway, a groom rushed out to take Kenshin's mount.  Kenshin nodded absently at the man and strode purposefully into his castle. The interior was bustling about, no doubt by the short notice of his arrival.  He had ridden in his carriage from Drakgon to the harbor, then steam boated rather uncomfortably- despite the rich room, from France to England.  What awaited him had been his customary mount, which he had ridden quickly to his castle.

            The instant his presence was announced, a streamline of servants rushed their way over and lined in order of importance; the males on his right, the females to his left.  In unison they bowed and Kenshin marched wordlessly through the human tunnel.  Head held high, his flaming red hair a banner behind him, he looked every bit the renowned Marquis that he was; rich – but cold. 

            The day of the English Debuts arrived with great dexterity.  The usual creeping of the time miraculously sped up with the whip of some unknown force.  Within the beautifully sculpted doorway, diamond chandeliers adorned the high-ended ceiling in classy elegance.  Below the glittering lights swayed dozens of young ladies, fresh peaches that had blossomed into their first steps of womanhood.  Young men fawned beside themselves over the lovelier ones, as soon as their tapered feet touched the cool floor. 

            Kenshin stood, legs crossed as he leaned against the wall besides the dark velvet curtains that hung in artful curves around him.  His uniquely colored hair stood out sharply against the backdrop of a full moon hanging belligerently in the night sky.  The image was becomingly picturesque, as hopeful ladies threw continued glances at the handsome Marquis. 

A rough pat landed soundly on Kenshin's shoulder and he nearly choked on his brandy.  Glancing to his left, he was met with the wide grin of none other than Sanosuke.

"Glad you could make it Himura."  Sanosuke quipped, simultaneously downing his drink and looking around at the colorfully curvaceous forms of the women. He whistled sharply below his breath, as pleased eyes caught particular beauties.  Kenshin followed his gaze, considerably less impressed.   His search was halted as a woman began to sashay her way towards him.  The warm light of the room highlighting the healthy sheen of her heavy tresses twisted artfully upon her head. 

            "How about a dance?" Cooed the sultry voice.

            "Why Ms. Takani, I'd love to dance with you," interrupted Sanosuke, extending his hand expectantly.  Startling jades flew from Kenshin to the tall man standing next to him.  Megumi Takani arched a shapely brow disdainfully at his gesture.  Looking down at Sanosuke's gloved hand she smiled contemptuously. 

            "I was referring to Lord Himura." 

            "And you got me, what a deal."  He grinned.

            "Indeed." 

            Kenshin watched with mild interest at the foreplay between the two, before he spoke— low baritones cutting through precisely. "Leave the lady alone Sagara."

            Sanosuke drew back his hand, smirking.  "Aw, Himura- I was merely trying to save you some time for a real lady."  Megumi tossed Sanosuke a dark look.  "Besides," he continued purposefully, nudging Kenshin, "you have to keep an eye out for that Kamiya girl." 

            "I'd like a dance with Lord Himura if you don't mind." Megumi emphasized cattily.  A smile that was armed to turn into a snarl if Sanosuke continued his antics.  Shrugging, Sanosuke wandered into the crowd, one arm raised in salute for his departure.

            Kenshin sighed inwardly, watching Sanosuke Sagara disappear.  Gold eyes shifted back to the curvaceous woman standing before him, her intentions made quite clear to him on numerous occasions before this one.  Megumi Takani was set on becoming the next Marchioness of Drakgon.  But then again, she was far from the only one with such aspirations.  Obligingly, Kenshin gave his renowned predatory smile and led Megumi towards the dance floor.  Megumi Takani, for her part, practically glowed with satisfaction at the faintly envious faces of her women rivals.

            Several turns of music had passed before Kenshin had become sufficiently bored of the ballroom scene.  A thousand layers of lace had passed before his eyes, so that the carefully detailed seams were starting to blur into one massive sheet of expensive color.  Eager females, or eager mothers of shy females, had their share of prodding—attempting to spear their sharpened harpoons into the fish that was Marquis of Drakgon.  Eventually Kenshin found himself strolling, like so many times before, alone in the vast gardens—far away from the commotion inside the ballroom. 

            Outside, the air was crisp and fresh, doing wonders to clear his head of the frivolous conversations from within.  A soft sigh passes through his lips as he looks up towards the night sky.  The heavens were brilliant, cascaded with sparkling gems that winked down at him.  Looking into the vast empty space, it seemed a sharp reminder of the biting loneliness that had plagued him night after night.  The terrible unhappiness that stemmed from a lack of direction.

            Kenshin closed his eyes and turned the corner, heading into the center of the rose garden.  A startled cry tore him out of his revere in the same instant he felt something crash into his chest. Gold eyes snap open just in time to see a mass of lace and silk tumble to the ground.  Crouching down concerned, he reached out a hand to the wisp of a girl gracefully crumpled on the floor. 

            "Are you alright miss?" 

            A pale face looked up, perfectly shaped.  Long lashes fluttering open to reveal large and glittering gems, as beautiful as the night sky.  Kenshin drew in a sharp breath, unconsciously tracing the high ends of her cheekbones; watching the moonlight play against her porcelain skin.  Dark shimmering tresses were carefully pinned, naively exposing a long and graceful neck. 

            The first word that came to Kenshin's mind was innocence.  The girl looked like a virgin goddess, sitting so still and graceful.  Her cheeks flushed becomingly as she allowed herself to be pulled up by him, the train of her dress flowing with her as she stood.  Was she the Kamiya girl?  He met her eyes again, watching as something colored the depths of her pools.  Was it …concern?

            "Is something wrong sir?" 

            "Of course not miss."  Kenshin quickly responded, smiling.  "Forgive me, I did not mean to stare."  Cocking his head playfully, he leaned in purposefully whispering.  "You're very beautiful."

            The woman smiled gently.  "So I've heard."  She remarked ambiguously, and drew away.  Kenshin arched an eyebrow. 

"What's a fine young lady like yourself doing alone inside these lovely gardens?"

"The same reason that a fine young man like yourself is." She mocked, smiling charmingly.  Kenshin smirked.  She had spunk.

            "This fine young man was hoping to invite a fine young lady to a stroll in the gardens."

            "Is that so?"

            "Certainly."  Kenshin offered her his arm.  "Consider it his sincerest apologies."

            The girl looked pensive as she trained her luscious lavender eyes upon his offered arm, before she laced her own slim hand boldly though he crook of his.  "Fine ladies never turn down an apology."  She decided.

            The gentle spraying mist, born from the thin pillar of water jutting towards the heavens, created a mystic aura around the rose gardens.  Blooming red petals, as deep as the color of blood dotted the fountain's surface.  Floating serenely within its watery embrace was the reflection of Kenshin and a beautiful young woman.  He watched her though the liquid's glassy surface, the broken image unmarring the peace present on the girl's face.  He closed his eyes as he tilted his face to the heavens; letting the heady fragrance of the flowers and the sweet taste of the waters, momentarily charm away his troubles.

            He opened his eyes once more looking out just as a scoopful of cold water attacked his handsome face.  Kenshin stared, spluttering indignantly, as the droplets dripped off his darkened red bangs, at the girl who stood away laughing merrily at him.  In his entire existence, no one had ever dared to throw water – or anything for that matter—at him.  He stood somewhat bewildered, and the girl simply laughed harder at his loss.  Tinkingly sounds of chiming bells dancing to the beat of the fountain.  She waved her hands, reining in her mirth as she grinned happily.

            "Never close your eyes around a woman."  She sniffed, throwing the arch of her nose daintily- if triumphantly-- into the air.  "It's rude." 

            Kenshin cocked his head to one side, smiling at her playfulness.  In that moment, as he watched her laugh, he realized that he had never seen anyone quite as lovely.  There was something about her, a magnetic aura that both attracted and demanded attention.  Just then, the sound of another's voice cut through the intimacy of their world.  Kenshin turned and rewarded the culprit with haughty annoyance.  The young man looked apologetic, but dutifully pressed on.

            "My lady, it is late.  Your carriage is waiting."

            The girl smiled and nodded.  "Thank you.  I'm coming." 

             Turning back to Kenshin, she grinned.  "I shall be leaving my lord, good night." 

             "Of course my lady."  He agreed.  "You may leave as soon as you have repaid your debts for throwing water at me."  A wicked grin crossed his face. 

              She arched an eyebrow.  "And pray tell what would you like from me?"

              He leaned in.  "I'll settle for your name."

              She smiled.

             "Kamiya of the Thousand Cranes."