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Author of 68 Stories |
Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, and I never will. Sorry. Please don't sue. No profit is being made off of this fic.
"Shinta"
(Himura village, 1858)
The small redheaded boy sat next to his father as the two of them took a break from hard-but-rewarding farm work. "Tousan?" asked the boy after sipping some cool water from a ceramic cup his mother had brought out to them.
"Yes, Shinta?"
"When I grow up, I want to be a samurai and protect people and stuff. Do you think I could do it?"
"Of course, Shinta," the man said, ruffling his son's hair. "You'd be good at it." He hadn't the heart to tell the boy that there was little chance of a farmer's son becoming anything so glamorous. It could wait until the boy was old enough to take it.
しんた
(Kyoto, 1863)
The assassin known as Hitokiri Battousai easily sliced through the night's routine target, leaving behind the trademark note labeled with the kanji for "Tenchuu." 'It is ironic, isn't it…' he thought to himself, chuckling darkly.
しんた
End "Shinta"
MS's notes