A/N: Who knew where this came from and how it got into my head. I was bored and wrote this in my notebook. Though it may be shorter written on the computer...Anyways, I don't own Rurouni Kenshin. Peace.

100

By Blu Rose

He was old...God-damn it. He was very old. 100 years to be exact. He never thought he'd live this long. Nor did he think that his life wouldn't end violently--without a fight.

Himura Kenshin was staring up at the ceiling from his futon. Today was his 100th birthday. He was a century old. He thought about how many people from this counrty lived up to this age. The answer was "no one". They either died of disease, fighting, natural causes or something else.

Plus, what was there to look forward to at this age? Nothing but feeling tired most of time, limbs, bones and joints aching from the many years of use...being alone.

Kenshin sat up with some effort. A sharp pain shot through his spine. "Ah! Damn back..." His voice shook with age as he rubbed his aching back. He wondered how he could curse at this age when he barely did it so many decades ago in his youth. Old age, he guessed, was making him bitter.

And what wasn't there to be bitter about? Kaoru his wife and beloved, passed so many years ago. So had Sano and Megumi. Yahiko was now an old man with his own family. His children were all grown up. Kenji was living in Kyoto with his wife, Chizuru. Shinta was in--where was it, Europe. His daughter, Tomoe--who was now married--still lived in Tokyo. However, it was just too far for Kenshin these days.

He stood up slowly. His knees ached. He put his hand on his hip, which was broken since...well he forget when. But he knew it was broken. He slowly walked up to the mirror. The reflection of a silver haired man was replaced by a fifteen year old, amber eyed redhead.

"Oh no..." Kenshin sighed. He took the cane that was leaning against the mirror. He would need it if her were going to (literally) stand for this.

"Look at you," Battousai said in disgust. "You used to be the strongest swordsman in all Japan. People used to fear you."

"People still do."

Battousai glared at Kenshin. "My point is...you're no longer the sharp sword you were in your younger days. Now you're just a dull blade that's going to be thrown away soon and no one is going to care."

Kenshin glared at his reflection. When he opened his mouth to retort, he started to cough uncontrolably. He hunched over and tried to control it.

"Told you." Battousai said.

When he stopped coughing, Kenshin looked up at the mirror. Battousai was gone replaced by his current reflection. He slowly turned around and walked back to his futon. His "talk" with his darker side tired him out and made him lose his appetite.

As much as he hated to say this, Battousai was...right. As he slowly closed his eyes, he hoped that this time he would sleep without waking up.

A/N: I repeat: I have no idea where this story came from. All I know is that this is way shorter than it was in myjournal.I don't know is this is a oneshot or not. Should I continue or should I not continue? Just review and tell me what you think about this crappy piece of fanfiction. :P