Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or any of it's characters, OK?!?!?!
Hey everyone, here is DarkRaikoh with the newest chapter in his story. Thank you to those few who reviewed. I enjoyed them greatly. So, moving along with things this next chapter introduces three more of the main characters we've come to know and love. You'll notice there's a slight difference in how the character's Yahiko and Sanosuke meet…Well…I don't want to be too close to the manga right? Well, please, I'd love if the reviews kept coming and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Now…for those who may comment on small grammer issues…I do this for fun, I don't want to focus all my attention on a letter or a single freakin' comma, so please keep that in mind as well.
Kamiya Kaoru was a young woman with a lot of drive. Sure, she was intelligent and very pretty to gaze upon, but her sheer willpower is what separated her from many other women. Upon first glance, one couldn't imagine that a girl with long, raven black hair, a cute face and small stature would be running a local dojo. To be precise, the unsuccessful Kamiya Kashin Ryu Style dojo. Her style promoted swords that bring life and protect others as oppose to killing enemies or anyone for that matter. Kaoru followed the beliefs and values of her now dead father, unfortunately this didn't seem to improve the popularity of the dojo. All of her misfortune was connected to one-man…well, more of a legend.
"Hitokiri Battosai…" Kaoru's blue eye's seemed distant when the name escaped her lips. Battosai was the thousand-man slayer of the Bakumatsu. He was a man claimed to have skill that was unmatched by any soldier that served in the revolution. As his title stated, he brutally massacred one thousand men! Whatever happened to him after the revolution is a mystery to everyone, in fact most believe he never truly existed. Others say he's out there still, killing those last few soldiers that lost their way once the era of Meiji started. Kaoru's father is one of those people that believed in his presence, he claimed to have witnessed Battosai's awesome skill. What does any of this have to do with the Kamiya Kashin style? Recently there have been many reports of a giant of a man running around town attacking people at random. The psychopath calls himself the legendary "hitokiri battosai" and the worst part is he attacks using the Kamiya Kashin Style.
"CURSE YOU BATTOSAI!" Kaoru's hand curled into a tight fist sending it flying towards a nearby wall. You see, nobody wants to learn a sword style that is practiced by a mass murderer; this influenced the majority of the Kamiya Kashin students to quit and steer clear of the dojo. The sudden pain that enflamed Kaoru's fist broke her train of thought. She pulled her hand back and began to blow on her knuckles in a frenzy. She eventually shook off the pain and walked over to what appeared to be a rack for weapons. Reaching her right hand out she grasped a wooden sword known as a shinai and immediately went into the fighting stance of a trained swordsman. The young dojo leader began to make vertical strikes over and over again while talking to herself out loud.
"I will find you Battosai…and when I do I will bring honour back to the Kamiya Kashin School. I will make my father smile upon me from above! I swear it!" After fifty or so constant strikes Kaoru's tense shoulders slumped down into a relaxed state and she lowered her shinai. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the front doors of the dojo slowly slide open. Three young men quickly slipped in and fell to their knees before Kaoru. Their heads were down with their eyes glued to the floor as if they had done some horrible crime.
"Ginou? Haji? Aitou? What's going on? Your lesson isn't for at least another hour. I haven't had time to pre-"
"We're sorry Kaoru-Dono, but we can't continue your lessons. Our friends are giving us a hard time; they say we're studying the sword style of a murderer. My mother forbids me to continue coming to this dojo." Ginou was the one to speak up; he had great potential, but failed to stand up to others. Kaoru's eyes widened in disbelief at what she was hearing.
"WHAT?! NO! You three are the last students I have! You're the only business I'm getting! Can you truly give up on all the training and improvement you've gone through?! Well?!"
"It's not as simple as it sounds Kaoru-Dono…" began the smaller one Aitou, "If we continue to take lessons, no one will respect us. We will be no better liked than the average politician. We're very sorry…" Aitou's gray eyes were windows into his worried soul. All three students were afraid. Kaoru did nothing but give a great big sigh.
"Very well, your lives are your responsibilities…Just leave the dojo grounds, now…" Kaoru's eyes were shut tight, her lip was pressed into a very thin line; it was the face of one trying to remain strong under terrible circumstances. Nevertheless, she could hear the scurrying footsteps of her former students vacating the premises.
"Damn you Battosai… Damn you…"
"Now fellas', I don't mean to brag," began the disappointed voice of one Sagara Sanosuke "but we've only gone into 2 minutes of this fight and you boys are having troubles catching your breaths." He was right; his five opponents were all slouched over breathing heavily and panting. All of them seemed to be well built and made for brawling, but Sanosuke or "Zanza" as they called him in the Tokyo underworld was the one that stuck out the most. He was quite a tall man who had a body that seemed to be carved out of stone. His dark brown hair stuck straight up making him look sort of like a rooster with a red bandana tied around his head. He wore a white over shirt with a funny Japanese character on the back that meant "evil". However, most of all Sanosuke had a proud look to him and let's not forget the toughness.
"Zanza!" began one of the exhausted men, "We will wipe the floor with that smug face of yours!"
"You talk big words… Why don't you show me with your fists? Or do I hear a little bit of uncertainty in your voice?" Sanosuke's sly remark succeeded in invoking anger in his opponents.
"YOU'LL GET YOUR MONEY'S WORTH ZANZA!" The leader of the group, a grungy looking man with a thick scruffy beard charged towards the calm Sanosuke winding his fist up to collide with the big mouth's face. As the punch flew forwards Sanosuke raised his left hand grabbing the fist stopping the man dead in his tracks. Sano was now in control, slowly applying pressure to the man's closed hand. The slightest cracking noises could be heard as scruffy beard cried out in agony.
"You call this my money's worth?" The extraordinary "Zanza" let go of the man's hand and followed through with a punch of his own that collided with his jaw. There was a crack and scruffy beard flew backwards with a loud thud as he hit the hard ground. Hesitantly, the remaining four made their way towards Sano in a diamond pattern. The ringleader at the front, one behind him on each side, and the last exactly parallel behind him. The leader attacked first winding up for a punch like his predecessor. Sanosuke simply swatted his arm to the side and followed through with a clean knee to the man's stomach. As the ringleader went down, the two at each of his sides instinctively leaped at Sano but soon dropped as he brought his hands up and cracked their skulls together. The final attacker sprung upwards.
"THIS WILL BE THE FINISHING MOVE ZANZA!!!" The attacker stretched out his leg preparing for a powerful kick. Sano showed no sign of worry grabbing the man's foot with one hand and a flailing arm with the other; he then simply used the attackers momentum to his advantage and threw him across the room smacking into a nearby wall, unconscious.
"Well…that was pathetic… The opponents these days just don't have the "umph" anymore."
Sanosuke had picked up his money and left the dilapidated building where he and the five other men had fought, if you could call it a fight. Sano was definitely a sight to see, he stood taller than most in crowds and he almost always seemed to be chewing on an old fish bone with the tail jutting out of his mouth. His massive hands rested in his pockets as he made his way through the market area not paying much attention to the people who surrounded him. Lately, many of the local gossipers were talking about the legendary manslayer Battosai.
"Battosai, now that's a man I'd like to tear a new mouth for…" He suddenly felt something bump into his side followed by a small thud. Looking straight down he found a boy who looked no older than 12. This boy looked rather poor, had jet-black scraggly hair and the face of a little punk.
"Sorry mister…" said the boy with a little bit of attitude in his voice. He darted away before Sano could reply and disappeared within the crowd.
"Who the-HEY!" Sanosuke reached into his lower shirt pocked and realized his wallet was gone! The boy was obviously a pickpocket.
"WHERE'D THAT RUNT GO? I'LL GIVE HIM A REASON TO RUN!" Sanosuke put his powerful legs to use and dashed through the flood of people hoping his height advantage would help him find the little thief.
Myojin Yahiko ran as fast has his small legs could carry him. He was lucky that he was small making it easier to weave though the maze of people. In his hand he held a beaten old brown wallet that he clutched tightly. The man he had taken it from was quite big, but as they say, the bigger they are the harder they fall. Yahiko thought he could begin to hear the calls of the man he had just picked the pocked of, so with some quick thinking and marvelous fortune he found a small bridge in which he could hide under. He bounded down the hill that led under the bridge but soon tripped and rolled down the rest of the way.
"Ugh, nice work Yahiko… Oh well…" A childish smile spread across his face as he held the wallet in both hands and slowly opened it up. Yahiko beheld the wallets great contents of…NOTHING!
"THE STUPID OAF WAS BROKE! DAMMIT! How can I return to the guys now?" Yahiko was nervous. He was to return to his shelter with nothing to offer the others. He would be in deep trouble when he had to confront the guys. Yahiko thought this the whole way home, or what he had come to know as home. He had reached a rundown building that was surprisingly lavished on the inside. Two large men with their arms crossed in a stern stance nodded at him. Yahiko returned the greeting but muttered under his breath.
"Stupid oxen have no necks and no brains…" He could overhear a conversation going on between a few greasy crooks.
"So Hebi? Who would you say is the greatest fighter known to date?"
"That Zanza is said to be one hellion with his fists."
"My bets are he wouldn't last four seconds against the Battosai"
"OH C'MON CHINSA! Don't tell me you believe that soldier rubbish! The Slayer of a thousand men? I'm sure…"
"Battosai eh?" Thought Yahiko, "Wouldn't last a lick against my father…" Yahiko's thoughts came to a hault as he came in front of the man he knew as his master.
"Well Yahiko-Chan, what have you to bring to the Yakuza?"