It would be said later of Jinei that he had been born crazy. That his killing and his laughing and his love of blood had been something that could never change. Never could have been changed, anyway, before he took his own life.
Everything Jinei loved had been bathed in red. Slowly rolled around in rust until it changed into something morbid, and beautiful. His mother had died in childbirth, his father many years later by the hand of a hitokiri. Death and death and death came around and around and around. Jinei appreciated death, because fear and love can become very close.
Jinei loved things he couldn't have. And he took what he couldn't have. The girl down the street, he had his way with her and then cut her to ribbons. He'd wanted that cat, so he'd killed it, the katana had been paid for with the salesman's life. And Okita Soushi's lips, tainted with some other kind of blood. The First Captain hadn't appreciated that so much. And Jinei had laughed.
So when Jinei saw the boy, the image of Okita ironed out and rolled over saguine he knew what he wanted. When the boy had stood there in blood and moonlight, Jinei had taken what he wanted. And the boy hadn't given, but hadn't prevented it from being taken. And they'd both laughed, the boy because he didn't know what else to do, and Jinei because of the boy.
They would say that Jinei was crazy.
But they'd also called Soujirou innocent.