The usual disclaimer: I do not own anything in the kenshin universe, as much as I'd like too. But sadly do not. So all credit goes to Nobuhiro Watsuki.
Smile, nod, wave. Smile, nod, wave. I do as I am told. Always listening to the man
In front of the procession. I want to please him. I honor his wishes
He has made me feel useful. Not just endless training day, after day.
I need to help those like me, the ones who do not have the pleasure of riches and
privileges. I eagerly do as he commands.
One day he takes me aside and asks me a rather startling question. "Kenshin I need
you to become a protector. I look at his calm face. "I need your sword to be my arm of
"I need you to kill, can you do that?"
I nod, mildly shocked. I am glad he has asked me personally to do this thing. The
one thing master warned me about.
There is a lump of sadness lodged in my throat, remembering how mad he had been
the day I left. He turned his back to me, saying it was pointless to talk to a howling dog.
How that rejection still stings.
Sometimes I wonder if I should have stayed. Master would have been happy, but I
would not. I guess in some strange way I feel better that we are both miserable.
I have no trouble killing. The path of the sword is the path of death. The sword is a
tool that I use, making me an extension of the tool. So I am also a tool. An unfeeling,
My problem is I do feel, down in the deepest pits of my soul. A little red headed boy
is looking back at me with tears staining his delicate face.
I maintain my control of him. He dare not escape. That is the old me. I am no longer
that miserable child. I have a purpose. I am a tool used to kill, nothing more then cold,
With each death I become swifter, a blur before death. My soul hardening stronger.
I must become harder then steel.
The child in the pit cries harder with each death. I shove him further down. That
child, I need to keep him safe. He just does not understand. I have kept him hidden
since I was sold to the slavers. It seems my life was meant to be a tool of some kind.
I surround him in softness, but still he cries. I can no longer sleep because of the
crying, from inside and outside. Ah well! a tool does not need things like sleep.
Each passing year I grow stronger, harder, the child becoming a memory. He makes
no sounds, at least I do not hear him. I get a little peek once in awhile, but close him
There is one point that he is able to sneak out. I have been told to hide until further
notice. They send the woman that I saved to act as my wife.
It is otherworldly how calm my life has become. The child escapes and is pleased
with way things are going. I need to keep a watchful eye on him. The world still has
Is this the way I could have been? Happy, content, falling in love? I still do not let
my guard down all the way but allow my gentle side to prevail. We can relax. Shinta and
I come close to being one person.
Again I feel the sting of rejection and this time betrayal is mixed in.
The child is in agony. I must lock him away to protect him.
Do I kill her or do I forgive her and find happiness once again?
I walk like death. I am numb, hard steel fills me up.
I am moving on impulse alone.
I hear her cries over the clash of metal.
I feel her weight as she falls against me, dying.
I have unwittingly killed my love, my soul shatters.
I accept the touch of her blade on my face. It is all I can do for her. One small kiss
I take her now lifeless body home, clean and dress her. Ready for the death ritual.
I want to die also. She would not like for me to do that, so I do not.
The boy and I are both in tears.
How can anything mend such a broken soul?
I have been asked to return to war. I agree, but to my terms alone.
Only I will know when that time is. Or is it Shinta who will know?
I find that I am walking in a strangely quiet world. The cries of steel are a distant
The boy and I try to come to some agreement. I have so much to make up for.
Each night the spirits of the dead haunt me. I must do what I can to help others. My
atonement will not be easy.
I have a long debate with myself about returning to my master. I do not think it
would go well, so I do not travel that road.
There is so much I can and need to do to begin to mend our soul.
We have agreed I will protect and he will cherish. Each suited for this task.
He hides in the face of danger, and in return I let him play
He is still so child like. His presence is like the brush of a butterfly's wing. Taking
in all the wonders of the world.
We are becoming a part of each other.
Wide eyed Shinta and I, the former demon of Kyoto.