My first fanfiction. Hope you all like.
Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin.
So much blood. Splattered against buildings, splashed over bodies, running thick on the ground. It was everywhere, covering everything, even his face.
The sounds were almost as bad as the blood. Dying men gave their last gasps, while their wives dashed outside of their homes only to start shrieking and wailing as they saw their husbands lying in their own blood. Little children stared in shock, then started screaming. Their screams burned through his ears and seared right through his brain.
But the blood was by far the worst thing of it all. It was the essence of death. It covered him from head to toe, warm and sticky. It gushed out of the dead men, spreading into thick puddles. He hated it, loathed it, even more than the angry, stunned, heartbroken looks that the broken families gave him. Cries of "Murderer!" and a simple "Why?!" followed him as he slowly turned around, and walked into the shadows of the night, disappearing the way that he had come.
He walked into the busy town of Tokyo, drawing curious looks from everyone he passed. It was very rare to see someone carrying swords, now that it was the Meiji era. Obviously, he was a stranger, someone who hadn't been around for a long time.
He was of an average height, but was slim, with long silver hair pulled up into a high ponytail. The right half of his face was covered by silver locks, and the curious observers could see that his eyes were covered by a black strip of cloth. This made the stranger even more peculiar - who ever heard of a blind swordsman?
He wore a black, loose jacket open over a white gi and hakamas, and used a solid, wooden walking stick to help guide his way. But the two swords at his waist drew most of the attention. On his left hip, was a full-length Japanese sword, but at his right hip was a kodachi. Again, the people wondered, what use were these swords to a blind man?
The stranger was aware of all the stares he was drawing, yet he paid it no heed. Let the people stare, if they wished. Let them whisper. After all, it all amounted to nothing. . .
"Hey mister!" The shout startled him, being so loud. And it was rather close, too. He stopped, and listened. Hurried footsteps approached from behind, slightly awkward and heavy. An middle-aged man, a merchant probably, by the faint jingling of loose coins and the lilting quality to the voice that one usually associated with salesmen.
The footsteps stopped before him, and the stranger sensed a slight lull in the racket of the town around him. Everybody had stopped what they were doing, and watched him, eager to learn something about the newcomer to their town.
"Don't you know that you're forbidden to carry swords now? It's the Meiji era, and it's been peaceful for the past ten years. There's no need for swords now..."
But the stranger did not hear the last part, as he was walking through the crowds once again. He ignored the angry shouts of the merchant, as he was lost in his own thoughts.
Forbidden to carry swords, huh? I suppose it does seem peaceful... Even so. This new era is still not stable. These times are still troubled...
"You think you're so tough, do you? Well, take a piece of th - yaaahhh!" The angry shout of a young boy broke through the stranger's thoughts, and he paused, turning his head in the direction of the noise. There were several muffled shouts and quite a few thuds, yet none of the passerby seemed to take any notice of the commotion.
"Ah, poor brat," a different voice sneered, "Guess your toy sword won't do much against a real sword, huh? Oh well, I think I'll play with you anyway."
A strangled cry was the only reply. Even from this distance, the stranger could hear the whisper of a sword being drawn from its sheath. He stopped, concentrating on the sounds he heard. Drowning out the clutter of the busy town, he focused on the panicked, heavy breathing of a young boy, and the cruel chuckles from two - no, three men. A fourth shifted his weight, just behind the boy. There was a faint rustle of clothing as one raised a naked sword high, over the fallen boy.
The stranger gripped his wooden staff tightly, and moved so quickly, he seemed to simply disappear.
Taro grinned cruelly as he stared down at the sprawled form of the pitiful, little boy. This little brat was all loud bark, and no bite. Well, he had given Kisuke a good bruise on the head, where he had smacked him with his bokken. But even so, the brat was just a brat, and it would give Taro great pleasure to stain the ground with the boy's blood.
He slipped his sword from it's sheath, and raised it over his head with both hands. "Where should I cut him? The neck? The legs? Or maybe...right in half?" His three friends startled to chuckle, anticipating the final blow, their faces twisted into ugly grins.
"Hmmm, I know! How about I remove the arms first? That way, he won't be able to play with his toy swords!" On the ground, the boy gritted his teeth, trembling in anger. He was so weak! Too weak to defend himself. He groaned, and waited, trembling, for the slice of the sword.
Taro's smile widened slightly, and he brought down his blade. It hit with a faint thunk, the impact jarring his arm. But Taro stared with wide eyes. His sword had hit, but it hadn't struck the intended target. Instead, it was sunk deeply into a thick, wooden staff.
Slowly, Taro lifted his eyes, and gaped at the strange man who held the staff. The man had long silver hair tied back, and it covered half his face. He also had two swords tucked into his sash. But Taro smirked when he saw the black bandage around the man's eyes.
"Heh. You must be a pretty stupid guy to step in like that."
The silver-haired stranger took a step back, and lowered the staff so that it's end rested on the ground beside him. His expression was emotionless, but his voice was soft.
"Please. Leave this boy alone."
Taro stared at the stranger incredulously. This guy must be out of his mind! There was no way a blind guy could face the four of them and still live. Taro snorted, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.
"You got a death wish or something? Because, you're standing in my way. Why don't you just go sit in a corner or something, and let us have our fun." Taro's three friends snickered, as their leader took a step toward the boy, who was now sitting up and staring at the stranger with wide eyes.
But the stranger moved between the boy and Taro, and stood silently. Taro's eyes narrowed in anger. "Get out of the way!"
"I will not let you harm this boy," the stranger said in his soft voice, "He is only a child, and it would be pointless for you to slay him."
Taro spat on the ground before raising his sword high. "You won't move? Fine. I'll kill you, too." He narrowed his eyes, and tensed, preparing for the downward strike. But before he could even move, the silver-haired man suddenly disappeared from view.
"Wha-?" Taro didn't even have time to blink before a terrific force slammed into him -the end of a wooden staff smashing upwards into his jaw - and instantly knocked him unconscious. His three companions likewise jerked as an unseen force hit them, and collapsed to the ground. The silver-haired stranger then appeared right in front of the boy, who was even more wide-eyed than before.
"Are you all right?"
The boy's shocked expression turned to a scowl, and he refused the helping hand that the stranger offered him. He struggled to his feet, his expression full of self-disgust.
"I can't believe it," he muttered to himself. "I needed help from a blind guy with a big stick."
The stranger smiled softly at that. "You shouldn't be so ashamed of that," he said. "Everyone needs help every now and then. Even I do."
The boy snorted as he searched for his bokken. He found it near one of the unconscious men, picked it up, and slipped it around his shoulders. "Of course you would need help, Mister. You're -"
"Yahiko!" An unfamiliar voice cut through the air, and the silver-haired stranger turned toward the voice, and the rapidly approaching footsteps. Two people were approaching, the one in front was smaller, and moved lightly on his feet, while the other was obviously taller, with heavier footsteps.
"Kenshin!" The boy exclaimed. "Sanosuke!"
"Are you all right, Yahiko?" The same voice asked, the footsteps coming to a stop near the boy. "When you took a little longer to return, I figured you had gotten yourself in trouble."
"Like usual," a second voice drily said. "Hey, Yahiko, who's the gray-haired guy?"
"Eh," Yahiko rubbed his head, a little embarrassed. He didn't want to admit that a blind man had to help him out against four simple thugs. "He's just came along and-"
"Heh," Sanosuke snorted. "I knew it. You got your butt kicked by these guys, and had to be saved by this weird guy. Ha!"
"Sanosuke!" Yahiko shouted, his tone angry. Yet the stranger could tell that the boy really wasn't all that upset. He smiled softly to himself as he listened to the two engage in a shouting match.
"Thank-you," the first voice said, and the stranger turned his head toward the shorter man. "Yahiko is a strong boy, but he still gets himself into trouble. I am grateful for you helping him out, that I am."
"It was no trouble," the stranger bowed his head. "May I ask who you are?"
"I am Himura Kenshin."
Himura Kenshin...! The stranger would've blinked if he'd been able to. But he merely turned his head in the direction of the other newcomer.
"Sagara Sanosuke," the man stated proudly, a cocky grin most likely on his face. "And you, gray-hair?"
The stranger smiled. "I am Kurosa Takeo."
I think its called a gi...
A/N: There's the first chapter! I know it's a little boring, but it serves to introduce my original character, who will be the main character of this story. I promise it'll pick up...anyways, thanks for reading!