From: Joy Hello people!! Presenting, a fic from a friend!!! I wish I wrote this, but.... You can sen comments to: lynch@surfshop.net.ph. or you can give it to me and I'll send it to him, kay?! ****************************** Disclaimer: The characters of Ruruoni Kenshin ain't mine, nor ever will be, no matter how much I wish it were so! LeeKing Works Proudly Presents: A Ruruoni's Promise By Kelvin "Lynch" Lee ******************************** He stands alone once again. Dead bodies all around him, with pools of blood everywhere. He flicks his reversed edge sword, flinging the crimson liquid on his blade away. His blade now clean, he sheathes the sword, following his time-honored training to the very end. He moves slowly, his fingers caressing the weapon lovingly, as if in a ritual, until the deadly instrument was finally sheathed. It was no longer a threat. For now. His weapon safe, his hand moves to his wound, his slender fingers lightly touching the long gash at the left side of his abdomen, gauging the damage. Lightning flashes, and rain falls. First as a light drizzle, before becoming a heavy downpour, wiping some of the blood away. The drops of water were stinging his wound, causing him to grimace, but he ignored it. The wound was unimportant. It existed on the realm of the physical. The pain was nothing. It did not exist. Death. Death was everything. He was drenched now, and so were the corpses. His hand moves away from the wound near his belly, and he retracts his hands into his sleeves. He was at rest now, in a state of ease, yet he still radiated readiness, like a spring ready to uncoil. His wet hair covered parts of his face. Stray strands of his crimson hair hid his eyes so that one could not see into this window to the soul. Noise. He could hear the resounding splashes of men running through the rain. He could feel the vibrations of their footsteps, the wet thuds, through the moist soil. He could also sense the presence, the aura of a fighter nearing the place. They were coming. And so he waits. In moments they were there, policemen in their soaked blue uniforms with rifles in hand, ready to deal with the threat. They took their positions quickly, forming a line and bringing their weapons to bear, aiming them at him. The whole time that they were positioning themselves, he didn't move, gave no sign of even acknowledging their existence. Some of the policemen in the firing line were kneeling while others remained standing. But one thing was the same among them though. They were all afraid, despite having their guns aimed at him. Some of those guns seemed to tremble, other seemed to falter, but were quickly brought back to bear. They were afraid, but none of them broke ranks. They were too well-trained for that. The rain continues to fall. The commander of the policemen moved forward. It was a familiar face, set as always in a grim manner, and the only one which showed a different emotion than those of his men. Their faces were full of indecision, of being unsure, of fear. His face showed indifference, and perhaps a twinge of.... regret? "It's over." The commander says. "Surrender now." He ignores him. He hears more footsteps rushing towards them. Some of the police glance behind them, then return to aiming their guns at him after seeing who was coming. He smiles a predatory smile after seeing the new arrival. It was her. She tries to run to him, but several police stop her. She struggles a bit, before shouting out his name in a voice laden with grief, begging him to give up, to forgive, to surrender, to live. The commander brushes back his wet, slick purple hair with his white-gloved hand and repeats his demand. "Surrender now." His smile thins, becomes a sneer. Then the smile disappears, his face carved from stone. His hands slowly goes up and touches the X-shaped scar on his cheek, before moving to his hair and brushing the stray strands away, baring his eyes, his soul. They were yellow, a bright burning yellow, devoid of love, devoid of care, of compassion. The eyes burned with doom, raged with murder. They were the eyes of a cold-blooded killer. His gaze brushes over them like the touch of death. Many of the police shiver. She gasps. He speaks in a light feminine voice which belies his true nature. "There is no turning back." The commander merely nods, the light of understanding in his eyes. His features soften for a moment as he gazes at her. But only a moment. He moves into his stance, knees bent, left hand grasping the scabbard, his right hovering near his sword, his torso twisting slightly, hiding the view of his sword from his opponents. His hair was once again obscuring his eyes. The wound was bothering him again, once again he ignores it. "I am Himura Kenshin, the Hitokiri Battousai of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu." The guns falter again. She tries once more, screaming at him, begging him to stop. The commander's eyes narrow and he signals to his men to lower their guns. Surprised, but obedient to the end, the guns are lowered. Some of them sigh in relief at this. The commander turns his head towards his men. "Do not interfere." He says as he moves forward. Hitokiri Battousai continued to wait. Adjusting his gloves the commander draws his sword with his left hand and drops to his own stance. Left knee bent, while his right leg was extended forward. His right arm was also extended, his right hand open and lightly touching the tip of his blade, while his left arm was clipped to his side, his left hand wielding the sword. It was his most feared technique. The Fang Thrust. "I am Saitoh Hajime, formerly of the Shinsenbu, now commander of the police forces in this area." The Hitokiri Battousai gave no indication of noticing him, except for a slight tightening of his facial muscles. The two duelists tensed, ready for battle, ready for death. One of them would not be walking away from this battle alive. Suddenly, the sounds of a horse's hooves pounding on the ground could be heard. The policemen turned to watch the new arrival. Hajime and Battousai ignored it, continuing to concentrate on each other. A moment's hesitation, a single mistake, even the slightest of missteps could mean death for either of them. Some of the policemen salute the arriving figure on horseback. The said figure was dressed in the same blue garb, except that he had more pips on the sides of his uniform, indicating a high rank in the police force. "STOP!" He shouts, while indicating to the men to aim their rifles at Battousai. There is a moment of hesitation on the part of the policemen before all of them recognize the chief of police, the only other person who outranked their commander. The guns were brought to bear again quickly. Aimed once more at Battousai. "Eh?" Hajime manages to blurt out as he glanced behind him. He was directly in the line of sight of the guns. The chief gets off his horse, his arm waving to the side, telling the commander to get out of the way. "AIM!" Hitokiri Battousai does the only thing he could do now. He charges. The commander acts instinctively at the sudden movement and jumps to the side, landing and rolling away form the line of fire. "FIRE!" Orders the Chief. The sound of gunshots ring through the air, followed by the sound of a body falling to the ground with a wet splash. There is a moment of silence at the sudden turn of events, save for the pitter-patter of raindrops falling to the earth. A woman's pain-filled scream shatters the silence. And Kaoru awakes from her nightmare. With a start she scrambles off her futon, only to have her legs fail her, depositing her roughly on the floor. She lands with a heavy thud, hitting her head on the hard wooden surface. Blood starts to seep from a cut on her forehead, flowing down her face. But the pain is not foremost on her mind. Something else, someone else, is. "Kenshin!!!" She screams. "KENSHIN!!!" There is the sound of running footsteps, of footsteps coming closer, ever closer. The door to Kaoru's room slides open, and a red headed man with an X-shaped scar on his cheek enters. He goes to Kaoru and helps her up, putting her in a sitting position, concern etched on his face. "Are you alright?" He asks. Kaoru doesn't answer, instead she just grabs on to him, her face in his chest, her hands gripping his shirt tightly, desperately, as if refusing to let go. She sobs into his chest, trembling all the while, her blood and tears soaking his chest. He is surprised at this, and for a moment he freezes, before his hands slowly goes around her, and he hugs her to him, trying to offer comfort. It is then that he notices the blood. He gazes at the blood on the floor, transfixed. Kaoru keeps sobbing into his chest, not noticing his look. His face hardens, his stare unwavering, unrelenting. His eyes glaze over, all he could see and smell was the blood. The crimson, ruby red blood. He starts to shiver, to tremble along with Kaoru, as he gazes at the blood. His muscles tense, the veins on his forehead start to bulge as his hands clench, forming fists while his mouth twists into a snarl as his eyes begin to shine with a golden glow ..... "Promise me....," murmurs Kaoru, "Promise me you'll never leave me." He is snapped away from what was happening to him. Breathing heavily, his chest heaving rhythmically, he tries to regain his breath and his senses. It takes him a few moments to do so. Seeing where he was, and who he was hugging, his face softens, as his eyes close. When he opens them, the golden glow has faded away into nothingness. He hugs her carefully, his hands no longer clenched into fists. He slowly begins to lovingly stroke her hair. He starts to rock her gently, cradling her, comforting her. The moonlight shines down on them, two figures finding solace within the darkness. They stay that way for a long time. Time passes and Kaoru eventually falls asleep in his arms. He continues to just sit there, a beautiful young woman asleep in his arms. He ignores the blood and tears staining his clothes. They weren' t important, the wound was only light and could be taken care of tomorrow, sleep and comfort was more important for her now. But the blood.... the smell of it, the sight of it, he could almost taste it. The tantalizing call of the blood, of pain and death beckoning to him. He fought it off, shaking his head violently. The woman in his arms moves about a bit, disturbed by his shaking. He gazes at her, at her sleeping form. And he speaks. And it was Himura Kenshin who spoke, not Ruruoni Kenshin, nor Hitokiri Battousai. "I promise Kaoru." He said. "I promise." End ******** Vocabulary: Here are some Japanese vocabulary words translated into English which are consistently used in the Japanese form in the fic, so as to avoid any confusion for the people who watch and know only "Samurai X"(which is actually Ruruoni Kenshin in English) version that has been running around on Asian HBO. Ruruoni- wanderer, or vagabond Hitokiri-Slasher Shinsenbu- the Shinsen group, Saitoh's old unit, remember? Kaoru- it's Kaoru, not Kory!!!! Yahiko- he didn't appear in this fic, but he is Yahiko and not Yoshi!!!! Kenshin- there's an N at the last part of his name, it's not Kenshi like in Samurai X, but Kenshin. As in Ruruoni Kenshin. Got it, boys and girls? Author's notes: Ok, I know that blood isn't the way Hitokiri Battousai is "released" in the anime. Just bear with me ok? It was the only thing I could think of! Besides, the last few parts weren't even supposed to be there! I added in the part about it being a dream after my pre-readers suggested some changes, since the fic was so darn depressing. Ah well. Hope you liked it. And just for the record, yes, I did write this during my classes. It was kind of hard trying to write a fic and "pay attention" to class at the same time. ^_^ C and C please, just send to lynch@surfshop.net.ph. Oh and thanks to the people on the ffml, including Utsukushii Ansatsusha, Erin Ellis and our own prereaders Lord Talon and Jolfre. 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