His newest assignment.
The proud owner of a recently built gentleman’s club called Slicker’s Web; a place where the gentlemen of Tokyo now go to relieve themselves of tension.
Those clubs made him sick.
He disliked entering such places, loathed the fact that he was doing it because of an order given to him. He was not a man who enjoyed the clubs offered to men. The pleasures of flesh, they called it. Mainly desperate men visited the clubs for they could find no pleasure elsewhere. It churned his stomach in such a way that if he continued to think on it, he might vomit. He supposed he had good reason to detest the gentlemen clubs. After all, because of such a place, his life had been ruined in only one night.
The night of his parents’ large dispute.
A dispute of unfaithfulness that swiftly led to despair, heartache, and finally hatred.
A raw hatred burned within his heart whenever he recalled those many years ago, when his father had not only lied about his whereabouts, but had been out carousing with other women despite the wedding band he wore around his finger.
Unfaithful bastard.
He had ripped his mother’s heart directly from her chest, leaving her hollow inside. And, he had enjoyed every minute of it. He would never forget the drunken smile his father wore when his mother had found him standing in the club, awaiting his turn to be doused with pleasure.
Fucked-up.
He was nothing but a fucked-up son-of-a-bitch who deserved the fate bestowed upon him. If only he were still alive…he most likely would have killed him with his bare hands himself. It wouldn’t take much to end the life of such a pathetic, weak excuse of a man.
Tonight, there would be another killing. Tonight, another corrupted soul would join Satan in the darkest bowels of hell. Tonight, he would rejoice in the fact that he had slain a man who owned a gentleman’s club.
Fuck his father.
Fuck his past.
There was only the present; here, now.
And he would make the most of it…
…By allowing the streets to flow with blood…
Late Sunday Evening
September 13th, 2005
“Can I help you, Sir?”
Intriguing, navy blue eyes rose to meet the slits of tawny staring unsmiling down at her. Her lips painted a dark, crimson red, the scantily clad woman planted a fist to her hip gently, silently suggesting that she could be the one to help him. A burgundy brow arched dispassionately as the narrowed tawny of his gaze flickered briefly with annoyance.
“Are you, perchance, looking for someone, dear?” The woman murmured softly as she wound a finger slowly around the right strap of her revealing, scarlet blouse and peeled the strap away from her shoulder, a smile of enticement forming upon her puckered, crimson-red lips.
“Now that I think about it…” Battousai’s aloofness in the way he observed the whore through misplaced, burgundy strands of hair one would call his bangs rendered the woman speechless. Her navy blue eyes widened in surprise when the red-haired man moved toward her, his unusual-colored eyes gleaming within the faint light radiating from the lamps hanging from the ceilings.
“I have come to speak to Mr. Menou.”
“Mr. Menou?” Incredulously, she stared into the glittering, dark depths of the red head’s eyes, intrigued by their bizarre color and the emotions they could bestow upon a woman’s heart should he bless a woman with positive emotions. “What do you need with Mr. Menou? He is a very busy man, Mr…?”
His pursed lips lifted slightly as the woman leaned casually forward, her blouse gaping invitingly open. Ignoring the woman’s soft query, Battousai said, “It is rather urgent. He is expecting me.”
“But, honey,” the whore protested quietly as she placed a hand flat against Battousai’s chest, smiling in delightful pleasure when the constricting of hard, toned muscles flexed beneath her slender fingers. “Wouldn’t you prefer to spend time with a woman now? You could visit Mr. Menou when we finish our…nearly arranged appointment. What do you say? A man of your physique should enjoy the pleasure a real woman could give you.”
“A real woman, you say?” Tilting his burgundy head to the side slightly as he studied the ivory complexion the woman donned, knowing fully well that a professional artist had painted the color to perfection, Battousai frowned. She was a rather overly done whore, and she was most likely used every night; however, her navy blue eyes held his attention the longest.
They were rather unique, yet, they dulled in comparison to the angrily flashing indigo blue gaze he was used to facing.
Blinking rapidly in confusion, Battousai raked a hand through the long, thick strands of his burgundy hair, brushing a few stray tendrils away from his narrowed, golden hues. Strangely, Kamiya’s image danced within his head, refusing to leave him alone even when he begged it to. He was confused as to the reason why he should be thinking about her at a time like this. He had an assignment to complete, an assignment that deserved all of his attention.
A scowl marred the calm exterior he was usually graced with, the furrowing of his brows the only indication of his confusion.
“Take me to your boss.” His timbre portentously soft, providing a hiding place for the fury thrumming through his tensed body, Battousai wrapped his strong, calloused fingers tightly around the woman’s slender wrist and wrenched her hand from his chest, where her fingers had begun to clutch the silk material of his black shirt in a firm grasp.
The whore’s navy blue eyes widened with alarm when she was forcibly pulled along the hallway, passing the various bedrooms paying customers were led into if their prices were right. Stumbling, the woman landed roughly on her knees, shocked to find her arm free of this formidable man’s grasp.
Panting heavily into the tensed atmosphere enveloping the entire building, she swallowed nervously around the hard, growing lump within her throat. “T—there,” she stammered, pointing an unsteady finger at the large, oak door opposite her. The intense tawny of Battousai’s gaze fastened on the door the woman had pointed out, his features hardening with unmistakable rage.
It was time to complete another assignment.
He would make sure he finished this particular one quickly.
Without glancing down at the whore kneeling at his feet, he commanded in a tight, harsh tone, “Go.”
She went.
As soon as the sound of her irregular breathing and her whimpers were heard no more, Battousai stepped forward, his fingers clenching tightly into twin fists of fury. He paid the flickering lamps above his head and the high-pitched giggles and guffaws’ sliding through the cracks of the bedroom doors no mind as he neared the door that would lead him to his unfinished assignment, prepared to spring into action the moment he entered Menou Maru’s office
He loathed this place.
He loathed the man who owned it.
He would make Menou pay for financing in a club that would only bring him pain, memories of despair that filled his mind every time he thought of his parents and what such a place like this one could do to a person’s life.
Raising the heel of his heavy, black boot, Battousai kicked the door off its hinges and watched as it landed on the floor at his feet, his ears ringing from the harsh sound reverberating off the walls of the office from where oak wood met the thick, beige carpet swathing the unusual floor made of metal.
Gleaming, golden eyes rose to meet the calm, sienna of Menou Maru’s gaze.
“Menou Maru,” Battousai uttered in a gruff, steady voice.
Maru arched a blonde brow questioningly at the red-haired man who had invaded his privacy, his gaze lingering on the long sword barely hidden beneath the bulk of his black trench coat. This man was here for one purpose only. He obviously had business to attend to.
And he was the one this particular business centered around. It was evident in the way this formidable enemy regarded him.
“I have come for your life.”
“Father, what am I to do? I still have your key with me, but soon, I—I might have to give it up,” a soft whisper caressed the calm, peaceful aura encircling the spare bedroom Kaoru had claimed for herself, the slender, steady fingers of one hand clasping the fingers of the other firmly. Kaoru bowed her ebony head as her indigo-blue eyes slowly drifted closed, silently praying for the courage she would most certainly need in the days to come.
The creak of a floorboard brought Kaoru’s wide, attentive eyes swiveling towards the bedroom door, the rosy hues of her gently pursed lips parting in alarm. She wasn’t counting on Himura returning so soon, but it seemed his swift appearance could not be avoided, as much as she would have liked it to be.
Quite frankly, Kaoru wanted to be left alone for the time being. She was exhausted to the point of crawling underneath the cozy quilts and never leaving their warmth. Perhaps tomorrow she would be up to Himura’s indifference. Tonight, however, she could do without his cold, gleaming eyes boring deeply into what was left of her feisty soul.
The floorboards groaned in protest under the weight treading carefully across them.
Kaoru’s spine stiffened. Someone was definitely in the cabin. She would rather Himura be gone, but if she had a choice between the assassin and a stranger, especially a man, she would choose the assassin any day.
Waiting expectantly for the intruder to find her sitting alone in the bedroom, Kaoru moved away from the futon, pressing her back against the hard surface of the wall closest to her. Ever since Battousai had stumbled onto her path that fateful night, she had found her days to be anything but ordinary.
Holding her breath, Kaoru’s fingers tightly wound around the key she wore around her neck, beads of perspiration dotting her forehead uncomfortably.
The cabin was unusually silent, the quietness of the intruder making her nervous. He was still there. She could feel his presence in the air. She hoped he would quickly come to do what he planned to do, wanting it to be over and done with.
However, the fates were against her.
Silence.
In every corner of the cabin.
As much as she strained to hear the breathing of the intruder or his soft footsteps, silence still greeted her with welcoming arms. Normally, she would have enjoyed the peace and quiet, but something was oddly different about the quiescence. It was far too quiet for her peace of mind; in fact, the silence was so heavy that if a person had accidentally dropped a pin, everyone within hearing range would have been able to hear the clattering of metal making contact with the hardwood floor swathed in various rugs and carpet.
Impatiently, Kaoru brushed a stray wisp of long, ebony hair out of her eyes and away from her flushed cheeks. Her hair had begun to stick to her damp skin, and she hadn’t liked the feel of sodden hair pressed uncomfortably against her cheeks.
After coming to the conclusion that no one was trespassing on Himura’s property, not even Himura himself, Kaoru lowered her head gratefully and sighed with relief. Resuming her position by the futon, she clasped her hands together and placed her chin atop their visible knuckles.
“Father, I need an answer. I don’t know if you can give me one, but I must know what I should do about the key,” Kaoru paused long enough, her eyes leisurely drifting closed, for the various, harsh memories to assail her. A single, salty tear silently rolled down the warm curve of her right cheek.
She missed her father dreadfully, but thinking on the past would do her no good, especially if those thoughts centered on a dying request.
A sharp intake of breath forcing air through the slightly parted creases of her lips, Kaoru wiped the annoying tear away with the back of her hand. “Be strong, Kaoru,” she whispered softly to herself as she plopped down on her derriere while she absently twirled a long, ebony tendril around her finger. She had been told to be strong on a few occasions, yet, only one came to mind.
The night she was assaulted in her own elementary school.
Mrs. Yukishiro, Kaoru prayed the woman found happiness after her death. After all the young teacher did for her, she certainly deserved it.
That was also the night she and Himura first crossed paths. It was strange how people who’ve supposedly known each other for seven years meet under such dire circumstances for a second time, yet, they know nothing of their companions.
And she would probably never understand Himura.
The man was impossible.
Yet, the red-haired assassin stood out above the rest of the men, marking him with an exceptionality he did not deserve.
“Do you think he is a horrible person?” She inquired softly as her gaze lifted towards the ceiling. If only her father could answer her; Kaoru needed his guidance. She didn’t believe Himura was a horrible person; only misguided. However, that was not the picture he painted for most people. According to the newspapers, the stealthy assassin was a menace to society, a frightening piece of work, a man who should be put in his place. Who would dare try to put him in his place, though? Fellow employees? No; every last one of them worked with him. “The articles make him out to be some horrendous killing machine. But he’s only a man, made of flesh and bone; just like the rest of us. I know people believe everything they read, but not me. I don’t think he’s a bad person. Should I, Father? Should I be wary of him?”
She didn’t exactly expect an answer, but when the floorboards abruptly began to groan under the weight of an intruder, the loud noise echoing throughout the entire cabin, her blue eyes darted toward the door, alert and prepared to defend herself should she have reason to. She fairly imagined she would find no one standing in the doorway when she looked, but this time she was wrong.
Her breath caught in her throat when the intruder entered the bedroom, the long strands of his disheveled hair shielding his eyes from view.
“Wha—what do you want?”
Stupid question.
She knew what he wanted. He was going to hurt her. Why else would there be an intruder lurking about the cabin? Perhaps, he was waiting for Himura, but decided in the meantime to harass her while he waited for the assassin’s return.
He stumbled, and the faint light from the hallway illuminated the dark burgundy strands of the intruder’s hair.
“Kenshin?” Hesitantly, Kaoru reached for him, knowing not what else to do.
Kenshin was hurt; she could tell by the metallic stench of blood engulfing her rather sensitive senses. “What—what happened to you?” Indeed; where had he been all this time? Before he had left over two hours ago, he had merely shrugged off her questions. Not this time, though. She demanded answers. Her indigo-blue eyes alight with unabashed concern, Kaoru stooped to Kenshin’s level, ignoring the warning flash of golden hues gone ablaze he leveled her with.
Kenshin was silent as Kaoru’s gaze swept the blood-encased length of his body with worry, a frown upon her lips when she found the only wound his enemy inflicted upon him; a gash starting from under his right ear and ending at the delicate skin beneath his eye.
She winced.
“So, the infamous assassin was wounded? Pity,” Kaoru murmured softly as she turned away from Kenshin long enough to find the white cloth she had stored away in her duffel bag, having ripped a piece of the material from an old t-shirt. When she returned to Kenshin’s side, Kaoru quickly dabbed at the thick, crimson substance rolling down his cheek with care.
He neither complained nor moved. He only watched her with an intensity that nearly caused her to stumble in her careful cleaning of the wound.
His tolerance for pain must be high. No one she knew could possibly remain so still while she dabbed gently at the red, infected wound. What should she have expected of him, though? He wasn’t like the people she knew, not even the men.
His features darkened chillingly when Kaoru pulled away from him, cloth in hand, her blue eyes bright with admiration. Since when was he admired by a captive? Since Kaoru had stumbled across his path, it seemed. She was definitely a strange one, yet, he held a grudging respect for the eighteen year old woman. She had yet to faint in his presence, and she rarely recoiled with fear.
Gratitude did not become him, so he stood, annoyance briefly flickering within the frightening depths of his narrowed eyes when he noticed Kaoru’s gaze drift towards the wound on his cheek. She was curious about it, as he expected her to be.
“Kenshin, what—“
“It is nothing,” he interrupted with a biting remark, refusing to enlighten Kaoru on how he had acquired the wound.
He was rarely ever harmed in the process of completing an assignment, but he had been careless, a mistake he would never make again. Never underestimate an opponent. He had done exactly that, and had received a scar for his negligence. Menou certainly knew how to wield a dagger.
Kaoru bit the inside of her lip, having been about to make an angry remark. If Himura didn’t want to share his stupidity with her, then, that was fine. She was his captive, and he still held her life between his calloused, strong fingers.
“Why are you awake at this hour?”
Just like an annoying parent.
“Why the hell would you care?”
Just like a foolish child.
“I don’t,” he snapped, patience flung out the invisible window. Then, “You were talking to your father.”
Kaoru’s eyes widened with shock as her lips parted on cue. He had heard her? Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no…She didn’t want him to know her most inner feelings. Had he heard her talking about him? If he had, she would surely faint.
“Your father is dead.”
That caught Kaoru’s attention.
Her eyes flashed with anger, her cheeks reddening. Who the hell did he think he was? She knew her father was dead! Did he not know the difference between a prayer and a conversation? She had been praying, asking her father for guidance.
Insolent, insensitive bastard.
“I know my father is dead! I was asking him for help, you bastard! I need his guidance…I need—I need…” Her voice trailed off helplessly as she buried her face in her hands, cursing this weakness she possessed. She didn’t know what she needed. She wanted to be rid of Himura’s company. She wanted her old life back, but she truly didn’t know what she needed.
The tears began to flow.
Kaoru inhaled deeply as she fought for control over her emotions. She could feel the power of Himura’s stare upon her, and she absolutely refused to let him see her cry. It was too late to cry, nine years too late.
Furiously wiping the tears away with her trembling knuckles, Kaoru fastened angrily perturbed eyes on Himura’s face, his golden eyes gleaming through the ominous shadows as he locked gazes with her. “You say one damn thing about this, and I’ll kill you.”
One slick, burgundy brow arched in question, inviting her to an explanation.
In which she gave one.
“Look, Himura, I pray at night, especially since Thursday when you nearly killed my friend and abducted me for the purpose of stealing my key from me. I don’t care what you think about it. Lord knows you never pray. You’ve probably never confessed your sins either. How could you when you have so damn many? So, don’t criticize anything I do. You’re nothing but an insensitive bastard who takes pride in hurting people weaker than you. Note that I said people, not men. You probably enjoy forcing yourself upon women. You—“
Kaoru was swiftly interrupted when Himura wrapped calloused, steel-like fingers around her slender wrist, fury prompting him to squeeze the appendage tightly, forcing a whimper from her parted lips.
“I have never forced my body upon an unwilling woman. I rarely harm women, much less for pleasure. I kill when it is necessary. If my love for harming the weaker sex is true, then, would you still be breathing properly right now? No. I would have most likely ripped your vocal cords from your throat and tossed them into the nearest trashcan. I should kill you now…”
“Oh? Is that so?” Kaoru spat out, shocked by her own courage for even tempting this monster disguised as a man to hurt her. “Well, why haven’t you yet? I’ve been waiting for you to kill me since Thursday! Make use of your threats, and end my life now! I’m sure you won’t feel any remorse for doing it.”
“Don’t tempt me, girl.”
“You don’t have the courage to take my life, do you?” She knew how absurd that sounded because of Himura’s furious reputation as a murderer, but she couldn’t stop now. She was only warming up. “You talk big, but you aren’t big; an inflated ego in a little man’s body.” Her chin lifting a notch, Kaoru met Himura’s scowl dead on.
She would be surprised if she lived after this night.
“What, can’t think of anything to say? You poor, poor man.”
She was treading on dangerous grounds. She knew it the moment she glimpsed the violent trembling of his shoulders and the whitening of his knuckles as he glowered down his nose at her.
Stop while you’re ahead, Kaoru. If you keep at it, he’s going to seriously hurt you, Kaoru cautiously repeated in her mind over and over again. Still, her mind was in no mood to listen. Pursing her lips petulantly, Kaoru folded her arms across her chest. “Did I say something that offends you, Himura? Oh, wait; I mean Hitokiri Battousai, the most feared assassin in all of Japan’s current history.”
Kenshin growled, his hands trembling with the sudden urge to strike out, to kill. He won’t allow Kaoru to draw him in. She probably didn’t know how close she came to falling apart by his hands, and if she did, she most definitely would not be taunting him with annoying words and bodily actions.
“Still silent, Battousai? I suppose you well deserve that name—“
Kaoru was suddenly jerked to the right, her eyes shockingly regarding Kenshin as he twisted her arm behind her back painfully. Her face paled in comparison to the lightly tanned arm wrapped tightly around her throat. “Foolish child,” a soft murmur embraced her right ear, the breath warm against the sensitive skin. Kaoru whimpered fearfully when the strong limb tightened around her neck. Her own arm was brutally yanked around her back, the muscles contracting in protest to the brutal action.
“So,” she rasped, swallowing with difficulty around the pressure exerted to her throat. “Finally decided to—to do the deed?”
Her question was like a bucket of ice-cold water emptying onto the burgundy crown of his head. His golden orbs narrowed on the woman’s glowing, pale face as he pursed his lips rigidly over clenched teeth, unconsciously squeezing the tender flesh in his dark rage.
Kaoru’s eyes began to water as she wrapped her slender fingers around Kenshin’s strong, narrow wrist, trying to pry the arm from around her neck but to no avail. Panic seized her thoughts as Kaoru struggled fervently in the murderer’s arms. He was going to kill her. She should have known better than to provoke an assassin, but of course she had not heeded the warnings. Indeed, she was foolish. And now, her imprudence was about to cost her the only life knew.
Large, salty tears cascaded down her pale cheeks as she finally accepted her death-to-be. There was no way around it. She was already on the verge of falling into the oblivion of darkness.
Her tears touched the unforgiving arm that held her captive before rolling down the limb and falling towards the floor. As if the tears awakened the practicality within Kenshin, he released her, shoving her as far away from him as he possibly could.
Kaoru staggered, landing on her derriere with a painful thud. Tears glistening on her lower lashes, she stared frightfully into the eyes of an assassin, their golden hues locked on the terrified tears silently streaming down her cheeks and on the quivering of her lips.
Finally after what seemed like an eternity passed, Kenshin muttered, “Go to bed,” before he whirled on his heels and proceeded from the bedroom, fury still thrumming through his body with ease. Kaoru remained sitting on the floor, her indigo eyes bright with iridescent tears. She had come so close to dying, yet, once again Kenshin had backed away. She had been so sure of the death that had been about to take place. However, he had refrained himself from strangling her, as he had intended to do.
Himura was strong, yet, somehow she knew he had yet to show her the true strength of an executioner.
“Why had he backed away? Killing me would have saved him the trouble of dealing with me in the future. I—I don’t understand,” Kaoru mumbled hoarsely as she cupped the arch of her neck with gentle, soothing fingers, wincing in pain when the throbbing of an uninvited bruise beginning to blossom increased. Lowering her head, Kaoru covered her tearful, distraught eyes as she sobbed into her hands, her shoulders quaking with the overwhelming power of her sorrow.
“Oh, Father, I—I miss you, and I need you right now! I don’t understand.” She gradually sank to her knees as she leaned against the wall for support, peeking through her parting, slender fingers at the closed, bedroom door. “I don’t understand…”