Rurouni Kenshin Fanfic

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Rurouni Kenshin & Samurai X Original Japanese Version ©N. Watsuki/Shueisha * Fuji-TV * SME Visual Works Inc. * Sony Pictures Entertainment

All Fanfics created by Chiruken (me) were written for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale.

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Accursed

by: Chiruken

?Prologue?

Tiny, tinkling bells, hung just outside the door, fluttered in a slight breeze, their melodic sound jangling harshly through the tense night, only to settle into uneasy silence once again as the warm air lulled into hushed calm. Hanging in the sky, suspended heavily above the trees, the huge, bloated, round monstrosity of the full moon glared down upon the trembling earth with its baleful blood red eye. Shadows stretched out long, dark fingers, grasping clawing, crawling their way across the dry, dusty, thirsty ground, swallowing the sparse grass and covering the pitiful garden.

A dark haired boy, lean form partially swallowed by darkness, sat huddled against the wall of the modest hovel, knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them tightly to hide the frightened shaking of his limbs, hazel eyes, large and apprehensive in his tense face, fixed unblinkingly on the dull gray, weathered boards of the low, wide verandah overlooking the oppressive quiet of the barren yard. The wind swirled around his form, ruffling his dark hair, tugged at the ragged edges of his tattered, too small clothing before dropping into stillness again.

It was a night foretelling doom.

Suddenly the quiet calm was shattered by a piercing, agonized scream. The boy closed his eyes tightly, face pasty white with fear, hands clenched into fists. Moments later a wailing cry rose followed by shattering pottery and panicked footfalls. The door beside the boy crashed open and the midwife emerged, pale, shaking, muttering terrified prayers as she fled into the night. She stopped at the gate and turned, hands waving frantically. “Demon!” She scramed and pointed towards the house before turning and running into the hushed night.

The boy stood and turned, hazel eyes briefly flashing amber, as the form of a man stepped forward, staggering slightly, and then dashed inside before the man’s attention could focus on him fully. The heavy scent of sake permeated the air just before the boy closed the door silently. Turning, the boy’s eyes fell on the form of a woman bending painfully to pick up shards of pottery. She smiled, a sad, tired lifting of her lips and held her hand out to the boy. “Come greet your brother, Hajime.” Stepping forward reluctantly, he glanced worriedly over his shoulder before focusing on the small bundle wrapped in cloth. “What shall we call him?”

The boy, Hajime, peered into the small face and gasped in surprise. “Mother?” He whispered, throwing a frightened look towards the door again. “His hair is the colour of blood!” He leaned closer and blinked when the newborn’s eyes opened, revealing a startlingly alert violet. Reaching out hesitantly, the boy smiled. “Shinta. His name is Shinta, Mother.”

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