It's modern day. The streets are rife with violence;
corporations are corrupt; assassinations, commonplace. Himura Kenshin, known only as Battousai, is
a shadow assassin for an organization so secret even he
doesn't know who truly runs it. BUT Battousai has an even
bigger secret; one that if it were ever discovered would mean more than his
death...it would end in the total annihilation of his soul. Battousai is not only the deadliest assassin
to ever prowl the dark streets of night...he is also a vampire, one of the
oldest still in existence…and a rarity among his kind.
He has a soul.
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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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Tears of Eternity
by: Chiruken
He
closed his eyes and drew in a shuddering breath in an attempt to center
himself. He wasn’t alone…hadn’t been
since he began hunting for tonight’s target.
He recognized the presence lurking within the recesses of his mind,
quietly observing all that he saw…all that he did. It was disconcerting to know that another was currently sharing
his mind, but even worse was who it was.
He
gritted his teeth and tried to ignore her distracting thoughts tickling the
edge of his awareness. He couldn’t
afford to allow his attention to wander, not while he was on assignment, and a
break in his concentration could result in disaster. He would deal with the intrusion later…after his target was dead.
He
moved through the dark streets, silent as the death he was about to deliver,
amber eyes moving restlessly over the shadowed doorways and alley entrances,
searching, alert for any possible movement that may signal the arrival of his
objective, Uboshita
Norishige, a relatively unknown executive in the small, but rapidly growing
Anami Corporation. He didn’t know why
someone so seemingly unimportant had to die, but it wasn’t his place to
question orders…his only concern should be to see to it that they were carried
out by completing the assassinations he was ordered to commit. It didn’t matter why they had to die, just
as long as they were dead.
Despite his resolve to remain focused on
the assassination, he found his mind turning to the young woman lurking in the
recesses of his mind. She had no
control over her rapidly developing telepathy, which could prove disastrous to
her sanity. God knew how many others
she had contacted unwittingly through her inability to control her latent
talent. Again he found himself gritting
his teeth in an effort to hold back a growl of annoyance. Why should he care? He didn’t know her; he had no obligation to
her. So why was he agonizing over the
danger she was placing herself in by broadcasting so openly?
He shook his head sharply, spraying
water in every direction. He looked up
at the sky, blinking rain out of his eyes and quickly reached up to brush his
wet hair out of his face. It was the
perfect night for an assassination.
There was no moonlight, the heavy rain further reducing visibility as
well as masking the sound of his footsteps.
As soon as he completed the thoughts he cursed under his breath. He’d neglected to mask his thoughts and they’d
leaked through to his ‘guest’, throwing her into a panicked frenzy. Her terror beat at him, distracted him,
created protective urges he’d believed dead and buried for centuries, and he
felt himself responding to her without thinking, projecting his image into her
mind. His actions had the opposite
effect than he’d intended. Her
frightened thoughts fluttered around in his mind much like the beating of
hummingbird wings and once again he found himself fighting the urge to comfort
her.
Catching
movement on the street, he quickly ducked into an alley, silently berating
himself for his inattentiveness. If he
wasn’t careful, he’d ruin this opportunity to strike and he’d have to wait or
run the risk of attracting unwanted attention.
He closed his senses to the unpleasant stench emanating from the dark
recesses of the alley. His sensitive
hearing picked up the sound of scurrying rats, easily ignored. More difficult was his unwelcome visitor’s
squeamishness. Her obvious dislike of
the rodents would have been laughable under different circumstances.
He
turned his wavering attention back to the entrance of the alley and slowly drew
both of his swords. His information had
stated that the target was known to carry a weapon. Despite the strict laws and regulations governing the ownership
and possession of firearms, Uboshita
carried an antique looking handgun. He
didn’t know what kind it was, nor did he care.
They were useless against him.
The raging storm was both a help and a
hindrance now. The rain concealed while
at the same time it obscured. He hated
the feel of water seeping into his clothes, plastering his hair to his head,
and running into his eyes. He narrowed
his gaze to amber slits, feeling the beginnings of a painful headache, the
flashes of lightning stabbing into his sensitive eyes, momentarily blurring his
vision. It was uncomfortable and
somewhat distracting, but manageable all the same.
He tucked his knee-length cloak out of
the way and prepared himself for what he was about to do. Despite the years of experience and the
centuries to become accustomed to it, he still had moments of jangled nerves to
contend with. He willed the habitual
coldness to descend over him, to blot out everything save his purpose for being
out on such a miserable night. There
was no room for pity or regret. Emotion
had no place in the heart of a shadow assassin. He existed for one reason only…to eliminate the target; nothing
more, nothing less. Self-loathing could
come later, after the mission was complete and Uboshita Norishige was dead.
And someday, he might actually come to believe the lies he told
himself, too.
He stepped forward, into the street,
blocking the way of a large, well-dressed man.
Lifting his long sword into a position of readiness, he prepared himself
and opened his mouth to utter his usual pre-killing speech when his target
produced a revolver. “This is
ridiculous.” He blinked and shook his
head slightly, unnerved by the words emerging from his throat. They didn’t belong to him; the words were
those of his unwanted guest. With a
low, frustrated growl, he struck, killing Uboshita Norishige with a single
thrust through the heart. He winced at
the piercing cry echoing through his mind.
He should not have allowed her to remain. She was now a witness to the murder. He pressed his lips tightly together at the implications this
fact created. Witnesses could not be
allowed to live; there was no denying that truth. But…he closed his hands in to fists, fingers tightening on the
hilts of his swords. He lifted his face
up to the weeping sky and stared at the forks of lightning arcing across the
sky. She wasn’t really a witness…she’s
wasn’t even there in physical form. It
was only their telepathic link that allowed her to ‘see’ his actions at
all. He breathed a little easier at his
rationalizing and loosened his death-grip on the hilts of his swords. He didn’t have to kill her after all.
And then reality intruded once again.
He closed his eyes, fighting both her
revulsion and his own. There was blood
everywhere; the ground, the wall, on his hands and splashed across his
face. The scent of it permeated the
air, cloying with its siren’s call, choking him with disgust. Always it was the same; always he had to
fight the Beast, that primal, instinctive urge to give in to the desperate need
beating against his control. His
fingers tightened again on the hilts, knuckles whitening as he fought against
the destructive nature lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for a moment
of weakness to claim him…an instant when his heart wavered between savagery and
compassion; to destroy the last vestiges of his humanity, drowning his soul in
a sea of blood.
A terrified and desperate scream tore
through his mind, breaking the dangerous power the blood was claiming over
him. No!
He turned his focus inward and winced at
what confronted him. “Is this what she
sees?” He whispered, carefully keeping
his observation to himself as he took in the terrifying view afforded to him
through their telepathic bond. Blood
was everywhere…much as it was in reality…great oceans of it, except for a tiny
island upon which the young woman cowered, long dark hair clinging wetly to her
face and neck, features pale and pinched, sapphire eyes wide with terror and
filled with tears.
The scene shifted, becoming a boxed
canyon, walls rising up into infinity, blotting out all hope of light and
warmth. Her soft whimper tore through
him as he slowly advanced towards her.
He studied the growing panic in her expression with increasing
unease. What did she see that could
cause such fear to cloud her eyes? For
a moment he felt the cold, emotionless mask he wore when on assignment slip and
he busied himself with the cleaning of his blade to distract her from her close
scrutiny of his expression.
Again the setting changed, becoming the
alley where he physically stood.
Slowly, he closed the distance, not wanting to cause her more alarm than
he already had. She cringed away from
him when he stopped before her. He
crouched down and reached out, forcing her to meet his gaze. What are you doing here? The thought projected words emerged harsher
than he’d intended and he immediately regretted not softening his tone when she
flinched and the walls of the alley fell away, replaced by the canyon
again. He shook her gently. Answer me. Again he winced at the hard edge to his words. He really had to work on that. If he tried to be any more comforting, it
was likely she’d die of fright.
He held her gaze, finding himself
falling into the deep indigo pools despite the certainty that she would lead
him down the path to his own destruction.
He leaned closer, knowing he’d gladly follow her anywhere…even if it
meant his doom. She was his and he’d
defy all to protect that claim. I-I… He bent closer, golden eyes fixed on her
inviting lips. Wh-who are you? She swayed closer and he lifted his gaze to
hers again, seeing the need reflected in the mesmerizing sapphire depths, and
he knew he was lost.
Drawing a sharp breath, he pushed her
away from him. You should not be
here. Leave! And with that he thrust her from his
mind. What was wrong with him? Where was his almost legendary control,
honed throughout the centuries of his existence? How was it possible that one young woman could throw his normally
ordered life into such gut wrenching chaos?
It didn’t seem possible.
Shaking himself back to reality, he
realized that he was still covered with Uboshita’s blood and standing in the
middle of a downpour in an alley in a not so nice part of town. Of course, anyone who chose to attack him
would have to be either incredibly stupid…or insane. He smiled tightly and began to walk swiftly towards the apartment
building where he lived. With the
weather being as inclement as it was, no one was likely to see his current
state and ask awkward questions he was incapable of answering. He’d done enough killing for one night. He didn’t want to have to add to the total
just to eliminate some hapless neighbor whose only crime was the misfortune to
open a door at the wrong moment.
He paused at an intersection, pulling
back into the shadows of an alley, and scowled at the lit street before
him. He couldn’t afford to waste his
strength by dousing the street lamps, yet he had no choice but to do so to
cross the street. His apartment
building was located on the other side, several blocks down. Closing his eyes, he focused his will and
one by one the lights winked out until the street was left in darkness. He leaned against the wall, drawing in several
deep breaths and reached up a shaking hand to massage his temples gingerly. Slowly he opened his eyes and pushed away
from the wall, stumbling slightly in his weariness as he staggered across the
street.
He frowned in growing concern.
He’d obviously pushed himself too far, yet again. He paused, senses alert as he detected movement
half a block away from him, moving in his direction. He trembled, feeling his rigid control slipping, and swallowed
with difficulty. He moved quickly into
the concealing shadows of a convenient doorway and watched with growing
agitation as a poorly dressed man stumbled towards him, obviously drunk. The signs were unmistakable…the speeding
pulse, the feverish increase in body temperature…his body was gearing up,
preparing for feeding. He closed his
eyes and cursed his lack of forethought.
How could he expect to control the Thirst if he insisted on pushing
himself past his limits?
He silently counted off the remaining distance between himself and
the approaching man. When the drunk was
directly in front of him, he quickly grabbed him from behind, sinking his fangs
into the exposed throat, and drank deeply.
Never again… He silently
promised himself. Never again will I
let it go this far. He sighed
inwardly. He said it each and every
time, and then the cycle continued to repeat itself. He’d push his limits again, and end up in the same position. Gently he lowered the unconscious man to the
wet cement, vision blurring momentarily as the alcohol in his blood affected
him briefly. He sighed and shook his
head. The drunk would wake up in the morning
with a hang over and a severe case of anemia, but he’d still be alive.
He noted grimly that the rain had stopped. If he didn’t hurry, he’d miss his opportunity to remain unnoticed
as he made his way home. Sticking to
the shadows, he sprinted towards the ugly red brick apartment building, hand
resting lightly on the hilts of his swords concealed beneath his dark cloak.
Suddenly he skidded to a halt, amber eyes widening in shock, a few
choice words emerging from between his clenched teeth. Why hadn’t he recognized it before now? He threw his hands up in exasperation at his
own inattentiveness. “I’m an
idiot!” He muttered under his
breath. The young woman with the
mesmerizing sapphire eyes and natural unrefined talent for telepathy…the young
woman from apartment one eleven, down the hall from his own apartment…she was
no ordinary girl. Not by a long
shot. Slowly, he continued up the
street, shaking his head at his own lack of awareness.
There was always a reason behind so-called chance encounters. They didn’t just occur without a reason
behind them…not in his experience. Now
he realized the truth. There wasn’t
anything magical or earth shattering behind his attraction to a complete
stranger. No, it had a much more
mundane explanation behind it…if that word could be applied to a situation such
as this.
He raked a hand through his tangled red hair. How old had he been when he was
awakened? Eighteen? Nineteen?
He frowned in concentration, sifting through his memories, until finally
he gave up with a shrug. He couldn’t
remember. It wasn’t important anyway,
he supposed. Everyone was different. The awakening could occur at any time from
the onset of puberty up to the age of twenty-five. There was no set age for it to happen. It just happened whenever the body felt that it was ready.
So Kaoru was a late bloomer…so what?
He sighed and slowly crossed the cracked pavement of the unlit
parking lot to the back entrance of the apartment building, eyes moving of
their own volition to the apartment he knew was occupied by the young lady in
question. “She must be going through
hell…” He murmured softly, faint recollections of his own traumatic experiences
during the time of his awakening flitting through his mind. He shuddered and quickly made his way to his
apartment. She would need guidance,
that was a given. Without someone to
act as Mentor, she’d be lost…possibly over come enough to do something drastic
and permanent. He couldn’t allow that
to happen. He paused outside her
apartment and closed his eyes, resting his hand against the scarred wood of the
door, sensing her movements within the apartment.
Please…He leaned
his forehead again the door, eyes closed as her soft plea flowed through his
mind. What’s wrong with me? He sighed and slowly stepped away from the
door. She wasn’t ready for the answer
to that…not yet. I don’t want to be
alone…
Whether it was the distinct energy signature she was generating, or
something else entirely, he was drawn to her and he couldn’t leave her to face
the changes alone. It went beyond mere
duty, this much he would acknowledge.
He wanted her for his own and he wouldn’t stand for another to stake
their claim. Her soft entreaty had
probably been heard by all of their kind in the immediate area. Her open telepathic broadcasting had to stop
and the only way to do that was to teach her how to control it. You are not alone…Never alone…
**To Be Continued…**
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