Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Ai Yai Yai: A Modern Romantic Story ❯ Rebirth ( Chapter 1 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: physcho_bitch 
In the dark of shadows there was a man so feared that he was called ‘Hitokiri Battousai’, nicknamed after the legendary manslayers of the Bakumatsu Era of Japan. He killed without mercy and with a cool-headed demeanor, using a traditional Japanese katana instead of a gun. It was rumored that he worked for the Japanese government, assassinating corrupt political figures around the world. After five years of brutal murdering, and the stories of these murders kept out of the grasping reach and knowledge of the press, the Batousai disappeared from under the noses of all of the intelligence agencies in the entire world. It was as if he had evaporated into thin air.
Nine years have passed and the case has long since been forgotten, collecting dust in a back room. Now after the assumption that the dreaded Hitokiri had left for good to the deepest pits of hell, the rumors have started up again. These rumors told of a small man with red hair and a cross-shaped scar running the length of his left cheek. If the Hitokiri had indeed returned, the world that had prospered in the corrupt ideals of two-faced politicians, the fragile world built on fear and lies, would topple. There was no time to waste.
Anime/Manga: Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 05.20.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.3K | Visits: 381 | Status: Completed
In the dark of shadows there was a man so feared that he was called ‘Hitokiri Battousai’, nicknamed after the legendary manslayers of the Bakumatsu Era of Japan. He killed without mercy and with a cool-headed demeanor, using a traditional Japanese katana instead of a gun. It was rumored that he worked for the Japanese government, assassinating corrupt political figures around the world. After five years of brutal murdering, and the stories of these murders kept out of the grasping reach and knowledge of the press, the Batousai disappeared from under the noses of all of the intelligence agencies in the entire world. It was as if he had evaporated into thin air.
Nine years have passed and the case has long since been forgotten, collecting dust in a back room. Now after the assumption that the dreaded Hitokiri had left for good to the deepest pits of hell, the rumors have started up again. These rumors told of a small man with red hair and a cross-shaped scar running the length of his left cheek. If the Hitokiri had indeed returned, the world that had prospered in the corrupt ideals of two-faced politicians, the fragile world built on fear and lies, would topple. There was no time to waste.
Anime/Manga: Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 05.20.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.3K | Visits: 381 | Status: Completed
Hello there readers! If you are a fan of my other fanfiction stories (`Simple and Clean' and my RK one-shot) or have no previous knowledge of my writing I hope you'll enjoy Ai Yai Yai: A Modern Romantic Story. Yes, the title is a little happy-go-lucky, but as you'll notice, the story isn't so much (though it's not an angst fest or anything…). I must explain my horrible title before I go any further or you might get the wrong impression about this story. For one, the title is a play on words. “Ai” translates to “love” from Japanese to English, and since the characters I use are from the widely popular “Rurouni Kenshin: a Meiji Romantic Story” I thought it only fitting to make a joke out of it (come on now, I couldn't resist (: ). Without further ado (nor further babbling on my part), please enjoy…
Ai Yai Yai: A Modern Romantic Story
Chapter One
Rebirth
-Prologue-
In the dark of shadows there was a man so feared that he was called `Hitokiri Battousai', nicknamed after the legendary manslayers of the Bakumatsu Era of Japan. He killed without mercy and with a cool-headed demeanor, using a traditional Japanese katana instead of a gun. It was rumored that he worked for the Japanese government, assassinating corrupt political figures around the world. After five years of brutal murdering, and the stories of these murders kept out of the grasping reach and knowledge of the press, the Batousai disappeared from under the noses of all of the intelligence agencies in the entire world. It was as if he had evaporated into thin air.
Nine years have passed and the case has long since been forgotten, collecting dust in a back room. Now after the assumption that the dreaded Hitokiri had left for good to the deepest pits of hell, the rumors have started up again. These rumors told of a small man with red hair and a cross-shaped scar running the length of his left cheek. If the Hitokiri had indeed returned, the world that had prospered in the corrupt ideals of two-faced politicians, the fragile world built on fear and lies, would topple. There was no time to waste.
-I-
He knew that for a normal person, walking the L.A. streets at night, alone, wasn't a smart thing to do. There was danger lurking among the shadows of houses, cars, behind him, he felt their dark presence everywhere. It was like his own shadow, always present, always watching. And yet he kept walking, for he was no ordinary person.
Adjusting the belt that held the sheath to his sword on his waist, he stopped, standing still-listening. He made sure that his long, dark maroon coat covered his sword and the open wound in his side was hidden from sight. There was no use in letting an enemy know your weakness. A cold, brutal wind whistled through the trees, as if warning of the impending danger. He did not feel the wind.
The crunch of a fallen leaf woke him from his suspended reality. The shadows shifted and the man caught sight of his stalkers; there were only about five or six of them. He laughed to himself. His scar shone in the moonlight as he drew his sword. He would save her, even if it was the last thing he ever did.
-II-
Kaoru sighed as the warm water cascaded down her body. Finally she had convinced the landlord to fix the pipes. No more freezing cold, three minute showers for her anymore! As she relished in the comfort of her steamy bathroom, she heard a faint ring coming from outside.
Dammit, I can never get any peace! She stepped regretfully out of her steamy haven and into the cold air of her apartment. Wrapping a towel around her body, she picked up the phone reluctantly, hoping it wasn't her mother.
“Honey?” It was her mother.
“Hi mom,” She said, trying not to reveal the fact that she was grimacing, “It's 6:30 in the morning…” She hinted, trying to sound tired in a sad attempt to get out of her usual hour long “chat” with her senile old mother.
“Yes, I just wanted to check up on you, you know, since what happened last night…” She trailed off, sounding worried. Kaoru frowned, trying to figure out what her mother was talking about. “What?” She finally asked, “What happened last night?”
“Well I'm happy your okay, come visit me some time okay honey?” She said, obviously not realizing that Kaoru had asked a question. “You never come to visit me anymore, and all these old bats aren't very good company…” Kaoru shook her head as she placed the phone down on the counter and started making herself some breakfast.
Ever since her father had died, Kaoru had decided to put her mother into an elderly home, and as her mother had gotten on in years, she had become a little strange. Her memory was horrible, her attitude to the other elderly people was horrible, and, to top it all off, she had problems listening to anyone except for her own voice (which was, in its own way, quite horrible).
Kaoru's latest technique to live through her mothers monotonous phone calls was just to put the phone down and come back roughly an hour later. That usually worked. As she ladled her oatmeal into a bowl, she wondered what her mother had been talking about. What had happened last night? Was it just one of her mother's fantasies or should she be genuinely worried?
Picking up the phone, she spoke meaningfully into the receiver, “Okay mom, it was nice talking to you, see you soon!” Then she pressed the `off' button and sighed as she slumped into a bar chair pulled up to the other side of the kitchen counter to eat her oatmeal. Bracing herself, she took a bite, hoping she had gotten the recipe right this time around.
It's getting a little better, she thought, trying to convince herself that it wasn't half bad. Picking up the remote control that had been left on the counter top the night before, she flicked the television on. After waiting for a few seconds, the image on the TV was visible and a newscaster was saying, “… In other news, five men were hospitalized last night after a concerned neighbor in the residential district of Little Tokyo called the police reporting `loud noises'. No news on the assailant just yet, but the police suspect a hate crime because of the evidence that all of the victims were reportedly of Japanese origin. Luckily there were no fatalities and all of the victims are suspected to recover. Back to you Jennifer…”
Kaoru stared in shock as the pictures of the crime were shown on the television. It was right outside her yoga studio. Scarfing down the rest of her vile oatmeal, she gulped down a glass of soy milk and rushed to get ready for work. Ruffling through her drawers, she pulled out a wrinkled tank top and her tight black workout pants.
She pulled on her clothes, grabbed her bag, keys and wallet and barreled out the door. Shoving her bag and wallet into the basket attached to her celadon-green Vespa, Kaoru hopped onto the scooted and jammed the keys into the ignition. She struggled to fit the key into the small slot but failed horribly.
Take a deep breath…She told herself, trying to calm down enough to get her beating heart under control. Going slower, she inserted the key into the ignition and twisted it. Her heart slowed when the motor began to start up. Kaoru waited a few minutes that seemed like a lifetime, then steered her way to the studio.
When she got there, police cars were parked menacingly around the entrance and yellow plastic caution-tape stood out in contrast to the creamy walls of the studio. Parking her Vespa a safe distance away she walked over casually to a police officer. “Hello officer, I'm Kaoru Kamiya,” She told him, “I'm the owner of this studio.” The officer looked at her blandly.
“Miss Kamiya, what would you like me to do for you?” He drawled, looking a bit bored. Kaoru shifted slightly and then asked, “Well, I kind of need to get ready for a lesson, so could I get through?” She pointed to the door of the studio, a few yards behind the officer.
“I'm sorry ma'am, no one is allowed on the crime scene at this time.” He recited diligently. Kaoru frowned up at the man, “Sir, I need to get in there!” She insisted stubbornly. “Isn't there someone I can talk to? Your chief or something?” In the end the poor woman was asked (none too politely) to get lost.
“Come back in a few hours, after we've taken all of the evidence we need.”
-III-
Kaoru did indeed come back, a few hours later, and quite a bit upset. She was forced to go all the way home to use the phone to call her students to tell them that class would be cancelled for the day. What a hassle! Kaoru shook her head; this had to be a karma thing.
She pulled out her key, but to her dismay, the door was already unlocked! She knew for a fact that she had locked the studio; it was routine. If it wasn't her then, who was it? No one else had a key, she alone had both copies. There was no way that anyone could have used one-one was on her keychain, the other in her safe deposit box-and yet the door showed no signs of a break in. What was going on?
She opened the door cautiously, waiting for the rain of blows upon her body, the hand across her mouth, the gun to her back. It never came. The door creaked open, and the smell of yoga mats, wood cleaner and new paint met her nose. She looked around, her eyes darting around the shadowy room. She breathed a sigh of relief that was cut off as the hairs prickled on the back of her neck.
“Who's there?” She said softly, trying to figure out why her voice was barely audible. She was pretty sure it was the hand resting on her shoulder. An involuntary shudder coursed through her. The hand on her shoulder tightened slightly.
“I was going to ask you the same question.” The voice-that of a young man-sounded soft, like cloth whispering against skin. It wasn't a menacing voice, but it didn't comfort her that someone was sneaking around in her studio after a crime. Whichever way she looked at it, this wasn't a good situation.
She knew self defense, she had gone to classes, and she realized that now would be the ideal time to start defending herself. Stepping on the man's foot, she tried to pivot and hit him squarely between the eyes. But instead the man, moving with amazing speed and agility, grabbed her hands, locking them behind her back.
“I'm sorry,” He said in what seemed like a meaningful voice as he placed two fingers on a pressure point near her neck. The last thing she saw before she blacked out was the silhouette of a man, his long hair pulled up in a high ponytail, a long sheath protruding from his belt.
-IV-
Her chest moved up and down, an unchanging pattern that lulled him into a sort of trance. He had not slept for over three days, and though he knew that he could not afford to fall asleep, his senses began to dull and his eyes to droop slowly shut. He sat up with a jolt as a sound echoed through the empty room. The man eyed his prisoner. She was shifting in her sleep, as he watched; she frowned, producing a small moan from her small, dainty mouth.
She couldn't have been more than nineteen or twenty. Her long, raven black hair was slightly dishelved in places, falling messily out of her ponytail and framing her face. Her skin was smooth and slightly tanned, but not enough to make it look like the usual fake tans that many of the women in Los Angeles sported. Her attractive features were stuck in a stubborn look that made her laughable.
As he watched the girl, she began to shift uncomfortably. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked around, assessing her surroundings. “Where am I?” She asked herself groggily. She paused for a moment before her eyes shot open in an alarmed look. Her breathing became rapid as she searched for the man who had knocked her out. As her eyes settled on his shadowy form, she asked hoarsely, “W-who are you?”
The man stood, allowing the shadows to flee from his face. Brushing a strand of red hair from his eyes, he fixed Kaoru with an amber stare. She shivered, frozen by an invisible force. There was nothing in those eyes, just coldness; emptiness. She looked away from his eyes. He was short for a man, about 5'5” or 5'6” and he was not too muscular. He had a feminine look to his face, yet it was marred by a long cross-like scar running down his cheekbone. It was bleeding freely.
The man took a step forward, only to stumble to a halt. Kaoru heard the sound of liquid splattering upon the wooden floor. Only then did she notice that a small river of blood was coursing down from the man's mouth. “No-” He said, forcing the words out. His voice was soft, yet it did not scare her like his eyes had done. “Don't let them-” He fell to the ground a few feet from her, his eyes closing. The rustling of his clothing and the thump as he fell onto the wood floor hid the last part of his sentence from Kaoru. “-kill her.”
Kaoru sat in shocked silence for what seemed like an hour before she realized what she had to do. Leaping up, she hurried over to the body, checking the man's pulse. It was faint, but it was there. Rolling him over onto his back (he weighed very little), she withdrew the hand that he had used to hold his stomach. It was coated with a fresh layer of blood.
“Oh my god,” She breathed softly, wondering what she had gotten herself into. She took a deep breath, clearing her head. What do I do? Remembering the bandages she kept in a cupboard, she thanked all the deities that she could remember (which weren't very many since she never paid attention to what her mother told her about their religion). She eased the stained maroon coat and white shirt from the man's body, careful not to jostle him.
After his shirt had come off, Kaoru wrapped as many bandages she could around the wound, which looked like it was made be a knife of some sort. Wondering what had happened to him, Kaoru wrapped the coat around the man's body and heaved him over her shoulder. Times like these make me want a car… Kaoru grimaced as she dragged the comatose man over to her Vespa. Hoping he wouldn't fall off, she placed him hesitantly onto the seat, and then hopped on in front of him, using the sash that went on his coat to tie him in place. Only then did she notice the swords strapped onto the mysterious man's waist. What the hell is with this guy?
-End of Chapter Notes-
This space is reserved for my incessant end-of-chapter babbling and any questions you may have about the story (or anything else for that matter). Please leave a review and tell me what you think of the story so far. I know every author, myself included, is spurred on by the knowledge that someone actually likes (or dislikes) their story enough to actually feel the need to review. So go ahead, press that little button on the bottom left hand-side of the screen… c'mon, you know you wanna… (;