Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ The Mind of a Killer ❯ The Mind of a Killer ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I own nothing Rurokenor Samurai X. Thank you.

Author's note: This is a one-shot trip into the mind of Kenshin. I see it as being only about a year or two into Meiji. Please review!

 

The Mind of a Killer

You say that I hide the mind of a killer deep inside my psyche. You look at me with either fear or pity and talk like Battousai is some second mind, some other personality that I have no control over. You talk like he comes out to kill when he wants. Like I have to fight him to remain sane. How can you know anything about the mind of a killer, you who have never stained your hands with blood? You are naïve and simply say things that you wish to believe, because you can think of no other way that this quiet, withdrawn man before you could have slaughtered armies before he was twenty.

Let me tell you about the mind of a killer.

There is focus, always there has to be focus. You are sweet and innocent, so you understand sweet and innocent things. I will explain it as dancing. A great dancer does not focus on his own body. His body already knows what it has to do. The greatest dancers focus on the dance floor. On the audience. On the music. And of course, on the other dancer. A great dancer predicts the other dancer's moves, knows where she is going, what she is about to do a split second before she does it, and without thinking, he fits his dance to the situation.

A hitokiri is no different. We know our terrain. We know who has seen us. We focus on the situation, and most importantly, the one we are fighting, so we can predict his moves. A killer should never focus on himself. His body already knows what to do. He needs to know what his opponent is doing. And for his flawless performance, the hitokiri is rewarded with a rain of blood instead of flowers.

You think I don't control Battousai? That he is just some killer's mind, hiding behind the rurouni? He and I are the same. I am what is left, when the killing is done. When I can allow the focus to shift back to myself, and I can see what I've become. If I never shifted my focus, then the bloodlust would take over, and I would drown in it. You can't enjoy killing, if you never consciously experience it. When I killed, there was a detachment. That is all. Enough that I could remain sane. So the scent and sight blood would never touch me.

Now, maybe you can understand. The killer's mind hides nowhere. He and I are one. I just changed my focus when I changed my sword.

Please don't judge me.

I am what I am.

I would rather know my killer's mind is a part of me, out in the open, where all can see, than have it hide in the shadows like a hitokiri tainted with bloodlust.

There is no we, only I.

And yes, a part of me is the mind of a killer.