Rurouni Kenshin Fanfic

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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Fanfic By:  Chiruken

            Makimachi Misao narrowed her green eyes in focused concentration as she stared at the form of her chosen target, knees slightly bent as she’d been taught so many years before, and shifted her weight more onto the balls of her feet in preparation.  Striving for calm centering, she struggled to force her tense muscles to relax, blinking sweat out of her eyes, and slowly raised her slender arms, bared by her sleeveless dark blue ninja uniform, eight blades, finely honed to a keen razor’s edge sharpness and glinting coldly in the bright sunlight beating down on her dark head, held with loose confidence in her small, callused hands.  Drawing in a deep breath, lips pressed together in a firm, uncompromising line, Misao’s world narrowed down to her body, muscles still tightly coiled despite her continued efforts to relax, her blades and the target.  All else became distant, meaningless and meant to be ignored.

            The weeks since Aoshi’s cold rejection of her affections had settled into a routine for Misao.  By day, she trained until she was ready to drop from exhaustion, and by night, she sat, silent and subdued, on the second floor, perched on a window ledge, and gazed out across Kyoto reflecting on anything and everything not associated with Shinomori Aoshi in an attempt to mend her broken heart and wounded pride.  Even the news that the Kenshin-gumi from Tokyo would be visiting couldn’t rouse her from her recent trend of brooding and their subsequent arrive hadn’t served to distract her from her apparent obsession with improving her fighting skills.

            Drawing in another deep breath, Misao, now prepared, erupted into action with a fierce kiai.  Simultaneously, a familiar gentle and mild voice spoke.  "Misao-dono?"

            Startled, Misao spun as she released her blades in attack, a look of horror replacing her previous expression of intense concentration as the eight blades shot towards the form of her friend and guest.  "Oh no!  Himura…"  She cried out in warning, a sickening feeling of being too late in the pit of her stomach.

            "Oro!"  The startled exclamation emerged sounding rather choked as Himura Kenshin, formerly known as Hitokiri Battousai, blinked, gentle violet gaze registering surprise, and dodged the projectiles bearing down on him with his legendary god-like speed.  Eight thunks sounded in rapid succession as Misao’s thrown kaiken embedded into the wood of the door where his head had previously been.  After glancing back over his shoulder and seeing several strands of red hair pinned to the door he cleared his throat and smiled with his usual brightness as if nothing had happened.  Turning, Kenshin approached the pale and shaking girl standing a short distance from him.  "That was a good throw, Misao-dono, that it was."

            Shaking herself out of her appalled stupor, Misao glared at the cheerful rurouni, her fear quickly being replaced by anger.  "Himura you idiot!  You could’ve been killed!"  Oddly, she felt more than a slight shiver of fear at the thought…more like gut wrenching, heart stopping, all encompassing…panic.

            Sensing the turmoil of emotions roiling within the young woman, Kenshin tilted his head to the side curiously and regarded her in growing concern.  When her angry expression altered to shock and confusion he stepped closer and lightly placed his hand on her arm, violet eyes warm and anxious.  "Misao-dono…Oro?"  He blinked in surprise when she threw his hand off and spun, running in the opposite direction.

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