243rd Oro
Once upon a time there was a family of farmers. A mother, a father and their three sons. One day the parents and the elder brothers fell ill and died, leaving the youngest son alone. The family's town took the boy in, but he heard it repeated often that they couldn't keep him in that time of famine--he even heard it suggested that his family's death was somehow his fault. "Possessed by a fox," it was said because of the color of his hair. So it was no surprise that the boy was quickly sold to a passing slave caravan the moment the chance came up.
The boy was the only child in the caravan, and was fawned over by the various women and girls who were sold as well. There were a set of sisters who were taken to clear their family's debt who all but adopted him, brought in just as they began to follow a pass through the mountains. However, that area had become ever more dangerous in those times, and the caravan was attacked by a group of bandits in the pass who swiftly went through and killed both the slavers and the slaves alike.
The boy, wanting to protect the three sisters who had been so kind to him, picked up a fallen katana, thinking "Even if it costs me my life, I have to protect them..." But his hands were small, and the sword was heavy. Before he could do anything to defend them at all, the eldest sister snatched him back, causing him to drop the sword. The sisters shielded the boy with their own bodies, the eldest hiding his eyes from view as the two younger sisters were both killed--telling him to live. No matter what... he had to live.
And then the men pulled her back as well... and swiftly and mercilessly set a sword through her throat, as if it was all just a game... before finally turning to the boy. But just before they finished the last member of the caravan, there was the sound of a small struggle across the carnage.
"Who the hell are you!?" the murderers shouted at the newcomer on the scene--and tall man in a long white cloak.
"It would be pointless to give my name to one who is about to die," he answered coldly before quickly dispatching every single bandit with a speed the boy couldn't even follow--but even so... his attention was focused on the fallen sisters in front of him, and not on the further carnage brought by the wanderer.
"You're pretty unlucky, boy," the wanderer said the the boy who did not meet his gaze. "Around here there's a lot of degenerate ronin turned bandits. I've taken your revenge for you. No matter how much you hate or how much you suffer, you can't bring the dead back to life. Revel in the fact that you're alive." The boy didn't look up, but he heard the man begin to leave the scene. "If you go to the village and tell them what happened, they'll find some way for you to make a living," and with that, the wanderer left, leaving the boy amid the bodies.
He stayed there a long time, trying to process what had just happened, and realized for a second time in his life he was left alone. But instead of going on to the next village, he decided to make graves for those who had died in the clearing--all of them. He lost track of time. It could have been several days, it could have been a week, but slowly he made a grave and a marker for every body.
And it was at that time that the wanderer returned after coming back through the town inquiring about the boy, and had returned to the scene when he found not a hair of him. The man in the white cloak stood at the edge of the clearing of markers, staring at the boy who stood before three large stones.
"You made graves for not just your parents, but for the bandits as well?" the wanderer finally asked, approaching the boy.
"They weren't my parents. They were slavers. My parents died of cholera last year," the boy answered numbly. "But even bandits and slavers are only bodies when they die... so I made them graves."
The man regarded the boy for a moment. "And these three stones?"
The boy pointed intently at each marker as he named them off. "Kasumi-san. Akane-san. Sakura-san," and then he told the wanderer of where they'd come from and how he had wanted to protect them, but was too small to do so. "I looked for good stones for their graves, but these were all I could find. I couldn't even find a single flower to offer them."
And at that, the wanderer stepped forward and, opening a jug of sake, poured the liquid over the graves. "Man or woman, it is a crime to reach Nirvana before ever tasting good sake. This will be my offering to them." And then the man turned back to him.
"What's your name, boy?"
"Shinta," he answered.
"That's too gentle a name for a swordsman. From now on, your name is to be 'Kenshin'. I'm going to teach you boy. Teach you everything I know."
...
And that, for better or worse, is where it began...
[ooc; I REFUSE TO LET THIS STUPID SICKNESS STEAL ANOTHER CURSE I WANTED TO PARTICIPATE IN!!! *rabble rabble rabble* pretend this was a little earlier Also, dialogue is a bit spliced between licensed release, scanlations, the ova and whatever--because Kenshin's memory =/= carbon, lol]
The boy was the only child in the caravan, and was fawned over by the various women and girls who were sold as well. There were a set of sisters who were taken to clear their family's debt who all but adopted him, brought in just as they began to follow a pass through the mountains. However, that area had become ever more dangerous in those times, and the caravan was attacked by a group of bandits in the pass who swiftly went through and killed both the slavers and the slaves alike.
The boy, wanting to protect the three sisters who had been so kind to him, picked up a fallen katana, thinking "Even if it costs me my life, I have to protect them..." But his hands were small, and the sword was heavy. Before he could do anything to defend them at all, the eldest sister snatched him back, causing him to drop the sword. The sisters shielded the boy with their own bodies, the eldest hiding his eyes from view as the two younger sisters were both killed--telling him to live. No matter what... he had to live.
And then the men pulled her back as well... and swiftly and mercilessly set a sword through her throat, as if it was all just a game... before finally turning to the boy. But just before they finished the last member of the caravan, there was the sound of a small struggle across the carnage.
"Who the hell are you!?" the murderers shouted at the newcomer on the scene--and tall man in a long white cloak.
"It would be pointless to give my name to one who is about to die," he answered coldly before quickly dispatching every single bandit with a speed the boy couldn't even follow--but even so... his attention was focused on the fallen sisters in front of him, and not on the further carnage brought by the wanderer.
"You're pretty unlucky, boy," the wanderer said the the boy who did not meet his gaze. "Around here there's a lot of degenerate ronin turned bandits. I've taken your revenge for you. No matter how much you hate or how much you suffer, you can't bring the dead back to life. Revel in the fact that you're alive." The boy didn't look up, but he heard the man begin to leave the scene. "If you go to the village and tell them what happened, they'll find some way for you to make a living," and with that, the wanderer left, leaving the boy amid the bodies.
He stayed there a long time, trying to process what had just happened, and realized for a second time in his life he was left alone. But instead of going on to the next village, he decided to make graves for those who had died in the clearing--all of them. He lost track of time. It could have been several days, it could have been a week, but slowly he made a grave and a marker for every body.
And it was at that time that the wanderer returned after coming back through the town inquiring about the boy, and had returned to the scene when he found not a hair of him. The man in the white cloak stood at the edge of the clearing of markers, staring at the boy who stood before three large stones.
"You made graves for not just your parents, but for the bandits as well?" the wanderer finally asked, approaching the boy.
"They weren't my parents. They were slavers. My parents died of cholera last year," the boy answered numbly. "But even bandits and slavers are only bodies when they die... so I made them graves."
The man regarded the boy for a moment. "And these three stones?"
The boy pointed intently at each marker as he named them off. "Kasumi-san. Akane-san. Sakura-san," and then he told the wanderer of where they'd come from and how he had wanted to protect them, but was too small to do so. "I looked for good stones for their graves, but these were all I could find. I couldn't even find a single flower to offer them."
And at that, the wanderer stepped forward and, opening a jug of sake, poured the liquid over the graves. "Man or woman, it is a crime to reach Nirvana before ever tasting good sake. This will be my offering to them." And then the man turned back to him.
"What's your name, boy?"
"Shinta," he answered.
"That's too gentle a name for a swordsman. From now on, your name is to be 'Kenshin'. I'm going to teach you boy. Teach you everything I know."
...
And that, for better or worse, is where it began...
[ooc; I REFUSE TO LET THIS STUPID SICKNESS STEAL ANOTHER CURSE I WANTED TO PARTICIPATE IN!!! *rabble rabble rabble* pretend this was a little earlier Also, dialogue is a bit spliced between licensed release, scanlations, the ova and whatever--because Kenshin's memory =/= carbon, lol]