Rurouni Kenshin: Reminiscence H

Rurouni Kenshin: Memories H -

Main Text Rurouni Kenshin: Memories (01)

Author: Wang Miaozhuang (liquid82)

Word Count: 3224

Genji 1 (863 AD), Kyoto.

Three shogunate officials walked through a small alley, their white lanterns swaying, illuminating

the bright cherry blossoms drifting in the intoxicating spring breeze.

"Recently, there have been more and more skilled assassins, among whom..."

"Oh, you mean that unverified Battosai assassin..." "Whether such a person exists or not,

we should go and investigate..." The old man and the middle-aged man were talking, while the other young man

just nodded habitually, his wandering eyes indicating that his thoughts were elsewhere.

"Hey, hey," the old man interrupted the slightly serious middle-aged man's incessant chatter, "Let's not talk

about work tonight. By the way, Kiyosato, you're getting married next month, aren't you?"

Hearing "get married." A young man named Kiyosato Akira looked up, a clear smile spreading across his face. "Yes,

that's right!"

"That beautiful childhood friend is going to be your wife, what a lucky dog!" the old man joked.

"But heaven is so unfair, living such a happy life in this chaotic world..."

Kiyosato simply nodded with a smile. He had no interest in listening to the old man; his mind was completely occupied with

his fiancée, Yukishiro Tomoe. Tomoe was his childhood friend, betrothed since childhood. The Kiyosato family was a renowned

clan during the shogunate, and Kiyosato

was

a capable, handsome, and dashing young man with a bright future ahead of him. In

this turbulent era, Tomoe's marriage to him had undoubtedly aroused much envy.

However, many were also envious of Kiyosato. Although Tomoe came from humble beginnings, she was a rare beauty. Her features

, figure, physique, and temperament were all exceptional. Even the inner palace (harem) of the Edo shogun wouldn't

have such a beauty.

Of course, such beauty made Kiyosato cherish it discreetly. Having both a high position and a beautiful woman was itself a

sin attracting the poisonous flames of jealousy. To flaunt it would be suicidal.

At that time, premarital chastity was highly valued, so although they had been living together for a long time, they maintained their

virginity, saving it for their wedding day—this was their agreement. Of course, for

young men

and

women just beginning to experience love, overcoming desire required immense willpower.

For example, this morning, Tomoe, wearing a purple kimono with a subtle floral pattern, was cooking miso soup. Her slender yet voluptuous figure stirred

Kiyosato's impulse, and he embraced her. One arm encircled Tomoe's slender, soft waist, while the other hand slipped inside

her kimono, wantonly kneading her breasts.

"Ah... Kiyosato, no, you're being naughty so early in the morning..." Ba breathed heavily

, her breath as fragrant as white plum blossoms. Her snow-white face flushed red from the heat, and her plump, pert buttocks felt Kiyosato's hard

erection .

"Who told you to be so tempting... Ba, I love you..." Kiyosato said, while feeling

the texture of Ba's beautiful breasts.

Ba's breasts weren't very large, but they were firm and full, like two elastic water balloons, with bird-beak-like

red nipples that stood up high, unable to resist the teasing. Kiyosato's penis was already hard and about to burst. "Ba, I feel so uncomfortable

..." Ba whimpered. Her eyes, which appeared as quiet and indifferent as ice and snow in front of others, burned like fire, like a

burning block of ice. A few drops of sour, lustful fluid seeped from the narrow crevice of her virgin flesh, soaking her panties. Her slender

hand reached out and pulled out Kiyosato's penis from his crotch.

"I'll help you get it out..." Tomoe gripped his burning hot penis, her slender fingers pressing against the coronal sulcus, stroking it up

and down . Kiyosato's nose was filled with the alluring fragrance emanating from Tomoe's passion. Enjoying

the meticulous care of this stunning beauty, his surging desire pounded against the entrance of his penis like a siege. Suddenly, a lightning-fast

pleasure soft, forceful spurts, Kiyosato could no longer hold back, and streams of young semen sprayed onto the stove.

Kiyosato regained his senses and embraced Tomoe tenderly, savoring each other's fragrant scents. The

betrothed couple were immersed in the fantasy of growing old together...

A gentle spring breeze drifted by, as if adding a footnote to his beautiful imagination.

"Greetings, Lord Kyoto Shojidai."

A ghostly voice sounded behind him. The three of them were startled and turned around. Against the backdrop of the moonlight,

the newcomer stood in the middle of the road like a thin, ethereal paper cutout.

He was a young man, short in stature, a full head shorter than Kiyosato, perhaps even shorter than Tomoe. His fiery red

hair and wide-sleeved red blouse swayed in the spring breeze, and the sword at his waist seemed to indicate his purpose.

"We have no personal grudges, but for the sake of the new era, we must ask you to die."

His voice was colder than his age should have. "Who are you?" the middle-aged man demanded.

" Himura Battōsai, a Choshu-faction Restorationist." He was the infamous assassin who had recently struck fear into the hearts of the shogunate officials. Fear spread through the three men, but it didn't stop them from drawing their swords as quickly as possible; after all, they were all skilled swordsmen trained at a famous Kyoto dojo. However, before Battōsai, their swordsmanship was no different from that of a three-year-old. The middle-aged man's sword was drawn only three inches before Battōsai's swift and ruthless blade decapitated him. The spurting blood left a cruel yet beautiful trail in the moonlight, like a symbol of this era. The old man finally drew his sword, but Battousai was nowhere to be seen . "Here." A voice came from above. The old man only saw a flash of red before the long sword pierced his head and emerged from his chin.

"Flying Heaven Sword Style? Dragon Spine Flash." This is the ultimate move of an ancient sword style from the Warring States period, using

the force of a downward thrust from high above to kill the enemy. The old man was luckier than the middle-aged man in that he died from this ultimate move.

"Ishiji! Shigekura!" Kiyosato leaned against the wall, watching in despair as his two companions were brutally murdered. There was

no time for grief, not even time for fear, as the swift Battosai

approached him with a swift blade that wouldn't even leave a trace of blood. "Waaaaah... Oh...

"

Kiyosato roared like a beast in extreme terror, his sword-wielding stance

so driven his swordsmanship master mad.

"Don't resist." Battosai said coldly.

"I don't want to die, I don't want to die, how can I die?" A desperate voice echoed in his heart, Tomoe's

exquisite figure infinitely intensifying his fear of death.

If he could see his beloved wife moaning lasciviously beneath his enemy one day, perhaps he could

be spared his current fear. Kiyosato slashed wildly a few times, but Battosai easily parried them.

After Kiyosato's last, ineffective attack, the two separated abruptly.

Kiyosato fell into a pool of blood, his intestines spilling from his ripped abdomen.

Surprisingly, this opponent, whose combat power was a mere 5, actually managed to slash a gash on Battosai's cheek.

Battosai paused, and Kiyosato's groan came from behind him. "I don't want to die... I finally...

married her... I thought I could love her forever..." Kiyosato, his intestines spilling out, was clearly delirious,

trying to pull out the long sword nailed to the side. Quickly, Battosai nailed the long sword to his body, ending his groan.

The desolate moonlight illuminated the blood-soaked alley.

"Indeed, highly skilled!"

Two people entered from the alleyway. They were also Restorationists, but they were Battosai's henchmen.

"You've had a tough mission!" The two approached, suddenly noticing the wound on Battosai's face. "You're injured?"

"Just a minor injury." Battosai wiped away the blood.

"However, to be able to slash your face, that person's swordsmanship must be quite good."

"No, his swordsmanship itself isn't that great." Battosai refuted the newcomer's statement. "It's just that he's

too obsessed with life! Obsessed to a terrifying degree." He sheathed his sword. "The rest is up to you."

Battosai walked out of the alley, glancing once more at the gruesome corpse in Kiyosato. "In your next life, you must

find happiness," he murmured. Battosai

, a first-rate killer. Heaven's punishment

! Heaven's punishment! Heaven's punishment! Heaven's punishment!

Under the banner of righteousness, the activities of the Restorationists became increasingly frequent. For the arrival of a new era, Battosai

was willing to let Kyoto bleed like a river. The cries of widows and orphans were merely the price to pay for the world to no longer weep.

"This is awful... No matter what I drink, it tastes like blood..." In a Kyoto tavern, Battosai

put down his sake cup, thinking to himself. He started drinking half a year ago, but ever since he was cut, he felt that every drink

tasted like blood.

"Welcome," the tavern owner greeted a new customer. "What would you like to order?"

"A cold sake, please." A clear, ethereal voice rang out, and Battosai felt a soft

spot being touched.

The beautiful and refined Tomoe sat at the table, dressed in a white kimono and wearing a purple shawl, looking like a goddess from the forest.

"Hey, woman!" Two drunken samurai approached her. "Have a drink with us!"

Tomoe raised her pointed chin, her large, clear eyes, both cold and innocent, looking at them.

"We are loyalists of the Aizu Domain! We work day and night, risking our lives for the Emperor! It's only right that you repay us

!" One of the samurai's lewd hands had already landed on Tomoe's shoulder, slowly pulling aside her shawl.

The patrons, seeing these sword-wielding samurai, dared not utter a word of anger.

"No…" Tomoe's face flushed crimson, the girl's soft voice pleading. The samurai had already

removed his kimono, revealing her snow-white shoulders.

His rough hands touched the virgin's snow-white skin, and Tomoe felt a strange sensation amidst the shame.

Since Kiyosato's death, she hadn't been touched by a man for some time. Desire was a door that couldn't be closed;

once Kiyosato opened it, the nights alone became unbearable for her.

[To be continued]

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