Complete Summary:

The year is 1863. As the Tokugawa Period comes to a close in Japan, the stakes have never been higher. Culture, tradition, and the way of the Warrior which has ruled the minds and hearts of those willing to fight for their own truth have been shaken. A war is brewing - terrible conflict that will shape the new age. The tumultuous passion of the sword cries out as it is replaced by heartless cold machinery. Those willing to resist change find themselves conforming to it soon enough. Hopelessness, fear, and betrayal color the countryside brighter than the rays of the Eastern sun. Yet in the heart of this place, there are those who will not give in. There are those who will fight. There are those with a truth so powerful that it cannot be denied, for humans and for demons both.

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Author's Note:

SPOILERS MAY BE PRESENT. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Key things new readers should know:

This is not a complete retelling. Important plot points, timelines, lore, and character backgrounds have been changed. This story is inspired by the games and anime but will likely divert from it heavily. Pairings will be decided as I outline the next several chapters. I don't like labeling or tagging pairings because I feel that this boxes in characters rather than letting them roam free and make their own decisions. However, if there are to be any labeled, then the key "pairings" will involve Chizuru with Saito/Souji/Hijikata/Kazama.

Other details about this story and why/how it's being done: (Please keep in mind that this is my personal opinion)

So what is this story? After playing Demon of the Fleeting Blossom and watching all the anime (seasons 1 and 2) and the OVA series, I was left feeling...disappointed.

Don't get me wrong. I loved the games and the anime. However, I felt that there were many things that could have been developed much more that were simply left untouched and neglected. Demons/Oni (one of the most fascinating things about Japanese mythology) were never properly explored even though it was hinted that they had a rich culture and lore. In the end, they just didn't feel like much of anything but another plot device. I will be changing that heavily.

The romances were great, but they still lacked some oomph. I felt like I was roped into romancing one of the guys and everyone else just kinda ignored me when shit hit the fan. There was little to no tension between characters, and the love (though sweet and awesome) just didn't feel real enough for me. All the men of the Shinsengumi seem to feel one way or another about Chizuru, but there is no jealousy, no conflict, no stepping on toes, and no general myriad of things that makes a romance like this believable. Let's fix that, shall we?

The heroine was a veritable and adorable disaster. She wasn't our typical doe-eyed Mary Sue that is seen in most reverse harem scenarios, but she could have been developed much much more to make a more interesting and effective character. I found myself feeling frustrated with how helpless she was before and after finding out that she was a demon. She claimed to have sword skills yet displayed none of them. So many times, she was thrown into situations that she could have handled yet she deferred to other people to solve in her place. This inaction frequently caused mayhem. This will be remedied.

The plot took many historical liberties, which is all fine and good, but it almost felt like the show was going out of its way to kill everybody. Again, don't get me wrong. I love a good tragedy. In fact, most of what I write is tragic. But this was just so...*no words*. If characters like this die, they should die reasonably and for very good reasons. Most of these reasons were not good enough for me. Thus, I will be fixing some things in this regard and sticking a little closer to actual history.

All in all, I decided to take it upon myself to write this story from a different angle. Is this a retelling? No, not really, since many key factors have been changed. The general plot and premise is the same, but the details are quite different.

The main point is that I absolutely love this game, and I'd like to write my own version of it in my own way. I'm not trying to "outwrite" the creators. I have nothing but the highest respect for them. I do want to try my hand at sharing my own inner world with you guys of this universe as I see it.

Of course, your replies and your responses inspire me to keep working on these stories as writing takes a huge amount of time and hard work, so if you have a free moment, please drop me a line and let me know what you think.

Thanks for reading!

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Hakuoki: Song of Truth

ACT I: Chapter I

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December 1863

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Winter shrouded the large city of Kyoto in a haze of white frost. Snow fell from the black sky, shimmering white in the glaring moonlight. Winds howled as they whipped the fluttering banners of market stalls about. It was cold enough outside to force the owners of shops, inns, teahouses, and homes to close all of their doors and windows tight. The piercing wind had ushered everyone inside, leaving the streets in quiet eerie emptiness. The only bodies out and about at this hour were the impoverished and homeless and those who had little interest in doing more than helping themselves by taking advantage of those who couldn't. Even official patrols who were supposed to keep the peace were huddled indoors, too busy keeping their hands warm to care that a murder was about to take place.

The vast emptiness of a city that was normally bustling with trade and people terrified me. There was no one around to hear my ragged breathing and cries for help as I bolted down alleyways and side streets. There was no one around to witness the murderous glint in the eyes of the ronin who chased me. There was no none around to offer sanctuary.

"Help! Someone! Anyone!" I shouted between breaths, my voice raw and hoarse. I wanted to believe that if anyone heard the desperation in my words, they would do something to help me. I should have known otherwise, but I wasn't raised here. I'd been brought up in the country, where each and every person in a village depended on one another for survival. We traded, bartered, and helped each other where we could. Not true for city life, as I was finding out. A few days in Kyoto were not enough to teach me the subtle ways of its disposition, and I was about to pay the price for my ignorance with my life.

"Help!" Sweat poured down my face even in this cold, drying quickly as the wind slapped against my face. I didn't know how long I'd been running. I was exhausted, but I couldn't stop now. Not when fear muddled my senses and forced me to run well past my normal limits. Melted snow coated a messy mixture of gravel and dirt beneath my pounding heels, making the ground a treacherous trap of its own. The main streets of Kyoto were well developed, but its back roads were worn and neglected. More than once, I'd tripped and fallen, coating my clothes and skin in mud. I ran and ran, but it seemed that no matter how far I went or how complicated I made the turns of my dash through the city, the men behind me followed. Every time I stopped to catch my breath, I heard their shouts and footsteps grow closer.

My hand instinctively clenched around the hilts of the swords at my waist - the very things that had gotten me into this predicament in the first place. Passed down for generations in my family, they were priceless. Certainly, they were worth more than what the ronin would have peddled them for. Unfortunately, my refusal to part with them had landed me in quite a mess. I wasn't defenseless. I knew that I had a decent chance of defending myself against a few thugs. But every time I imagined fighting them, my hands shook and my knees went weak. My logic practically screamed at me to draw my sword, to fight, to defend myself. But no matter how I tried, I knew that I couldn't risk repeating what had happened just a few weeks past.

I swore that I would never do that again …

And so I ran onwards, ignoring the stitch in my side and the thorns that pin-cushioned into my lungs with each and every breath. The ronin gained on me, moving so fast that I began to hear their voices echoing on the sides of the buildings around me. I ducked into a side alley, thinking to outsmart them by doubling back towards the direction I came from -

Only to run into a dead end. A massive wall of stone and sand blocked my path, the end of the street cluttered with strewn waste and debris. My heart lurched painfully. This was it. I had no time to turn around now. Any second, they would be on me. I thought about hiding under some of the clutter but quickly changed my mind. Hiding wouldn't help me now. The only chance I had of surviving this was to fight.

"Come 'ere, little brat!" a voice barked from behind me. I whirled around just in time to see seven burly men filing into a formation that blocked my escape. Seven. One more than when all this began. The ringleader's shoulders shook with breathless laughter. "Why so scared? Are those things on your belt just for show?"

"Too nice to belong to a kid," another taunted, his yellowed teeth flashing. "Just hand 'em over and we'll make sure to leave you breathing when we're done with you."

"Please," I tried to reason, "these swords are all that I have left of -"

"Not interested," a third man cut in. "Save your breath, small fry. You'll need it for when we're beating the life out of you." In unison, they all drew their weapons. Instinctively, I did the same. But my hands were not as sure as theirs. My grip was shaky and slick with the sweat that greased my palms.

"I don't want to hurt you," I pleaded. Raucous laughter greeted me in reply.

"Hurt us? Just who do you think we are, kid?" The ringleader's face hardened. "We're samurai. And you are nothing but a filthy commoner who's overstepped his bounds. We have the right to cut you down where you stand."

"Samurai," I murmured. How I wanted to spit that title back in their faces. These worms were far from being samurai. They'd fallen on hard times. I couldn't judge what had made them into the murderers and robbers that stood before me now, but hearing them use that title made me bristle. I'd known greater men who couldn't claim such a title by mere circumstance of birth. And here these lowlifes were using it as carelessly as a lowly honorific.

"That's right," a fourth in the group sneered. "Scared yet?"

"No," I replied, my voice reflecting a calm that I was far from feeling. My grip on my sword tightened, feet shifting into a more defensive stance. The men noticed this change in my demeanor. All at once, they fell silent. For several minutes, we analyzed each other. I could barely see in this pitch black darkness. Could I defend against so many? Most importantly, could I keep my wits about me as I tried? I didn't have time to think on it, for in the moment that I considered how I was going to try and slip away from them in combat, the leader let out a shrill cry and lunged at me.

My mind should have divided this alley into rings. I should have prioritized my enemies based on their speed, size, and agility. I should have been able to block and defend until I understood how they moved. Instead, all I could do was struggle to stay out of range of the edge of their blades. My thoughts scattered like sand in a gale. Lungs heaving, legs shaking, arms burning in pain as I blocked one slash after another - whatever I knew and learned about combat was gone. I gritted my teeth when the razor sharp edge of the leader's sword sliced into my thigh. It was a fairly shallow cut, and I danced around him in an attempt to put at least two bodies between us.

One of the men screamed in pain as my sword slid into his torso then twisted to stab into his neck. He fell with a sickening squelch. Before I could process what I'd just done, another blade cut into my side. The pain disoriented me momentarily, and I dropped to one knee. Without missing a beat, I scooped up a handful of dirt and threw it into the face of the next man. Swiveling around, I blocked a strike from the left that would have decapitated me.

"You rotten little shit!" the leader shouted, angered that I'd felled his companion. His attacks grew stronger. Each slam of his blade against my sword sent powerful tremors through my arms and shoulders. I may have had knowledge of the skills and stances for combat, but my body hardly had any physical training. The other ronin surrounded me. I was small of stature, and in that moment, to me they seemed to block out the moonlight. My mind balked, tugging on memories that I'd been trying to bury for weeks. This scene was all too familiar, the stifling stench of blood and sweat enough to make me nauseous.

"Look at 'im…shaking like a leaf…"

"What's wrong, boy?" another jeered, "...going to wet yourself?" At least my disguise wasn't compromised. Had they known that I was a woman, this situation would have been even uglier.

"You better be prepared," the leader snarled. "We're not gonna let you off easy for hurting Sumi." They closed in on me, their blades less than two meters away from cutting me open. Was this it, then? Would I die here just because a ronin or two wanted to afford sake and a warm meal for the night? I wondered if the man who'd taught me how to wield my swords would be ashamed. Adrenaline flushed my veins, colder than the surrounding snow. Then, my panic froze. Everything froze. My teeth stopped chattering, and the pain of my wounds faded to a dull roar in the background. Suddenly, all the movements around me appeared to be made in slow motion. I blinked, seeing red in the corner of my vision.

"I didn't hurt him," I heard myself say in an icy tone. "I killed him." Oh, no. This was bad. I wanted to run. I needed to run. This was exactly what had happened that night. First came the cold. Then the crimson. Then the rage that had cost the lives of ten men. My hands felt hot around the hilt of my sword. Demon rage. I'd lived most of my life denying what I was, but the incident some weeks ago left no more room for that. If these men insisted on fighting me, on cornering me...they would die.

"I'll rip you apart," the ronin leader snarled, oblivious to the situation.

"If you attack me now, you'll meet the same end as your friend," I warned. They didn't listen. The other men hadn't bothered to, either. I wanted to scream - to shout, to rail against this hopeless situation. But outwardly, I didn't move. I didn't make a single sound. As the ronin leapt upon me, I countered their strikes with renewed vigor. My blood grew hotter, a haze falling over my reasoning. In this state, their movements seemed clumsy and slow. The demon inside of me wanted them dead. It was all I could do to keep myself from landing fatal blows.

I swore...I swore I wouldn't kill anyone ever again...and yet...

A scream from behind me pierced the air. The distraction allowed the ronin leader to get past my guard and shove me up against a wall. I pushed him back with a well placed kick to his chest and turned to see more men filing into the alleyway. These men were different, though. Not ronin or common thugs. Something was off about them. They wore light azure coats ridged with white triangular patterns and some kind of long white narrow headband wrapped around their foreheads. At first, I thought I was seeing a trick of the light, but upon closer inspection, I confirmed that their hair was colorless and white.

"What the hell?" the man that I'd just kicked muttered. The newcomers stopped and stood dead still for a moment before raising their heads and shrieking in unison. The sound was worse than nails scratching across metal. I flinched, but as soon as they started cutting into the other men who had attacked me, the leader charged into the fray without a moment's pause. He was mowed down instantly. They all were. One by one, they fell with groans and screams of pain. The white-haired men didn't stop there. Even after they dispatched their enemies, they continued to stab and cut into them, their expressions contorted with demonic laughter. I took a step back. Silence as all four of them looked up at me.

Eyes glowing crimson. Jaws opened wider than any human's. Foamy white saliva dripping down their chins. They were the picture of madness.

Monsters.

That was the only word I could use to describe them.

All at once, they were upon me, their strikes chaotic and too random to anticipate. The speed at which they moved was galling, and it was all I could do to outmaneuver them and stay away from their frantic attacks. I cut into them, over and over. But each time my sword left their bodies, the wounds I inflicted healed immediately.

"Blood! Give me…blood!" one of them hissed. He slashed at my face; I ducked and sliced upwards to pierce the muscles of his groin. The hit should have incapacitated him, but he stood his ground, laughing like a madman. "Blood! Blood!" Slice. Slice. Block. Duck. Reposition. Over and over. The red in my line of sight intensified. My vision tunneled as I realized just how much danger I was in. Though I managed to dodge most of the attacks, I wasn't fast enough to dodge them all. My teeth ground into my lip when I felt the frigid kiss of steel splaying open a spot just beneath my shoulder blade. Red leaked from my thigh and the wound in my side, blooming like tsubaki flowers on my haori and hakama. In a momentary lull in the conflict, my eyes darted to the ground where the unidentifiable corpses of my previous enemies lay. One of the white haired men cackled as he brought his sword to his mouth and licked the blood from it.

"Blood…give me…blood…"

Something snapped in my mind. Restraints I'd been holding onto shattered. The next time that the white haired monsters attacked, I parried even faster. Rather than causing superficial wounds, I aimed for their limbs and their necks. I sliced a jugular. Hot boiling blood spurted out in a river of red that gave off visible steam as it splattered to the ground. The monster fell, writhing and twitching. I decapitated the next, feeling nothing as I watched the red of his eyes fade to a lifeless black. Again and again, I struck, severing fingers, arms, and legs. Everything was covered in red - the walls, the ground, my face, my hands. My heart beat erratically, struggling to match the rhythm of my building rage. At last, the last monster fell at my feet, its head bouncing and rolling away into the shadows.

From behind, I sensed a sharp movement. No time to think. I turned and moved my blade in a reverse crescent to cut at my attacker. Strange, but this one was stronger than the others. And there were more of them. More blue coats. More white headbands. More to kill. More to cut down. Spill their blood. Kill them. Destroy them. Kill them so that I might live. Again and again, my sword clashed with theirs, my muscles spasming and my strikes faltering as more and more of my clothes turned a darker shade of crimson. My strength was pouring out of me, and each new nick and cut inflicted strained my resolve beyond belief.

"Stop!" one of the monsters shouted. The one engaging me feinted a hit to my leg. I saw through it and parried his sword right at the nape of my neck. We pushed apart. More blood gushed out of my thigh. "Souji, you're going to kill him!" I faltered just enough; misstepped just enough. In the blink of an eye, my sword was knocked out of my hands. I stumbled and fell to the heaving and spinning ground, automatically reaching for my wakazashi. Another blink, and before my fingers could even move to draw past the initial snap of my scabbard, the tip of a sword rested against my throat. Unwilling to give up, I twisted away then rolled backwards and away from the threat. The monster followed, raising his blade upwards, prepared to strike me down even as I tried to regain my footing. Something heavy slammed into my back, pushing me against the ground and completely knocking the wind out of me. Rough hands clamped around my wrist and twisted my arm until I couldn't move.

"Souji," a cool voice murmured. I barely heard it above the rasping of my labored breathing. As seconds ticked by, the red bled from my sight. The figures that I'd thought were more of the white-haired monsters became men - one with green eyes and one with blue. The one who had disarmed me glared at me with an evil and amused expression. His eyes reminded me of flaming jade. The blue-eyed man restrained him, one hand on his shoulder and the other holding back his sword arm. "Stop," the blue-eyed man commanded again. "This goes beyond our duty."

"Aren't you being a little sentimental, Saito?" the one called Souji sneered. "He was the one that attacked us." Whatever or whomever was holding me down grabbed me by the shoulder and flipped me onto my back. Golden eyes and red hair came into my line of view.

"Oi…he really is just a kid," the bear-sized man above me frowned. He had a spear pointed at my chest, looking genuinely bewildered. My hand itched to grip his weapon and shove it away from me, but my body was no longer responsive. My arms hung uselessly at my side. I couldn't even feel pain anymore, and it took everything that I had just to cling to the frayed edges of my consciousness.

"Who are you…all of you…?" I rasped, tasting blood in my mouth. With each breath, flecks of it sprinkled onto my lips.

"Isn't that what we should be asking you?" another voice demanded. I glanced in that direction and saw a man with jet black hair and violet eyes staring down at me. Had I been in any other situation, I might have been entranced by the uncommon beauty of his features. Despite my inability to focus, the intensity of his gaze struck a cord in me. I realized that he was expecting an answer and clamped my mouth shut.

"Let's just kill him and be done with it, Hijikata," Souji said, his lips drawing into a sick smile. "Though I guess he'll be dead soon anyway. Just look at all that blood." The man with golden eyes frowned at those words.

"You showed no restraint," Saito said, his voice devoid of any and all emotion.

"Quiet," the violet-eyed man shook his head and pointed in some vague direction. "Heisuke, make sure to pick up their blue coats. We don't want this linked to us." He gestured to Saito then to me. "Pick him up. He's coming with us. We need to know how much he saw."

"Just leave him. He'll be dead in an hour," Souji protested sourly. "If we don't want to..." Their voices began to fade away. I looked past the men to the black and voidlike sky where snow continued to fall. The moon hid behind a mass of clouds, its light no longer white. The new tone stained the snowflakes with a violet hue, and all at once I felt like I was lying beneath the shedding branches of a cherry tree. There was something peaceful about that feeling, but peace was the last thing I needed right now. There was still too much to do. Still too much to accomplish. I had to find my father. If he was still alive, then Kyoto was the best clue I had to helping him. And the elixir...if I was dead, who would make the elixir to cure my father's fatal illness?

I can't die - I thought vaguely.

"I can't die here," I whispered, feeling my consciousness fading. Something warm and solid wrapped around my shoulders and slid beneath my knees. I felt myself being lifted upwards. Saito's face swam into focus. A solid aura of heat radiated from him. "My father...I have to help him..." His gaze was sharp and fierce. No mercy. No sympathy. Just like the finely honed edge of a sword. That heartless gaze followed me into the darkness.