Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin.

Okay well I have to say that this story was inspired by Fahrenheit 451, a book I love, but not the story plot itself more like a character in it and that being Clairsse- She is so cool. Well any way I'm making Kaoru be like her a bit and the story well I have a different thing for that, so I just wanted you to know that for reasons I have no control over.

IMPORTANT: Okay this is just for fun; I go by another name on FanFiction.net. If you want you can try to figure out who I really am- so just you people can know. So if you like mysteries maybe you would like to figure this one out!

Summary: Kaoru, a forward girl with a tragic past entangles herself with the alias of Battousia to save his soul. Together they have to stop armies of men who want a hidden secret.

"Wise men make proverbs, but fools repeat them."
- Samuel Palmer (1805-80)

The Letters of Sin

Prologue: A Man of Mortal Sin

He walked down the streets in a dim darkness, hazed with fickle street lanterns along one of the many cobalt stoned alleyways of the ancient city of Rome. His hair was that of the morning star; deep blood red that rested in low band at the bottom of his head, and his eyes...his eyes were those of the blood moon-Deep amber that could burn through a soul and not let it go until its decent into hell itself.

It was said whoever laid eyes on him were those of the doomed and damned, for they would never see the light of another passing day that most people took for granted. No, but not he. He never took anything for granted, not the slightest thing. He was one who knew the ales of life, one who knew the darkness like his own face, one who tempted fate and laughed at destiny's beauty; they were only distant figures of fancies to a man like him.

The darkness slowly faded as he passed onto the main road which lights were better equipped to battle against the bleak darkness of night. His footsteps sounded off against the road of the most recent commonplace he was located in, his dark cape flying behind him as it was dragged a sudden gust of wind. If any soul had been there they would have seen a perfect specimen of masculine beauty and deadly danger that almost any foolish maiden would die for.

A clanking noise echoed off the buildings as he moved along, cutting a track in the wind. The man reached down grabbing a long sheathed sword that hung limp at his side; the noise stopped.

The sun was starting to peak over the edge of the ancient city; driving always the chill of the night just with a bit of light. The demons were gone and all that was left remaining was bloody corpses that he had given the night as a departing present, only to come again the next night and surrender yet another life, bidding apart of his soul farewell as well. His innocence had been diminished the first time he cut through finely woven flesh, letting out cries of crimson viscosity.

The day was just beginning and it was time for him to rest. Turing around a corner he came to a large, rather old building and went inside. The place was suffocating hot, and stuffy with the smell of alcohol, smoke, and sex. This was his compound- the place where he worked for the good of people, a compound of assassins that dwelled within the walls was sick with nasty, vile corruption, and fear. But, this was all he knew.

No one said any greeting to the man who had just stepped instead, but instead moved back a little and avoiding his gaze of damnation in a sign of revere and the utmost awe. He was the best at what he did, his alias known to almost everyone in the Western Hemisphere and even parts of the Far East. It's hard to imagine a man being that infamous, and hard not to at all to say that he was indeed doomed to eternal pain in the far corners of the pits of Hell.

He walked to his room, opening the door and taking his clothes off that needed washing to get the crimson dye off, once again. The bed lay forgotten in the far corner of the room; disregarded like a old toy of a child's. The bed looked new with white linen sheets that were expertly made to cover the entirety of the square cushion. Putting down his sword onto a stand he eased himself onto the corner, the farthest away from the bed, and closed his eyes to rest his body. He would never sleep. He was always in a turbulent dream like state when he sleep never letting his guard down, life was never easy going not even in sleep.

He knew this. This was all he had known and, to him, all he would ever know.

A/N: Okay people so what do you think so far, don't worry others will come into the story soon so beware! Well please if there are any comments or suggestion please tell me, thank you!

Don't You Just Hate Me

CrypticMaidenRK