One Night, Upon sleeping besides Kenshin. She had a dream. The dream began in silence, yet the air in Kyoto was thick with blood and sorrow. Kaoru wandered alone beneath a moonless sky, her feet brushing against the cold dirt of the old city streets. She was dressed in her familiar kimono, but everything around her felt foreign—older, darker, suffocating. The lanterns flickered dimly, casting long, twisted shadows across the narrow alleys. Then came a sudden scream—sharp, human, and cut short. Kaoru’s heart raced as she followed the sound, her sandals echoing softly against the wooden walls. She turned a corner—and froze.

What is this place? Isn't this Kyoto?

A man lay crumpled against the wall, lifeless, blood pooling beneath him like ink spilled on parchment. Standing above him, sword still drawn, was him—Kenshin. But not the Kenshin she knew. His face was unreadable, eyes glowing faintly with a fierce golden light. His clothes were soaked in blood. His presence radiated something cold, something inhuman. Kaoru’s breath caught. This was Battōsai—the assassin, the killer. He didn’t notice her at first. When he finally turned, his gaze met hers, and for a moment, time held its breath. There was no recognition in his eyes—only calculation, as if deciding whether she, too, needed to die. Meanwhile she was gasping. Her face shows nothing but fear and horror.

W-what?... K-kensh-

Kaoru trembled, unable to speak, unable to run. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind—how could this be the same man who once smiled shyly and cooked her breakfast? How could those hands, now drenched in blood, ever hold her so gently? She whispered his name, barely audible.

K-ken...S-shin...