A/N: Yet another new idea. I would really appreciate some feedback on this one guys, it’s one of my favorites. God bless ^-^!

There had once been a time when the sight of a samurai was received with joy and pride. They were a symbol of peace and protection, there to guard the weak and helpless. In a society lacking justice, they built up order and respect. However, in present society, the mere mention of one would send a woman into a faint. Ever since the beginning of the war, any man carrying a katana openly would have his hair cut, his katana taken from him and often times thrown into prison. Even worse was if you were found with a concealed weapon. Many bodies were being discovered, executed in the ways of the samurai. Many samurai were executed for crimes they knew nothing of because of the rogues, the samurai that had banned together to resist the war, to oppose both sides. It was easy to blame many when to find a select few would waste time and energy that was better spent supporting the war. The war had produced these rogues, although officials were reluctant to admit it. The lone group of samurai were known as the hitokiri, the assassins of the war. There were four true hitokiri, the ones most known for shedding blood ruthlessly. They were unstoppable, like phantoms. Once the war was ended and the new era begun they had simply vanished without a trace.

Once in a while one might be able to hear news of a small battle in which a hitokiri had appeared to slay the antagonist. Yet there was no proof, so the rumors all quickly died. After all, what was out of sight was out of mind. It wasn’t so for one man however. One man who had been affected by the war and wanted nothing more than to meet the hitokiri that had slain those dearest to him. The one that was so quick on his feet it was impossible to watch him move in battle. So small and petite was this man that he was able to use a technique lost to the ancients. It pitted one against many and was nearly impossible to learn. Not only was there not one man who knew how to use it properly, but also the speed and slight of hand needed were traits nearly impossible to find in a man. That’s what made this one hitokiri the most feared. His signature, so to say, was to leave a victim behind after every slaying. He would leave a cross shaped mark on their shoulder, to prove that he had been there. No one knew why, and it seemed that no one would. For at the end of the war he had disappeared without a trace, taking all his secrets with him.

“Come on Aarah, you must be kidding me. Is this all you have to offer me? You’re supposed to be the best of the best. Show me what you’re made of onna!”  Aarah growled low in her throat, gripping the handle of her sakabato with enough force to break it. This man, no, this boy’s nonsense was making her sick. Leaping high into the air she held her blade to the side, her right forearm hiding all but her narrowed eyes in the process. Bringing her knee up in defense she prepared for the attack. In a rush of wind and sand she struck, landing her blade upon the man’s shoulder with immense force. She was careful so as not to damage him too badly, just enough to let him know she meant business.

“Don’t mess with forces you know nothing of.” Her gaze was steady and cold as she allowed him to push her back, wincing in pain when he moved his shoulder.

Like the fool he was the young man challenged her yet again, rushing forward to attack her left side. With eyes narrowed in anger she returned the action. Her movements were so quick that the man was caught off guard. He was left unprepared for the attack on his shoulder, sending him tumbling back once more. Feebly he attempted to defend himself against her attacks, unable to regain his composure. Aarah’s fury was unrelenting as she struck him again and again, knocking him to the ground. Soon he was disarmed and on his knees, staring up at her with sudden fear. His cocky arrogance had fled him the moment she’d taken the upper hand without even trying. As she was about to send the final blow to his head to knock him out, a high-pitched gong rang out over the training grounds. Fighters in all five of the sand floored training pits froze in their places.

“That is enough!” Once it was clear that the attention was upon Aarah and her partner, the rest of the young men returned to their sparring matches. Aarah scowled down at her partner, bringing down her blade and sheathing it. Taking a step back she crossed her arms, watching him with pure disgust.

“Be glad that I only use a sakabato. And you dared say that I was the weak one? How pathetic.” With that she turned on her heal and left the sand field, walking up the steps that lead to where her Sensei sat.

Whenever there were training sessions in the pits he would sit and watch; assuring that no one could go too far. He was a tall, lean, graying man with knowledge of martial arts that would put any scholar to shame. Humbly Aarah crossed her legs and sat to his left, staring out at the pupils that were training in the other pits. Two young men were helping her fallen partner to the sidelines as another hurriedly raked the sand so that the next pair could spar.

“Aarah, I would have thought that by now you’d have learned to control that temper of yours. It seems that as of late you have become quite irritable which is not like you. Is there anything you would like to discuss?” Absently she played with a ninja star she had picked up out of the basket to her right. Tossing her ebony braid over her shoulder she smirked, rolling the weapon back and forth over her knuckles with mindless skill.

“Fighting with anger is often the only way I can be satisfied with these games. There’s more of a challenge, more of a thrill, more satisfaction.” Her fingers paused as her Sensei plucked the star from her hand with practiced speed and timing. Tossing it over his own knuckles he stared at her, exasperation in his eyes and a tired smile on his lips.

“Fighting with anger does nothing more than to weaken you. It is when you use your mind that you win. Emotions do nothing more than hinder and distract you from the task at hand. Your anger will not keep you on your feet even when your body tells you it can take no more. It will be the discipline and knowledge in your mind that will claim you victor in the final battle. You of all people should know that.”

The understanding in his eyes was comforting to her. For the past two years he had been teaching her about life, about the justified causes for battle and actions that were simply unacceptable. Sensei was tearing down what she had been taught and rebuilding it in the proper way. She had lived at the dojo for that amount of time, by far the longest she’d ever remained in one place. Since the end of the war she had been labeled a rurouni, never staying in one place for more than two weeks at a time. It was a people thing. Not once had she allowed herself to trust anyone, or allow them to trust her. Something about her Sensei, however, had stopped her. Had made her want to stay and learn from him although she knew everything there was to martial arts. She wanted to learn how to live. There was also a young man, one that Sensei treated as his own son, which seemed to be growing on her.

Casting her emerald gaze to the ground Aarah sighed. The decision at hand would be the hardest she’d ever make. Placing a hand on her head, as if sensing her inner turmoil, Sensei chuckled. Lightly ruffling her bangs he stood, his knees cracking softly.

“For one so young you have the eyes of a scarred warrior. You still have much to learn my dear young one. With study and practice you will perhaps be as trained as I one day.” His stormy gray eyes twinkled with mirth as he winked. “Now, let us eat.”

Aarah’s dark eyes softened as she took in the sight around her. Sensei raised his hands as a deeper gong sounded three times. The students stopped at once and bowed to one another before shaking hands in agreement to the halting of their training. Facing the stone podium they bowed in unison to the fourth ring of the gong. Then all at once they seemed to scurry to the dining hall, chatting merrily amongst themselves. Would she miss this? The peace and tranquility she’d found in this dojo? With a sigh she followed the small crowd, lagging behind the rest, as she was deep in thought.