Hm, to tell you the truth, I don't even know what this song sounds like; I just found the lyrics on some obscure page and thought that it would make a great songfic for Shishio-sama. Plus, I really don't know what Shishio Makoto's life story is so this is all based on assumptions and brainstorming sessions with people.

 

And, yeah, the usual disclaimers for Rurouni Kenshin. And the little rant about Shishio-sama at the end. That mostly belongs to me (since I did a similar report) and to the creator of the “Why Shishio Won” page.

 

******************

Am I Evil?

(Originally recorded by: Diamond Head)

Songfic by: Jericah Helios

******************

 

      Shishio, who settles back into his cushions in the empty throne room, dismisses Soujiro. Nearby, a bottle of wine and a wine glass filled with the said wine. After a few moments, Shishio reaches out to take his wine glass. He raises it to his lips as if to drink from it...then stops. He lowers his hand and instead, looks into the swirling depths and smiles bitterly, the edges of his lips painfully curve into a half-smile. As he stared into the ruby depths, images, visions if you will, start to form, seen only by Shishio's cold sharp gaze.

 

********************************************

My mother was a witch, she was burned alive.

Thankless little bitch, for the tears I cried.

Take her down now; don't want to see her face

All blistered and burnt, can't hide my disgrace.

********************************************

 

      In an Obscure Village somewhere in Hokkaido

 

A woman is tied unto a stake and howls in obvious pain as the flames that encircle her burn hotter by the second. People, poor villagers from the look of things, pile in more wood, keeping the flames from dying. All of them, that is, but one little boy, staring disbelievingly into the pyre and its victim with tears in his young eyes.

 

      He had tried to stop them a while ago, even before the flames, but they had stopped him and now, several other men hold the boy. He had screamed, begged, threatened and even pleaded but the men would not let him go. And now, as the flames slowly consumed the screaming woman, the boy could only watch in horrified fascination.

 

      A scream echoed through the village and villagers that have gone silent save for the scream and the sound of human flesh being burned away slowly. Somewhere along the way, the boy realized that it was his voice that was screaming.

 

      "Mother~!"

 

      Night falls and all that is left of the woman is charred ashes blackened ground. The boy stood there motionlessly, just as he did when the villagers finally left. Slowly now, he lifted his head and moved jerkily towards the remains. As he stood upon the blackened and cooled ground, his tears fell downwards, anointing the earth with his innocent and wretched tears. Looking around, he thought he could feel the flames again, engulfing him along with his mother. In fact, he wished it did.

 

      Looking up, he thought he heard the sound of his name being called. But no, who would call him now? His father had long abandoned them, his mother was now dead, and who would want to call the son of a witch? Yet, there was no mistaking his name. "Shishio Makoto..." The voice uttered it as if caressing the name; every syllable reverberated through the boy as if it was from the depths of hell...

 

      ...In a sense, he was right...

     

      For all of a sudden, the ground beneath his feet crumbled and before he could jerk away, a thin and blackened hand clasped his small ankle, holding him into place. He did not scream nor did he cry out. Without his mother or his father, he was a worthless and cursed brat with no future, even on the streets. He was willing to die whichever way he could. It was the only thing left for him.

 

      But what he didn't anticipate was when the hand grasped his, a voice floated up, "You're giving up that easily?" There, right before his now terrified and quivering eyes, rose in full macabre glory the burnt and fetid corpse of his mother. Eyeless holes stared back at him coldly and with no love nor mercy, the eyes of those who may never rest.

 

      "Avenge me" was what she said. "Avenge me, bastard. That is all that is left to you. Avenge me! Those weaklings trampled upon us merely because we were lower than them. Trample on them son. Make them feel the fire of hate. Avenge me!"

 

      The corpse slapped him firmly when he gave no response. He reeled back involuntarily, not because of his fear of being hit but rather, of the rotten and dead fumes that rose from the corpse. Tripping, he fell back heavily, his back hitting the ground with a painful thump. His head hit the ground too, and a bright flash crossed his vision.

 

      He couldn't stand up, a distant part of him realized that his neck might be broken, and he might die. And as sleep beckoned his tired and weary mind, he turned his head to the side and saw and odd vision.

 

      A man was standing in the shadows, in a blood stained gi and hakama. But somehow, the boy knew that the blood upon this man's clothing was not his own, it was the blood of others that he had killed, killed for bloody vengeance. He was looking back at the boy with eyes filled with the fire of hate and vengeance. Gasping, the boy asked him, "What.... what is your name...?"

 

      The man gave him a frightening grin and said in a rasping voice, not too unlike the voice of his mother a while ago, "Ore wa Shishio Makoto desu"

 

      The boy looked back at him confusedly before falling into unconsciousness.

 

********************************************

Twenty-seven, everyone was nice.

Gotta see 'em make 'em pay the price.

See their bodies out on the ice.

Take my time.

Am I evil?

Yes I am.

Am I evil?

I am man, yes I am.

As I watched my mother die, I lost my head.

Revenge now I sought, to break with my bread.

Taking no chances, you come with me.

I'll split you to the bone, help set you free.

********************************************

 

      Years Later....

     

      Shishio Makoto stood before the same village, but this time the village was alight with the flames that consumed everything in his path. He could hear the villagers that he had trapped within their own houses, burning to a crisp.

     

      Like his mother did, he thought with a savage smile.

     

      With that thought, he made his way down to the very end of the village, flinging the blood off his katana in a swift stroke.

 

      Reaching the spot where he had seen his mother's corpse he stopped and smiled at the direction of the same blackened spot. It had been over a decade now, yet the black spot remained, as if a reminder of what had passed, and a catalyst for the eventual death of the villagers.

 

      He had wondered if it was fate that he had received the order to decimate this entire village. Or perhaps it was really his destiny to avenge his mother's death. Nevertheless, he knew that his path to complete vengeance was far from over. There were so many weaklings out there, far weaker than he yet ordered people far stronger than them, and he considered it his duty to teach them their proper place.

 

      Moving away, he stopped suddenly, he looked back and looked down, and he thought he saw a small boy in tattered clothes looking up at him confusedly, asking his name. With a raised eyebrow he realized that he looked just as he had seen the vision, with his blood stained gi and hakama. "The circle is now complete,” he murmured to no one in particular.

 

      He turned to go.

 

      Later on, on a hill not too far from the village, he stayed in the shadows in his campsite. He didn't need a fire to warm himself; he had trained himself to need nothing frivolous like that. And light was no problem, the still burning village shed light in the distance and even from here he could smell the odd smell of human bodies burning.

 

      He was sitting up and was about to fall asleep when he felt someone's approach. He remained as he was and said, "What news, messenger?"

     

      The messenger walked closer and seemed a little uneasy at his easy identification of his mission. With shaking hands he gave a piece of paper, and said, "These are your new orders. You are no longer the shadow hitokiri. Himura Battousai is no longer the hitokiri, you are."

 

      Opening one eye, Shishio took the paper from him and read it with a deadpan expression.

 

      "As the hitokiri, you will be now given more duties and missions, natures of which will be fully briefed by the gene..."

 

      "Enough” said Shishio, cutting him off, "It now means I get to kill more people. Right?"

 

      The young man swallowed heavily and nodded.

 

      Shishio felt an evil smile growing on his lips.

 

      And in the distance, near a blackened spot came an odd rasping voice, a voice from the depths of Hell...

 

      "The fires of hatred and vengeance....."

 

********************************************

Twenty-seven, everyone was nice.

Gotta see 'em make 'em pay the price.

See their bodies out on the ice.

Take my time.

Am I evil?

Yes I am.

Am I evil?

I am man, yes I am.

********************************************

 

      “Shishio-sama” Yumi’s careful voice drew him out of his reverie. He opened his eyes and found Yumi looking back at him with concern. He realized that he had been grinning maniacally for a few seconds.

 

      He smiled again and looked at her from behind his bandages.

 

      Yumi blushed and averted her gaze, saying as she pretended to arrange her kimono, “Houji-san sent me to tell you that the Juppon Katana have all given their affirmative in meeting here.”

 

      Shishio nodded and said, “I’ll have Soujiro work out the rest of the details”

 

      Yumi cocked her head to the side and queried, “What about Shinomori and the rest of the Oniwabanshuu? What are you going to do about them?”

 

      Shishio waved his hand dismissingly “Soujiro will handle that issue as well”

 

********************************************

On with the action now, I'll strip your pride.

I'll spread your blood around,

I'll see you ride.

Your face is scarred with steel, wounds deep and neat.

Like a double dozen before ya, smells so sweet.

Am I evil?

 Yes I am.

Am I evil?

I am man.

********************************************

 

      In Shishio’s Throne Room

 

      Looking on intently, Shishio watches Kenshin’s fight with one of his hired thugs. He didn’t care if Kenshin won and killed the idiot or lost, just to find out what exactly was Battousai’s secret was worth the life of a measly weakling. If the idiot did die it would be because he was too weak to even match up to the strength of Himura.

 

      However, if Battousai lost and got killed by a pathetic, brainless weakling, then he wouldn’t have been a satisfying opponent anyway.

 

      As he watched the Battousai work, his gaze kept on wandering to the cross scar on the younger man’s cheek. It was his chief identifying mark, besides the brilliant flaming red hair of course. Yet, Shishio wondered where he had gotten them.

 

      It had remained with him, indeed right upon his face where it would be most noticeable, not only to the others but, most likely to him. He wondered what Himura felt every time he looked into a mirror and found all the memories that the scar brought rushing back to him.

 

      Briefly, Shishio wished that it was he who had given Battousai such a memorable mark.

 

      To take away the purity of the pale white skin of such a good swordsman...to have been able to see the blood of the Hitokiri Battousai upon his katana, dripping unto the cold dark ground. And to be remembered every time Battousai looked into the mirror...

 

      Then again, with what he was seeing now, in the battle, he would most likely get the chance to duel with him...

 

      Ah, he imagined what it would feel to have the Battousai’s blood rushing into his lips...

 

********************************************

I'll make my residence; I'll watch your fire.

You can come with me, sweet desire.

My face is long forgot, my face not my own.

Sweet and timely whore, take me home.

Am I evil?

Yes I am.

Am I evil?

I am man.

********************************************

 

      In The Battle Room

 

      “Please be careful” Yumi looks at Shishio, concern shining undisguised from her eyes. Clutching her watch to her, she can barely hide the trembling in her fingers.

 

      As an answer, Shishio reaches out to clasp her chin with his gloved hand and raised her lips for a kiss. Releasing her after a few moments, he moved away, making his way toward Kenshin, “It’ll be all finished after 15 minutes”

 

      He focused his sight unto the figure of Himura with an evil glint in his eyes.

 

********************************************

My soul is longing for, await my heir.

Sent to avenge my mother, sweep myself.

My face is long forgot, my face not my own.

Sweet and timely whore, take me home.

Am I evil?

Yes I am.

Am I evil?

I am man.

********************************************

 

      The battle ensues.

 

      In Shishio’s mind, he sees his version of what had transpired a while ago.

 

      *You twisted Soujiro with your weak little ranting. He has left me and the rest of the Juppon Katana in a troubled and insecure mind. In a sense, he was my son Battousai, and you took my son away from me. For that I should strike you down with extreme vengeance. But for the fact that you have proved to be a constant thorn in my side, you deserve a more spectacular death.*

 

      *I’m in bandages, perhaps from afar I may look far weaker than you, but unlike you, I do not have compassion that weakens you. Nor the fear that you will lose. I Know I Will Win. Because I am stronger than you, than any of you. And as the rule dictates, the strong will live and the weak shall die. And you, Himura Battousai have turned weak and therefore it is only fitting that I kill you, to preserve the natural balance of things, and perhaps in another life your ideals will be set straight.*

 

      *I have changed, yes. I am no longer the same vengeful Hitokiri that was filled with my vengeance. I see a greater deal of fighting to be done, against the simpletons that have proved themselves unworthy of taking this country into their hands. They will turn this great country into fodder for the greater powers out there. But with my rule, my iron rule, I will make sure that it is Japan that towers over the earth, with the rest of the countries bowing beneath my feet. That, Battousai, will require blood to be spilled. The blood of the innocent as you say, but I say it is the blood of those too weak to go on to live unto the new order of which I will establish.*

 

       *You say I am evil, that may be true. Even nature itself would seem evil sometimes when it takes lives with each storm, hurricane, tsunami or earthquake. But all these are just a test, a test that I am conducting if you will. I will set the people through my fire and if they are able to survive through it, they shall be worthy of the new order that I am setting up. Japan will be filled with and lead by the strongest of the strong.*

 

      *And I will lead us all, into victory!*

 

********************************************

Am I evil?

Yes I fucking am.

Am I evil?

I am man, yeah.

********************************************

 

      *** Present Date ***

 

      “...and thus I end my report on the Bakumatsu no Douran” concluded the student. The teacher nodded and motioned for the next student to start.

 

      The student rose from her seat and bowed to her teacher. Her glasses obscured her eyes as she coughed and stepped up to the podium. She smirked suddenly at the departing student, much to his confusion.

 

      “My report is on something connected to the Bakumatsu no Douran” she started, adjusting her glasses. “It is on a would be ruler of Japan, a former Hitokiri named Shishio Makoto.”

 

      “Many people have dubbed him a crazed genius, some have even called him evil. I however, choose to call him right.” She waited until the murmuring of her classmates quieted down. Her own professor looked quizzical so she started up again.

 

      “Even now, his so called law of Nature, that the strong shall live and the weak shall die, is applicable even to our present time.”  She said in a monotone voice, “It is the strongest countries who get the best of everything, whilst the ‘weaker’ 3rd world countries waste away on barely livable resources. Sometimes they are the ones whom the stronger countries use to get resources. That is, in a way, an example of the weak being nothing more than fodder for the strong.”

 

      “Even in schools now, it is the ‘stronger’ students, those that can keep up with the rigors of studying and of college life are the ones that go on to be successful professionals. Even before that, there are tests that weed out the best amongst them. The best are the ones that are go on to schools with the best education and therefore have better chances of getting into a good college, and therefore a better life. Whilst all that is left for those who are too weak are second- or third- rate schools and less chances at even attending college.” She nodded solemnly, “These are examples of how right his statement was.”

 

      “I am not condoning his innumerable unspeakable acts or the obvious cruelty of which he went about his modus operandi. But still,” she looked directly at her teacher and for a moment, they locked gazes as she continued her sentence. “Someone once said, when you won, it doesn’t mean you’re right, and those that lost were wrong.”

 

      There was an infinite moment before her professor said, “Intriguing, Ms. Komogata. Please continue.”

 

      “Hai, Himura-sensei” There was a strange sheen of light that passed through her glasses as she replied. Then again, it could just be the light within the classroom.

 

      Taking a quick breath, she continued her report.

 

      The teacher suddenly turned and his violet eyes narrowed as he focused on a nearby shadow. He could suddenly hear, “Ore wa...ore wa Shishio Makoto desu”

 

      “sensei?” called the student in front. “Himura-sensei? Daijobu?”

 

      He blinked and smiled back, “Ah yes, you were saying?”

 

**** Owari ****

 

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