It was the eleventh year of the Meiji era,
When all had come to peace.
There lived a wanderer, Kenshin Himura,
A living legend he is.

His eyes shone a violet light,
Like the clouds on a cold, winter night.
He wore a long and tied, scarlet hair,
His youthful skin was toned as fair.

Beneath the innocent looks,
A gory past, he tried to hide.
In his heart, he always took
The spirits of those who, by his ways, had died.

Years before, a famine swept the lives of his brothers.
As a child, he was sold to slave-traders.
To his luck, a man came to his rescue,
He was a great swordsman, Seujiro Hiko.

Hiko changed his name Shinta to Kenshin,
For a swordsman, he thought, it was more fittin.’
The Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, he then mastered,
All the other techniques, he had conquered.

On his fifteenth summer, he awoke one day,
Became an assassin and lost his way.
Battousai , the second nature of his being,
More and more deaths he was bringing.

The smell of blood never left his consciousness.
Battousai reigned in the battlefield.
His spirit was depressed and restless,
Anywhere he went, people trembled and feared.

Tomoe was his first wife,
In a tragic battle she lost her life.
As the rain poured down, an Iris waved,
Upon her small, stony grave.

The war ended, a new era was born.
Battousai disappeared into the shadows.
Kenshin now was a man reformed.
Hoping for a better tomorrow.

The cross-mark on his left cheek
Reminds of him of a past so bleak.
For his sins he keeps on atoning,
As he continues in his journeying and peaceful living.

One day, he had finally found a family
In Kaoru, Yoshi and Sanosuke.
His vagabond days were now over,
He’s got a home now forever and ever…