In this world, there was still a Sakura(Japan) Island.
But naturally, there was no Meiji Restoration or any of the other specific historical events found in the original 'Rurouni Kenshin'.
So a lot of the historical details in the original story couldn't be directly used.
But that wasn't a real issue.
At least for 'Trust & Betrayal', the main perspective was focused on Himura Kenshin and Yukishiro Tomoe.
As for the chaotic backdrop? The history of Sakura Island had more than enough bloody eras to borrow from.
Su Yan had casually picked a fitting template and slotted it in.
The script began with a group of bandits chasing a group of fleeing prostitutes.
Right before dying, one of the women desperately shielded a young boy named Shinta.
"You're still young. Unlike us, you can still choose your future. So you can't die yet. Live. Keep living—and choose your own path.
Live for those of us who died."
A woman, fallen into prostitution in a cruel world, massacred by bandits—and yet, in her final moments, she felt no fear.
Only the will to protect a child's life.
This line stirred something faint in Shinozaki Ikumi's heart.
Even though the woman had no name and died a brutal death with a sword through her throat—barely more than a background character—the scene struck a chord.
Ikumi kept reading.
A cold, powerful man appeared.
Alone, he slaughtered the entire group of bandits and saved the boy.
Looking upon the bloody hellscape, the man's inner monologue appeared:
"It's a common sight.
Dying to bandits is hell.
But being sold to a brothel is hell, too."
"Too common. It's like this now. It'll always be like this."
"Even with a sword… sometimes, you still can't save a single person."
He left with a lowered head.
But when he returned the next day—
The young boy, Shinta, had spent a full day and night burying every corpse.
He carved wooden grave markers—for both the prostitutes who protected him, and the bandits who had tried to kill him.
Ikumi's heart trembled again.
Because of Kenshin's kindness—and his strength.
The man, named Hiko Seijūrō, gave the boy a new name: Kenshin.
He took him as a disciple and began teaching him the legendary sword style: Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu.
Thus, the story of Rurouni Kenshin began.
Ikumi continued reading.
A man named Kiyosato traveled to Kyoto, hoping to make a name for himself and return home to marry his fiancée.
But in the moment of his greatest triumph...
He crossed paths with the fifteen-year-old Kenshin, now an assassin aiming to overthrow a corrupt regime and save the world.
In one assassination mission, Kenshin encountered Kiyosato, who was guarding the target.
A sword slashed across Kenshin's face—leaving behind a scar.
And then came the flashback to Kenshin's argument with his master before leaving the mountain:
"If you want to change the world, you'll be used by those in power.
I didn't teach you Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu for this," said Hiko, sternly.
"That's exactly why I must use this power—to protect the people suffering in this era," Kenshin replied, unwavering.
Then came one of the most iconic lines in all of Rurouni Kenshin:
"A sword is a deadly weapon.
Swordsmanship is the art of killing.
No matter how beautifully you dress it up, that truth won't change."
"To kill to protect…
To let someone live by killing another…
That is the reality of swordsmanship.
I've slain hundreds of evildoers—but they were still human.
They, too, were trying to survive in this broken world."
"When you leave this mountain, all that awaits you is endless bloodshed, driven by conflicting visions of justice."
Ikumi's eyes widened.
So cool...
Who comes up with lines like this?!
Even without any detailed character description, the way this Hiko Seijūrō spoke was magnetic.
His personality shone through his words alone.
A simple line about corpses filling the streets wouldn't move an audience.
But through this master-and-disciple argument, the reader could feel the pain of living in a war-torn era.
Hiko had once fought to change the world.
But in the end, he realized his sword could only kill and protect individuals—not save the era itself.
And he didn't want his disciple to end up realizing this truth only after he'd lost everything.
The flashback continued.
"Spring, to admire the cherry blossom.
Summer, to gaze at the stars.
Autumn, to honor the full moon.
Winter, to enjoy the falling snow."
"With all these, sake tastes best."
"If that doesn't satisfy you…
Then something's wrong with you!"
More memorable lines from Hiko followed.
But still, Kenshin refused to back down.
Their opposing ideals forced them to part ways.
Ikumi sat there, completely absorbed.
Can a script be this artistic? This philosophical?
The writing was beautiful. The meaning is sincere.
The memory sequence ended.
The assassination that night had long since passed, but Kenshin's facial wound still wouldn't heal.
Sometimes it began bleeding out of nowhere.
A superstitious companion told him:
"That scar was made by a blade filled with resentment.
Unless the grudge is resolved, it'll never heal."
And then came Episode 1's climax.
A small tavern. A rain-soaked night.
The fiancée of the man Kenshin had killed—Yukishiro Tomoe—arrived in Kyoto.
Endless assassinations.
A heart grown numb.
The script didn't describe Kenshin's foe that night, nor the choreography of the battle.
That would be decided later by fight coordinators during filming.
But in that torrential downpour—
Kenshin cut his enemy cleanly in two.
Blood splashed onto the white umbrella Tomoe held.
Onto her white dress.
Onto her cold, emotionless face.
Facing the man who killed her fiancé—
Tomoe spoke her only line in Episode 1:
"You really do bring blood and chaos wherever you go."
When Ikumi read this, her heart ached.
The script didn't have much detail.
It lacked the legendary soundtrack of the OVA adaptation.
But with her powerful imagination, Ikumi had already visualized the entire scene:
Blood.
A girl.
An executioner.
A rainy night.
Hatred.
Two people brought together by the cruelty of this world.
What kind of story would unfold between them?
She closed her eyes, hand resting on the script—but her emotions refused to settle.
She opened up Episode 2.
Time passed.
The episode ended on a chilling note:
Tomoe and Kenshin, pretending to be a married couple, had escaped to the countryside.
Tomoe walked silently behind Kenshin.
Her hand clutched a dagger at her waist.
A quiet foreshadowing of betrayal.
Despite normally skimming scripts in minutes, Ikumi spent over an hour reading just these two episodes.
She refused to miss a single detail.
The whole time, she felt as though she had been transported into that bloody and chaotic era.
Only then did she notice the attached production info.
Title: 'Rurouni Kenshin: Trust & Betrayal'
Format: Four episodes
Proposed platform: SakuraNet
"Only four episodes?" Ikumi murmured.
Xia's viewers typically hated ultra-short series like this.
Most preferred shows that ran for at least 10–20 episodes per season.
But honestly?
That didn't matter.
Not in the face of this script's quality.
She had no idea whether a live-action version of this story would appeal to audiences.
But she—
She loved it.
"If it really is four episodes… what's going to happen in the next two?
Will Tomoe give up her revenge and fall in love with Kenshin?"
Ikumi set the script down and stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.
At Sakura TV, if a producer wanted to adapt a script from the internal writing team, they had to contact the writer directly, then submit a funding request.
In short:
If a script had potential, the producer needed to negotiate with the screenwriter before taking the next step.
"So… what now?"
A short series like this wouldn't require too much funding.
And given her record, the network wouldn't approve a big budget anyway.
If her mother hadn't been a veteran producer at Sakura TV—leaving behind a few old contacts—her project proposals would've been instantly shut down.
Still…
If her next project flopped, she wouldn't even need to wait for the year-end review.
She'd already be preparing her resume.
But who'd hire a producer with three consecutive failures?
That would basically be a death sentence for her career in this industry.
She looked at the screenwriter's info attached to the script.
"Su Yan, huh..."