Harry Potter: Meiji Era

The darkness enveloped him, the evil awakened in him. He fought it for years and years. At the age of 11 he met his teacher, and learned all there was for him to learn in life. And at 16, he served his purpose, he was everything he was destined to be from the start.
Harry jumped up from his bed with a gasp. His heart was racing and he was in a cold sweat. Not that the dream was anything for him of which to be scared. It was only detailing the life of some random person. Harry didn't know such a person. But even still, after the tenth time having such a dream, one was usually scared senseless when such an event occurred. And, right on schedule, Harry felt a rush of pure hatred. He was tempted again to walk into the rooms of his guardians and one by one kill them in cold-blooded murder. Something wasn't right with Harry, and only Harry knew.
His life otherwise was as normal as could be expected. The Dursleys played with his mind daily, even though their intelligence put together couldn't match that of a rock's, Harry was fond of thinking. Why was his life spiraling downward now? His sixth year was just about to start, albeit in a month. He snuck out of his room and got a quick drink of water. Only his aunt would have a remote chance of hearing him get the water, the rest of the household slept like beached whales. As he returned, he shut the door silently and flicked on the lights. He looked around his room, wondering what had caused him such torment for the past few weeks.
After a fruitless search, he went to sleep, praying he could get a few hours of good sleep before the next morn.

---

Petunia sat in front of the oven, making her special breakfast for Dudley. He had requested such a meal the week before, and Petunia promptly told him that she would surprise him. In which case, keeping the ungrateful son home until said meal. This plan worked perfectly, and Dudley had actually stopped going out with his silly friends. Petunia suspected that they were smoking or something idiotic like that. Let it be Dudley who would be American.
'There's my little Dudders!' Petunia called affectionately as Dudley bounded down the stairs.
'Hi Mom,' Dudley answered with fake enthusiasm dripping from his words. Petunia, however was completely oblivious and did not comprehend the almost hatred in Dudley's voice. Petunia continued and when Vernon walked down, they said a traditional 'Good Morning' as one would expect from a traditional house. The daily morning conversation floated through the house, up to the room of the one remaining person in the household, and as loud as it was, he wouldn't have been able to hear it any better if he were right there in the conversation. His current visitor was enough to keep him enthralled for years to come.
Harry stared at the man lying in his room with complete confusion. Two questions floated through his mind. One, where the hell did he come from? and two, how'd he get into the house?". Harry flinched as the man shifted in his sleep. As the man rolled over, Harry got a perfect glimpse of his perpetually determined visage, and looked at the black hair. Harry knew that hair. He thought on it for a couple of minutes, before he gasped as his guest suddenly awoke.
'Who are you?' Harry asked quietly. The man looked up. His mouth turned up into a smile, but there was a glimmer of confusion in his features.
«Good morning, Kenji. Today is the day you are to awake. Your father has requested it. I am but a messenger,» the man said in a language Harry had never heard before. Harry stared at the man for a full minute. «Kenji, do you not recognize me?» the man asked, his voice filled with sadness. After Harry had not given a response, the man continued. «I guess I must start from the beginning. I am Hiko, your late father's mentor. He requested of me in his last hour that you be sent off to a different home and awakened on your sixteenth birthday. He was on a trip then, and I was the last to see him alive. He said that you'd be different from the rest of us.» The man paused for a second, then pulled a few objects out from underneath his enormous cloak. «We only have a few scant hours before you leave for the house of your friends, take these, and get prepared.»
Harry, not understanding a word of what was just said, studied the man in front of him. He seemed to be... oriental of sorts. Harry had never seen such a person. He knew Cho was Chinese, but this was not the same. The man's eyes were different. He seemed to be offering the objects to Harry, and if he was casting a spell, Harry could not identify it. Harry accepted the items and sorted them out over his bed. There was a sword-like object and some outrageously feminine piece of clothing, which Harry then identified as something similar to what the man was wearing. Harry also noticed a surreal pendant among the clothes. It caught his eye, and he reached for it. His fingers touched it and he grasped it firmly in his hand. The man's eyes lit up as Harry slowly put it on around his neck. Harry's hands fiddled with the clasp for a few seconds, and he gasped as the clasp clicked closed. Hiko jumped up and grabbed Harry as he lost consciousness and fell to the ground.
A cloaked figure, shrouded in darkness, hidden under the sudden cloud coverage, jumped out of the second-story window of the flat belonging to the Dursleys. Everyone on Privet Drive noticed the man, and everyone wondered what was going on at the Dursley residence. But all of them being good neighbours, never once brought it up. They couldn't, for seconds later, every single person forgot what had happened and they all forgot about the fourth inhabitant of 4 Privet Drive. The prophesized Himura Kenji, the only living relative of Himura Kenshin, the most noted Hitokiri of the Meiji Revolution. Hitokiri Battôsai.