I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or its characters. This is just some random little drabble I made up out of boredom.
Meiji Era
June 1884
Kenshin had just finished hanging up the day's laundry to dry when a clash and a small cry from inside the dojo caught his attention. I wonder what my son has gotten into this time, that I do.
"Kenji-kun?" The swordsman called as he stepped around to the entrance of the dojo. His son was sitting on the floor next to the shinai rack, several wooden swords were scattered along the floor surrounding the child.
His little head turned, red pony tail swishing, as he heard his father enter the dojo. "It dropped." He said simply, pointing to the fallen practice weapons. He'd been trying to reach one so he could practice like he'd seen his Okaa-san doing with Yahiko-nii.
Kenshin let out a small sigh of relief and closed the distance between he and Kenji, scooping him into his arms. "Were you trying to train, koishishi?"
Kenji's head bobbed up and down vigorously. "I want to be like Okaa-san and nii-san!" He said matter of factly.
Kenshin chuckled as he set his son down to pick up the fallen swords. "Oh you do, do you?"
"Well, why don't you come help your Otaa put away the laundry, okay?" Kenshin had finished hanging up the swords and took his son's hand. "Then, if you behave while your Okaa-san and Yahiko-nii are away, you can train with them when they get back."
Kenji thought about this for a second and nodded. When they'd reached the basket of laundry Kenshin had set on the engawa, Kenji tugged on his father's hand, a small frown of impatience turning down his upper lip. "Otaa-san?"
Kenshin looked down at his son. "Yes, Kenji?"
The little boy stared at his father and squared his shoulders. "Why can't you teach me?"
His son's innocent question took him aback. Kenshin honestly didn't know how to answer. For the longest time, he'd wondered when Kenji would start getting suspicious as to why he wouldn't train with them, or why he was always doing something outside of the dojo. He considered telling him what he'd told Yahiko-that he wasn't going to pass down Hiten-mitsurugi style. But then he remembered that Kenji didn't yet know of his past.
That was for another day, when Kenji was older and would understand. So Kenshin simply smiled down at the little redhead. "I'm old, Kenji-kun. My bones are weak and creaky." He demonstrated stiff movements, swinging his arms out to the sides while making sound effects with his voice.
Kenji laughed, as he'd hoped. Relieved that he'd momentarily distracted his son, Kenshin picked up the basket and led the boy to his and Kaoru's room to put away the laundry. He could tell his son the real reason another day. But for now, it was best for Kenji to live in blissful ignorance.