I do not own Rurouni Kenshin

And He Looks to the Sky

Zanza – Fight Merchant. Tall and dangerous, with spiked hair and a red headband. Huge weapon. Bearing the character "aku" on his back. The character of evil.

In your darkest times, you'll go to him. In your most desperate hour, you seek him out. You know that he can help you. You know that he can save you. You also know that you can save him. So you are looking. Tall. Spiked hair. Red headband. Huge weapon.

You know he won't be hard to find…

Then it catches your attention, and you know that it's now or never. You see the character of "evil". Blindly, because of the pouring rain on your face, you run after him. He is all the way down the road, with many others blocking your path. You beg them to let you through. You pray that they will part. At the very moment you think you are within calling distance, you open your mouth to shout, only to have it filled with the fresh mud from the drizzling rain when you fall.

You spit it out and get back to your feet quickly, but Zanza is gone.

Seven Days Pass

You sigh, reaching up over your head with both arms to stretch out the stiffness of last nights sleep. Tokyo is only a twenty minute walk away, and you know you must make it there before the sun rises. After all, you've out lasted your 'vacation' and now you must get back to work.

Although they call it work, you know it is wrong. You know you are better than this. You know you can be truly great, like your father and mother were. Thinking of them puts you in a daze. You slowly trudge along the dirt road till you reach the city, already looking for 'clients'. You know you will not be forgiven if you do not resume work right away.

You never look at the sky anymore, but even through the shadows of taller people, you can tell it is noon. Half the day is gone and you haven't done a single thing. You know you must focus. You almost smile when you realize how easy it is to find someone when you set your mind to it.

You spot your first target. You are half his height, but it doesn't matter. He is old, with a white beard smelling of age. Slowly, imperceptibly, you come up behind him. A boy much younger than yourself is next to him, pulling on the sleeve of his Gi and pointing to something in the shop they are at.

With this distraction firmly in place, you slide your hand in, empty, and back out, with the old man's purse grasped firmly between your fingers. It feels heavy, so you know your debt will decrease slightly, cutting even more ties to the Yakuza.

Then the old man promises the young boy he will buy him what it is he wants.

Memories flood your mind of your mother, who would do the unthinkable just so you could have food to eat. Her sacrifice was the greatest. How could you not repay her?

In an agonized moment, you turn back around and place the purse in the young boy's joyful, outstretched hand. You ignore their puzzling faces and stalk quietly away, knowing that your softness will one day be your downfall.

"That was generous," says a soft, feminine voice next to you.

You look up, startled. Before you is a man with the reddest hair, dripping amber eyes, and a thin but noticeable scar on his cheek, in the shape of an "X". You barely smile to yourself as you think of how female this man looks, but keep it hidden when you notice he is carrying a sword at his waist. You ask him what he means.

"Nothing," he replies airily. "I just thought you were very kind."

A girl grabs the back of the man's Gi and drags him down the road, yelling something at him.

For a moment, his words startle you. Then they confuse you. And slowly, your confusion turns to anger. Without a second thought, you chase after him, determined to set him straight. Although you don't notice it, your mother's smiling face seems to fade slightly in your mind.

You catch up to him and the girl at the bridge, instantly grabbing his purse and making a run for it; but the girl is quicker than you expect. After a brief argument, in which the swordsman did not raise his voice even an ounce, he hands the purse back to you with a warning not to get caught.

This angers you further. You throw the purse at him with all the force you can muster, thinking about your parents. As you run away, you especially think about your father, a Samurai, and one of the truly great.

You wish you were stronger. You wish you could be like him, and like your mother. You wish you weren't so weak. Sometime after you stop running and calm down, you clear your head. You would have liked to look at the sky, but you know you aren't ready to see such pure, clear vastness yet, and it makes you feel ashamed.

A shadow catches your eyes, and you raise your head just in time to see the end of an enormous weapon pull around the corner of the Hop Pot and out of sight.

Tall. Spiked hair. Red Headband. Huge weapon. Bearing the character "aku" on his back.

Zanza.

You run after him, faster than you have ever run in your life, knowing that he is your only salvation from this life of crime. You know he can save you. You also know that, if he needs it, you can save him as well. You are willing to give your existence for the chance to be free.

You search all day, but you don't find him. You sit by the riverbank at sunset, thinking hard about the swordsman, the girl, your father, your mother, and especially yourself.

And then you think of the lesson Zanza taught you that day. You think about a week ago. You know you caused a huge ruckus on the street. You know, in the back of your mind, that Zanza knew you were chasing him. And you know that he pretended he didn't for a reason.

He wants you to solve your own problems. Zanza fights for cowards. That is what you have learned from the stories that follow him. He only takes jobs from cowards, with greedy purposes. You are not a coward.

Zanza didn't think so. He, without even seeing your face, heard the courage and potential from just your desperate footsteps. And he gave you a chance to be a better man.

"Hey!"

You don't even turn around to see them coming up behind you.

You want to ignore them as they ask you how much you made from stealing today.

"I didn't get anything," you say easily.

"Wha-? You know the only way to pay your debts is if you steal, right? This is the only way, kid!"

You stand up sharply, turning to face them. You are down the gently sloping hill of the river bank, and they are higher on the hill. Behind them, you can see the vast, open sky, exploding with brilliant colors. "My name is Yahiko!" you yell. "I'm not doing it anymore. And I'm never going to be weak again."

There are two things you know about Zanza. One, he's a Fight Merchant, a person who buys a fight from someone. He enjoys the exhilaration of a fight, and longs for another once one is done.

Two, he helped you more than you'd thought.

In your darkest times, he came to you. In your most desperate hour, he sought you out. So you are looking.