one sword less
by Denna Lockehart
One sake
bottle flew. The thrower, unsteady from drink and rage sent the earthenware
bottle flying in a high arc to crash down, narrowly missing the smiling little
boy. The child didn't even flinch when the bottle smashed beside him, sending
shards flying. He was still smiling, always smiling. Forever smiling. Further
enraged by the bottle's missing its intended target and the annoying smile of
the boy kneeling in the dust before him, the burly man started down, obviously
intent on pounding the smile from that oft-bruised little face. The younger of
the two men nearby hurriedly restrained him, though not out of any sympathy for
the child.
"...not
worth the trouble... let him be... beat... later... fail..." The wind helpfully
carried little snatches of the murmured conversation to the boy's ears. The
wind liked him, and helped him that way. Where a normal child might have been
scared, or horrified by the words passed from son to father, this one merely
continued smiling. He had never been normal, after all, but even a normal child
would get used to this sort of treatment.
"Fine,"
the older man spat. "Get off my land, bastard!" he added, shouting in a common
display of uncommon drunkenness and unconcealed contempt. The little boy picked
himself up and trudged off to his designated sleeping place--the rice
warehouse--with exhaustion clearly visible in every step.
As he
passed the well, the little boy felt a sudden sense of strangeness, almost as
if he should stop and do... something. He shook off the feeling with a quiet
shrug. He had no reason to stop, had to go and sleep, recover his strength. He
had lots of work to do. Leaving the well, the little child headed for the
warehouse, already planning how to survive the next day.
A few
streets away, a burned and bandaged man left the scene of his latest battle.
* * *
"Shinomori
Aoshi?"
"What
if?"
"Oh, I've
just got an offer for you."
"I do not
wish to be Shishio's lackey."
"Don't
worry, you won't need to. You work for Shishio, get a nice little position
after he takes over, and you get the Battousai. Free of charge!"
"And what
would you have me do in return?"
"Simple.
Kill Oukubo."
"And for
that you'll tell me where to find the Battousai."
"Exactly."
"Very
well. I accept... Juppongatana Chou."
* * *
They
fought. Kenshin was speed, a force of nature, a striking dragon flitting around
with a coat of red and white and the line of silver that was his sword. Aoshi
was a tempest, white-and-dark wind wound with the slender steel threads and
tainted with the plague of his hatred. Swords rang like church bells, the wind
howled, and through it all Kenshin's voice could still be heard, trying to
explain, to help Aoshi see the truth, to understand. It had absolutely no
effect on the stonehearted former Oniwabanshuu leader. The noise was a solid
block, but one sound sliced through it like the broken end of the sakabatou
that was currently sailing through the air.
Kenshin
stared at his broken blade in shock, thinking: this isn't supposed to happen... This wasn't supposed to happen!
Somehow he felt... wrong. This was wrong. Aoshi was supposed to be saved, to be
his friend.
Only it
wasn't so.
Blood
spurted, and the rurouni stared down at the twin blades that had quite suddenly
appeared from his chest. Aoshi twisted them grimly, and Kenshin slipped off the
bloodslick metal to land with a dull thud on the ground, which seemed to cradle
him softly, soothingly.
This wasn't supposed to happen...
*
Aoshi
didn't go far either. Hiko found Kenshin and him before he had a chance to
leave and gave no quarter in the resulting fight. Revenge often sharpens one's
blade, and Hiko knew enough to be rational about it. Kenshin he buried behind
the cottage where the rurouni had spent his childhood, and Hiko poured sake on
the grave before swearing to get rid of Shishio on his honor as master of the
Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu.
* * *
"Kenshin!!!"
A sword flashed in a silver arc.
Screams. Blood. The swordsman--just a boy!--fell, a startled look on his face.
Of the two girls nearby, one let out a horrified little gasp and averted her
face, while the other already had her face covered with her hands, her
student's name slipping from numb lips on a flood of bitter despair and
disbelieving, waiting for words that never came.
"Yahiko..."
Fuji was advancing, and the
Aoiya's inhabitants were moving forward to fight him, only to be swept aside
or... Kaoru couldn't think, couldn't work her mind at all with Yahiko's terribly
still body scant yards from her, and she thought--she thought... where is Kenshin? Where... is... he who was supposed to save Yahiko... And
incredulously: This wasn't supposed to
happen
Suddenly there was silence with
Kaoru still kneeling on the ground, and the members of the Oniwabanshuu in
various stages of death. The sword was rising, but Kaoru did nothing to stop
it, or flee, or evade. Numbly, her mind kept repeating the one phrase like a
mantra, a prayer to summon god-knows-who from eternity to save her, bring back
Yahiko, Misao, Okon, Omasu, Shiro, Kuro...
This isn't supposed to happen... this isn't
supposed to happen... thisisn'tsupposedtoHAPPEN!!!
The sword came down.
* * *
The young
man wandered into Tokyo on the dawn five years after Shishio had been defeated.
Five years after Kenshin, Kaoru, Yahiko, Misao, Aoshi, Okon, Omasu, Shiro and
Kuro had laid down their lives for a variety of reasons: duty, revenge, love,
honor, courage, belief... Dawn it was, and the city was just starting top stir.
He was just a wanderer, with dark blue eyes fraught with pain, short dark hair
and a fraudulently innocent expression complete with cheerful smile that masked
all the emotions that passed behind it. Nobody paid much attention to him
except the restaurateur who shouted at him to "get off my land, bum!" The words
and tone were too familiar, and he left in a hurry.
The young
man managed to wander all through Tokyo in a few hours, finally ending up in
front of a dojo that didn't seem to have anyone living in it. Peering through
the door, he noticed seven people standing in front of what looked like three
graves. One of the women was just straightening from putting flowers in front
of one of the graves when she noticed him, and he stepped back, already
expecting the sharp rebuke. Instead, she merely smiled and motioned him in.
"I'm just
a wanderer... I'm sorry to interrupt..." he started and was cut off.
"It's
okay. We like to be... kind to wanderers--you never know when another might
wander into your heart."
The words
puzzled him, and he turned to the speaker, a tall woman with long black hair
and dark eyes, to inquire. As if expecting his questions, she explained
quietly:
"We once
had a friend... Kenshin--he was a wanderer too. We all... loved him. Very much.
He died five years ago."
Yes of
course. Close enough to read the inscriptions on the graves, the young man
noted that one did bear the name Himura Kenshin. Somehow, it felt familiar, too
familiar.
...is it too late to start all over
again...?...
He shook the ghost off and
smiled at the woman. "I've got to be going. I won't impose on your time any
more."
"No, it's
okay. If you want to, you can join us for lunch--Tae-san runs the Akabeko and
she's letting us sneak a free one."
"...Thank
you, then."
"...It's
okay."
The young
man smiled slightly. As the others left, he turned back and stared at the three
graves one last time. Himura Kenshin, Kamiya Kaoru, Myoujin Yahiko... The last
two didn't ring any bells, but the first... Somehow he knew this Kenshin.
Somehow, somewhere. He still couldn't shake the thought that this was somehow
wrong. Somehow...
...This
wasn't supposed to happen.
end
If you haven't figured it out yet, this is another one of those
"what if" stories. In this case, the question is: What if Shishio never met
Soujiro? In my version of this, it's pretty damn gloomy, that's what. The idea
is, because Soujiro wasn't around, Shishio hired Aoshi to kill Oukubo, and then
Kenshin's sakabatou wasn't broken by Soujiro, so it ended up breaking when
Aoshi ambushed him while he was returning after training with Hiko instead,
thus resulting in his death. Hiko had to deal with Shishio, and as a result
didn't deal with Fuji when that lot attacked the Aoiya, so Kaoru, Yahiko, Misao
etc. died. Shishio still died, of course. Angsty, angsty, angsty... and I love
it!!!
This fic is inspired by Esse's glorious work. She's much better
at this than I am--check out "Err Ratio" to find out.
-Lockehart (27/8/2001)
