Originally, this was supposed to be for a one-shot contest. Unfortunately I was doing piano stuff in Europe at the time and couldn't finish by the deadline. Heh, how sad, it's so short. Anyway, hope you enjoy!
The weather was perfect, a mild day for late fall. There wasn't a cloud in sight and the delicate breeze blowing from the south surely meant a few more days of warmth to bask in before winter hit. In a field awash with sunlight, a boy who hardly looked more than a child was practicing his swordsmanship with a diligence marked by frustration. The boy's hair, normally a brilliant red, was literally flaming now as the afternoon sun bounced off of it. Some distance away, a stoic figure was keeping track of the young swordsman with hawk-like scrutiny although a passerby wouldn't hesitate to say the imposing figure was more intent on studying the sky. Anyone who knew Hiko Seijurou the 13th would know this to be an affected disinterest which would disappear the instant his student varied a move by a millimeter or ended a sequence a heartbeat too late.
Hiko's head moved a fraction as a second of silence enveloped him, then his attention turned back to the sky. He scowled at what he saw. A thin, almost transparent skein of white had drifted across the sky from out of nowhere, briefly shrouding the sun's rays. In the distance, heavy gray pillars threatened to dim the afternoon light permanently. The approaching storm promised cooler days ahead.
The weather personified Hiko's feelings. One day he was training a little boy almost too kind for his own good and now he was dealing with a disrespectful teenage twit who refused to listen to reason. Himura Kenshin was fast becoming a figurative loose cannon. The boy just wouldn't listen to him anymore. In previous years Hiko had found it annoying when Kenshin tailed him everywhere, pelting him with questions and taking his every order as a deitific command. Actually, that part hadn't been so bad. Now, Hiko did more of the tailing than his student and the questions Kenshin asked were getting to be disturbing. That had only started a week ago. Hiko had been fuming over a jug whose design was far from displaying his genius and Kenshin (so he thought) was practicing his kenjutsu.
Hiko glared down at the piece of pottery in his hand, critically assessing exactly what it was that made the jar somewhat less than a masterpiece. The dark colors maybe, somehow they didn't quite accent the curves of the jar. Perhaps a lighter hue of blue . . . Hiko turned with a smug grin at a slight noise, watching as the door slowly creaked open.
"It's no use trying to slip past me, baka deshi," His mouth hardened as the slight red-head made no reply but quickly made for a darkened corner as soon as he entered. "I said, it's no use," Hiko snapped, arm shooting out to grab Kenshin's gi. Kenshin flinched, turned it into a squirm, but refused to face Hiko. "You really are a baka if you think you can fool me," Hiko said, spinning his deshi around. His mouth turned down further. Kenshin's face and neck looked like someone had dyed them all shades of purple and blue. Hiko didn't doubt the boy's kimono-covered arm looked the same.
"What the hell have you been doing?"
Kenshin looked at his master sullenly from under bruised lids. "Practicing," He said. Hiko snorted at the blatant lie.
"With a tree? Try again."
Kenshin's eyes met Hiko's, and the swordsmaster knew the boy was calculating how much he could skim by with. "I went into town."
Hiko nodded satisfactorily. "I don't know how you thought that practicing story was going to cut it." Kenshin just looked at him and Hiko waved his free hand. "Keep going."
"Some people were talking in a bar. About the Revolution." Already Kenshin's voice was getting higher and faster. "They said the Emperor was a disgrace to Japan, not even able to control his own shogun." Kenshin looked at Hiko with defiant pride in his eyes. "So I said maybe if the shogun weren't such power-mongers the Emperor wouldn't have to try and control them." There was a second of silence, then,
"Baka deshi," Hiko sighed heavily. "You said this to a room full of how many samurai?"
"Twenty, and they didn't act like samurai," Kenshin said stubbornly. "Besides, I won."
Hiko's mouth fell open. "Nanda?" Kenshin's appearance suggested otherwise. But then his student did have a considerable amount of talent so it wasn't completely improbable. After all, Hiko had taught him. Imagining he must look like an idiot, Hiko finally thought to close his mouth.
"I won," Kenshin repeated, then scoffed, "They didn't even use the right stance to face a small opponent." He met Hiko's amazed stare, eyes alight. "Shishou, after that a man came up to me and said the Emperor could use men of my caliber. I would be fighting for the people of Japan!" Kenshin's face glowed. "It's a group called the-"
"No!" Hiko found his voice and Kenshin jumped at the harsh tone.
"B-but shishou, you said a sword is a weapon, what else am-"
"No!" This time it was a rebuke. "Of course it's a weapon, fool! For you to use, not for others to manipulate!"
"I'm not being manipulated, it's my choice! This is what I've wanted to do since my parents-!" Kenshin didn't finish the sentence. "It's the Shogunate that keeps people dying!" Against his better judgment, Kenshin decided to appeal to Hiko's heart. "Shishou, I would've died because of this system if you hadn't been there!"
"Hmph, I'm having second thoughts about my decision now," Hiko said. He almost regretted it when he saw the stung look in Kenshin's eyes–until the idiot fired back at him, "I don't care what you say! It's the right thing to do!"
Hiko's eyes flashed. "Is there a reason behind all this? A good reason?" Kenshin's mouth opened but Hiko cut him off. "Other than your pathetically naïve notions of justice and equality? Because if you join that group, Kenshin, you'll get neither. You won't even be living the life you'll be fighting for!"
"I'm willing to make sacrifices," Kenshin said, straightening.
"Sacrifices?" Hiko exploded. "Baka deshi! You'll be used and spit out and receive death for your reward if you're lucky!"
"Don't try and scare me away! I'm not afraid to die! Just because you are doesn't mean you have to bash the Ishin Shishi!"
Hiko's face turned stony. "You dare question my courage?"
Kenshin hesitated. "I didn't-"
"Get out." Hiko's voice was disgusted. "I won't have a killer for hire under my roof. You couldn't sink any lower if you tried."
Kenshin was staring at his master. "Shishou, I'm not-"
"Get out," Hiko repeated, giving Kenshin a shove as he released his arm.
Glancing back uncertainly, Kenshin shuffled out the door, then took off running.
His hands were balled at his sides, eyes half closed with fury. He willfully ignored the tears of hurt and rage leaking down his face. Kenshin walked aimlessly, just wishing to be as far away from his master as possible. "Shishou no yarou," He muttered to himself as he walked. "Why can't he just see it's for the good of Japan?" Kenshin had no doubts that the current Revolution would quickly and efficiently resolve the wall of political issues Japan was bloodying itself with. Someone had to fight and Kenshin was beside himself that his shishou didn't agree his deshi would be a wonderful choice.
Feeling his eyes burning anew, Kenshin ran a fist across his face, and in that brief span of time ended up tripping over something. Two seconds later he was pulling himself from the small spring that he'd drawn water from for the past six years. Giving a despondent sigh Kenshin threw himself across the log at the spring's edge and stared up at the still bright sky, unmarred by clouds. Gradually, the irregular rhythm the water made as it dripped from his clothes to the ground wormed its way into his perception. Kenshin found it oddly comforting.
Funny, that he'd unconsciously made his way here. He had received numerous lessons on the fundamental principles of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu in days past, on this very log. These talks were almost always accompanied by poetical references to sake or the seasons. Kenshin still had trouble grasping exactly what his shishou meant by saying "seasons are a warrior's weapons."
The sanctuary also served as Hiko's place of choice to reflect on the idiocies of his baka deshi. In the past, Kenshin had surreptitiously wandered by to see his shishou there, a dark look in his eyes and his jaw clenched so tight it shook. At these times, Kenshin wisely decided that silence was the best virtue with which to be imbued.
Kenshin's vision was suddenly obscured by a towering figure, arms crossed across his chest menacingly. "So . . . not only do you insult me in my house, you have to invade my creek as well?"
Kenshin scrambled to his feet so fast the world spun briefly. "S-shishou!" He exclaimed, hastily rubbing a hand across his face, just in case any vestige of tears remained. He hated the way his voice had come out as a squeak.
"Hm, at least you still give me some respect that's due," Hiko remarked. He remained standing, regarding his student astutely.
Kenshin shifted uncomfortably, not sure how he should react. It seemed like Hiko had been looking at him for an eternity. "I can leave-" He began, but Hiko shook his head and sat down on the log Kenshin had only moments before been sprawled across.
"No. Join me for a moment." Kenshin perched on the edge of the log, careful to avoid physical contact, even if it was just with the edge of Hiko's cape. He still wasn't ready to reconcile with his shishou. "Kenshin. Do you remember the day I took you in?"
It took Kenshin a minute to respond. He hadn't been expecting a question along those lines. But it all came back to him vividly, the wide spectrum of emotions that had been running through him–lonely, scared, mad at the unjustness of the world. The scores of dead bodies he'd buried single-handedly, including the only three friends he had left in the world. He couldn't protect them because he wasn't strong enough. And then someone had come to stand beside him, given him sympathy, and offered to teach him how to wield a sword and give him the strength he had so desperately needed. Hiko Seijurou. "I remember." Kenshin answered.
"I was depressed that day that I ran into those slave traders. At how the world was falling apart. How it seemed absolutely nothing I did could help anyone. That if one person showed kindness he would be cut down by the rest before he could change anything." Hiko paused, and Kenshin wondered briefly what it was taking for his shishou to tell him this. Hiko wasn't one to share personal musings with anyone, least of all his deshi. "Then the next day as I was returning from town, for some reason I decided to see how the one survivor of that massacre had faired the night." Hiko caught Kenshin's gaze and held it. Kenshin wanted to look away but ironically he was too scared. Hiko never talked to him like this. "When I saw how you had buried everyone, slaves and bandits alike . . . for the first time in years I felt hope. Hope that Japan could be saved from herself." Hiko's eyes turned hard and an involuntary shiver ran down Kenshin's spine. "Don't make that hope die in me Kenshin. You lived for a reason. It wasn't to become a weapon of this war that everyone wants to end." Hiko held Kenshin's gaze a moment longer, then let his eyes drift towards the creek.
Kenshin couldn't find anything to say. Was he supposed to say something? Did Hiko want him to promise he wouldn't leave? Promise he wouldn't join the Ishin Shishi? Could he promise that?
"I don't expect you have anything to say to all that," Hiko said, as if reading his mind. "But remember this, Kenshin . . . whatever you choose is a path that's going to affect your life forever. Once you taint your sword with blood, you taint your soul as well. Ask yourself if you'll be able to live with that." Hike had thought he had been getting through to the stubborn red-head, but at his last sentence Kenshin's body straightened.
"If I have to taint my soul in order to save Japan then it's a small price to pay," He said confidently, tone of voice begging his shishou to argue with him. Hiko shook his head in frustration, wanting to wipe the naïve proudness from Kenshin's face.
"Cheh, think what you well, you baka. It doesn't matter to me how you choose to throw away your life. Be back in time to practice your nibattou form before supper." Hiko stood stiffly and without a backwards glance started back to his cabin.
Kenshin laid back down on the log, mulling over his shishou's words. Despite what Hiko might think, his talk hadn't just gone in one ear and out the other. Kenshin respected his shishou more than that. This time though, Kenshin knew in his heart that he was right; joining the kiheitai was a noble thing to do. It came down to principles. He had the power to protect people, so who was he to refuse to lend his power to them? He owed it to the people like him, people who had been forced from their homes, sold to slavers, lived in abject misery for most of their lives. People deserved a better life than that! His shishou might think nothing of refusing to lend his sword to the Revolution's cause, but the mere thought of turning his back on his countrymen made Kenshin's heart twist.
"I will help the Ishin Shishi," He whispered, standing up. Somehow it made his vow seem more official. "And I'll come back and show shishou that he was wrong about them." Pleased with his self-witnessed oath, Kenshin brushed the dirt and moss from his hakama then trotted down the path Hiko had taken moments before.
Breathing deeply, Kenshin wiped a hand across his brow and re-sheathed his katana. He had worked hard again today, and he knew his arms would be sore again tomorrow. He had been pushing himself to his utmost since the week before, almost passing out from sheer exhaustion on several occasions. He had been sharply reprimanded by Hiko those few times, and then splashed in the face with icy water. Already though Kenshin noticed a significant improvement in his stamina and speed.
Kenshin had been around Hiko long enough to know that bragging about his accomplishments wouldn't get him anything but extra work; still, he couldn't help but hint at his progress a couple of times. His shishou had replied to this neutrally though, saying of course he was improving, that's what happened when one's mind was fully on the task at hand. Kenshin hated that he felt slightly hurt at Hiko's indifference, especially since he knew Hiko was stingy with his praise. Still, one grudging compliment wouldn't have hurt.
Kenshin glanced across the field in the direction of the cabin, wondering if his shishou had been watching that last performance. It was the quickest and most secure he had ever executed the ryuu tsui sen. Kenshin's high spirits dropped a notch as he saw his shishou was absorbed in staring at the now clouded-over sky. "Shishou . . ." He wondered briefly if Hiko was still mad at him. That had never stopped him from commenting on Kenshin's form though.
Kenshin jerked slightly as something landed gently on his face. It was raining, light but cold. The next day wasn't going to be warm. Sighing, Kenshin turned to resume his practice when his master's voice boomed across the field.
"Kenshin!"
"Hai!" Kenshin spun around, katana whirling dangerously close to his leg.
Hiko looked at him briefly, the sincere face, the desire to learn burning in his eyes. Then he jerked his head towards the cabin, sending raindrops flying from his mantle. He had made a decision. "Come inside. I don't need extra work taking care of any fever you get from a cold." Kenshin stuck his katana in his waistband and trotted across the field obediently.
"I can make supper," He offered, watching Hiko for signs of disapproval.
Hiko gave a lopsided smirk. "Of course you can, when I want you to. First we're going to have a drink of sake."
Kenshin's eyes widened. He'd only tasted his master's sake store twice before, and both times he'd been ill. "Shishou, your sake-"
"Is mine to do with what I will. Afraid you can't handle it, Kenshin?"
"No!" Kenshin retorted, knowing he'd been baited and not caring. "I can handle as much as you can." Hiko laughed out loud and Kenshin flushed. Maybe that was a slight exaggeration.
"Prove it to me, baka deshi," Hiko said, grabbing Kenshin's gi and setting him in the direction of the cabin. "Just don't let me hear you moaning in the morning." Kenshin marched purposefully to the door and Hiko followed a few steps behind, thinking over his decision. He'd let Kenshin stay as long as he wanted. He couldn't bring himself to simply kick the boy out, not when there was still so much potential to harness. But much as he tried to ignore it Hiko felt the growing foreboding of what was to come. No matter what he said or did, Kenshin was going to follow what he thought were his ideals. Shinta's simple nature was going to be his downfall.
kenjutsu - art of the sword
kiheitai - Imperialist faction consisting of "commoners."
nanda - informal way of saying "what."
nibattou - I made this up. "Double fast-draw technique" basically.
yarou - jerk, bastard
Well, I spent two days trying to think of a title, then decided I was tired of waiting to post this. So I came up with something less than masterful. Ah well. Comments welcome and wished for! Even if it's to be critical! I love constructive criticism, it's really very helpful for future stories.