Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.
A Boy on the Road
My head felt empty. If I'd knock on it, I'd probably hear only hollow sounds. Like a woodpecker banging against a tree trunk. But I won't knock on it. My head hurt so much already. Last night, my adoptive father struck me with his wine bottle. See? Dried blood still streaked my face. Hair and clothes soaked in blood. The bad smell turned my stomach upside down and made vomit rise up to my throat. This was how fish'd smelled when they're up against adoptive grandmother's huge butcher knife as she pulled out their guts and organs. No sorry feelings for them. I didn't like fish. I'd rather live on grass. But then again, I didn't have to eat the fish. Such food was too good—and costly—to be fed to a slave anyway.
Adoptive grandmother, when you cut into the fish belly, did you think how much it'd hurt?
Adoptive father, when you threw a wine bottle at me, did you see the blood oozing out?
No? Well, now you knew. Last night, I was the butcher and you were the fish...
"Selfish brat!", your scream pierced my eardrums along with thunder. I might be selfish, but I wanted to live. Even a puny little mouse ran from you when you beat it with a broomstick. A little mouse wanted to live. I wanted to live too. Why wouldn't you let me?
Why?
Rainwater burnt my eyes. Yes, burnt. Try squirting lemon juice onto your eyes and you'll understand what it felt like. Perhaps it was because I cried too much. I cried in silence so nobody could tell. Unlike the other whiny children in the neighborhood who bellowed so loudly when being spanked, as iftheir parents were cutting their legs off. They never understood that the more they cried, the worse it get. Of course, how would they understand? Those children didn't getbeat on a day-to-day basis like I did. Me, I was different. I remembered pain well--scars on top of another as a constant reminder--and had enough brains to clamp my mouth shut. Tightly. You'd never hear a complain out of me. Bad children are children who whined. I knew better than to appear as a bad child before a man like Shishio-san. He'd probably just cut my tongue off to silence me. Permanently.
Everything blurred. Darkness spilled in every direction. A scary thought crept up in my mind: Was I going blind? Could a person become blind from crying so much?
No, no, no, I don't want to be blind...! But I couldn't be...I don't like the dark...! That's when all the scary creatures come out...to eat the kids they found wandering--one by one...I don't want to be alone in the dark...! Shishio-san, where's Shishio-san?...Please, I promise I'll be good...real good...please make me see again, please! My heart somersaulted. My whole body shook like a dried leaf against autumn wind. I realized that I was lost. Shishio-san? Shishio-san? The heavy rain drowned my cry. He didn't hear me. And I couldn't see him. Shishio-san was gone. He wouldn't stopped even if I collapsed by the roadside and became food for the crows. It was what I deserved for being so weak.
"Shishio-san! Shishio-san!" Tripping madly, I fell face first into the mud. No matter how many times I spat, the taste of filthy mud still clung to my tongue.
Suddenly, I felt myself being lifted. Devil? Ghost? Mud monster? I kicked and wiggled and screamed my throat out. I didn't remember I had a wakizashi tucked in my obi.
A hand slapped me on the cheek. Hard. "Soujiro, snap out of it."
My eyelids parted. I saw a huge figure looming over me, with bandages and all. Shishio-san! I could see again! I'm not blind!
You didn't know how happy I was to see him. I was so glad I'd hug a tree--since Shishio-san was anything but the hugging type--, but there wasn't one nearby.
Before dawn, we stopped at a deserted shack in the countryside. I went to sleep right on the spot. It felt heavenly. I wished I could sleep forever and didn't have to wake up again.
How annoying that I didn't get my wish. People's yellings boomed by my ears. A big hand violently shook me out of my deep slumber. Oh no! I didn't finish delivering rice. Adoptive father said he'd hang me on a tree to dry if I didn't! Rubbing my eyes, I strained to sit up. In front of me was a large man indeed. But not adoptive father.
"You boy, where's the criminal? Where's he hiding? Tell me or I'll cut you in half!"
Sword. He unsheathed his sword and waved it about my face.
"Speak, boy! Speak! What's wrong with you? Speak!"
My sleepy, clouded mind snapped back to reality. This wasn't adoptive father. I wasn't at the Seta's house anymore.
"Bastard! Do you know helping the government's criminal is a crime? Spit it out! Where is he?" The man held the sword above my head.
I sat frozen on the spot. My eyes didn't blink as I watched the blade coming down.
On me.