A/N: A oneshot idea that came into my head. I hope you like it. Sorry if it's a little depressing.

Amber

Everyone has a certain routine that dictates them thought the day. And while they try their best to keep themselves veering from their routine, there is no way that it possibly can't be interrupted. Even I and I will say that I am as close to perfect as I can get, have these problems. Usually though, we try and except these little kinks in our routine. Because if we didn't then we would never change and there would be nothing to break the monotony.

On a certain Wednesday of my life, I began my early morning routine with a cup of coffee at a local cyber café. We are slaves to the status quo, which included the need for technology to be incorporated into our lives. Sadly, I am like this too. But I only use it for the simple things like reading the morning paper while I sip my coffee.

Others around me also do the same things, and they speak to one another very friendly and very joyously trying to forget the kind of society that they live in. A society that is ruled very heartlessly by the Juppongatana a group of ten people who are trying very hard to create a new society of those who are perfect. Much like Hitler tried to do before he started World War II and the Holocaust. We try to ignore these facts because Makoto Shishio isn't Hitler. He's a wannabe. While we know that this is true, we don't resist the ebb and the flow of society. While there is a pseudo-peace, we're happy.

But, back to the routine thing and speaking about myself, Seijuuro Hiko XIII. It's a long line of swordsman; and while our kind should be dead, in this new society people who like to stick to the old way have a certain advantage because we are disregarded and thought of as weak.

I'm getting on that again. Okay, now I really will tell you what happened on that Wednesday in the year 2032. I had come into the café for my morning coffee, but as I opened the door, I looked over my shoulder and saw something that caught my attention. It was what appeared to be a child huddled into the crevice that was an alley. He was covered head to toe in dirt and soot and he was dazed like he'd been doing some sort of new opiate. I knew that it was possible. After all, what better way to forget about the society that you live in then by killing your brain cells?

I went into the café, ordered and took a seat where I could see the boy perfectly. He didn't move, as though he were a mannequin that had been thrown out. I switched on the computer and started reading the news. Even that was controlled by the Juppongatana; censorship was rather heavy anymore.

I couldn't focus on the mindless text that was trying to convince us that we were the perfect society, though I will say that it was welcome after a long period in the early millennium where every kind of news you heard could make you want to kill yourself. At least Shishio did something that was good. I chuckled to myself, which drew a little attention. I stopped and ignored them.

Out the window, while people rushed by on their busy agendas, I kept my eyes on the boy. He rolled his head knocking off some of the soot that covered his lightly clothed body. He tried to rise, but was left unable, as though he were inept. He fell onto his backside, and if I was watching right he puked. Yep; definitely doing something.

I had enough of reading the gibberish and turned off the computer. I rose up dragging my trench coat with me. I adjusted the cap and walked out of the place. I had hardly touched my coffee. The boy had not moved after he fell back down. Maybe he was drunk. And if he was, this was certainly his first time being in this position. Even my first time taking a drink wasn't that bad. I stood in the entrance for an undetermined amount of time while watching this boy. A fly flew across my line of vision and made me turn my head. I ran across the street keeping an eye out for any police officers that might want to hit me. I took ginger steps toward the boy then blocked his light. His head rolled over and looked at me with bloodshot eyes. He was flayed out on the ground like he was trying to make a snow angel.

"Oi!" I yelled. He covered his ears. "Boy, what are you doing here?" I asked. He was no older than fourteen. His lips curled in pain and he shut his eyes. By that time, I didn't really want to ask him anything. I just wanted to get him out of such a dangerous place when he was in such a drug induced haze. I'm such a nice person aren't I? I dragged him up by his arm and forced him onto his feet.

"Let me go! I'm not going to be your slave you freakin'…dictator!" he covered his ears again and tried biting my hand.

"I'm not going to hurt you. At least, not if you keep mouthing off."

"Buzz off. I can do this on my own." He fell into my chest and hugged my waist to stand still.

"Right. You're coming home with me kiddo."

"Get off me!" He tried biting on my shirt, but all he was doing was wetting the fabric. He didn't have enough strength to even think about trying to hurt me. I laughed at him.

I knelt down to him so we were nearly eye level. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, but the irises were a distinct shade of amber. Like someone had poured honey into them. They were the doorways to Hell. I grabbed his arms to stop him from swaying around. Moving around shook off some of the soot on his head. Red. A deep shade of crimson. An unmistakable color of the imperfect. This boy was no more ordinary than the beggar at the liquor shop, but he was special since he was still alive in this year. Once Shishio started taking all those who were unworthy of his perfect race, none were left alive.

"Where are your parents?" I asked quietly. Somehow, by the turn of his head upward, I could see the answer. Dead; and long ago I surmised. I took his hand tightly and pulled off my cap.

"What do you want with me?" the boy questioned. His tone was more rational now; less slurred. Out of my coat pocket I pulled out a handkerchief started to clean off his round face. He was dark skinned. Almost feminine. He glared me down waiting for an answer as he allowed me to clean off his face.

"I figured that maybe you didn't want to be sitting out here when winter was coming up."

"I can take care of myself," he proclaimed boldly. "I can make it without the generosity of others." He was getting ready to spit at me. I pinched his cheeks in as he did and made him hold it.

"I'm not here to hurt you kid. If I really wanted to hurt you, I would have when I walked over here. I'm not on there side. I'm on no one's side but my own." He swallowed the spit, but continued to glare me down. His eyes wandered around to the people who were so interested in their own toys and thoughts that they didn't give a second glance to the abnormally tall gentlemen next to a small boy. I let go of his jaw, and as I suspected he held it in his throat and was waiting for that moment. It hung below my eye. Not very amused by the action, I wiped off the spit. My eyes were on him at all times. He stood firm and tall. His fists were clenched at his sides and his eyebrows were furrowed. I put my hands up not wanting to try and deal with this any longer.

"Fine. I guess you don't want me to help you. But here, this might make it easier on you to hide," I handed him the old cap that I had owned since I was a boy. He took it delicately, not wanting to look as though he really wanted it. He gripped the cap and fell back down as I walked away.

In all truth, the boy was not really one of those that were that strong. But it was the fervor that he was trying to fight me off with that was the most interesting. In this time, there were two kinds of people in the imperfects. Those who were refugees, and then those who were rebels. Their way of weakening the government control, which was working like steadily filling a cup with water until it overflowed, the riots and rebellions were doing something. Not that anyone was going to admit it. Each time that one of these things occurred, Shishio, or better yet Hoji his underling, would try and beef up the police that were patrolling the cities.

And this boy seemed to be one of those that were in the rebellions. Their way of fighting back was by lingering around. They would make themselves dirty to hide the imperfections about them, and then they would creep around in the underground and use those connections to work up more rebellion. Ingenious as it was, police were getting better at catching them anymore. Since this boy was so small, I was surprised that he could stay alive for as long as he has.

I tried not to think about it as I made my way home and continued with my routine. The perfection was still interrupted by the thoughts of that boy. I didn't get his name, and honestly didn't understand why I had approached him other than he had piqued my interest, and yet he was still there.

The next morning, I rose extra early and started on my routine. The Thursday, I went to the café and looked into the crevice where I had seen the boy before. He wasn't there. It was no surprise. He wasn't safe after a person like me had approached him. I couldn't even read that morning. I sat by the window and waited for the boy to arrive. He never did. Maybe that was just somewhere that he had fallen. After all, he was on something. I sipped the coffee, and then gripped harder than usual. There was something out there. I stood up and looked down below the window. There was my cap. Too big for the boy's small head. He sat there staring out at the passing traffic. He must have got there while I was looking across the street.

Finishing off the coffee I stood to leave. The boy shifted a little. When I walked out the door I started to leave as though I hadn't noticed the boy. But he noticed me. He stalked slowly behind me with his hands in his pockets. When I stopped, he kept walking and eventually walked past me. I smirked. He was determined. But, in truth I really needed to go somewhere else. I crossed the street at the first sign of it being safe. The boy started taking the same route dashing across before the oncoming car slammed into his small body.

"You can stop following me now kid," I said once I reached my destination. One of the few that was around anymore; a bookstore. I turned around to the kid and smiled. "I thought you didn't take generosity."

He pulled off the cap where a black wig covered his red hair. "I don't." He tossed the cap to me.

"I gave it to you to have."

"Yeah, well, buzz off."

He didn't mean it. I could see it in his eyes. They were no longer amber, rather a shade of purple. I took a long breath and reached out my hand.

"Lying won't get you anywhere."

"Lying gets you…I'm not lying!"

"Says you."

"Shut up!"

He had to have the last word. I turned back and started to the door of the bookstore. He followed me. "Do you have business here as well?"

"Maybe I do."

"Maybe you don't."

"You don't know that."

"Wanna bet?"

"See you are with them," he announced. "You wouldn't know anything if you didn't."

My eyes softened a little, almost as though I pitied this kid. Not that he needed it. He was probably tired of pity by now.

"You wanna come with me or not?"

"I don't trust you."

"You want me to show you my wallet?"

I almost did this as a double edged sword. While I knew that he could take my wallet, either way there was some way of showing something about ourselves to one another. It showed that I trusted him enough that I didn't think that he would take it. And if he did, it showed that there was a little trust in him too.

He reached out his hand. "I figured as much. Come inside and I will alright?"

He took up my offer and started inside. The heat was welcoming. The man behind the counter smiled and waved to me.

"Ohayou Shakkû."

"Ohayou Seijuuro."

I put my hand on the boy's back and fished out my wallet. He took it very greedily and fell onto the floor to look at things. He pulled out everything and let it encircle him. He left the money alone as he handed it back to me. He read everything. Every word on every piece of paper and paid most attention to my driver's license that I rarely had to use for driving. Once he was satisfied, he put everything back together and gave it to me. He bowed at the waist.

"Gomen Seijuuro-sama," he said politely.

"It's nothing kid. Don't worry."

"I'm Himura Shinta."

"Shinta?" I asked back, as though I had heard wrong. He nodded. "I see."

"Seijuuro-sama?" Arai Shakkû, the man behind the counter, chuckled out. "Kid, he's not all powerful or anything."

"Shut it."

Shakkû put his hands up in defense. "Hey, I was only correcting the kid."

"If that's what he wants to call me, then so be it," I responded very proud of the title. Shinta looked up at me with crossed arms. "But, really, Hiko's fine."

He clammed up after that. While I spoke with Shakkû, he was buzzing around the rows of books that hadn't really been touched by anyone other than Shakkû in a while. It wasn't that no one wanted to read anymore, it was that there really wasn't much left to read after censorship. People like Shakkû, who was not only the bookkeeper, but also a master sword smith, was left in the dust barely able to fend for himself or his family.

"You're order came in today. Is that why you're here?"

"You better believe it."

Shakkû slipped into the back room. From the counter I eyed how Shinta, while crinkling his nose, was enjoying the things that he was looking at. He plucked one of the books off the shelf then quickly returned when he saw me watching him. Eventually, he just sat on the floor and waited for me to finish.

"Shinta?"

"What."

"Why did you come back?"

"Huh?"

"Why did you come back for me?"

"I don't know."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't. I just did."

This petty argument held something in it. I thought about it for a moment. While he said that he didn't except generosity, I doubt that he ever had it. What with him being an imperfect. He was probably still trying to comprehend how someone that was supposed to be an enemy was trying to help him. How could you blame him? After all, what with my kindness. I suppose he must have seen that in me. But, I digress.

Shakkû came back out with a stack of books on one another in size order and tied with twine. "You'll have a load of fun with these."

"Can't wait to get home and test out some of the recipes."

"Cookbooks?" Shinta scoffed. "You ordered cookbooks?"

"Come here kid," I motioned. He stood up and looked at the covers of some of them. I leaned them where the camera in the corner could catch them. Underneath the fake book jackets were the real deal. Books on politics; on science and history that had been put out since we were under the censorship. And a few other pieces of literature that had not been let in from places like America and England. He looked up at me and crinkled his nose.

"Can you even cook?"

"Well, we'll see now won't we? I hope you're hungry."

Shakkû was staring at Shinta the entire time waiting to say something while the boy overlooked my selection. I let my shoulders fall in slack as I said:

"Is there anything that you want?"

He looked up at the camera and then to Shakkû. "You know, I got a few new things in the back that I think that a kid like you would enjoy. A few magazines…." he said. I could see the spark in Shinta's eyes. He knew what Shakku really meant when he said that.

"Can I look?" he gave me these little kid eyes, begging me. I nodded. He rushed back with Shakkû. All the while I was leaning away from the camera and skimming some of the pages of my new books. Shinta came back out with a few things in hand. Magazine covers been put on the front of Marvel and DC comics. He smiled. He only had five. It wasn't that much.

"That totals to 76.23," Shakkû told me. I dug it out of my wallet and make sure that Shinta's comics were in a plastic bag as we walked out.

"Hiko?"

"Yeah."

"Why are you so nice?"

"I'm not kid."

"Oh."

"But I can be."

"Really?"

"Look, we can talk about this when I get you home and you get a bath."

"Kay."

On our way we were stopped by an officer who wanted to look at the things that we were carrying. He only had to look at the covers to let us keep going. That was what I loved about Shakku; he knew how to make things look authentic. When we arrived home, it was midday and Shinta was a little tired from all the walking.

"You do this everyday?"

"Yes."

"Wow."

"I'm not the typical Kyoto dweller." I explained. "Now, the bathroom is through there. Take off your clothes first and give them to me."

Shinta was real quick to do this. When he did, he slammed the door to the bathroom shut where I heard water running. The clothes lying on the floor were ones he had probably worn for the past few months. It reeked of all the things that were on the street from the dirt and the grit to the food stands that were situated throughout the city.

I had no problem thinking to myself the tragedies that this boy must have been through. My imagination had a way of wandering whenever it came onto these subject matters. I tried not to imagine the horror of how his parents must have been slaughtered, or rather how he didn't see these atrocities and had to imagine for himself. After all, there were public hangings in the streets where people believed that the anarchy that Shishio was creating in Japan was actually going to be the style of the new world.

But then there were people like me who, and we were many, knew better and refused to give into his might and silently took the certain level of oppression and waited for something else to come along. It wasn't like getting out of the country was easy anymore.

Shinta finished and I waited anxiously to see what such a frail young boy looked like when you removed all the filth. He stepped out with a towel hanging loosely around his hips. "What do you want me to do with the bathwater?"

"Let it go down the drain."

"About that…."

I stalked into the bathroom to look at where he must have thoroughly cleaned by the look of the water that was no longer clear, rather a mixture of brown and black.

"It should go down." I reached through it. It was thick as oil.

"Hiko-san?"

"Yeah."

"Arigato."

"Kid…don't worry about it."

"But…"

"Shush. You talk too much."

When I looked back, I think I saw a flash of what was presumed to be a smile. It faded quickly though.

"Are you hungry?" and he knew that this was rhetorical question when I started going into the kitchen.

"What about the bathroom?"

"I'll clean it later."

"Can I ask you something else?"

"Sure kid."

Curiosity. But then you didn't get taken home like a stray every day of your life. "What do you want me to wear?"

I paused and looked back at him very carefully. He was still standing in a bath towel that he had to hold around his waist so it wouldn't fall.

"What? You don't like to run around in your birthday suit?"

His eyes held a deadpanned look. "Yeah, I think I can find you something. I can't promise that it's going to fit though."

He shrugged. Good boy. "Oh, and if anyone asks you, your name is Kenshin," I instructed.

"Why?"

"Well, for one, you're an imperfect. So, they have you on record as Shinta right? And second, considering you've lasted this long, don't you think that Shinta is sort of a pansy name?" I surely though so. He crinkled his nose, but didn't fight the authority. He nodded while I went into my bedroom and grabbed a few clothes that I thought would work on him.

"While you're only going to be around here, I think these will do you." I tossed him a shirt that was small for me but still large for him. He nodded and started to put it on. It nearly fell to his knees. That worked.

"No pants?"

"Kid, look at me a moment."

I could read his eyes. And while I took the moment to bask on how he realized that I was a rather large individual compared to him, he continued with the nose crinkling. "Catch the drift?"

"Can I read those comic s now Hiko-san?"

"Sure." As soon as he started to get into one of them I said:

"You're going to work for those."

"Hey! I'm not gonna be your slave!" he roared.

"I'm not going to make you a slave. But I think you're old enough to do a few chores. If you're gonna be my kid, then you're gonna be taught how to at least act normally."

"Hey!"

"Kenshin," I said quietly. "How old were you when it happened?"

"What?"

"When you're parents died."

"Seven. I just turned seven."

"And you've been running from the government ever since haven't you?"

"It wasn't as hard as it sounds."

"Sounds pretty hard."

"Yeah well, that's you."

I leaned back on the couch and motioned for him to come up here with me. He was slow to get up, but he did. "I have to say. You have a lot of strength to keep away from Shishio."

"He's not all knowing. And Hoji doesn't really keep a close eye on every imperfect."

"Not in the underworld. There's no reason for him to is there?" Kenshin shook his head. "Now, I'm gonna make something that I hope you'll like because I'm not making anything else."

"Kay."

Kenshin fell asleep relatively quickly that night. He curled up on the couch with a full stomach and using one of the comic books as a pillow. I sat near him watching him breath in and out. It was making me think about how Shishio could try to annihilate a group of people who were strong like Kenshin was. Albeit, Kenshin was very rough when it came to his power, but it could grow. I wasn't about to tell him of my plans just yet.

But the problems began to unfold a day later. I went out with Kenshin; he needed clothes. He just couldn't go around wearing my shirt as a gown like a little girl. And while the trip really wasn't the problem, the way home was. There was a checkpoint.

This was one of the first times that I had driven in a few months because of walking everywhere. This was the reason that I didn't travel in a car. Checkpoints were set up by Shishio to be able to catch more imperfects. Kenshin knew this very well too. Much before we got up to the booth and I handed them my identification, he crawled into the back and hid underneath my trench coat. The officer was looking in at the lump underneath my coat. I reached back and grabbed one of the shopping bags to show him. He nodded and let me pass, but I saw him turn into the booth and begin to talk to someone over the phone as we drove away.

"Come out," I said to Kenshin. I looked back at the cowering boy who was lucky that he could fit underneath my coat. I tried to goad him out, but he didn't trust me long enough to allow himself to. When we arrived home, I convinced him to come in and he still hid underneath a blanket.

When things settled down, I allowed myself to try and do a little pottery. Man has to make a meager living right? Kenshin watched me with mesmerized eyes.

"Why pottery?"

"Because."

"Because why? A big guy like you Hiko-san? Pottery?"

"I like my peace."

"Explains you not trying to do anything to help this situation."

I knew what he expected. With size came power, and I was the ultimate in both, not that I showed the power. But I knew what he was thinking in a psychological sense. The government had beat down his self esteem to make him believe that he was worthless because of who he was. And not only that, they made him believe that only something large could have power.

"Starting this weekend," I said, "Saturday actually. I want you to get a little more confidence in yourself."

"How's that?"

I stood from my place and headed back to an armoire that was nearly antique. Out of it I pulled out a nihon-t, or a long katana. I noticed the look on his face slowly start to change as I held it at my side as though I ready to draw at the slightest tip off.

"A swordsman?" he asked. "You're a…a swordsman?"

I nodded very proudly, but I had to also say:

"I am a master swordsman. And I am your master."

"But…wait, hold on a minute."

"Is there something wrong?"

"No, it's just that…wow…."

"Hard to believe this isn't it? You're learning so much."

I had to sit down. My own mind was rolling. I could just feel the surprise in him, and the confusion above that. The mixed emotions twisted on this boy's face. It was as though he were debating on whether or not he could actually trust me after I told him these things. He braved a smile.

"Hiko-san…why?"

"I don't know. I've always wanted to do something like this."

"Train someone?"

"Kenshin…." I thought about the name, and thought about how much of this was intentionally done. "Hai. I will be training you, if that doesn't present a problem."

"Iie. Of course not, this will be fun."

I chuckled to myself when he said that. It made me think about how I reacted when my kendo master recommended me to the man formally known as Seijuuro Hiko XII. I thought it would be cool too. That was until I started. But let the children dream I suppose.

"You'll get a whole lot outta this baka deshi, I promise."

"Baka…hey!"

"Get use to it."

He stuck out his tongue.

After that we hardly spoke. It wasn't that he seemed resentful rather, he was daydreaming about what we were going to do. I kept my sword on display; let him play around with it for a little bit to get the feel of it. Everything he was doing was wrong, from the stance to the swing. But there was something special in him. He had a certain talent that no one else could have. I believed it must have been the way he lived, or how he thought. He wanted to protect something, so there was something that glimmered inside of him to make him want to do that.

By nightfall, everything was peaceful. There was a little buzz going on from side the living room where Kenshin was watching television. He stayed away from the news and found something that I would normally watch. Things that had to do on history or sciences. And he just sat there, watching intently as though he were copying the images into his brain. I continued with the pottery. I needed to keep myself occupied. But there was an odd feeling about me. I couldn't grasp this feeling, and though something dark were coming. Like instinct I started to get wary and kept my eyes on the windows and constantly looked back to Kenshin.

"Deshi?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Keep your eyes on the windows will you?"

"Why?"

"Just do it will you?" I demanded rather harshly. I watched him jump up and peek out the windows a moment to see if there was anything that was there.

"I don't see anything."

"Keep your eyes open. I don't have a good feeling about all this."

"About what Hiko-san?"

I pressed my lips together and let my hands work on their own while my eyes and my mind was somewhere else. Eventually, I couldn't keep control of my hands and stopped molding. I trekked into the bathroom and looked at the tub first which still had a ring around it where Kenshin had bathed. I started to clean off my hands and feel myself calm down when I heard:

"Hiko-san! The secret police!"

What were we in anymore? World War II. I seriously believed that Hitler had been reincarnated. "Get back, now."

"Where?"

"Just get back into the dark. Let me handle this."

I picked up my identification and headed toward the door. There was a stern knocking on my door. "This is the police; we have a few things we'd like to ask you."

As rational as that sounded….I opened my door with my hand behind my back where he couldn't see my identification until he asked for it. He did and I handed it over. "We're very sorry to barge in on you Kakunoshin-san, but we have a report that there has been a sighting of an imperfect around here."

I furrowed my brows in confusion. "Well…I wouldn't know what you would be talking about."

My acting skills were coming in handy right now.

"May we have a look around?"

"What is all of this about? Who made a report?" I asked as calmly as I could. My eyes flicked to Kenshin who had seated himself under a table. He didn't catch me looking at him. He was trembling.

"One of the neighbors around here. Said there was a little girl with red hair around here."

I started to laugh. "You must be joking."

"Negative," the man turned to me and made sure that the barrel of the gun was pointed right at my stomach.

"I wouldn't have one of those sick bastards if they were my own children," I leaned casually on the arm of the couch. I felt the gun still floating around me. One of the police laughed.

"You and me both sir."

I furrowed my brows and looked out of the corner of my eye to Kenshin who was trying to scoot into the closet that he was near. He was dancing around with the man's shimmering shoes. "Kakunoshin-san?" the one searching asked incredulously, "what is this?" he picked up my sword with little interest.

"A collector's item. It's worth quite a lot. I have a few more in the armoire too. You know, you could use those if you like. If you find the imperfect."

"Negative. It's not a regulation weapon." I bet they were a boatload of fun at a party.

"I'm just saying. You get to feel it go through your victim."

Kenshin was trembling at how my voice had dropped, but he nonetheless realized that I was buying him time and he scurried further to the closet. The man banged the butt of his gun on the floor a few inches by Kenshin's face. The boy flinched.

"I'm surprised that you haven't joined with the police if you really like the idea of exterminating the imperfects."

"I've thought about it." Kenshin reached for the sword when the officer let it clatter on the floor like an old tissue. It opened letting the blade gleam. "Please, continue your search. I have things that I have to finish."

"Very well." I walked into the dark room where Kenshin was still huddled underneath the table. I blocked him from sight as I leaned against the table. My heel slid the sword closer to him. He pulled it in very quietly.

We waited in limbo for a few minutes before the police finished and came back to the place where Kenshin and I were. They looked at me with stern faces and nodded to me as to say that they were finished. Then, they turned on their heels to leave. Just as I felt out of the clear I felt a spike of energy from Kenshin. He had gone from fear to courage and moreover, rage. He came out from the spot and unsheathed the sword. It was good that he was using a nihon-tô because he wouldn't have been able to stab the man in the back if he did. The guard automatically crumbled to the ground. I saw where Kenshin had struck. Even if he didn't hit any vital organs he hit the spine and the spinal cord. He struggled when trying to pull it out and was open to be peppered by the other officer's gun. I swiftly thought, though not very wisely, to pull out of the sword and finished what Kenshin started. I made a quick cut across the second officer's torso and cut the gun at the same time. He fell back with his partner. This was where I was left unsure of what I should do. I stared at the men who were unable to do anything drastic. Kenshin clung to my pant leg watching his victim begin to cough up blood.

"Hiko-san…?"

"Shush!"

I had to finish this, much to my displeasure. I stabbed into my victim's chest and twisted. He writhed and screamed. Then, I pulled it out and struck down into Kenshin's victim's neck, twisting it as well. It would be long. Just a few more moments.

Blood began to pool around their wounds and seep into the cracks of my floor. This was the first time that I had done this in a while. I reached into my pocket for a handkerchief to wipe the blood off my sword. Kenshin gripped hard to my pant leg.

"Hiko?"

"That was foolish."

"I…I know."

"You realize that you could have been killed?" Stupid question Hiko. "Look, this is why you need a teacher. We would have been just as well off if you hadn't've done that."

"I know."

"Kenshin," I lowered my head. I didn't want to say this, "Kenshin that was a good shot."

"W-what?"

"Though your form is way off."

"Hiko…."

"Get your things."

"Why?"

"Stop asking questions. Get your things."

He rushed over to the bag of clothes that we had gotten and he gathered the comic books. All the while I was showing my things into a suitcase. Just small things. Books, clothes, photographs. All those little sentimental things that we can't leave behind. I grabbed my hidden tin box of money and shoved it in there was well. Kenshin sat with his back to the bodies, now corpses. He was trying not to sulk over his deed. I picked up my sword and tucked it in my belt loop. By the back door there was a flowing white cloak that my master had given to me.

"C'mon."

"Where are we going Hiko?"

"We're hiding. I have a small place on the mountain that I fixed up."

"What about them?"

"What about them?" I asked back. He seemed frightened. "You want to dig graves? They're your enemies."

"It doesn't matter."

"I would," I said to him, "but we don't have enough time."

"I understand."

I grabbed his hand. "C'mon."

"Right."

We went all night trying to get up on the mountainside where I had a little place to call my own. And I didn't look back, even though Kenshin did. That was probably the only other place he'd lived, albeit not even a day, than his parent's home. He tried his best not to look weak in front of me, because he knew that I would say something. Or he though he knew I would say something. I wasn't as cruel as I came across to be. Sometimes, in a world like this, it's your only way to live.

At least two or three hours past daybreak we made it. We stepped into the little river that had dried up somewhat over the summer and approached it. It needed a little more touching up. It wasn't any summer villa, but it was a place that you could survive in.

"Why didn't we take your car?"

Kenshin was already beginning to settle. He pulled out his things and put them in a corner. I sat on my heels and slid my bag into a separate corner.

"Because."

"Oh," he hung his head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"Hiko-san?"

"Yeah?"

"It's cold."

I closed my eyes. "Get collect a little wood. I'll spark up a fire and we'll have breakfast."

After that, we seemed to be a little more quiet with one another. A little less rough. It was like we didn't want to upset each other. Not that he could, the little smart mouth. I suppose I got a little angry, but at the same reason it made me feel a little better. This was one of the few places that was away from civilization and police and dictators. And it was the perfect place to train my pupil. He took to the training really slow, but he caught on eventually. He was resentful of me for having so much power, but then who wouldn't be?"

We stayed there and we stayed real quiet. And the days that passed became years eventually. I watched Kenshin grow into a more mature individual. He was much quieter, and much more quirkier. But I guess that was being around me. Being my foil I guess.

So, when I think back to that Wednesday, I always have to ask myself, do you regret your actions. And I have to answer no. There was no reason to regret this outcome. After all, I created something great. I know I did. I may not be the one that gets involved like Kenshin used to want me to, but I knew that he would.

In the year 2046, when Kenshin was twenty eight years old, he came back to me. He'd drifted away from me for the past three years, doing his own things. He told me about getting into school. No one suspected him of being an imperfect. Not when he dyed his hair. He was the model student, and the model citizen. He became a dance instructor, but I'll let him tell you about that.

But he came back to me. I was doing some last minute fishing when the water was still high in the river. I rowed real gently hitting the oar against a few rocks to push myself along. And there in the distance was his silhouette standing very weakly. His spirit was too. I got out of the boat near the bank, where the water was at my knees. I trekked closer. A patch of sunlight revealed him standing very weakly with a sword in his hand. It was sheathed. Blood ran down from his forehead and his hair was a mess. His eyes were a pale amber color. The wind blew and tipped him over. I knelt down next to him and kept the water from entering his mouth.

"Deshi?"

"It has begun."

I closed my eyes and turned my head to the north. And in the distance you could hear the faint sound of gunfire rattling.

A/N: This is like a prequel to a multi-chapter story. I want to know what you think.