Title : Oyasumi
Author : Dùlin
Characters : Himura Kenshin, Iizuka, Katsura Kogoro
Fandom : Rurouni Kenshin (Tsuioku Hen OVA)
Rating : PG-13
Warnings : Missing scene, violence, angst
Disclaimer : Rurouni Kenshin is the property of the lovely Watsuki Nobuhiro. I won't even try to pretend I'm him.
A/N : written because it seems sitting on my hands does nothing when it's Nanowrimo.
His hands had not shaken. Not even once. There just hadn't been any time to be scared or to hesitate. If he hadn't dealt the fatal blow, the other would have killed him. After this realization, the kill itself had been a mere formality.
"Oi! Are you alright?"
Kenshin turned around, katana ready to strike again, but the man didn't stop until he'd reached the corpse. Then, he crouched and pinned a piece of paper carrying the 'Tenchuu' symbol on the dead man's back.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Iizuka, your supervisor. How're you feeling?"
"… Alright. Better than I thought I would."
"Good. Some people just can't stand the sight and then they vomit or faint, and it's a much bigger mess to take care of afterwards. Now let's go before those Shinsengumi bastards get there."
xXxXx
He washed his hands when he arrived at Kohagi-ya. And then again. And again. The stench of the blood was long gone, but he didn't feel like he had managed to get it off his hands.
They had prepared a room for him, along with the other Choushuu soldiers that were quartered there. Iizuka-san had mentioned introducing him, but he avoided the reception hall where the men were drinking and went upstairs right away.
'Master was right.'
'A sword is a weapon. Kenjutsu is a killing technique. That's the inevitable truth. If you go out there with this sword, you will take lives.'
'… But Katsura-san didn't lie to me. I knew what I was getting into."
He had thought he knew, at least. He had known he had the skill to kill a man, and he had readily adopted Katsura-san's vision of the future. Kill to create a new era. Not mindless killing, but necessary destruction, something to rebuild upon.
He'd dirty his hands so that Katsura-san's would remain clean. That much he had understood and accepted. He just hadn't realized how deep the dirt could reach.
The room was wider than any house he'd ever lived in, including his Master's – Hiko Seijurou's idea of comfort was not exactly one shared by most people. The finely decorated wall panels, the delicate, gold-adorned folding screen, the wooden chest … The samurai downstairs were used to such things, found them common and unremarkable, even, but to a boy who was carrying everything he possessed in the world on his person, this was positively luxurious.
The futon was laid out, beckoning, in the middle of the room. A warm comforter was covering it.
He stared at it for the longest time without moving. His hand refused to let go of the katana. His kimono and hakama, dirty as they were, felt like armor against the outside world, and he suddenly couldn't bear the thought of undressing and putting on the clean yukata that was next to the pillow.
He looked around. The wall panels were too fragile, too open. They would break in an instant if someone attacked the Kohagi-ya. His eyes fell on the chest, then on the piles of book in the corner of the room.
He only put the katana down for the time it took to put the books on top of the chest and make sure he was able to lean on them. Then it was back in his hand, held close to his chest in a tight grip. He sighed.
He couldn't remember the man's face. He wasn't sure he even remembered his name. This first kill hadn't exactly been critical for the Ishin Shishi. It was someone to test his strength on, someone who had made the unfortunate choice of being on the other side. Iizuka-san would make his report to Katsura-san, and they would decide who his next target was going to be depending on what they thought of his performance.
His stomach growled, but he ignored it. Food would have been welcome, and he wasn't feeling queasy, but he didn't want to go downstairs and risk facing those people who would congratulate him for his kill. Not yet. Not until he was sure he could accept the compliments without reacting violently.
They'd transformed him into what he was now. They could wait for him a night longer.
xXxXx
"..mura! Himura! … Ah, there you are! Are you … Eh? He's sleeping?"
"Just leave him be, Iizuka."
"Katsura-san! I'm very sorry, he should have come with me to give you his report! I will …"
"It's fine, Iizuka. Let him sleep. His dreams won't remain peaceful much longer. He deserves that much."
The sliding door was closed again softly, but a whisper went through before it was completely shut.
"Good night, Himura Kenshin."