Disclaimer : I do not own Samurai X / Rurouni Kenshin...too bad.

Eyes Without Pity : Tori Seto

Eyes Without Pity

A/N : The prolouge is from the story Ichirizuka by older woman. (Arigato again for allowing me to borrow your work!)Other ideas or names found in this piece may seem familiar, but this is because they are taken from a few stories that inspired what happened to Shinta. Sumimasen if you find this usage offensive.

Prolouge

Shinta was weeding what little was left of the garden while trying to keep four-year-old Kin from pulling up the wrong things when Fumi-san called him. Since he had come into Hideo-san's household, Kin had followed him everywhere he went, copying everything he did. It was awkward, because Fumi-san did not like to see it. Actually, Fumi-san did not like to see him since Shozo had died. He had accidentally overheard her complaining to Noriya-san that Kin was forgetting her brother already. But Baba-sama had told her to be still. Later, Baba-sama had told him not to worry about it.

But he did worry. He did not want to make anyone unhappy. There was enough unhappiness already with so many dead from the cholera. But if he made Kin happy, Fumi-san wasn't. If he made Fumi-san happy, Kin and Baba-sama weren't. He was always uncomfortable, except when he was helping Baba-sama.

"Shinta! Yasu-san wants you to come to her. Right now! Kin-chan, come with Kaa-san; you've gotten very dirty." With an accusing glare, she swept up her daughter and returned to the house. Shinta rose and brushed the dirt from his clothes, walking to the basin to rinse his hands and feet before entering the house. He found Baba-sama busy as always, spinning cotton thread. He bowed and took his usual place by her basket of cotton rolls. But she stopped her wheel and turned to face him. Startled by her serious expression, Shinta shifted to seiza, unconsciously reverting to the habits instilled during his father's lessons.

"Shinta-chan. I need to speak to you." She paused and took a slow breath before continuing. "You know how bad things have been since Fifth Month: the rains and flood have ruined the rice and the cholera has killed many of us, so there are fewer to work. The village cannot pay the assigned taxes this year. We have very little food. Do you understand this?"

He looked back at her, eyes solemn and sad. "Hai. I understand."

"But we must pay as many of our debts as we can. To do this, it has been decided to sell all the belongings of those who have died. We will be poorer than ever, and some of us may die this winter. Do you understand this?"

He nodded, a lump in his throat, remembering.

"Hideo-san has decided that it would be best for the village—and for you—to sell you." At his horrified expression, Yasu leaned forward and gathered him into her arms. Her voice was shaky as she continued. "Shinta-chan. It is not what we would like for you, but it will keep you alive and keep you away from those here who blame you for our misfortunes. If you are obedient and pleasant, you may live very comfortably. Please understand."

And he did understand, even as he tried not to cry. Hideo-san and Baba-sama had been his parents' friends. They had been kind to him. They would not do this if it was not necessary.

And so, when the men came, he went quietly, not looking back.