---
"HAH!"
The cry echoed in the empty dojo, bouncing off the walls. A solitary figure stood in the center of the room, gripping a shinai. The dark haired boy clad in a sweat-drenched uwagi panted, struggling to keep his breathing even and regular. Fury and a thousand other emotions raged an internal war behind his shadowed eyes. He clenched his teeth, grinding them against each other and tightened his hold on the shinai.
Father.
He lunged with the wooden sword, pouncing with vengeance on an unseen opponent. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. He lifted the sword again and brought it down swiftly. All his rage, all his anger focused towards one person.
To the father whom he never knew, never got a chance to understand. The father who, through his damned sense of honor, had become a complete stranger, a vague memory. The father who pushed his family away.
He blocked a blow from an invisible blade. Imaginary steel met shinai and clashed. He forced it off then lunged again.
To the father who was so intent on punishing himself for past deeds. Deeds that mattered to no one else but him. To the father that was determined to suffer, not caring who suffered with him.
"YAH!" He struck downwards, and then quickly moved out of the way, evading a blow. He swung again and again, a series of strikes aimed at a hated target that, no matter how hard he tried, he never was able to hit.
To the father who put down the sword, and became weak. To the father that swore never to kill again- only to end up slowly killing their family, step by step.
Strike. Defend. Jump. Strike. Strike. Move. Jump. Strike. He danced around his enemy, a blurred force of boy and sword, fueled by all of the emotions fighting inside of him. Behind each swing was every shred of pain, of hatred, of rage- all backed by the adrenaline surging through his body. His mind and all thoughts of rational thinking disappeared, replaced by the incessant need to take it out on someone. And frustration filled him, as the person he wanted to attack the most wasn't there. He never was.
The father who, despite all of his faults, was loved. The father that would never allow himself to love back.
And he was alone in the room, a tormented boy, desperately fighting off his demons with nothing but a shinai.
*crack*
Kenji looked blankly at his hands. He had hit the wall with the sword he had somehow forgotten he was holding. He touched it gingerly. The bamboo had broken into two- not the clean break he had expected but a shattered splintered mess.
Just like his life.
He dropped what was left of the sword and felt his legs give out. He fell to his knees, landing unceremoniously with a thud. Physically, he felt drained from the practice. But emotionally-
Emotionally, he felt nothing.
It was as if his feelings had all disappeared, as if his sword had found a way for them to escape his body and now they were hanging in the air of the dojo, evaporating into nothingness. It was as if the stupid broken shinai had somehow accomplished what he had been trying to do his whole life. He sat there, letting the silence and the discovery wash over him, letting this wonderful new feeling of emptiness take control. He was there forever- devoid of emotion, sitting on the floor of the dojo. Then a familiar sound broke through the silence.
Tears.
He stood up and exited the building. The light padding of his footsteps rose up and mingled with the now growing sound of crying. He stopped in front of her room door. He didn't have to check to see if it was coming from here. He knew. They had been through this too many times before. He slid open the door.
His mother was on the floor still dressed in her sleeping yukata, softly crying. Her tears fell freely, sliding down the sides of her face. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed an object lying forlornly at her side. A letter.
Noticing him for the first time, she looked up. Her blue eyes were shining from the tears that still fell. "It's okay," she said. "There's nothing wrong, Kenshin. I'm fine."
And then she smiled.
He didn't bother to correct her. Didn't bother to console her. Didn't bother to ask what the letter said. Didn't bother to play his role in this scene he was so sick of. He just left.
And closed the door behind him.
Kenji walked away, waiting for the rage to fill him, waiting for the sting of angry tears to come as they always did. He waited for the horrible twist in his stomach as her smile burned at him still, even now as he walked away. But the tears, the pain, and the anger- they never came. He just felt horribly empty. And yet he welcomed the emptiness. He slipped on his shoes.
As he walked towards the gate, distantly he thought of his mother. His mother who lay weeping for her husband, and would stay weeping until whenever he returned. His mother, who despite her tears, managed to smile. This would hurt her, he knew. But she would get over it. She'd miss him, but she would be okay.
And his father-
He paused at the gate, one hand lingering on it, the only thing holding him back.
Fuck you, Father.
He swung the gate closed and let go. He let go and walked down the street, never once looking back. It was the first significant of the many steps he would make in his journey. He was a boy determined to become a man- a man stronger than his father would ever be. As he walked away, the emptiness settled inside him. He released his hold on the burden he had been carrying for so long.
And tried desperately to forget his mother's smile.
---
AN: This was inspired after I finished watching 'Reflections'. My knowledge of kendo is painfully limited. So if there were any errors in reference to the swordplay I am very sorry. Feel free to correct me via review or email.
As always R&R- praise, constructive criticisms, queries- all gladly accepted. ^o^
-Amethyst
Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin is a product of the great mind of Watsuki Nobuhiro.