A/N: This is going to be a two shot only because its probably going to wind up being over 10,000 words. Don't ask where the idea came from, it just came...

I.

Kaoru had always stuck her nose where it wasn't wanted. People thought that time would stop the little girl's obsession with wanting to know everything there was to know about whatever it was she was interested in at the time. They learned that her innate fascinations only grew as she did.

She never had a real clear mission when it came to finding information. Though she worked with a magazine, she was always a little lopsided when it came to putting out articles, mostly because she knew that she got so involved in the stories that she forgot that they needed to be written. Her editors told her that she should be writing biographies instead of articles, but she would always laugh at them.

The truth was that there was never anyone that was that interesting to write about. At the end of all of her research she could probably come up with twenty pages, and maybe only six of them would have been decent. Those were the six that were infrequently published.

This truth held up until she was twenty seven years old. Kaoru sat on a bench with her hands folded on her knees, her portfolio held between her thighs as she looked at the people that were walking one way or another, unconcerned that she stared at them absently and imagined what kind of people they were.

She drew a throwaway camera from her pocket and wound it up. She liked to take pictures of people that she found especially interesting, and just across the way was a trio with their arms linked together like they were heading to Oz. She clicked the picture and brought the camera down, winding it again.

Her editor had sent her on a mission. She had been told that she needed to have a good report within the next two weeks or her job would be terminated. She had loudly protested this, kicking over his trashcan and telling him how whenever she published an article that the circulation of the magazine was up. He only scoffed at her and sent her out of his office. Despite throwing a temper tantrum, Kaoru knew that she had to do something. Three months was far too long, especially without a paycheck.

She stood up from her place, her portfolio tucked beneath her arm, and she slid the camera back in the pocket of her coat. The bus had just pulled up and she was about to get on. She was pulling waded bills out of her skirt pockets and hoping that it would be enough for both the bus and a coffee later that night.

Just as she tried to get on, someone was hauled off, thrown to his knees before her. Her portfolio dropped and splattered against the pavement. The latch broke. "What the hell!" she was looking at the bus driver who was still on his feet, his hands smacking together where he was proud that he had thrown the man off.

The man who had been thrown off drew to a standing position and brushed off the knees of his torn jeans. He didn't say a word, just walked away from the scene with his hands deep in his pockets. He seemed to be skipping as he walked. Her gaze was kept on him, and she laughed when he suddenly twirled, the tail of his trench coat blowing up in the movement.

"You getting on lady?" the bus driver asked. Kaoru looked to him, and then to the waded money in her hand.

"Uh…no, wrong line," she said. She reached down and picked up her portfolio. The bus doors shut and the bus trundled on down the busy streets.

Kaoru began walking in the direction that she saw the man walking, or rather, dancing down. She brushed passed all of the people who were appalled by the man that had likely just flicked them out of his way.

There came a clearing where all the people seemed to part and she could get a clear look at the man as he stood before a shop. He was staring in with a smile on his face, and he took a big whiff of whatever floated out of the establishment. The closer Kaoru got, the more she realized that it was a coffee shop. She had been planning on getting coffee.

The man entered, and she followed behind like his little shadow. She wanted to get a good look at his face; maybe get a picture. The more she thought about it, the more she thought that he looked like a good candidate for an article. She didn't know what it was, but there was something that was fascinating about him. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn't afraid to dance down a busy sidewalk.

The moment that she entered, she was met with a chaotic scene. The man behind the counter was yelling at the man who had just entered. Kaoru looked at the man, obviously homeless, who seemed to be begging to the man behind the counter for something, his finger jabbing against the glass.

Before Kaoru knew it, he was thrown into a table by a customer who he was begging for money from. Though it was barbaric, Kaoru had the sickening notion that this wasn't the first time this man had done this.

She approached him and offered him a hand. He didn't take it immediately, only sat like a wounded child and looked at his hands. They were worn away. They were hardened and somewhat crooked at the joints in his fingers. The journalist knelt beside him at the displeasure of the customers. Another employee had come around and was hauling the man to his feet, picking up the table as if it were more sacred than human life.

"Are you alright?" Kaoru asked the man. His deep crimson hair was covering most of his face. She reached out to move the curtain away, revealing the face beneath. The only thing that she could notice was the there was a steady stream of blood coming from his nose. She reached over to one of the tables and plucked up a napkin trying to wipe it away.

The man behind that counter was yelling at them, and Kaoru, not wanting to incite anymore panic, took the man by his arm and led him outside.

"Sir?"

"Fine," he replied. His voice was hoarse, like it wasn't used too often. "Thank you," he added, and he took the napkin from her and ripped a piece away, shoving it up one of his nostrils. "It's been happening a lot."

Kaoru kept her hand around his elbow and led him to another bench where they sat. She pulled the camera out of her pocket and put it to her eye. "Hey, look at me would ya?" she asked. When he did, she quickly took the picture. She began winding it up again, intending to have another picture. The man, however, put his hand up beside his face, almost like a practiced moved, denying her the opportunity. "Camera shy?"

He bobbed his shoulders. "Not really," he said, and he brought his hand back to his nose, probing. Kaoru was more interested in his left cheek. Beyond the curtain of hair she saw a few markings that looked carved. She moved his hair out of his face again. She got a good view of the cross shaped mark. It was faded by time, as was the rest of his face. He'd obviously spent too much time in the sun. His face was red of sunburn now, but it looked leathery underneath; like an old shoe left out too long.

After she had pulled back his hair, he took the liberty of sweeping it up and pulling it back, his hands twisting it so it would stay in a tight knot down his back. His body quivered.

Kaoru was too busy to notice. She was rummaging through all of her coat pockets knowing that her tape recorder had to be somewhere. She found it in an inner pocket along with extra tapes. It sat on her lap as she fiddled to put a tape in it. She clicked a few buttons and oriented herself towards him.

"Hey, you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"What for?"

"Nothing. I just…think you're interesting," she shifted the tape recorder closer. "Could you tell me your name?"

"Only if you tell me yours first," he bargained. Kaoru smiled.

"My name is Kaoru Kamiya. Now it's your turn."

"Call me Shinta," he said. Kaoru nodded, and she pressed a hand on his shoulder. He was much too fidgety for his own good. "Are you conducting an interview Miss Kamiya?" he asked.

"Kinda. Not really though, I mean. I just get interested in people; that's all."

He had curled his mouth to make a sound, but nothing came out. He was just as surprised at this as she was. Without warning, Kaoru found his head lying in her chest, and she just about smacked him, thinking that he was trying to be perverted. That was when she noticed that his eyes were closed and there was still blood coming from his nose.

"Oh God…"she turned the tape recorder off and jammed it into her pocket. Shinta was rested against the back of the bench, his head flopping back as if his neck were rubber. Kaoru pulled out her cell phone and began to dial.

II.

Kaoru was forced to leave Shinta to the help of the paramedics. Her editor called her shortly after, wanting to see her about what she was doing for the article.

Before Kaoru went before her editor, she went and had her film developed even though she hadn't used all of it. She wanted to see if any of the pictures sparked her editor's interest. She had left her name with several people she had met up with and had gotten theirs in return.

When she arrived at the office of the magazine, she was taken directly in front of her editor. He raised his brows and asked: "Well, what have you got for me?"

"Um…"she pulled broken latch off of her portfolio and dumped the pictures onto his desk. "I saw some people. I wanted to see what you thought about them."

Kamatari Honjo was Kaoru's long time editor and friend, but if there was anyone that he pressed hardest on, it was Kaoru. He took great pride in the good work that Kaoru did, but he knew that she was a bit slow when it came to gathering anything interesting. The one thing that he was certain of was that she was decisive. Her giving him the pictures and asking him to go eenie, meanie, minie, moe was like asking him to take over her job.

"You don't have anything?" he asked, tossing aside the pictures thinking about how boring all of them were.

"Well, yes and no."

Kamatari got to the end of the line and was stuck on the final picture that Kaoru had taken. "Well…"he said, staring at it with a twitching grin on his face. After several moments it fell. "Where'd you take this one?" he asked, handing her the picture.

"I was at a bus stop with that guy. Said his name was Shinta…I got a bit of tape, but you see, he kinda passed out on me and I had to call an ambulance."

Kamatari placed the picture on his desk. "Shinta you say?" he asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

Kamatari stood up and went over to a filing cabinet. He knelt down to a bottom draw marked '80-'89. It was stuffed to the brim with what looked like old manila files and faded magazines that hadn't been touched in years. Kaoru wasn't surprised. Most of the stuff in there was as old as she was.

Kamatari pulled out several magazine issues, one of which she could clearly make out as TV Guide. He came back over and fanned the magazines on top of his desk, the picture that Kaoru had taken back in his hand. "What are these for?"

The issue of TV Guide was placed on top of all the others. Kaoru pulled it closer to examine it. The issue was from September 1983. A new sitcom was being introduced on the cover. "That was a pretty good series. Funny," Kamatari said. He pointed to the small boy that was standing in the front, his hands on his hips, a wide smile crossing his face. The rest of the family was chaotic, but he looked happy. "Know who that is?"

"Um, no I don't actually," Kaoru said, but she pulled it closer just to get a better look.

"He went by Kenny Hartman there," said Kamatari. "Nine years old. He made that show, and that show made him," Kamatari moved the TV Guide issue out of the way and pulled up another magazine. He flipped to one of the articles, this time showing what looked like the same kid but a few years older. "Twelve," that magazine was tossed aside. Another was brought up; another article was flipped to. "Fourteen." One last magazine was brought up, and this one there was no need to flip to an article. On the cover was the boy, sunglasses covering most of his face. He looked a bit disgruntled, almost like he was about to give the finger to the photographer. "Fifteen."

"Looks like a rebel without a cause," Kaoru said, inching the picture closer to her. Kamatari laid the picture Kaoru had taken next to the magazine cover.

"Look a little familiar to you?" Kamatari asked. Kaoru didn't even have to guess what he was talking about. She brought them both closer to her, looking over the jaw line, the cheekbones and the foreheads. Though the hair color was different, Kaoru couldn't deny the similarity.

"So…you think this Shinta is Kenny Hartman?"

"I know that Shinta is Kenny Hartman. It would be appropriate…he'd be about 40 now," Kamatari scooped up the magazines. "You see, between 1983 and 1989, everyone knew who Kenny Hartman was. He was on TV, in movies, and he always had interviews. I got the chance to interview him in '86 while he was in the middle of filming a movie. He was a sweet kid, but kinda quirky at times," Kamatari admitted. "In the summer of '89, he disappeared. He was in the middle of a movie; his career was at its peak. All of sudden he quit, or…something along those lines. A few months later he fired his managers, his parents naturally. He tried to get a few gigs but by that time his name was blacklisted. After that, everyone sort of forgot Kenny Hartman. The biz moved on…didn't care what happened to him." Kamatari sighed.

"That's kinda sad."

Kamatari nodded and then he shrugged. "No one ever really got the full story on him. During that summer it was mostly speculation. Every tabloid had a reason for what happened, but none of them actually told the truth because no one around Kenny would open their mouths, not even his parents."

The longer Kamatari spoke, the more the gears in Kaoru's head began to turn. She took her photograph off of the desk and stared at it. Shinta's eyes were the most striking. They were a strong blue color that seemed to fade into purple just by how dark they were.

"I want to write a story on him," Kaoru said. Kamatari perked up. "I know where he is. I called an ambulance to take him to the hospital. I can talk to him. But…I want to talk to the people that were around him a lot back then," Kamatari got out of his seat once more. Kaoru waited patiently as Kamatari gathered a few more items, returning the magazines to their rightful places as he did.

He set out five photographs. "These are the five people you'll have the best chance with, though I haven't talked to some of them in many years," he pointed to a picture of a man with a rock hard face and long black hair in his eyes. "You might recognize him the most. Hiko Seijuuro, the director. Then there's Sanosuke Sagara," he pointed to a picture of a spiky haired man. "Everyone calls him Sam. Then there's Akira Kiyosato, and Tomoe "Tammy" Yukishiro. I don't know where they are, but if you talk to Hiko or Sam you'll probably find them. And finally Kogoro Katsura, producer. He and Hiko worked close together, so he was relatively close to Kenny."

"How would I talk to any of them? They're probably really busy…"Kaoru said. Kamatari swiped up the photographs.

"I have Hiko on speed dial, don't worry. I'm vehement about interviews with him but…he's scarce. I think he'll take this call though." Kamatari winked and picked up the phone on his desk.

III.

Kaoru arrived on a sound stage that was crawling with employees trying to put everything into place. This was the latest job for the director, and Kaoru had been told that if she wanted an interview, she would have to do it on the set. She was quick to get there the next morning. She had a fresh tape in the recorder and her notepad full of questions.

"Careful!" she heard someone yell at her. She moved out of the way of a pair of men carrying something that she probably didn't want to identify.

"You must be Kamatari's little lackey, huh?" a deep voice boomed. Kaoru turned around and saw the man from the picture, but it was obvious that he had aged since it was taken. He was wearing a pair of reading glasses and his hair, once deep obsidian, was now riddled with little gray streaks.

"I'm Kaoru Kamiya, and I'm a journalist, not a lackey," she said, but she extended her hand either way. Hiko didn't take it, only pressed his knuckles into his sides where he had his fists balled up. After a moment of drinking her in, the director led her into what looked like a mobile office. There was quiet once he shut the door.

The room was sparse. It was a quick put together with a desk, two chairs and a portable filing cabinet and safe pushed up against one wall. The only part of the office that looked personal were the film posters hanging on the walls. Hiko sat down behind the desk.

"You've got about thirty minutes until we shoot," Hiko said. "That's about all the time you're gonna get out of me."

Kaoru set the tape recorder on her legs and hit the play button. "Alright, then I'll made it brief as I can. I've come here to talk to you about someone known as Kenny Hartman," she said.

"Kenny?" he shook his head. "What about the brat?"

Kaoru pulled out the photograph of him and handed it to Hiko. "I found him wandering yesterday; at least, I think that's him. That's what Kamatari told me when I showed him."

There was a mix of disdain and regret spread across Hiko's face. "That's him. All grown up, the little twit," he gave the picture back to Kaoru. "Those eyes are unmistakable."

"Well, I wanted to know what you could tell me about him. How much you know."

"That'll take more than a half hour," he scoffed. "But I suppose you mean about what happened in '89?"

"Yes. Will you tell me what happened?" she asked. Hiko gave her a half cocked look and pulled what she thought was a flask from the desk drawer. He took a long drink before capping it and looking her straight in the face.

"Look, you and every other journalist in the world has asked me what happened. I don't know how many ways I can tell you that you're not ever going to find out. It's not really that important," but Kaoru had a way of reading people, and she could tell that the story was on the tip of his tongue.

"It's been over twenty years though. If I published it now, would it really matter?"

"I'll tell you anything else you want to know about him, just not that."

"Fine," Kaoru looked down at her notes and sighed. "When did you two first meet?"

"When did we first meet? Probably when I worked with him in some of the early sitcom episodes. The show lasted till he was twelve years old; I worked with him mostly in '83 and '84. Before that, I had only seen him for a couple of commercial shoots. The kid had raw talent that was for sure."

"How old were you then?"

"How old was I? Twenty five. I was just starting out in directing. At first, I was an assistant, and I was with some of the talent scouts when they were holding auditions for the sitcom."

"He struck you?"

"Some. I think maybe it was because he was such a ham. He walked up in front of us, put his hands in his pockets, smiled and said: 'I want the part, and I know you're going to give it to me.'" Hiko let out a small chuckle and began to weave his tale.

It was early spring when they began scouting for the sitcom It's a Big Deal. Hiko found himself lingering around with the talent scouts, mostly looking at his watch or at the script. There were plenty of kids to go around, but there were few that were striking the scouts who would whisper under their breaths and mark on the pages that had the names of the applicants.

"Take a chill pill would you?" one of the scouts asked. Hiko knew he was pacing every so often, and he had to stop himself. "We'll find a good kid, it'll just take time," Hiko shook his head. They had been telling him all day, but he didn't think that it would happen anytime soon. Most of the children were whining because their parents were pushing them, or they were so nervous that they were nearly wetting themselves in front of the talent scouts. The few that actually had confidence in themselves read the lines, but to Hiko it just felt like one of those days where rush hour traffic was standing still and he didn't have a jar to piss in.

"Look, Calhoun's being too specific on how he wants these kids," Hiko said. He sat down with the talent scouts while they were on break. "I say we just give up here. This is nonsense."

"Calhoun knows what he wants in a kid, and we're gonna deliver it for him," one of the scouts said. Hiko crossed his arms and leaned his head back. It was an impossibly hot spring afternoon and they were sitting in direct sunlight. Hiko licked his lips and pulled a flask out from the bag that he had carried with him. "Really, right now?" One of the scouts scoffed.

"You want me to take a chill pill or not?" Hiko nearly barked.

"Can we have the next one please?" The second scout asked, ignoring the assistant director and the partner scout.

Hiko wiped his mouth off and capped the flask, hiding it between his thighs. A little boy came up onto the stage in a pair of overalls and a long sleeved shirt. Hiko leaned forward with a grin cracked on his face. The kid had a cocky little grin, and he was walking towards them like he were a cowboy walking into a saloon. "Can you tell us your name?"

"Kenshin, but you can call me Kenny," he said. He showed his teeth, one of which was missing, in a face splitting smile. "You know, you guys, I want the part, and I know you're gonna give it to me."

"Is that so?" one of the scouts said.

"Yep. I'm just the kid for the part. I got spunk, and I like to rough house. And I can dance! Wanna see?" Hiko started laughing and shaking his head.

"We wanna see you recite a couple of lines. Can you do that for us Kenny?"

The little red headed boy who had spunk and who said he could dance looked at the talent scouts, grinned his face splitting grin, and began to spew out the lines of the Pilot, pretending the entire way that there was someone else there. In the background his mother looked like she was a horse galloping in place. Hiko gave a lopsided smile and looked back to the boy who bowed in his place when he was finished and announced: "I'm done! Thank you!" Before walking off without having to be told to leave.

After that, Hiko was scarce around Kenshin except when he got the opportunity to direct some of the sitcom episodes. He had a fondness for the boy, able to see the good parts in his acting, but the bad parts in his tantrums.

"The kid had a tantrum for everything," Hiko said, his eyes travelling to Kaoru's tape recorder. "Co-workers, set workers…directors…he was like an adult bottled in a kid's body. There were days where we wouldn't shoot because he said that it wasn't right. After the season one finale, we were at his mercy."

"How could you possibly be at a child's mercy?"

"Well, I wasn't, but everyone else would bend backwards for him because they realized that he was their bread and butter."

"So the sitcom was doing well?"

"So said the Nielson ratings," Hiko nodded. "It had a good run."

Kaoru leaned back in her seat. "Why'd the sitcom end so suddenly if it was doing so well?"

"It sort of ended itself. One of those things where they ran out of story ideas and their actors were getting too old. I really didn't care because I was onto bigger things. Been directing some of my own movies because I was getting tired of sitcoms. Thought I'd never see the kid again, but of course he seemed to show up on my doorstep."

"What do you mean?"

"He'd remembered me from the first days, and when he found out that there was a movie that I was working on, well, he wanted to be a part of it. He literally showed up on my porch one day at like…four in the morning. Didn't wake me up, but he did surprise me. He was like…twelve I think."

Hiko took in a deep breath as his legs began to ache. Sweat was beginning to dapple his face. He had the radio turned on a news station, but he wasn't paying attention to it, just his workout. The early mornings were some of the only personal times he got. At least, most mornings. When he heard the distinct sound of the doorbell, he was forced to turn off the treadmill and look over his shoulder.

Whoever it was, they were persistent. He stepped off the treadmill and on his way to the front door he grabbed a towel and wiped his neck off. He was expecting one of his assistants, a crazy producer, or a writer demanding that he look at their work. When he opened the door he was surprised to see a short boy standing in front of him. "What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you."

Hiko rolled his eyes. "You and Walter Cronkite," he just about shut the door, but something stopped him. "What the hell could you want to talk about at four in the morning? Hm? Does your mother know where you are?"

"Yes. She drove me," he said and pointed to the driveway where a car was idling. "I wanted to talk to you about the new thing you're working on."

"Let me guess…you want a part?" Hiko asked. He didn't wait for the kid to say yea or nay. "Auditions are over. We're mulling over the decisions now, so you'll just have to see if you made it out of the cesspool, all right?"

"Oh, I know that," the boy took a step forward. "I still want to talk about it.'

Hiko furrowed his brows. "What?"

"See, my friend's in on it too. He tried out for a different part, and I was hoping that you would remember him 'cause he's sometimes not all that memorable."

Hiko crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe. "Should I be taking notes kid?" The boy stepped into the light of the doorway and he smiled. The thing about Kenshin was his sweet and inviting face. It was why he was appealing, and it was why that everyone wanted to pick him up. The thing about it was that he'd been turning everyone down and Hiko wasn't sure why. Of course, him showing up on Hiko's doorstep might have answered a few questions. At least it did until they boy brought up his friend.

"Look, kid, I have no power here. I trust the casting crew. I gave them directions, they'll give me people."

His bluish purple eyes were begging. Hiko clenched his jaw and let his arms fall to his sides as though he were exhausted. "You want to come inside for a few minutes? See if I can't drill this into your skull?"

Kenshin nodded and walked passed Hiko into the house. The director poked his head out of his door and looked to the driveway where there was a parked car. He could make out a woman in the driver's seat, narrowly seeing the glow of her face by the glow of a cigarette. She didn't seem concerned. Hiko closed the door and ushered the boy into his living room. He flicked off the radio.

"Look, there's a pecking order," Hiko began. "And actors may be important, but I'm going to make my decisions, and the casting is going to make theirs. So on and so forth. Actors make the movies, but it's also the movies that make the actors."

"I understand that," Kenshin said, "but Sam's a good guy," he leaned back in a chair that nearly engulfed him. "I mean Sam Sagara, you know? I'm not trying to sway how you thinking; I was just wanting to put it in your mind." And Kenshin got up. Hiko showed him out. His mother swerved out of the driveway and disappeared in the distance.

"He ruled his parents, I'll say that much. That kid had a lot of power over people. I don't know what it was…it was probably his face. He just had this way about looking at you and telling you something. He never demanded anything that he didn't think was important."

"So the tantrums..?"

"He was a spoiled rotten brat who wanted things his way. Those tantrums were almost like a distraction…if he really wanted something he would just plant the seed and let it fester. I'll admit it hit me a few times, at least as far as casting was concerned. I turned down a few good actors because he thought there would be better ones to choose from. Which, I'll admit, he was right."

"So you took on Sam Sagara after that night?"

"Yeah, yeah I took on the bugger. He was like…five years younger than Kenny. He was a little twerp with a big attitude, but just like Kenny, he got the job done. I used him a lot after that movie. Him and Kenny worked together all the time. Even in the last production in '89 they were working together. Him, Sam, and Tammy."

"Did he convince you to include Sam and Tammy for that production?"

Hiko shrugged and looked to the wall on his left. Kaoru copied the motion and let the images from the posters sink in. They were posters from Hiko's old movies, and two of them had Kenny in them. "Yeah. I guess you could say that. He was headstrong about that movie especially, and especially about having Tammy in it with him."

Kaoru, feeling confident, picked the tape recorder up and pressed it between her hands. "Would you say that was part of the reason that he disappeared? Because he was so headstrong?"

Hiko rolled his eyes. "'Disappeared'…that's so stupid," he pulled the flask out again and took a sip. "Look, I don't know what you expect to slip out, but no one's going to talk about that summer. I'll give you this much of a clue, just so you can be assuaged: That kid sabotaged everything for himself. He had a career ahead of him. A few Oscars, acting, directing, whatever. That kid had an eye. That summer…"

Hiko leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He seemed pressed, and his eyes poised at the tape recorder. Kaoru folded into the same position, her eyes on him. She brought the tape recorder a little closer to him.

"Why won't anyone talk about it Mr. Seijuuro? Why is it so bad that you're never allowed to talk about it again?"

"Because…"his voice cracked, and it sounded as though his mouth had gone dry. "It's none of the media's damn business. Not even now. Not now, not ever! Now get out! Go bother someone else with your questions."

Kaoru stood from her place; the tape recorder dropped by her thigh. She offered Hiko a hand and raised her brows, hoping that he would take her gesture. The director wasn't so courteous. He opened the door; all the sound from the stage flooding back in. Kaoru took her leave.

A/N: This is part one. Kenshin will be more prominant in part two. Promise.