A/N: This may be a little confusing, but here...this is kenshin's POV as a child...before his parents died...until... I hope you enjoy!
June 20, 1849 in a little hut. Born to Myokoto and Sakura, son of a farmer.
"Isn't he adorable?"
"Yes he is."
"Ah, of course he is! He is our Myokoto's son! Of course he will be just as handsome."
"What is his name?"
"Shinta. His father named him Shinta." The child cries and his mother rocks him. "Hush, Shinta.," she whispers to him lovingly. The child slowly seizes to cry and drifts away to peaceful slumber.
June 20, 1852. Young Shinta turned three and looks like his father.
When somebody loved me
"Shinta!" A red-haired boy looked up. His face was full of dirt, but his smile never failed to shine brighter than the sun. His mother smiled at him. "Your father has come home. Be sure to say good-bye to your friends and wash up before you enter the house," she told him. "Happy birthday, Shinta."
Obidiently, little Shinta waved his friends. "Bye! Bye! We'll play tomorrow, that we will!" he said and ran to his mother. "I am ready to wash up now, Mother." His mother nodded as she watched the little boy run to the well to get some water and wash himself clean. "Lalala!" little Shinta sung as he washed.
He entered the house, his father had arms wide open for him. "Shinta! I miss my son! Happy birthday" he said. He scooped up the three-year-old onto his hands and kissed his forehead. "My Shinta, you have grown so big now that you can wash yourself. Ah, one day you will go to thei fields and plant with me. The day is nearing and nearing, son," he said happily.
Shinta threw his hands up, hugging his father. The window faced them, he was happy. He saw the sun making its way through thier window and smiled. He looked at his father's eyes, so pure. Shinta leaned at his father's chest. I will never let you go, Father.
Everything was beautiful
"Now, let's settle down and eat." She served rice to her husband, then her son, then herself. She looked at Shinta. "Since it is your birthday, we will go down by the river, Shinta. we can eat there tonight and watch the stars like you've always wanted," she said.
Shinta jumped up and hugged his mother. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!!" he said happily; His mother laughed, so did his father. Shinta watched their happy eyes, he looked at the pure happiness of his family and was now very contented of his life. "Can we watch it until I fall asleep, Mother?" he asked. His mother nodded, Shinta was so happy.
His father laughed hard as the young boy jumped around. 'Don't get too excited or you'll get indigestion," he said. Shinta calmed down a bit, but the excitement in his eyes never left. His father reached for him and gave him a quick hug. "Now let's eat."
Every hour we spent together
The family walked down the dusty road that night. Shinta walked beside his father. His mother behind them, smiling. She had never seen Shinta this happy. His smile, it was different from the other boys she's seen. It was full of innocence and satisfaction.
They picked a place under the Sakura tree. Shinta looked at the river flow. His father began to fish. Shinta watched, closely. His father noticed and handed the rod to the boy. He slowly taught Shinta how to fish. Shinta was so happy, his father had never showed him how to fish before, this was the first time.
"Shinta, do you know the legend of the Flying Fishes?" he asked. Shinta looked at his father with wonder and shook his head. His father smiled as his mother sat beside him. 'Now, when I was a child, my father told me this tale." Shinta had his ears wide to listen. "When you are lucky enough to catch a large fish that flies over the river, make a wish. The wish will definately come true," he said.
Shinta smiled and nodded. Just then, something tugged his line. Shinta pulled hard. A large fish jumped from the water. "Make a wish, Shinta!" shouted his father. Shinta squinted his eyes. I wish my family would be like this forver and ever! They caught the fish and had it for dinner. His father patted Shinta's head. "See? I hope your wish comes true. Whatever it is. Shinta, I want you to be happy, always."
"Yes Father," Shinta replied, smiling. it would last forver, this night would last forver. It would always be a memory in my mind. The night I made a wish on that flying fish. "I will always be happy, Father!"
Lives within my heart
Early March, 1854. A crowd was gathered in a place, looking at a corpse.
"Father!" Shinta knelt beside his father's lifeless body. "Father, wake up." Tears came down his eyes as he ran his fingers through his father's cold hand. "Father, please. Father!"
Whispers were around the boy. "What happened here?" someone asked as he looked at the dead man.
"Someone has assassinated Myokoto. But, why? He was just a poor farmer with a wife and son. Who would do something evil to break the poor souls? Who could be this evil?" asked another.
Another man shook his head. "Look at the boy. He will sureley need his father at this age. His poor mother...I pitty them, but there is nothing I could do. There is nothing we could do. No matter what, we cannot bring the dead back to life."
The burial of Myokoto was very solemn. Many had cared for him.
"I am grieved for the loss of your husband, Sakura," said a man Shinta had never knew. "I know it must be hard, especially when he has left you a son." He looked at Shinta. "He looks like his father, exactly like his father."
And when she was sad
Shinta's mother cried, and cried, and cried. Shinta watched as tears flowed down his mother's eyes. Mother...please stop. "Please stop, Mother." His mother just hugged him and whispered things he didn't understand. Shinta hugged her back. "I'm going to miss him too, Mother. Please stop crying, I am still here," Shinta said, he was very much concerned. He had never seen his mother like this beffore. When his father was alive, she smiled no matter what.
Lifting his chin, his mother looked at Shinta's eyes. Caring, loving and still supportive. "Oh my little Shinta, how I love you." She hugged Shinta tightly. Shinta looked at the sun, it wasn't there to shine at him. Holding back his own tears, he hugged his mother. "Shinta, you're always here. I thank you, Shinta. I thank you very much. I love you Shinta."
"I love you too, Mother," Shinta replied. Mother and son watched as Myokoto was buried. Shinta gripped his mother's hand tightly. I'll be a man for her...I'll be a man for my mother. Shinta looked at his hands. No matter how small they are, I will plant. I will plant seeds like my father! His fist tightned as the sun set and they walk home without his father.
I was there to dry her tears
June 20, 1855
"Shinta! Shinta! where are you again?" Shinta's mother went looking for her son. She went down to where he usually played with his friends. "Have you seen my Shinta?" she asked them.
One of the boys pointed ton the fields. "We've told you. He goes out into the fields each day. He seldom comes to play with us." Shinta's mother gasped as she put hands over her mouth. The boy nodded. "It has surprised even us," he said sadly. "Shinta was very good at throwing and catching the balls. Even more, he was good at making us smile."
Running, Shinta's mother made her way to the fields. "Shinta! Shinta!" She stopped. She saw among the men, a little red-headed boy hoeing. "Shinta..." Tears came down her eyes, but she was happy.
And when she was happy
"Mother!" Shinta waved. His sweat was falling from his forehead, but still had a smile on his face. His smile, still brighter than the sun. Like his father's smile. "Mother! I'm over here!" His waving to his mother was different. He felt no longer like a boy, but a man his father had spoken about to these men now heoing sround him. Mother, look at me now. Please be proud of me.
Shinta's mother made her way down to him. "Oh Shinta, why are you here? I thought you were out playing with your friends." She looked at the boy's eyes. "These hands weren't meant to hoe the fields at this tender age, Shinta. Maybe when you're grown up," she said.
But Shinta was stubborn. "No, Mother." He hung his head to keep away the tears that he knew was coming to his eyes. Looking up, he smiled. "I can be a man now. Father said I will become a man sooner or later." He looked at his hands, they were bruised. "Father had hands like these, I see him come home like this. Now it's time for me to have hands like my father," he said. It pleased him so much to see his mother smile.
So was I
"Sakura, I'm surprised that you are here." Shinta's mother looked up to see her husband's best friend. He looked at Shinta at patted his head. "He's like his father." Sakura's eyes widened. "Myokoto, his father died at a tender age. He had to work, for his brothers and sisters." He looked at Shinta. "But you must not make the same mistake, Shinta," he warned.
Still smiling like niether Sakura nor the man expected, Shinta picked up the hoe. "I can be a man, I promised myself." He swung his hoe down. Sakura covered her mouth as she looked at her son. Shinta looked at her. "Huh?"
His mother hugged him. He felt her tears drop to his shoulder. "I love you, Shinta." Shinta smiled as he closed his eyes and slowly oepned them again. He looked at the sun, again, it was there. He was ahppy when his mother smiles, it took away the pain when she cried at his father's funeral. it took away the memory. His mother's smile and happy tears remeinded him of the woderful days that they had a family.
When she loved me
December 8, 1855. It was cold and Shinta couldn't go out into the fields or play with his friends.
"Shinta," his mother called. Shinta appeared from his room, yawning. It was a cold night. Shinta's mother gave a little cough. "Shinta, come here and warm yourself. I have made tea for the both of us," she said.
Shinta slowly walked to his mother. "Mother, is everything all right?" he asked. His mother looked at him and nodded. Shinta smiled and drank tea. He looked up, his mother still silently coughing. Something's wrong with her and she wouldn't tell me beacuse she knows I am to worry about her. "Mother, are you really all right?" he asked.
His mother smiled at him. "Don't worry, Shinta. it's just a little cold, that's all. Now why don't you run a,ong and take your rest. I have to fix up something for breakfast tomorrow," she said as she took Shinta's cup from him. "Now go to bed," she said softly.
Though worried, he cannot disobey his mother. Shinta went to bed and covered himself. He could hear his mother coughing outside. He lied down, very still to hear her. Tears started to flow from his eyes as he remebered the times before winter came.
Through the summer and the fall
"Mother! Mother!" Shinta went running to his mother who caught him. Shinta was smiling, but he smelled of sweat so his mother sent him to bathe himself. Shinta nodded and did as he was told. he came out from the outhouse and smiled at his mother. "Mother, I'm clean!" he announced happily.
As a reward, his mother took him walking down the river. "Remeber when your father told you the legend of the Flying Fishes?" she asked. Shinta nodded. His mother smiled. "It is indeed an old tale. I remember it being told to me when I was a young girl." She held Shinta close. "Stay with me forver, Shinta. Pleae," she whispered.
Shinta looked at the river. The legend was never true.He watched it flow to the sea as calm as the clouds float above him. The legend was all a lie, I know My wish didn't come true so it must mean it is all a lie. He held his mother's hand. "Yes mother, I will stay with you, always. I promise mother. You don't have to trust in legends for that," he swore. His mother smiled, Shinta smiled too.
We had each other That was all
The pigeons flew above them. "Look mother, what are those?" Shinta asked. His mother smiled and told them they were carrier pigeons. "What are they for?" asked curious little Shinta. His mother smiled, she never did reply him.
"Shinta," said his mother. Shinta looked up. His mother smiled. "You're growing up fast. I do belive your father is still watching over you." She bowed her head. "Do you feel, even once, that you weren't loved by your father?" she asked.
The boy shook his head as he got a tighter grip on his mother's hand. "No, I know he loves me. He kept on telling me to remember it when he was still living. My father loved me of course," he said with a smile.
His mother looked at the sun. Nothing in this world can I compare your heart, Shinta. A child, with a life like this? People wouldn't have guessed you have lost your father with a smile like this. A smile brighter than the sun. "Come on, Shinta, it is time for us to head back home." The boy agreed and walked side by side with his mother. Shinta, never lose your smile.
Just she and I together
"Mother?" Shinta said. "Can we go fish in the river when I am seven. I want to see the fish fly again like I have before." His mother nodded. There, I can see father laugh and pat my head again. I can feel his love and his warm embrace. every time I visit here, it was like magic as he walks beside me and hold my right hand as Mother holds my left. It's magic and I want my seventh birthday to be like magic.
They arrived home. Shinta's mother prepared for him his favorite dish and sent him to bed early that night. He looked tired, but at least he was happy. Taht was the only things most important thing to her, that her son had a smile and he was happy. "Good night, Shinta," she whispered as the young boy went to sleep instantly as he lay in his bed.
Like it was meant to be
Shinta awoke from his dream. He once again closed his eyes. Mother, you have always been there for me when I was young upm until now, Why don't you want your son to ever be there for you? Just for once? "Mother..."
He heard pots clang outside. Shinta quickly got up to see what was wrong. His mother was coughing, she was coughing hard, she was coughing blood. "Mother!" Through the cold, he ran out. "Help! Please! Someone help!" he yelled.
Lights came on one of the houses, many of the houses. "Boy, what's wrong?" asked on of the men in his komono as he held a lamp up high to look at Shinta's face. "You look pale, boy. Come in and warm up," he said.
Shinta shook his head. "No, my mother, please help her." He was too tired of the running and too cold of the weather. "Please, help my mother," he whispered and fell on the soft, white snow. "Please help her," he whispered before everything faded away.
A/N: So how was it? I'll other part at the as soon as I can so please review them. I worked so hard on them, but flames are always welcome. Thanks to all of you!!! )