Heart of Sword
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剑心
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He likes to sleep (nap, meditate) sitting upright, with his back against something solid, and his sakabatō held loosely within the circle of his folded arms, tucked into his sleeves.
He likes to listen to the quiet sounds of the night, the silence that is loud to his keenly honed senses – the gentle clink of the wind chime on the veranda, the shuffling of late passers-by beyond the dojo gates, the soothing calm of Kaoru-dono and Yahiko's breathing.
He listens, too, for danger. He shouldn't have to, he knows – after all, the Bakumatsu era is over, and he is but a rurouni on (temporary, permanent?) respite from his journeying, although he catches himself thinking of the Kamiya Dojo as home – but peace is still tentative, after the long war, and there are many seeking to destroy it. There are many seeking to destroy him.
That, and he cannot forget Hitokiri Battousai, who is within him, who is him.
It is an instinct, one that has shaped him, regardless of his vow not to kill and his path of atonement. It is a past that manifests in subtle ways – the constant watchfulness that does not allow him the comfort of truly resting in sleep, the incessant battle with the hitokiri within him, his dependence on the sakabatō as an instrument of balance between his vow and his swordsman's heart.
He feels safe, sleeping sitting up with his back protected and his sakabatō within his grasp. It's easier to get up, react.
It's a shallow comfort.
He has always been a fighter.
Most people think he has nothing to fear. Most people think that no one could possibly best the infamous Battousai who claimed the lives of so many skilled and revered swordsmen during the Bakumatsu revolution. Most people think that his Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu is invincible.
But Kenshin, with his swordsman's heart, knows that that's no longer true. His old contemporaries, returning to haunt him, fight him – they are right. Once he gave up his resolve to kill, he would always be vulnerable against those who thought nothing of killing him. (Yet really, he's more worried about how he leaves those around him vulnerable to the whims of his enemies.)
He worries, that because he has taken so many lives and so much happiness that could have been, that he would not, would never, be allowed to keep them, his happiness.
Yet there is something about Yahiko (the brave child, the future)'s unwavering belief that he is undefeatable; Sano (the strong one, the friend)'s steadfast presence next to him, watching his back, supporting his ideals; Megumi (the kind one, the mother)'s nagging accompanying every wound treatment, her meals, her ointments in his pockets.
And Kaoru (the girl, the woman, the protector of his heart). Kaoru. Kaoru's fierce determination and protectiveness of his right to happiness, his vow not to kill – in the face of all his adversaries, she is stubbornly afraid yet fearlessly fighting to keep him right where he wants to be – here and now, as Himura Kenshin and not Hitokiri Battousai.
He has always been a fighter, but now he fights for different reasons, and he doesn't fight alone.
People say he's protecting the weak (them), but Kenshin knows, in his heart of hearts, that he is the one being protected, instead.