I was intrigued by the idea of Arai Shakku's final sword not being a sakabatou. What would have happened when Kenshin drew a killing sword and struck Chou down? I like the Kenshin who doesn't kill, but I was curious about this, and I won't know what happens until I write it. Please alert me to typos, since I edited quickly.

Oathbreaker

I

Himura Kenshin was used to the sight of blood. Bright red spraying wounds, slow-moving puddles seeping from under bodies, and, most acutely, dried brown blood flaking from his hands.

During the Bakumatsu, that violent rebellion where, known as the Hitokiri Battousai he caused blood to fall like rain, hardly a night passed that was not drenched in blood. At that time, his skill with a sword was so great that he could avoid getting even a drop of blood on his clothes. Now, however, his clothes were splattered with red, and he could feel a wet drop sliding down his cheek, over his cross-shaped scar.

"Himura," someone whispered from far away, but Kenshin's eyes were fixed on the dying body beside him. Chou, the sword lover, gurgled wetly and choked, slashed neatly from shoulder to hip. The cut was not so refined as his work in the Bakumatsu, Kenshin noted coldly, but that was only to be expected after not having taken a life for over a decade. His sword hand trembled, and he did not know if it was because of despair or the old familiar feeling of self-righteous power, the feeling of being invincible and so—justified.

Yes, justice. His own brand had once been bloody and terrifying, not different from the strict adherence to "Destroy Evil Immediately" followed by Saito Hajime. These past ten years of wandering in search of penance had been hard, especially in the beginning, when he was first trying so desperately to destroy evil without taking life. Foolish. He could see that now as clearly as he saw Chou take his last despicable breath.

"You're strong..." Chou managed to say weakly. "But, not enough...Shishio..." Kenshin's hand tightened around his sword. Not strong enough to defeat Shishio? Time would tell. But, now the Battousai had discovered his resolve. A wanderer who refused to kill was strong enough to protect the people he met along the way, but to protect Japan, the strength of Hitokiri Battousai was necessary once again.

"Himura," someone said again, this time more clearly. When his eyes found the speaker, Makimachi Misao, he recognized the look on her face. A certain terror mixed with awe. He thought he saw sadness there, also. The old man, Okina, wore a blank expression, but sweat shone on his forehead.

Arai Seiku, son of the swordsmith who forged the Sakabatou, was busy retrieving his crying son from a tree. His wife seemed uncertain of how safe it might be to run to her child, since the path would take her close to Battousai. Kenshin whipped his sword free of blood droplets and stepped away, clearing the path for her. She hesitated only a moment before stumbling by and embracing her wailing toddler.

"I suppose this was the best outcome," Okina said, walking up to Kenshin with soundless footsteps. No doubt walking silently was such an old habit that the old man did so without thinking. Kenshin knelt and wiped his blade clean on Chou's hakama.

"I really thought..." Misao said quietly. "I really, for some reason, thought...no, I was hoping, that Arai Shakku's last sword would be another Sakabatou."

"Misao-dono," Kenshin said. "Times of peace will not mistreat such naïve ideals as a swordsman who does not kill. For ten years I have borrowed against the ability of the Meiji Era's peace to selfishly pursue that impossible task. However, now the peace, pushed to the limits by Shishio, can bear the burden of such an ideal no more." The soft click of Shakku's final sword fitting into the ceremonial scabbard seemed much louder than it should have.

"To save the life of a child of this new era," he said. "I broke my oath without hesitation."

"But I still," Misao said. Okina held up a hand to silence her.

"Come, Himura," Okina said. "We will return to the Aoiya and see to your wounds."

"Such scratches," Kenshin said. "These are nothing compared to the Bakumatsu."

He stood and slid the wooden scabbard into his belt, eyes downcast.

"If you would be so kind, Okina-san, as to send a flare when you have found Hiko Seijuro, I would be most appreciative," Kenshin said. He scuffed his sandal once on the paved stone and then walked past them, his hair hanging to shield his eyes.

Misao and Okina silently watched him leave. They turned as Seiku and Azusa, holding little Iori, joined them. The child sniffled as he watched Kenshin's departure. "Gojaru," he mumbled.

"He left before I could thank him," Seiku said, placing a hand on Iori's head. He looked briefly towards the body of Chou and grew pale. "I knew what I was doing when I gave him my father's last sword, but I had hoped that at least this one, this holy sword, could remain pure."

"It was a small price to pay for the life of our son," Azusa said, kissing Iori's forehead.

"Himura thought so, too," Okina said. "You could not have a more worthy man wielding that sword, Arai-san. Though, in truth, I also wish he did not have to."

"Ji-chan," Misao said, grabbing the corner of his sleeve.

"I said this was for the best, and I meant it," Okina said. "Killing was unavoidable in the battle against Shishio. Himura can spare no mercy towards such enemies."

Misao released Okina's sleeve and stepping hesitantly to the dead man. Blood stained his gaping mouth, and his glassy eyes stared into the blue sky. Kenshin's sword had cut through bone as neatly as it had severed muscle. The flies were starting to arrive.

"Ji-chan," Misao said again. She was thinking of the look in Kenshin's eyes. From under his hair, she had been able to briefly see them. "Himura won, but why does it feel as if it were actually two men who died today?"

II

Kenshin brushed the hanging cloth from his way as he entered a shabby inn. A woman in a powder blue yukata rushed forward to greet him, bowing.

"Welcome, sir," she said. She straightened with a smile, but her expression immediately switched to alarm. She pressed a hand to her mouth and took a half step back. The man before her wore tattered clothing which had been slashed in several areas. Blood was splashed over his right side, and she was not certain how much might be his own.

"A room, if you please," Kenshin said. He thought about trying out a smile, but he only grimaced. "I assure you, I can pay."

"Y-yes," the woman said.

"I will also need a bath," Kenshin said.

"Yes," the woman said again, still frightened.

A young girl escorted Kenshin to a small room at the very back of the inn, far from other guests. She trembled as she knelt to slide the door open and bow deeply. Kenshin hesitated at the threshold. The girl dared a glance up at him then quickly put her head back down.

"If you would be so kind," Kenshin said. "I should like to see about a bath, first."

Under normal circumstances, the girl should have shown him to the bath personally, but she was so frightened that she only pointed, head still lowered, in the right direction. This time, Kenshin did manage a sad smile.

"I see," he said. "Thank you. I will not require any more service tonight, so there is no need for you to come back."

"But," the girl said quietly. "Your supper."

"Please leave it at my door. I do not wish to trouble you."

The bathroom was small and poorly lit. Kenshin poured a bucket of water over his head in the dim light, ignoring the stinging of his wounds and watching his blood swirl away without emotion. He stood for a long time, dripping wet, thinking of nothing. He felt empty, void. A small dizzy spell passed over him, making him wonder whether or not it was worth frightening the staff of the little inn any further by asking for bandages. He could always tear his kimono liner, but that would be more expensive to replace.

He decided against a full bath, and returned to his room. There was a tray waiting outside with a bowl of miso soup and a small steamed fish on a bowl of rice. Kenshin's eyes widened in surprise when he noticed a neat bundle of folded bandages laying on the tray, as well. There was a needle and thread beside it. He smiled and closed his eyes briefly in thanks but felt guilty. Perhaps they would not be so kind if they knew he was the Battousai. Then again, they could have just as easily acted out of fear rather than kindness.

He slipped out of his sandals and stepped into the small room with his tray, sliding the door shut behind him.

III

Hiko Seijuro was smaller than Kenshin remembered him. He was still one of the largest, most imposing men he had ever known, but many years had passed since their fight and Kenshin's departure. He was only fourteen when he left his master. It was natural that now, as an adult, Hiko seemed to be just a little smaller. However, he felt no less dangerous than before.

Hiko sipped sake, never taking his cold eyes from Kenshin's.

"Idiot," Hiko said.

"You said that already," Kenshin said.

"Because you're still an idiot who doesn't understand anything," Hiko said. Kenshin sighed. They sat in silence for a long time. Kenshin still ached from his fight with Chou.

"What's worse," Hiko said. "You're an oath-breaking idiot."

Kenshin tightened his hands into fists and stare at his lap. "Yes."

"It's only to be expected," Hiko said. "It was a stupid oath to begin with. Kenjutsu is the art of killing. Learning kenjutsu is gaining the skill to take lives. I told you that from the start."

"Yes," Kenshin said. "I know that, but..."

"Kenshin!" Hiko said sternly. Kenshin fell silent, feeling as small as he did when he had been fourteen, and ashamed, so ashamed.

"So, how did it feel, my idiot apprentice?" Hiko said.

Kenshin looked up, confused.

"Taking a life after so long," Hiko said. "How did it feel?" Hiko watched him intensely, but Kenshin refused to look away.

"I broke my oath not to kill by doing it," Kenshin said. "It felt shameful. A terrible feeling."

"You're lying," Hiko said sharply. Kenshin clenched his fists tighter. "As a swordsman," Hiko said, "I can understand you. And you do not look broken."

"I don't understand," Kenshin said.

"I will tell you, then," Hiko said. "How you felt when you killed that man. You felt good."

"Master!" Kenshin shouted.

"Shut up!" Hiko shouted back. "You felt powerful, and that's what felt good. This whole time, these past ten years you've been wandering, fighting without killing, somewhere in the back of your mind, you wished for the deaths of the evil people you defeated. You knew they should die. It was just for them to die."

"That's...not true," Kenshin said weakly, feeling too light, falling off of his heels to his hip. Hiko Seijuro stood, towering, now seeming more giant than he ever had.

"It is the truth," Hiko said, "Because I taught you the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, and I know your heart. We of the Hiten School are meant to protect people from suffering. Since we protect them with kenjutsu, the art of killing, it means we kill those who are evil. This is what we find just. This is how we are powerful."

Kenshin stood, fists defiantly at his side. He was almost a foot shorter than his master, but their spirits were equal. His swordsman's fury matched that of Hiko Seijuro.

"Then that means that you have enjoyed killing, Master," Kenshin said. "When you killed the bandits attacking me when I was ten, what you enjoyed was killing them, not saving me. Is that what you mean?"

"Of course," Hiko said.

Kenshin took a step back, stunned. "Master."

"What kind of a stupid question is that?" Hiko said. "I relished the knowledge that I sent them to hell, that they were no longer alive on this earth."

"But, Master," Kenshin said. "To enjoy killing would make you a..."

"Murderer," Hiko finished. "What stupid thought in your head made you think we were not murderers?"

Kenshin was speechless. He sank to the ground. Had there been no other path from the beginning? At the beginning of the Bakumatsu, he had been an idealist, towards the end, he had accepted the temporary titles of "murderer" and "assassin," for the sake of the new age. But after that, before that, at some point, surely, he had not been just a murderer. Kenshin realized that Hiko was right about one thing, though. After killing Chou, he had felt...

"This," Hiko said. "Is why you are an idiot. And this is why I cannot teach you the succession technique of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu." Hiko silenced Kenshinls objection with a glare. "To learn the technique, there can be no doubt in your heart of who you are or why you practice kenjutsu. Otherwise, you would surely die."

Hiko poured another cup of sake for himself and drank in the heavy silence. Kenshin leaned against the wall for support. Such a feeling as this he had never known. Helplessness? He had known helplessness as he watched Tomoe die in his arms. Despair was also not a feeling he was a stranger to. What he felt was the perfect destruction of his self, his ideals. Perhaps this feeling was the recognition of futility. It was a wholly empty feeling.

Hiko raised his head a moment before a soft knock sounded on the door.

"Who the hell is it?" he said gruffly.

"Um, excuse us," a small voice said softly from outside. Kenshin recognized Kaoru's voice, muffled as it was, and covered his face with his hand, grimacing.

"Dammit," Kenshin swore softly.

Hiko studied his apprentice for a moment before ordering the visitors to enter. Yahiko, Misao, and, slowly, Kaoru stepped just inside the door.

"Kenshin!" Yahiko said. "Finally found you."

"I ran into your friends today at the Shirobeko," Misao said smugly. "Look who I brought you." She gave Kaoru an encouraging look, but the normally energetic sword instructor said nothing. Kenshin had not moved from his place on the floor. He looked horribly pained.

"Kaoru," Yahiko said. "Say something! We came all the way from Tokyo to find Kenshin, and he's right there." Kaoru let her gaze drop to the floor, beginning to feel incredibly foolish about chasing after Kenshin.

"Excuse me," Hiko said. "No, wait, this is my house you have barged into. I do not need to be polite to you. So, who the hell are you?"

"You might be more polite to guests," Yahiko said, putting a hand on his shinai.

"We're the powerful and trustworthy friends of Himura," Misao said. "Why should we tolerate the rudeness of a potter?"

"I am Hiko Seijuro the thirteenth, girl, and you interrupted the scolding of my idiot apprentice."

"Hiko...Seijuro," Misao repeated, awed.

"Why the hell should that mean anything to us," Yahkio said, impudently.

"Hiko Seijuro is the name passed down to the masters of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, idiot," Misao said, knocking Yahiko's hand away from his shinai. "That's what Ji-chan said."

"What?" said Yahiko. "Then when he said apprentice, he meant..." He looked down to Kenshin, hand still over his face, and then back to Hiko. "No way. Kenshin's master?"

"Kenshin," Hiko said. When he didn't respond, Hiko kicked his leg. "Kenshin!"

"Watch it," Yahiko said.

"Get up and fetch some water for your guests," Hiko said. "Now."

Kenshin rose slowly, letting his hand drop from his face. He had regained his composure, his expression now passive and blank. Without saying a word to anyone, he picked up the two water buckets and left the small house.

"Kaoru!" Misao and Yahiko said as she let him walk by. But they could not know how her heart was seizing, preventing her from speaking. Finally she turned, watching as Kenshin walked slowly away.

"Kenshin, I..." she said. He stopped but did not turn.

"You should not have come," Kenshin said.

Kaoru squeezed her hands together over her chest, feeling the strangling tightness again.

"Are you angry?" she said. With his back turned to her, without the sight of his smile, she felt isolated. He had never acted this way before, not even during his fights with Udoh Jinei or Saito. Something was different, very different.

"Go back," Kenshin said. "To Tokyo."