DISCLAIMER: Characters of Rurouni Kenshin belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki.
This story is for personal enjoyment, or, lacking enjoyment, this story is
to be folded, spindled, and mutilated.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter 1: The Devilish Swordsman
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
In Japan, a man once lived who had phenomenal abilities with a sword. From a very young age, he trained, and succeeded, in becoming one of the greatest swordsmen to ever grace the face of that nation. And, in a troublesome era, when duty called, he responded by using those skills to cut down many a man, sacrificing much of himself in the process.
And then, when the new era dawned, that man faded into the halls of history, disappearing from public view. Many even thought him dead, but yet he struggled on, living in spite of rumor, facing each day anew.
And his name was -not- Himura Kenshin.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Soujirou lifted the burnt rice ball and peered at it. The burned spots, if you looked at them right, made a little smiling face.
Even the damn food was mocking him these days.
"Sorry, ano, with all these kids, you know, hard to keep an eye on the food." The lady of the house, Chihori, was sweeping the engawa upon which Soujirou was sitting. Or rather, she was attempting to sweep, but every two minutes another pint-sized tyke would run through the pile of dirt. Soujirou wasn't exactly sure how many children the woman had. He'd lost count at eight. Still, with all those mouths to feed, it was remarkably nice for her to offer him dinner.
Though, he -had- saved her son, Etsuyo, from being beaten up in the marketplace. Soujirou peered at the smiling rice ball. Why? Why had he saved Etsuyo-chan? It didn't make any damn sense.
Well, perhaps it had something to do with the giant bag of rice the kid was trying to drag home.
Soujirou bit into the rice ball. It didn't taste bad at all, even with the burnt spots. However, he'd probably eat rancid rice at this point. He was -so- hungry. You'd think there'd be a lot of call for a strong 17 year old to do odd jobs, make a little cash to keep himself going. But, finding work was harder than he had imagined. Everyone wanted references, these days. And the only references he could think up were Himura-san and Shishio-san. An assassin turned rurouni, and an assassin turned -dead-. This didn't look very good on a job application.
He'd been wandering now for two months. Two whole months, and he'd not found much truth. He'd found rainy nights and cold barns, ugly bandits and kind widows, empty pockets and an empty stomach. But, absolute truth? Zero.
Soujirou came to the conclusion that he was a very -good- swordsman, and a very -bad- philosopher.
"Ne, rurouni-san, here's a few extra rice balls for your trip, hm?" Chihiro handed him a small package. "It is the least I could do."
"Thank you. I appreciate it greatly, Chihiro-san." Soujirou nodded to the woman and stood, not wishing to waste her time. A house with this many bodies certainly didn't really have the resources or space to put him up for the night. And, Shishio-san had taught him to never be impolite. Even the strongest were to be respectful of women. Women couldn't help being weak. They were just made that way.
"Where will you go now, rurouni-san?"
Soujirou looked at the horizon. Just beyond the low hill, he could see the sparkle of water, glittering like Yumi-san's jewelry box. "To the sea, I think. A walk along the beach..."
Chihiro pursed her lips, "Oh, oh, rurouni-san. Do be careful. I mean you are strong and all, but..."
"Hm?"
"There's an old hermit who lives out on that beach. He's quite feisty, and, from what I understand, sometimes rather violent. Kenki-sama doesn't like intruders."
"Ken...ki?" Soujirou let the name rattle around in his brain for a moment. Kenki. It meant "devilish swordsman". A devil swordsman? The idea seized Soujirou's thoughts. What sort of a man would earn such a nickname?
"He's scary," Etsuyo-chan said from behind his mother's skirts, "I saw him in the market in town, once. He was wearing a sword, and when big-sister asked him about it, he knocked her out of the way! So scary! Please don't go there, rurouni-san."
"Eeeehhh?" Soujirou rubbed the back of his head, the questions in his mind certainly not showing on his ever-amiable face. "I'll be fine. Don't worry."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Kenki Sou sat on his rock, thinking.
He liked this rock. It had a good view of the sea. The sea which had saved him, time and again, from ruin. Well, it had saved his body. The rest of his life could not be repaired by the hand of man or god.
But, isn't that what old Bunbu had always said? "At least you aren't dead, Sou, at least you aren't dead."
Yeah, what sort of consolation was -that-, really?
Kenki pushed his long hair out of his face to no avail. The wind coming off the sea just blew it back into his eyes. He should put his hair in a tie. He should cut his hair. He -should- do a lot of things. At the top of the list of things Kenki Sou should do...was to wade into that waiting sea and drown himself.
A sacrifice to the sea gods in thanks for the extra, highly loathsome, time he spent on this godforsaken planet.
Yes, Kenki Sou should do a lot of things. But, instead, he just drew characters in the wet sand with his long walking stick. Poetry. He'd always liked poetry. Back then, he'd rouse his compatriots with fiery war epics and woo the girls with silky romantic verses.
Back then...
Kenki winced, and shook his head. No, it was never good to think about those things. There were no pretty girls now. And certainly no compatriots.
"Why?" Kenki closed his eyes, letting his stick continue to move, just out of habit, "I've broken something. Some sort of cosmic or karmic law. I should have died then, but I wanted so desperately to live. And now it seems I live on, though I crave death. Cruel. My punishment is cruel."
Kenki stood and watched the sea. It would be low tide soon. He'd need to bring in the traps now, or he'd have to wait until tomorrow. Bunbu would turn over in his grave if something happened to the crop. That damn old hermit. Why did he have to die? As annoying and miserly as Bunbu was, at least he'd been company.
As the man known as "Kenki Sou" walked away from his favorite rock, his long hair swished at his waist, flicking gently, rhythmically, against the pair of swords hanging from the man's hip.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Soujirou bent over and slipped off his waraji. The wet sand had coated the sandals, making him stick to the beach with each step. The "thuck thuck thuck" sound had become quite distracting.
Mud slipped between Soujirou's toes. The slimy feeling made him wrinkle his nose a bit. Interesting. Soujirou couldn't say that he'd had mud between his toes since he'd gone about barefoot as a boy. The sensation wasn't altogether horrible.
Soujirou continued to walk along the beach, his steps being erased as each wave slinked towards the shore. The water proved to be mild, and quite refreshing. In the distance, a few old boats lay at rest on the inlet. Fishermen. Definitely a fishing village, this was. With that slightly nauseating smell of decaying fish overlaid by sea salt, it seemed no different from any other small seaside village he'd been through.
Climbing up the beach a bit, Soujirou headed towards an outcropping of rocks. It would be a good place to lay his waraji out to dry while he took a swim. He needed to keep up the strength of his arms, and just -walking- around Japan's countryside didn't accomplish much in that arena. A late-afternoon swim and then some kata practice would do just the trick.
He peeled off his battered gi and the simple hakama he'd acquired somewhere along his travels. He couldn't really shukuchi very well in the hakama, but then, there hadn't been any need to get anywhere in a hurry. And they did prove to be much warmer than his old pants on cold nights.
Halfway through getting undressed, Soujirou looked down.
He was...standing in...writing.
How odd. Someone had scratched out some characters in the sand. Poetry, it looked like.
Soujirou blinked and read the verse.
"A blessed inkling that I may die. But, when I view the shore, thoughts cease. Water can not perish, nor can I. Yet, tides can come and go as they please."
Soujirou's left hand flinched. Reading the verse again caused a cold shiver to slink around the Tenken's neck and down his back.
"Yare, yare, who'd waste time making up stuff like this?"
With a bare foot, Soujirou erased the writing. Poetry. How -dumb-. What would pretty words get you? Nowhere useful. People sure did do a lot of nonsensical things with their free time.
And yet, Soujirou couldn't help but feel a strange ache as the words crept back into his head. "Water can not perish, nor can I?" What was -that- supposed to mean? A suicidal thought, maybe? Ugh. The whole point of life was to become strong enough to continue to live it. Both Shishio-san -and- Himura-san would agree with -that-, even if their methodology differed.
Laying his katana atop the pile, a naked Soujirou headed towards the water. He stretched his arms out wide, listening as his joints popped. This really -would- be good.
Soujirou waded into the water, the smile on his face genuine for once. Maybe, if he were clever, he could figure out how to catch a fish for dinner. Afterwards, he could use driftwood to build a campfire and sleep under the stars. As long as it didn't rain, he had quite a pleasant night ahead.
He'd see about perhaps finding this "Kenki" guy tomorrow. With a nickname like that, maybe the old recluse knew a thing or two about the world.
"I mean, why would a 'devil swordsman' end up living here on a beach?" Soujirou thought. "If he lives up to his name, it would be a lot like Shishio-san becoming a hermit. So, he's got to have an interesting view on the world, at least!"
Tiring of his swim, and noting that the sun was getting rather low in the sky, Soujirou headed for shore. Oh yes, he still had those rice balls that Chihiko had given him! Well, if he caught a fish, then he'd end up having a feast. Now, how to catch a....
As Soujirou waded out of the water, he saw quite a startling sight. Sitting on one of the rocks where he had placed his clothes, was a small man.
Very small. About Himura's size, give or take an inch.
And, about Himura's age, too.
But, what a powerful ki the man had! It whirled around him maniacally, mimicking the man's long locks of dark brown hair. Really long hair. The ends came down past the guy's waist. If it weren't for the fact that the guy wasn't wearing a gi, just an old pair of forest green peasant pants, Soujirou might have mistaken him for a small woman.
Well, that, and he had a katana and wakizashi strapped to his hip with a long strip of turquoise fabric.
The man was standing in front of the rock with Soujirou's clothes, leaning on a walking stick, gazing impassively towards the sea.
Very impassively. It was as if he was looking right -through- Soujirou. Large brown eyes, lost in unfocused sadness, seemed the only remarkable feature of the man's face that Soujirou could make out from his distance.
Except...
Except his face was...
Oddly familiar, nonetheless.
Well, Soujirou had met a lot of people in his travels. One person tended to look like the next after a while.
What the hell did this guy -want-, anyway?
"Ano, sir," Soujirou said, wiggling his toes in the mud. He was naked, sure. But, where would modesty get him? It certainly wouldn't get his things back. "Might I have my clothes and sword, if you don't mind?"
"I mind."
Though Soujirou shifted his weight in confusion, the ever-present smile did not slip from his face. "Well, just the sword, then, perhaps?" If he had the sword, then he could fight the guy and -get- his clothes back.
Without looking at Soujirou, the man said, "Carrying a sword is illegal, or hadn't you heard?"
"Yes, I know, but..."
"So, you are a criminal then?"
Soujirou blinked. Well. He -was- a wanted man, a wanted -swordsman-, but for just a bit more than -carrying- the sword. Wait. This didn't make any sense. "But, you have swords, too. Are you a criminal?"
"This is my land. I can wear my swords on my own land, if I wish." The man's eyes suddenly snapped into focus as he glared at Soujirou. "But, you, you are -trespassing-! And there are only two reasons someone would trespass here. From the looks of your bedraggled clothes, your reason must be thievery."
"But, I'm just a simple rurou..." The pieces of the puzzle began to slip into place within Soujirou's mind. He'd never been accused of being really quick on the uptake. "Say, you must be that Kenki fellow, ne? I was coming to look for you, because..."
A tiny sneer graced Kenki's lips as he tossed his walking stick aside. Why couldn't he discern this kid's ki? He could sense every life-force in the area. The fish. The eels. The seaweed. But, just -nothing- from the naked swordsman. Either the kid was nigh -dead-, or he was -very- adept at hiding things.
"Ah. I was wrong," Kenki said, placing his hand on the hilt of his katana. "You're here for the other reason, then."
"Ano..." Soujirou cooed, his nether bits becoming a bit chilly, "What would that be?"
"Revenge."
The single-toned song of the katana being unsheathed cut into Soujirou's ears. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could he get himself in such a situation? No clothes. No sword. And nothing even nearby to use as a substitute.
He'd have to hope he could run past this guy fast enough to get his katana.
Soujirou tapped his toes in the mud. Ew. Suddenly the squishy sand wasn't as great as he had previously thought.
"I really don't want to fight you, Kenki-san. I just had some questions and..."
It didn't matter. Kenki was already charging him. Kami-sama, the little man was -fast-. Almost as fast as Himura! But, no one could move as fast as Tenken no Soujirou.
Soujirou turned into a blur as his shukuchi took effect, propelling him forward. He slipped by the man's sword, but only barely. Kenki whirled around, lunging forward and downward with his sword. He caught the back of Soujirou's left calf with the tip of the katana, creating a three-inch gash.
The sudden sting at the back of his leg caused Soujirou to falter. He missed a step in shukuchi, and attempted to correct it with his next footfall.
Unfortunately, the force of doing so caused his right leg to sink into the mud, trapping one leg while the rest of Soujirou continued forward.
Forward into a waiting rock.
The sickening -smack- of Soujirou's forehead against the large stone bested the sound of the waves, and echoed across the beach. Pain shot instantly through Soujirou's mind, but then numbed itself quickly thereafter.
Numbing wasn't good. No. Not being able to feel the pain was -very-, -very- bad. Soujirou moaned as he brought his fingers to his forehead. They came away coated with his blood.
Oh heavens, what a -stupid- way to die. Shishio-san would surely laugh at -this-.
Soujirou fell onto his side in the sand, blinking at the blurry horizon.
He didn't even find any truth. Just a chaotic series of events, a meaningless parade of one damn thing after another.
How disappointing.
Kenki turned around, his mouth scrunching into a perturbed knot. He hadn't meant to -kill- the poor kid. Just scare him. Scare him enough that he'd go away and never, ever, think to come back. He stepped carefully towards the bleeding boy as he sheathed his sword. The kid had moved so quickly. It didn't even seem humanly possible to move that fast.
Well, Kenki had seen one man move -almost- that fast before. But that man wasn't likely to be alive anymore.
The hermit crouched down by the naked boy and squinted his eyes. A lot of blood. A pretty good bash to the head. But, then, you never could tell with head injuries. Sometimes they'd die right away, sometimes they'd linger a while, and sometimes they lived despite all odds.
Hard to say what would happen.
"Hey kid, what's your name?"
Soujirou blinked, his vision tinted a burning red from the blood. "Seta....Seta Soujirou..."
Soujirou.
Kenki's heart missed a beat. Soujirou. That was a name he hadn't heard in a -very- long time. The mere sound made him feel a bit queasy. What horrible luck, to run into a kid with -that- particular name. It had to be an omen. But, he really didn't want to...
Kenki didn't want or need company. But, on the other hand, he really shouldn't...
No, he -couldn't...
Leave this kid out here to die.
"Alright, Soujirou. I'm not going to kill you. Just stay still and..."
It was too late. The kid had already passed out.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It smelled -really- good here.
Soujirou's eyes rolled into the back of his head. Had he left the fish on the fire? Oh no, they'd get burned and then...
Warmth. And blankets.
And a throbbing headache.
"Itaiiiiii..." Soujirou muttered, bringing his fingers to his head. Bandages, and... The touch caused a piercing sting. "Ititititaiiii!"
"You shouldn't touch that."
Soujirou's eyes flew open, which turned out to be a mistake, since even the dim light of the room caused him pain. Before closing his eyes again, he had a brief glimpse of a wild-haired, half-naked man sitting by a fire, poking at the coals with a stick.
Oh. Right. Kenki.
Ack! That weird Kenki guy. Was this his house? Was this his futon? What the -hell- was going on here?
Last thing he remembered, he was running past Kenki and...
Ah, yes. He hit his head on a rock. Well, his memory was working properly, at least.
"You've been asleep for five hours. But, that is good. I wasn't certain you'd wake up at all."
Five hours? And this guy, this Kenki, had tended him the whole time? Bandaged his wounds?
How embarrassing.
But, Kenki had spared his life. It reminded Soujirou vaguely of Himura Battousai. Kenki had just joined a very special club. Only two people had ever injured Soujirou so badly he couldn't stand. (Well, not counting a few particular sparring sessions with Shishio-san.) He was a good swordsman, definitely. But, if it hadn't been for the mud, Kenki certainly would not have won.
Soujirou had taken Himura's advice to heart. Not killing people. Well, he never really liked killing anyone, anyway. So that part had turned out to be easy. But, fighting... Just fighting was alright. Even Himura fought -sometimes-. Soujirou was good at fighting, and not a whole lot else. And if he enjoyed it, quite a bit, what could be wrong with that?
Yes. He enjoyed fighting. And winning. Losing, on the other hand, contained very little appeal.
"You might have injured your ankle, too. It was swelling up, so I bandaged it." Kenki's voice moved slowly around the room as Soujirou kept his eyes shut. "Look, I'm going to be direct with you, boy. I don't like people. And I -especially- don't like nosy people who carry swords. Whatever drove you to come out here, you'd best forget it. Concentrate on healing, and then concentrate on getting out of my life."
What a crotchety old goat. Goodness, the man was about the same age and size as Himura, but contained none of the compassion or general polite kindness. Soujirou had never met the Himura Battousai in his Hitokiri days, but imagined Kenki wasn't far off from what it might be like.
Still, what could he do? The man had bandaged him up, when he could have just as easily left Soujirou to die. Maybe it would be best to just heal up and get the hell out of here. Soujirou had curiosity, but sometimes it was a bit too expensive to indulge.
"Thank you for your hospitality," Soujirou whispered, his eyes still closed. He would need some time to think on this whole situation, but for the moment, thoughts seemed to be drifting into nothingness. The warmth, the soft blankets, the lack of need to worry, all made him quite sleepy despite the pain.
Wait. Lack of need to worry?
Shouldn't he worry? What if Kenki... Should he trust... You should never trust a stranger... But, Kenki, he didn't seem so bad, really. Right?
Right?
Kenki looked up from his pot of fish and leeks and squinted at the kid curled up on old Bunbu's futon. The boy wasn't snoring exactly, but he was making an odd little noise. It sounded like a drunken bumblebee. Zzzt. Zzzzuhzzzt. Zzzt. Zzzzuhzzzt.
Leaning his ladle against the pot, Kenki crept over to the side of the futon to examine the boy more closely. He had dark brown hair cut in a western style. Or, rather, it had once been cut in a western style, and now it had grown out into a shaggy mess. Long black eyelashes twitched with each of Soujirou's buzzing breaths. And then there was his mouth, like two dashes of pink ribbon upturned at the ends. Even while sleeping, the kid smiled.
He looked just like...
Kenki Sou crossed the room, stirred his dinner for a second, and then made his way to a set of rickety cabinets. It was in here somewhere. Unless Bunbu, in one of his fits of cleaning, had thrown the thing out. Kenki had taken it off the corpse of a man not much older than Soujirou, someone else who had come looking for him, sword in hand. They always wanted revenge. Revenge for their fathers, revenge for their brothers, revenge for best friends. Many came, at first, and then fewer and fewer, until no one came anymore at all. Kenki had thought perhaps the world had forgotten about him altogether, and then Soujirou appeared.
Ah. Here it was. Kenki pulled out the leather tube and pushed his finger inside to poke out the rolled piece of paper. It fell into his lap with a whispered plop. Holding it gently, Kenki stood, and walked back over to the sleeping Seta Soujirou.
He hesitated before unrolling it. What did it matter? Still. It was strange. A mystery, even. Finally, gathering his resolve, Kenki unfurled the yellowed paper and held it next to Soujirou's face.
The hermit looked from the paper, to the boy, and back again.
No. Nothing alike. The drawing on the paper had a more youthful face, and slightly more pronounced ears. The hair was far darker and...
No.
Absolutely, positively, exactly alike.
Down to the smile.
The picture could have been drawn within Soujirou in mind.
But, what did that mean? It didn't mean anything at all. A lot of boys might look very similar when they are young, before manhood chisels their features into unique stones. Of course. Just a coincidence, and nothing more.
Kenki snorted as he rolled the picture into a tube, went back to the cabinets to put it away.
"You better heal quickly, kid," Kenki muttered, "'Cause I hate the way you look."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Soujirou woke up to the sound of rain.
Rain? No. Waves. The sea.
Kenki's house. It was going to take some getting used to sleeping on a futon. Even when some kindly stranger could offer him shelter, he usually ended up with a thin blanket and the hard ground in front of the hearth.
'I wonder why this guy has an extra futon, anyway. Doesn't seem like he is much of one for company.'
Soujirou tested his eyes by opening the left one only a crack. Much darker now. Only some lingering coals in the fireplace and moonlight slipping through a sliding wooden window. His head still hurt, but not as much as...
Ooo. He needed to head outdoors and momentarily commune with nature. What a dilemma.
Slowly, Soujirou pushed himself up, using handfuls of futon to steady the wobbling room. Maybe standing wouldn't be such a good idea. And Kenki had said his ankle might be injured. Though, if it was, Soujirou certainly couldn't feel it. But then, besides the pounding in his head and urge to relieve himself, he couldn't feel much.
Well, that left only one option.
Crawling.
Ugh.
Door, door, door. Where might the door be? Soujirou peered around the darkened room, looking for the nearest exit. Hm. Not much here. The fire, some random items hanging from the walls, baskets or something, a low table in one corner, some cabinets and...
A lump on the floor about six feet away. Hm. It must be Kenki.
Soujirou blinked as the older man flipped over violently in his sleep, tossing his blankets into a pile between the two futons. Even in the low light, Soujirou could see the other man's hands clench and unclench into fists at his stomach.
No, not fists. Into circles. As if he were gripping a sword in his dreams.
Soujirou would have found it disturbing, except that he'd awakened on occasion to find his hands sore from doing the exact same thing.
Kenki's breathing became haggard, tinged with desperation. Curiosity overruled Soujirou's demanding bladder and caused the boy to lean forward, crawling halfway to the other futon.
A bit of pain shot into his foot. Ah, so his ankle -was- injured. Well, at least it still hurt. Numbness, emotional or physical, never tended to be a positive thing. He'd learned that lesson right before fleeing the burning compound on Mt. Hiei.
Kenki moaned pitifully in his sleep, causing Soujirou to halt his progress. No. Not a moan. More like the echo of a war cry resounding from the depths of the dream world. And it was followed by two, very clear words, both spoken in a voice that caused even Soujirou flinch.
"Himura Battousai..."
Himura? Himura? How did Kenki know Himura?
Soujirou pushed all of his weight onto the palms of his hands, rocking closer to Kenki. If he said anything else, Soujirou wanted to catch it. His knees shuffled forward as he dragged his injured ankle towards Kenki.
Who -was- this guy?
Finally only a few inches from the other man's face, Soujirou held his breath. Without all that hair in his face, he looked, well, less crazy and more...
Kenki's eyes popped open, and his hand immediately flew to Soujirou's neck, lifting the boy's torso with a powerful grasp.
He looked...
Those eyes...
No wonder they called him a devil. A demon. Those eyes bespoke years of killing. Those eyes said they didn't mind at all bearing the burden of taking another life.
Those eyes were lost. As lost as the person who hid behind Soujirou's smile.
Soujirou felt Kenki's grip tighten. Unable to speak, Soujirou did the first thing that came to mind, he brought his elbow up and struck Kenki soundly across the chin with his forearm.
Kenki reeled backwards into the futon, dropping the former Tenken in the process. Soujirou's head came to rest on Kenki's stomach as both men caught their breath.
"Kenki-san, my apologies..."
"What are you doing kid? Snooping around?" Kenki rubbed his chin gingerly. There would be a bruise in the morning.
Soujirou winced and put his fingers to his neck. Sheesh. Kenki's fingers probably left some good marks. Oh well, they'd heal up, too. "No, I...I didn't mean to...ano..." Soujirou slowly lifted his head off the other man's stomach. "I was looking for the door, you know?"
"Why?" Kenki narrowed his eyes. Why the hell was the kid smiling? What was funny about almost being strangled?
"Well, I...have to...ano....-go-."
For a moment, just no more than a flash, Kenki's expression softened. But, he immediately re-hid any temporary chink in his wall of grouchiness by turning away from Soujirou as he sat up. "Right." Well, if you have to go, you have to go. And he had, thoughtlessly, put the kid on the futon farthest from the door.
Kenki stood up, his wild hair hanging like a fishing net over his muscled back. Didn't the guy ever wear a shirt? Or a yukata? Or anything besides those same green peasant pants? Soujirou watched as the older man stepped over the futon and extended a hand. "You wanna try to walk, or you want me to carry you?"
"I was going to crawl, actually," Soujirou said with a grin. But, then, he said everything with a grin.
Kenki snorted, producing a sound somewhere between "not amused" and "completely irate". "Crawl? And drag back half the beach's sand into my house? Are you an idiot, boy?"
Soujirou had to be honest. He's never really used his mind for much of anything. "Possibly."
With a huff, Kenki stepped over his futon and grabbed Soujirou firmly by his upper arm, lifting him into a standing position. "Come on, kid. Here now. Lean on me a bit. Try not to step on your bad foot, too much. You'll just make it worse. Alright, there's a bit of a step down here, but you can't see it. There ya go."
Outside, the breeze coming off of the night sea chilled Soujirou's skin. The moon, low on the horizon, cast tiny fragments of light onto the water, as if trying to skip glowing stones back towards shore. Soujirou felt Kenki's strong grip practically lifting him as he walked. Soujirou wasn't sure which was more embarrassing, crawling, or having to be assisted to walk.
Kenki guided Soujirou to a fence post and leaned the boy against it. "Steady there, boy. You got it?"
"Yes. Think so."
Kenki turned around and walked about a half dozen paces away, looking out towards the sea as he crossed his arms. He hadn't had to help anyone to walk in a long time. But, in the old days, it seemed every night ended with someone else having to borrow his strength to get back to headquarters. Or, on bad nights, he'd return with someone's dead body slumped over his shoulder. No. Kenki snarled a bit as he watched the waves. Best not think about that. Damn this kid. He brought back such unhappy memories.
Like that dream. He hadn't had -that- dream in a long time. It was almost a miracle that he hadn't jumped for his katana and sliced the kid's head off.
'Eh, maybe I should go back to sleeping on the roof while that boy is here. It's good weather for it. Old Bunbu always said that nothing clears the mind like sleeping outdoors. On the other hand, he was just trying to get me to leave so my nightmares wouldn't bother him.' Kenki tilted his head a bit. Hm. Soujirou really -did- have to -go-.
Kenki shook his head and considered the tide. The moon was good tonight. Even Bunbu didn't know why, but a moon like this always inspired a better crop. 'A crisp shell moon', Bunbu had called it.
Was that kid -still- going?
He'd go out tomorrow on the pier for the newest oysters. If the moon kept like this for a day or two, the timing would be perfect. Hm. But, that would mean leaving Soujirou alone in the house. 'Maybe I can tie him to the futon somehow. Or get him so drunk he passes out for the whole day. Bunbu's sure to have some of his old brew somewhere.' Kenki let a small sigh pass his lips. The boy hadn't even been here a day, and already he was the biggest nuisance since...
"Ano, Kenki-san?"
Kenki winced slightly. Even the boy's -voice- reminded him of yesteryear. "What is it -now-?"
Soujirou didn't say anything for quite a while, hoping Kenki would just get the general idea. When the older man didn't, Soujirou said, in possibly the quietest voice he had used since he'd met Shishio-san, "I'm finished."
The corner of Kenki's mouth twitched as he turned around, walked towards Soujirou, and placed his hand around the boy's shoulders. As they hobbled together towards the door, Soujirou felt thankful he hadn't gone alone. His head was absolutely swimming with pain now, and he probably would have ended up just sleeping in the yard.
Kenki-san wasn't a bad guy, really. A mystery, perhaps, and more surly than almost everyone Soujirou had ever met, but maybe not so bad. Maybe.
Kenki forgot to remind Soujirou about the step, causing the boy to lurch forward when he stubbed his big toe. This elicited a mild hiss from Soujirou, but nothing more. Really, Kenki found himself impressed. For as much damage as the kid had taken today, he hadn't really complained much.
"Don't go breaking your other ankle, idiot."
"Sorry."
After helping Soujirou back into the futon, Kenki went back to shut the door. He listened as Soujirou turned a bit, trying to get his various injuries comfortable, before heading towards his own bed.
What a predicament.
And he still didn't even know what the kid -wanted-.
"Kenki-san?"
"What?"
"Thanks." Soujirou listened as the other man snorted exasperatedly and retrieved his previously tossed blanket.
"Say, Kenki-san?"
"What? What now? What else could you possibly want from me?"
Soujirou glanced at the nearby wall, watching the shadows swallow his shoulder and the edge of the blanket. So incredibly dark. Like an abyss sneaking up, patiently watching for the moment he fell asleep, just waiting to eat him whole. Swallowed into the belly of a snake called 'Nightmare'.
"Do you have bad dreams sometimes, Kenki-san?"
The older man almost bit his own tongue. What in the hell? Now this kid was -really- bothering him. "Mind your own business."
A small "hm" came from the direction of Soujirou's futon as the young man pulled his blanket up over his head in an attempt to warm his face. The inky blackness surrounded Soujirou, causing him to shudder. He'd never liked the dark. He wasn't exactly -afraid- of the dark. No. Tenken no Soujirou was afraid of little to nothing! The dark just...wasn't kind.
"Yeah," Soujirou finally said, closing his eyes, "I have bad dreams sometimes, too."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Soujirou awoke to the sound of birds. Gulls, to be exact. The cawing noisemakers had apparently planned a festival right outside the window.
It did absolutely nothing for his headache.
Soujirou sat up a bit, testing the stability of the world inch by inch. He felt like a snail crawling out of its shell after a long rest, or perhaps a bear emerging from hibernation. Light prickled his eyes, causing Soujirou to blink rapidly and then duck his head to keep it in a shadow.
And then his stomach growled.
Right, no food since he left Chihori-san's house yesterday. The rice balls. They should still be in his things. But, where had Kenki-san put his things?
Tentatively, Soujirou glanced around the hut. Daylight made it look smaller, and dirtier. Aging ropes and nets hung from every spare space, and judging by the accumulation of ash, Kenki hadn't cleaned out the fire's hearth in months. This place was definitely just a place to sleep and store Kenki's things. The concept of an actual 'home' seemed to be foreign to the man. Oh well, Soujirou didn't particularly know much about 'home', either.
Soujirou located his things by the end of his futon, as well as a note from Kenki which read:
"I'll be back later. There's miso in the kettle."
Soujirou busied himself warming the miso as best he could with the few remaining coals. He tried to concentrate on the task at hand, and not let his mind wander to either his pain or the very intriguing mystery of Kenki Sou. But...
Kenki -had- said "Himura Battousai". And there was, as far as Soujirou knew, only -one- Himura Battousai. Kenki's sword skills weren't particularly lacking. So, it seemed likely that Kenki had either fought -against- Himura or -assisting- Himura. If the hermit had been with the Ishin Shishi, he might know Shishio-san, too. Or, maybe he hadn't been in the war, and he knew Himura from his days as a rurouni.
So many questions. And, it didn't seem likely that Kenki would answer any of them willingly. Yes, it might be too dangerous to try to get an explanation from the wild beach man before healing. After healing, however, would be a completely different story. Kenki may have gotten lucky that first time, but...not again.
Soujirou ate his miso and the stale rice balls with aplomb. Taste didn't matter quite as much as getting something into his stomach.
He examined the bandage at his head carefully. Yuck. He could smell the rapidly souring blood as he brought his fingers away from the cloth. Blood from the head never seemed the same as blood from anywhere else on the body. It wouldn't coagulate as quickly, for some reason. Well, clean bandages would be in order. If only Soujirou could figure out where Kenki kept his bandages...
Soujirou put his empty bowl aside and crawled towards the nearby low cabinet. He had to brace himself to pull it open, as the sea air had warped the wood, causing it to stick in the groove. With a pop, it slid back, revealing the contents within.
'What's all this?' Soujirou thought, pulling out the neatly folded piles of cloth. Well. So, Kenki -did- own clothes besides those green pants.
But these were...very fancy...
Certainly more fine than anything Soujirou had ever owned. Even the western shirt that Yumi-san had given him was nothing in comparison to...
Soujirou unfolded the haori. Turquoise, with white triangles at the sleeves and hem. Next came fine green hakama, well worn. And then...
Red.
Soujirou's eyes grew wide as the read the white kanji on the small red flag he had unfolded. "Makoto."
This was a Shinsengumi uniform.
Shishio-san had told him all about the powerful Shinsengumi after they had first encountered that cop in Shingetsu. Saitou Hajime. Yes. He had been in the Shinsengumi, too. Some of the most powerful swordsmen of the era had joined the Shinsengumi, and Shishio-san had cut many of them down. But, he had not killed Kenki, apparently.
So, Kenki had been in the Shinsengumi. That explained quite a bit, and certainly explained why he might be hesitant to let another swordsman onto his property. Many of the Shinsengumi had been killed outright, and those who hadn't been weren't generally looked upon fondly by the Meiji government. Except, strangely, for Saitou-san. But, then, that was probably only because he did their dirty work for them.
But, as Soujirou pulled out a few more random pieces of equipment and clothing, a small leather tube fell on the ground in front of his knees. A small triangle of paper peeked out from the rolled document within.
Slowly, carefully, Soujirou pulled at the paper until it came out of the tube. He had only the vaguest feeling that he shouldn't pry in Kenki's affairs, only the smallest of thoughts that this might not be a good idea. On the other hand, you couldn't get to know people without a little risk. Right?
Soujirou unrolled the yellowing paper and found a very disturbing drawing smiling up at him.
That face...
It looked exactly the same as his own face.
It was the same face he saw reflected when he washed in the morning. The same face which peered back at him from the mirrored sheen of his katana. Soujirou held the paper up to the light a bit to make certain he'd made no mistake. As he did, he read the inscription on the bottom right of the page.
"Okita Souji, Captain of the Shinsengumi First Troop. Age Nineteen."
Okita.
Soujirou couldn't breathe.
Okita. Souji.
No. It couldn't be.
"What is going on here?" Soujirou whispered, imploring the smiling picture for answers.
Soujirou's question was echoed by the wild-haired man standing in the doorway.
Kenki Sou, once known to the world as Okita Souji, looked extremely annoyed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
In Our Next Chapter: Alright. How is Okita -not- dead? And why is he now such a dreary pill? Will Okita and Soujirou end up killing each other over decade old issues? Why -do- the men look so much alike? Will Soujirou find any guidance towards redemption? What will happen when Okita finds out there are people he knows who are still alive? This and more in the next chapter.
Author Notes: Ok. There is a lot I could explain here, but it would be giving away the story, I think. Suffice it to say that, yes, Okita is much changed from the way he acts in the series. But, maybe he still has a soft side somewhere within? Also, I will say this now, this is not some sort of bizarre Okita-clone yaoi story.
This first chapter is a little slow compared to the start of my other stories. But, I assure you, it picks up, so I hope you will stick with it. I have to give some credit to hakubaikou for making me think sea-wise with "Against a Sea of Troubles". Thanks HB!
I almost didn't post this story, because I don't think it is going to interest people as much as some things I have written. But, then, I'm a big Okita fan, so, I decided to write it for -me- more than for an audience.
Also, "San Akoyagai", is my very rough translation of "Three Pearl Oysters".
Ack. The bizarre line breaks that inserted themselves into this fic should be fixed shortly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter 1: The Devilish Swordsman
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
In Japan, a man once lived who had phenomenal abilities with a sword. From a very young age, he trained, and succeeded, in becoming one of the greatest swordsmen to ever grace the face of that nation. And, in a troublesome era, when duty called, he responded by using those skills to cut down many a man, sacrificing much of himself in the process.
And then, when the new era dawned, that man faded into the halls of history, disappearing from public view. Many even thought him dead, but yet he struggled on, living in spite of rumor, facing each day anew.
And his name was -not- Himura Kenshin.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Soujirou lifted the burnt rice ball and peered at it. The burned spots, if you looked at them right, made a little smiling face.
Even the damn food was mocking him these days.
"Sorry, ano, with all these kids, you know, hard to keep an eye on the food." The lady of the house, Chihori, was sweeping the engawa upon which Soujirou was sitting. Or rather, she was attempting to sweep, but every two minutes another pint-sized tyke would run through the pile of dirt. Soujirou wasn't exactly sure how many children the woman had. He'd lost count at eight. Still, with all those mouths to feed, it was remarkably nice for her to offer him dinner.
Though, he -had- saved her son, Etsuyo, from being beaten up in the marketplace. Soujirou peered at the smiling rice ball. Why? Why had he saved Etsuyo-chan? It didn't make any damn sense.
Well, perhaps it had something to do with the giant bag of rice the kid was trying to drag home.
Soujirou bit into the rice ball. It didn't taste bad at all, even with the burnt spots. However, he'd probably eat rancid rice at this point. He was -so- hungry. You'd think there'd be a lot of call for a strong 17 year old to do odd jobs, make a little cash to keep himself going. But, finding work was harder than he had imagined. Everyone wanted references, these days. And the only references he could think up were Himura-san and Shishio-san. An assassin turned rurouni, and an assassin turned -dead-. This didn't look very good on a job application.
He'd been wandering now for two months. Two whole months, and he'd not found much truth. He'd found rainy nights and cold barns, ugly bandits and kind widows, empty pockets and an empty stomach. But, absolute truth? Zero.
Soujirou came to the conclusion that he was a very -good- swordsman, and a very -bad- philosopher.
"Ne, rurouni-san, here's a few extra rice balls for your trip, hm?" Chihiro handed him a small package. "It is the least I could do."
"Thank you. I appreciate it greatly, Chihiro-san." Soujirou nodded to the woman and stood, not wishing to waste her time. A house with this many bodies certainly didn't really have the resources or space to put him up for the night. And, Shishio-san had taught him to never be impolite. Even the strongest were to be respectful of women. Women couldn't help being weak. They were just made that way.
"Where will you go now, rurouni-san?"
Soujirou looked at the horizon. Just beyond the low hill, he could see the sparkle of water, glittering like Yumi-san's jewelry box. "To the sea, I think. A walk along the beach..."
Chihiro pursed her lips, "Oh, oh, rurouni-san. Do be careful. I mean you are strong and all, but..."
"Hm?"
"There's an old hermit who lives out on that beach. He's quite feisty, and, from what I understand, sometimes rather violent. Kenki-sama doesn't like intruders."
"Ken...ki?" Soujirou let the name rattle around in his brain for a moment. Kenki. It meant "devilish swordsman". A devil swordsman? The idea seized Soujirou's thoughts. What sort of a man would earn such a nickname?
"He's scary," Etsuyo-chan said from behind his mother's skirts, "I saw him in the market in town, once. He was wearing a sword, and when big-sister asked him about it, he knocked her out of the way! So scary! Please don't go there, rurouni-san."
"Eeeehhh?" Soujirou rubbed the back of his head, the questions in his mind certainly not showing on his ever-amiable face. "I'll be fine. Don't worry."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Kenki Sou sat on his rock, thinking.
He liked this rock. It had a good view of the sea. The sea which had saved him, time and again, from ruin. Well, it had saved his body. The rest of his life could not be repaired by the hand of man or god.
But, isn't that what old Bunbu had always said? "At least you aren't dead, Sou, at least you aren't dead."
Yeah, what sort of consolation was -that-, really?
Kenki pushed his long hair out of his face to no avail. The wind coming off the sea just blew it back into his eyes. He should put his hair in a tie. He should cut his hair. He -should- do a lot of things. At the top of the list of things Kenki Sou should do...was to wade into that waiting sea and drown himself.
A sacrifice to the sea gods in thanks for the extra, highly loathsome, time he spent on this godforsaken planet.
Yes, Kenki Sou should do a lot of things. But, instead, he just drew characters in the wet sand with his long walking stick. Poetry. He'd always liked poetry. Back then, he'd rouse his compatriots with fiery war epics and woo the girls with silky romantic verses.
Back then...
Kenki winced, and shook his head. No, it was never good to think about those things. There were no pretty girls now. And certainly no compatriots.
"Why?" Kenki closed his eyes, letting his stick continue to move, just out of habit, "I've broken something. Some sort of cosmic or karmic law. I should have died then, but I wanted so desperately to live. And now it seems I live on, though I crave death. Cruel. My punishment is cruel."
Kenki stood and watched the sea. It would be low tide soon. He'd need to bring in the traps now, or he'd have to wait until tomorrow. Bunbu would turn over in his grave if something happened to the crop. That damn old hermit. Why did he have to die? As annoying and miserly as Bunbu was, at least he'd been company.
As the man known as "Kenki Sou" walked away from his favorite rock, his long hair swished at his waist, flicking gently, rhythmically, against the pair of swords hanging from the man's hip.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Soujirou bent over and slipped off his waraji. The wet sand had coated the sandals, making him stick to the beach with each step. The "thuck thuck thuck" sound had become quite distracting.
Mud slipped between Soujirou's toes. The slimy feeling made him wrinkle his nose a bit. Interesting. Soujirou couldn't say that he'd had mud between his toes since he'd gone about barefoot as a boy. The sensation wasn't altogether horrible.
Soujirou continued to walk along the beach, his steps being erased as each wave slinked towards the shore. The water proved to be mild, and quite refreshing. In the distance, a few old boats lay at rest on the inlet. Fishermen. Definitely a fishing village, this was. With that slightly nauseating smell of decaying fish overlaid by sea salt, it seemed no different from any other small seaside village he'd been through.
Climbing up the beach a bit, Soujirou headed towards an outcropping of rocks. It would be a good place to lay his waraji out to dry while he took a swim. He needed to keep up the strength of his arms, and just -walking- around Japan's countryside didn't accomplish much in that arena. A late-afternoon swim and then some kata practice would do just the trick.
He peeled off his battered gi and the simple hakama he'd acquired somewhere along his travels. He couldn't really shukuchi very well in the hakama, but then, there hadn't been any need to get anywhere in a hurry. And they did prove to be much warmer than his old pants on cold nights.
Halfway through getting undressed, Soujirou looked down.
He was...standing in...writing.
How odd. Someone had scratched out some characters in the sand. Poetry, it looked like.
Soujirou blinked and read the verse.
"A blessed inkling that I may die. But, when I view the shore, thoughts cease. Water can not perish, nor can I. Yet, tides can come and go as they please."
Soujirou's left hand flinched. Reading the verse again caused a cold shiver to slink around the Tenken's neck and down his back.
"Yare, yare, who'd waste time making up stuff like this?"
With a bare foot, Soujirou erased the writing. Poetry. How -dumb-. What would pretty words get you? Nowhere useful. People sure did do a lot of nonsensical things with their free time.
And yet, Soujirou couldn't help but feel a strange ache as the words crept back into his head. "Water can not perish, nor can I?" What was -that- supposed to mean? A suicidal thought, maybe? Ugh. The whole point of life was to become strong enough to continue to live it. Both Shishio-san -and- Himura-san would agree with -that-, even if their methodology differed.
Laying his katana atop the pile, a naked Soujirou headed towards the water. He stretched his arms out wide, listening as his joints popped. This really -would- be good.
Soujirou waded into the water, the smile on his face genuine for once. Maybe, if he were clever, he could figure out how to catch a fish for dinner. Afterwards, he could use driftwood to build a campfire and sleep under the stars. As long as it didn't rain, he had quite a pleasant night ahead.
He'd see about perhaps finding this "Kenki" guy tomorrow. With a nickname like that, maybe the old recluse knew a thing or two about the world.
"I mean, why would a 'devil swordsman' end up living here on a beach?" Soujirou thought. "If he lives up to his name, it would be a lot like Shishio-san becoming a hermit. So, he's got to have an interesting view on the world, at least!"
Tiring of his swim, and noting that the sun was getting rather low in the sky, Soujirou headed for shore. Oh yes, he still had those rice balls that Chihiko had given him! Well, if he caught a fish, then he'd end up having a feast. Now, how to catch a....
As Soujirou waded out of the water, he saw quite a startling sight. Sitting on one of the rocks where he had placed his clothes, was a small man.
Very small. About Himura's size, give or take an inch.
And, about Himura's age, too.
But, what a powerful ki the man had! It whirled around him maniacally, mimicking the man's long locks of dark brown hair. Really long hair. The ends came down past the guy's waist. If it weren't for the fact that the guy wasn't wearing a gi, just an old pair of forest green peasant pants, Soujirou might have mistaken him for a small woman.
Well, that, and he had a katana and wakizashi strapped to his hip with a long strip of turquoise fabric.
The man was standing in front of the rock with Soujirou's clothes, leaning on a walking stick, gazing impassively towards the sea.
Very impassively. It was as if he was looking right -through- Soujirou. Large brown eyes, lost in unfocused sadness, seemed the only remarkable feature of the man's face that Soujirou could make out from his distance.
Except...
Except his face was...
Oddly familiar, nonetheless.
Well, Soujirou had met a lot of people in his travels. One person tended to look like the next after a while.
What the hell did this guy -want-, anyway?
"Ano, sir," Soujirou said, wiggling his toes in the mud. He was naked, sure. But, where would modesty get him? It certainly wouldn't get his things back. "Might I have my clothes and sword, if you don't mind?"
"I mind."
Though Soujirou shifted his weight in confusion, the ever-present smile did not slip from his face. "Well, just the sword, then, perhaps?" If he had the sword, then he could fight the guy and -get- his clothes back.
Without looking at Soujirou, the man said, "Carrying a sword is illegal, or hadn't you heard?"
"Yes, I know, but..."
"So, you are a criminal then?"
Soujirou blinked. Well. He -was- a wanted man, a wanted -swordsman-, but for just a bit more than -carrying- the sword. Wait. This didn't make any sense. "But, you have swords, too. Are you a criminal?"
"This is my land. I can wear my swords on my own land, if I wish." The man's eyes suddenly snapped into focus as he glared at Soujirou. "But, you, you are -trespassing-! And there are only two reasons someone would trespass here. From the looks of your bedraggled clothes, your reason must be thievery."
"But, I'm just a simple rurou..." The pieces of the puzzle began to slip into place within Soujirou's mind. He'd never been accused of being really quick on the uptake. "Say, you must be that Kenki fellow, ne? I was coming to look for you, because..."
A tiny sneer graced Kenki's lips as he tossed his walking stick aside. Why couldn't he discern this kid's ki? He could sense every life-force in the area. The fish. The eels. The seaweed. But, just -nothing- from the naked swordsman. Either the kid was nigh -dead-, or he was -very- adept at hiding things.
"Ah. I was wrong," Kenki said, placing his hand on the hilt of his katana. "You're here for the other reason, then."
"Ano..." Soujirou cooed, his nether bits becoming a bit chilly, "What would that be?"
"Revenge."
The single-toned song of the katana being unsheathed cut into Soujirou's ears. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could he get himself in such a situation? No clothes. No sword. And nothing even nearby to use as a substitute.
He'd have to hope he could run past this guy fast enough to get his katana.
Soujirou tapped his toes in the mud. Ew. Suddenly the squishy sand wasn't as great as he had previously thought.
"I really don't want to fight you, Kenki-san. I just had some questions and..."
It didn't matter. Kenki was already charging him. Kami-sama, the little man was -fast-. Almost as fast as Himura! But, no one could move as fast as Tenken no Soujirou.
Soujirou turned into a blur as his shukuchi took effect, propelling him forward. He slipped by the man's sword, but only barely. Kenki whirled around, lunging forward and downward with his sword. He caught the back of Soujirou's left calf with the tip of the katana, creating a three-inch gash.
The sudden sting at the back of his leg caused Soujirou to falter. He missed a step in shukuchi, and attempted to correct it with his next footfall.
Unfortunately, the force of doing so caused his right leg to sink into the mud, trapping one leg while the rest of Soujirou continued forward.
Forward into a waiting rock.
The sickening -smack- of Soujirou's forehead against the large stone bested the sound of the waves, and echoed across the beach. Pain shot instantly through Soujirou's mind, but then numbed itself quickly thereafter.
Numbing wasn't good. No. Not being able to feel the pain was -very-, -very- bad. Soujirou moaned as he brought his fingers to his forehead. They came away coated with his blood.
Oh heavens, what a -stupid- way to die. Shishio-san would surely laugh at -this-.
Soujirou fell onto his side in the sand, blinking at the blurry horizon.
He didn't even find any truth. Just a chaotic series of events, a meaningless parade of one damn thing after another.
How disappointing.
Kenki turned around, his mouth scrunching into a perturbed knot. He hadn't meant to -kill- the poor kid. Just scare him. Scare him enough that he'd go away and never, ever, think to come back. He stepped carefully towards the bleeding boy as he sheathed his sword. The kid had moved so quickly. It didn't even seem humanly possible to move that fast.
Well, Kenki had seen one man move -almost- that fast before. But that man wasn't likely to be alive anymore.
The hermit crouched down by the naked boy and squinted his eyes. A lot of blood. A pretty good bash to the head. But, then, you never could tell with head injuries. Sometimes they'd die right away, sometimes they'd linger a while, and sometimes they lived despite all odds.
Hard to say what would happen.
"Hey kid, what's your name?"
Soujirou blinked, his vision tinted a burning red from the blood. "Seta....Seta Soujirou..."
Soujirou.
Kenki's heart missed a beat. Soujirou. That was a name he hadn't heard in a -very- long time. The mere sound made him feel a bit queasy. What horrible luck, to run into a kid with -that- particular name. It had to be an omen. But, he really didn't want to...
Kenki didn't want or need company. But, on the other hand, he really shouldn't...
No, he -couldn't...
Leave this kid out here to die.
"Alright, Soujirou. I'm not going to kill you. Just stay still and..."
It was too late. The kid had already passed out.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It smelled -really- good here.
Soujirou's eyes rolled into the back of his head. Had he left the fish on the fire? Oh no, they'd get burned and then...
Warmth. And blankets.
And a throbbing headache.
"Itaiiiiii..." Soujirou muttered, bringing his fingers to his head. Bandages, and... The touch caused a piercing sting. "Ititititaiiii!"
"You shouldn't touch that."
Soujirou's eyes flew open, which turned out to be a mistake, since even the dim light of the room caused him pain. Before closing his eyes again, he had a brief glimpse of a wild-haired, half-naked man sitting by a fire, poking at the coals with a stick.
Oh. Right. Kenki.
Ack! That weird Kenki guy. Was this his house? Was this his futon? What the -hell- was going on here?
Last thing he remembered, he was running past Kenki and...
Ah, yes. He hit his head on a rock. Well, his memory was working properly, at least.
"You've been asleep for five hours. But, that is good. I wasn't certain you'd wake up at all."
Five hours? And this guy, this Kenki, had tended him the whole time? Bandaged his wounds?
How embarrassing.
But, Kenki had spared his life. It reminded Soujirou vaguely of Himura Battousai. Kenki had just joined a very special club. Only two people had ever injured Soujirou so badly he couldn't stand. (Well, not counting a few particular sparring sessions with Shishio-san.) He was a good swordsman, definitely. But, if it hadn't been for the mud, Kenki certainly would not have won.
Soujirou had taken Himura's advice to heart. Not killing people. Well, he never really liked killing anyone, anyway. So that part had turned out to be easy. But, fighting... Just fighting was alright. Even Himura fought -sometimes-. Soujirou was good at fighting, and not a whole lot else. And if he enjoyed it, quite a bit, what could be wrong with that?
Yes. He enjoyed fighting. And winning. Losing, on the other hand, contained very little appeal.
"You might have injured your ankle, too. It was swelling up, so I bandaged it." Kenki's voice moved slowly around the room as Soujirou kept his eyes shut. "Look, I'm going to be direct with you, boy. I don't like people. And I -especially- don't like nosy people who carry swords. Whatever drove you to come out here, you'd best forget it. Concentrate on healing, and then concentrate on getting out of my life."
What a crotchety old goat. Goodness, the man was about the same age and size as Himura, but contained none of the compassion or general polite kindness. Soujirou had never met the Himura Battousai in his Hitokiri days, but imagined Kenki wasn't far off from what it might be like.
Still, what could he do? The man had bandaged him up, when he could have just as easily left Soujirou to die. Maybe it would be best to just heal up and get the hell out of here. Soujirou had curiosity, but sometimes it was a bit too expensive to indulge.
"Thank you for your hospitality," Soujirou whispered, his eyes still closed. He would need some time to think on this whole situation, but for the moment, thoughts seemed to be drifting into nothingness. The warmth, the soft blankets, the lack of need to worry, all made him quite sleepy despite the pain.
Wait. Lack of need to worry?
Shouldn't he worry? What if Kenki... Should he trust... You should never trust a stranger... But, Kenki, he didn't seem so bad, really. Right?
Right?
Kenki looked up from his pot of fish and leeks and squinted at the kid curled up on old Bunbu's futon. The boy wasn't snoring exactly, but he was making an odd little noise. It sounded like a drunken bumblebee. Zzzt. Zzzzuhzzzt. Zzzt. Zzzzuhzzzt.
Leaning his ladle against the pot, Kenki crept over to the side of the futon to examine the boy more closely. He had dark brown hair cut in a western style. Or, rather, it had once been cut in a western style, and now it had grown out into a shaggy mess. Long black eyelashes twitched with each of Soujirou's buzzing breaths. And then there was his mouth, like two dashes of pink ribbon upturned at the ends. Even while sleeping, the kid smiled.
He looked just like...
Kenki Sou crossed the room, stirred his dinner for a second, and then made his way to a set of rickety cabinets. It was in here somewhere. Unless Bunbu, in one of his fits of cleaning, had thrown the thing out. Kenki had taken it off the corpse of a man not much older than Soujirou, someone else who had come looking for him, sword in hand. They always wanted revenge. Revenge for their fathers, revenge for their brothers, revenge for best friends. Many came, at first, and then fewer and fewer, until no one came anymore at all. Kenki had thought perhaps the world had forgotten about him altogether, and then Soujirou appeared.
Ah. Here it was. Kenki pulled out the leather tube and pushed his finger inside to poke out the rolled piece of paper. It fell into his lap with a whispered plop. Holding it gently, Kenki stood, and walked back over to the sleeping Seta Soujirou.
He hesitated before unrolling it. What did it matter? Still. It was strange. A mystery, even. Finally, gathering his resolve, Kenki unfurled the yellowed paper and held it next to Soujirou's face.
The hermit looked from the paper, to the boy, and back again.
No. Nothing alike. The drawing on the paper had a more youthful face, and slightly more pronounced ears. The hair was far darker and...
No.
Absolutely, positively, exactly alike.
Down to the smile.
The picture could have been drawn within Soujirou in mind.
But, what did that mean? It didn't mean anything at all. A lot of boys might look very similar when they are young, before manhood chisels their features into unique stones. Of course. Just a coincidence, and nothing more.
Kenki snorted as he rolled the picture into a tube, went back to the cabinets to put it away.
"You better heal quickly, kid," Kenki muttered, "'Cause I hate the way you look."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Soujirou woke up to the sound of rain.
Rain? No. Waves. The sea.
Kenki's house. It was going to take some getting used to sleeping on a futon. Even when some kindly stranger could offer him shelter, he usually ended up with a thin blanket and the hard ground in front of the hearth.
'I wonder why this guy has an extra futon, anyway. Doesn't seem like he is much of one for company.'
Soujirou tested his eyes by opening the left one only a crack. Much darker now. Only some lingering coals in the fireplace and moonlight slipping through a sliding wooden window. His head still hurt, but not as much as...
Ooo. He needed to head outdoors and momentarily commune with nature. What a dilemma.
Slowly, Soujirou pushed himself up, using handfuls of futon to steady the wobbling room. Maybe standing wouldn't be such a good idea. And Kenki had said his ankle might be injured. Though, if it was, Soujirou certainly couldn't feel it. But then, besides the pounding in his head and urge to relieve himself, he couldn't feel much.
Well, that left only one option.
Crawling.
Ugh.
Door, door, door. Where might the door be? Soujirou peered around the darkened room, looking for the nearest exit. Hm. Not much here. The fire, some random items hanging from the walls, baskets or something, a low table in one corner, some cabinets and...
A lump on the floor about six feet away. Hm. It must be Kenki.
Soujirou blinked as the older man flipped over violently in his sleep, tossing his blankets into a pile between the two futons. Even in the low light, Soujirou could see the other man's hands clench and unclench into fists at his stomach.
No, not fists. Into circles. As if he were gripping a sword in his dreams.
Soujirou would have found it disturbing, except that he'd awakened on occasion to find his hands sore from doing the exact same thing.
Kenki's breathing became haggard, tinged with desperation. Curiosity overruled Soujirou's demanding bladder and caused the boy to lean forward, crawling halfway to the other futon.
A bit of pain shot into his foot. Ah, so his ankle -was- injured. Well, at least it still hurt. Numbness, emotional or physical, never tended to be a positive thing. He'd learned that lesson right before fleeing the burning compound on Mt. Hiei.
Kenki moaned pitifully in his sleep, causing Soujirou to halt his progress. No. Not a moan. More like the echo of a war cry resounding from the depths of the dream world. And it was followed by two, very clear words, both spoken in a voice that caused even Soujirou flinch.
"Himura Battousai..."
Himura? Himura? How did Kenki know Himura?
Soujirou pushed all of his weight onto the palms of his hands, rocking closer to Kenki. If he said anything else, Soujirou wanted to catch it. His knees shuffled forward as he dragged his injured ankle towards Kenki.
Who -was- this guy?
Finally only a few inches from the other man's face, Soujirou held his breath. Without all that hair in his face, he looked, well, less crazy and more...
Kenki's eyes popped open, and his hand immediately flew to Soujirou's neck, lifting the boy's torso with a powerful grasp.
He looked...
Those eyes...
No wonder they called him a devil. A demon. Those eyes bespoke years of killing. Those eyes said they didn't mind at all bearing the burden of taking another life.
Those eyes were lost. As lost as the person who hid behind Soujirou's smile.
Soujirou felt Kenki's grip tighten. Unable to speak, Soujirou did the first thing that came to mind, he brought his elbow up and struck Kenki soundly across the chin with his forearm.
Kenki reeled backwards into the futon, dropping the former Tenken in the process. Soujirou's head came to rest on Kenki's stomach as both men caught their breath.
"Kenki-san, my apologies..."
"What are you doing kid? Snooping around?" Kenki rubbed his chin gingerly. There would be a bruise in the morning.
Soujirou winced and put his fingers to his neck. Sheesh. Kenki's fingers probably left some good marks. Oh well, they'd heal up, too. "No, I...I didn't mean to...ano..." Soujirou slowly lifted his head off the other man's stomach. "I was looking for the door, you know?"
"Why?" Kenki narrowed his eyes. Why the hell was the kid smiling? What was funny about almost being strangled?
"Well, I...have to...ano....-go-."
For a moment, just no more than a flash, Kenki's expression softened. But, he immediately re-hid any temporary chink in his wall of grouchiness by turning away from Soujirou as he sat up. "Right." Well, if you have to go, you have to go. And he had, thoughtlessly, put the kid on the futon farthest from the door.
Kenki stood up, his wild hair hanging like a fishing net over his muscled back. Didn't the guy ever wear a shirt? Or a yukata? Or anything besides those same green peasant pants? Soujirou watched as the older man stepped over the futon and extended a hand. "You wanna try to walk, or you want me to carry you?"
"I was going to crawl, actually," Soujirou said with a grin. But, then, he said everything with a grin.
Kenki snorted, producing a sound somewhere between "not amused" and "completely irate". "Crawl? And drag back half the beach's sand into my house? Are you an idiot, boy?"
Soujirou had to be honest. He's never really used his mind for much of anything. "Possibly."
With a huff, Kenki stepped over his futon and grabbed Soujirou firmly by his upper arm, lifting him into a standing position. "Come on, kid. Here now. Lean on me a bit. Try not to step on your bad foot, too much. You'll just make it worse. Alright, there's a bit of a step down here, but you can't see it. There ya go."
Outside, the breeze coming off of the night sea chilled Soujirou's skin. The moon, low on the horizon, cast tiny fragments of light onto the water, as if trying to skip glowing stones back towards shore. Soujirou felt Kenki's strong grip practically lifting him as he walked. Soujirou wasn't sure which was more embarrassing, crawling, or having to be assisted to walk.
Kenki guided Soujirou to a fence post and leaned the boy against it. "Steady there, boy. You got it?"
"Yes. Think so."
Kenki turned around and walked about a half dozen paces away, looking out towards the sea as he crossed his arms. He hadn't had to help anyone to walk in a long time. But, in the old days, it seemed every night ended with someone else having to borrow his strength to get back to headquarters. Or, on bad nights, he'd return with someone's dead body slumped over his shoulder. No. Kenki snarled a bit as he watched the waves. Best not think about that. Damn this kid. He brought back such unhappy memories.
Like that dream. He hadn't had -that- dream in a long time. It was almost a miracle that he hadn't jumped for his katana and sliced the kid's head off.
'Eh, maybe I should go back to sleeping on the roof while that boy is here. It's good weather for it. Old Bunbu always said that nothing clears the mind like sleeping outdoors. On the other hand, he was just trying to get me to leave so my nightmares wouldn't bother him.' Kenki tilted his head a bit. Hm. Soujirou really -did- have to -go-.
Kenki shook his head and considered the tide. The moon was good tonight. Even Bunbu didn't know why, but a moon like this always inspired a better crop. 'A crisp shell moon', Bunbu had called it.
Was that kid -still- going?
He'd go out tomorrow on the pier for the newest oysters. If the moon kept like this for a day or two, the timing would be perfect. Hm. But, that would mean leaving Soujirou alone in the house. 'Maybe I can tie him to the futon somehow. Or get him so drunk he passes out for the whole day. Bunbu's sure to have some of his old brew somewhere.' Kenki let a small sigh pass his lips. The boy hadn't even been here a day, and already he was the biggest nuisance since...
"Ano, Kenki-san?"
Kenki winced slightly. Even the boy's -voice- reminded him of yesteryear. "What is it -now-?"
Soujirou didn't say anything for quite a while, hoping Kenki would just get the general idea. When the older man didn't, Soujirou said, in possibly the quietest voice he had used since he'd met Shishio-san, "I'm finished."
The corner of Kenki's mouth twitched as he turned around, walked towards Soujirou, and placed his hand around the boy's shoulders. As they hobbled together towards the door, Soujirou felt thankful he hadn't gone alone. His head was absolutely swimming with pain now, and he probably would have ended up just sleeping in the yard.
Kenki-san wasn't a bad guy, really. A mystery, perhaps, and more surly than almost everyone Soujirou had ever met, but maybe not so bad. Maybe.
Kenki forgot to remind Soujirou about the step, causing the boy to lurch forward when he stubbed his big toe. This elicited a mild hiss from Soujirou, but nothing more. Really, Kenki found himself impressed. For as much damage as the kid had taken today, he hadn't really complained much.
"Don't go breaking your other ankle, idiot."
"Sorry."
After helping Soujirou back into the futon, Kenki went back to shut the door. He listened as Soujirou turned a bit, trying to get his various injuries comfortable, before heading towards his own bed.
What a predicament.
And he still didn't even know what the kid -wanted-.
"Kenki-san?"
"What?"
"Thanks." Soujirou listened as the other man snorted exasperatedly and retrieved his previously tossed blanket.
"Say, Kenki-san?"
"What? What now? What else could you possibly want from me?"
Soujirou glanced at the nearby wall, watching the shadows swallow his shoulder and the edge of the blanket. So incredibly dark. Like an abyss sneaking up, patiently watching for the moment he fell asleep, just waiting to eat him whole. Swallowed into the belly of a snake called 'Nightmare'.
"Do you have bad dreams sometimes, Kenki-san?"
The older man almost bit his own tongue. What in the hell? Now this kid was -really- bothering him. "Mind your own business."
A small "hm" came from the direction of Soujirou's futon as the young man pulled his blanket up over his head in an attempt to warm his face. The inky blackness surrounded Soujirou, causing him to shudder. He'd never liked the dark. He wasn't exactly -afraid- of the dark. No. Tenken no Soujirou was afraid of little to nothing! The dark just...wasn't kind.
"Yeah," Soujirou finally said, closing his eyes, "I have bad dreams sometimes, too."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Soujirou awoke to the sound of birds. Gulls, to be exact. The cawing noisemakers had apparently planned a festival right outside the window.
It did absolutely nothing for his headache.
Soujirou sat up a bit, testing the stability of the world inch by inch. He felt like a snail crawling out of its shell after a long rest, or perhaps a bear emerging from hibernation. Light prickled his eyes, causing Soujirou to blink rapidly and then duck his head to keep it in a shadow.
And then his stomach growled.
Right, no food since he left Chihori-san's house yesterday. The rice balls. They should still be in his things. But, where had Kenki-san put his things?
Tentatively, Soujirou glanced around the hut. Daylight made it look smaller, and dirtier. Aging ropes and nets hung from every spare space, and judging by the accumulation of ash, Kenki hadn't cleaned out the fire's hearth in months. This place was definitely just a place to sleep and store Kenki's things. The concept of an actual 'home' seemed to be foreign to the man. Oh well, Soujirou didn't particularly know much about 'home', either.
Soujirou located his things by the end of his futon, as well as a note from Kenki which read:
"I'll be back later. There's miso in the kettle."
Soujirou busied himself warming the miso as best he could with the few remaining coals. He tried to concentrate on the task at hand, and not let his mind wander to either his pain or the very intriguing mystery of Kenki Sou. But...
Kenki -had- said "Himura Battousai". And there was, as far as Soujirou knew, only -one- Himura Battousai. Kenki's sword skills weren't particularly lacking. So, it seemed likely that Kenki had either fought -against- Himura or -assisting- Himura. If the hermit had been with the Ishin Shishi, he might know Shishio-san, too. Or, maybe he hadn't been in the war, and he knew Himura from his days as a rurouni.
So many questions. And, it didn't seem likely that Kenki would answer any of them willingly. Yes, it might be too dangerous to try to get an explanation from the wild beach man before healing. After healing, however, would be a completely different story. Kenki may have gotten lucky that first time, but...not again.
Soujirou ate his miso and the stale rice balls with aplomb. Taste didn't matter quite as much as getting something into his stomach.
He examined the bandage at his head carefully. Yuck. He could smell the rapidly souring blood as he brought his fingers away from the cloth. Blood from the head never seemed the same as blood from anywhere else on the body. It wouldn't coagulate as quickly, for some reason. Well, clean bandages would be in order. If only Soujirou could figure out where Kenki kept his bandages...
Soujirou put his empty bowl aside and crawled towards the nearby low cabinet. He had to brace himself to pull it open, as the sea air had warped the wood, causing it to stick in the groove. With a pop, it slid back, revealing the contents within.
'What's all this?' Soujirou thought, pulling out the neatly folded piles of cloth. Well. So, Kenki -did- own clothes besides those green pants.
But these were...very fancy...
Certainly more fine than anything Soujirou had ever owned. Even the western shirt that Yumi-san had given him was nothing in comparison to...
Soujirou unfolded the haori. Turquoise, with white triangles at the sleeves and hem. Next came fine green hakama, well worn. And then...
Red.
Soujirou's eyes grew wide as the read the white kanji on the small red flag he had unfolded. "Makoto."
This was a Shinsengumi uniform.
Shishio-san had told him all about the powerful Shinsengumi after they had first encountered that cop in Shingetsu. Saitou Hajime. Yes. He had been in the Shinsengumi, too. Some of the most powerful swordsmen of the era had joined the Shinsengumi, and Shishio-san had cut many of them down. But, he had not killed Kenki, apparently.
So, Kenki had been in the Shinsengumi. That explained quite a bit, and certainly explained why he might be hesitant to let another swordsman onto his property. Many of the Shinsengumi had been killed outright, and those who hadn't been weren't generally looked upon fondly by the Meiji government. Except, strangely, for Saitou-san. But, then, that was probably only because he did their dirty work for them.
But, as Soujirou pulled out a few more random pieces of equipment and clothing, a small leather tube fell on the ground in front of his knees. A small triangle of paper peeked out from the rolled document within.
Slowly, carefully, Soujirou pulled at the paper until it came out of the tube. He had only the vaguest feeling that he shouldn't pry in Kenki's affairs, only the smallest of thoughts that this might not be a good idea. On the other hand, you couldn't get to know people without a little risk. Right?
Soujirou unrolled the yellowing paper and found a very disturbing drawing smiling up at him.
That face...
It looked exactly the same as his own face.
It was the same face he saw reflected when he washed in the morning. The same face which peered back at him from the mirrored sheen of his katana. Soujirou held the paper up to the light a bit to make certain he'd made no mistake. As he did, he read the inscription on the bottom right of the page.
"Okita Souji, Captain of the Shinsengumi First Troop. Age Nineteen."
Okita.
Soujirou couldn't breathe.
Okita. Souji.
No. It couldn't be.
"What is going on here?" Soujirou whispered, imploring the smiling picture for answers.
Soujirou's question was echoed by the wild-haired man standing in the doorway.
Kenki Sou, once known to the world as Okita Souji, looked extremely annoyed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
In Our Next Chapter: Alright. How is Okita -not- dead? And why is he now such a dreary pill? Will Okita and Soujirou end up killing each other over decade old issues? Why -do- the men look so much alike? Will Soujirou find any guidance towards redemption? What will happen when Okita finds out there are people he knows who are still alive? This and more in the next chapter.
Author Notes: Ok. There is a lot I could explain here, but it would be giving away the story, I think. Suffice it to say that, yes, Okita is much changed from the way he acts in the series. But, maybe he still has a soft side somewhere within? Also, I will say this now, this is not some sort of bizarre Okita-clone yaoi story.
This first chapter is a little slow compared to the start of my other stories. But, I assure you, it picks up, so I hope you will stick with it. I have to give some credit to hakubaikou for making me think sea-wise with "Against a Sea of Troubles". Thanks HB!
I almost didn't post this story, because I don't think it is going to interest people as much as some things I have written. But, then, I'm a big Okita fan, so, I decided to write it for -me- more than for an audience.
Also, "San Akoyagai", is my very rough translation of "Three Pearl Oysters".
Ack. The bizarre line breaks that inserted themselves into this fic should be fixed shortly.