Disclaimer: I own nothing Ruroken. I do own the character "Himura Miki" in the sense that I put the name and rough character background together... not like you're going to have to worry about him much anyway... (clears throat)... moving on... This story can be treated as a companion-sequel to "In Due Time" although you don't have to read it to understand this. There are just occasional references. (How could I require you to read it when I'm not even done WRITING it?)

Meiji (post-Kyoto arc)

Now Isn't a Good Time

Hiko scowled into his sake, shooting the occasional glare at his baka deshi who was outside planting flowers or some other ridiculous thing. It wasn't that Hiko had a problem with the flowers themselves. He was a strong advocate of life, and planting things was giving life. That was fine. But what the hell did Hiko need with little white and purple flowers all around his home? He had the distinct impression that this was some sort of payback from Kenshin for Hiko having beaten him yet again while sparring.

Hiko snorted. As if he weren't always going to beat Kenshin at sparring. It wasn't his fault that he was bigger and stronger and more disciplined than the baka.

He watched his deshi. Oh, god… Did he just bring in some pink flowers? This had to end.

The huge man rose from the log and turned from his kiln. He strode purposefully toward his baka deshi. "You know, Kenshin. I realize that I taught you that battling through wits is as important as battling through strength, but right now all you're managing to do is piss me off."

"I don't know what you mean, Shishou," the redhead replied, not bothering to turn around. The flower in his hand was a particularly hideous shade of magenta.

"Stop planting the damn flowers. If you want a rematch, I'll willingly beat you into the ground again. But you're going to find yourself buried under those pink things if you don't quit planting them."

Kenshin straightened, brushing the sweat from his brow, and smiling brightly. "A rematch would be nice, that it would. Perhaps the planting can wait."

Hiko smirked wryly. "Perhaps..." He walked back over to the log and set his sake bottle down. No point in spilling it if he didn't have to. "Let's just do this and get it over with."

The redhead nodded, and moved into his stance. "Ready."

The tall swordsman just stared at him. "Here? Why not by the waterfall? We always spar near the waterfall."

Kenshin's eyebrow twitched. "That we do, shishou. And then you always throw me into the waterfall. Here will be fine, that it most certainly will."

Hiko just shook his head. "You baka... this is a terrible place to fight. There are too many trees. Not to mention all of the things a clumsy baka like you could trip over. The log. My sake. What if you trip over my sake bottle and break your neck? That's good sake."

Kenshin just narrowed his eyes.

Hiko sighed when his baka deshi didn't answer. "Fine. Let's go."

It really wasn't much of a fight. It started out alright. Somehow during his planting, Kenshin had gotten his second wind, so Hiko didn't have to hold back much to keep from killing his deshi. But the baka was so predictable. Ryu tsui sen. That's all Kenshin seemed to want to use. And it was not a move the worked well in a wooded area, as he had to constantly be sure that when he was going airborne there were no low branches in his way.

Hiko snorted, trying to decide how long he was going to let Kenshin jump around like that before he landed a hit and laid the baka flat. Probably soon. The fight was getting boring.

Kenshin must have sensed his shishou's boredom, because his eyes flashed in annoyance, and he made ready to attack with everything he had.

Hiko watched in amusement as his baka deshi once again attacked with ryu tsui sen. "Too bad the baka can't focus on anything else when he puts everything into his attack."

Sure enough, the potential force behind Kenshin's attack was lessened by the very large tree whose massive boughs were hanging right over Kenshin's head. Amazing how vulnerable ryu tsui sen was to its user being cracked in the head and knocked unconscious by the bough of a tree.

The swordsmaster stared a moment at his deshi in disgust before shaking his head and walking back to his hut. Clearly this situation called for some sake. How the hell had he wound up with a deshi who was so stupid?

Maybe if he left the baka there, Kenshin would realize that Hiko wasn't going to save him from his own idiocy anymore. Hell, the boy was thirty years old. Hiko refused to keep nursing him back to health. If the baka died, that was his own damn fault.

With that thought, Hiko entered the cool shade of his home.

Kenshin woke up hours later to a massive headache and no shishou. He moaned, slowly sitting up and rubbing his head. The last moments of his attack came back to him, and he quickly tried to repress the memory. Thank goodness darkness had already fallen. Because he'd have died if Hiko had seen the embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

The redhead looked around, suddenly aware of his surroundings. Come to think of it... where was his shishou? Hiko Seijuro was nowhere in sight.

Kenshin sighed. Typical of his shishou to just leave him outside. Kenshin could still remember the time Hiko had knocked him out in the middle of winter and then had just left him in the snow to freeze. He'd called it "survival" training. Apparently that meant if you survived, then you were trained.

Kenshin looked in the direction of Hiko's shack. There was a dim firelight coming from the kiln, and the silhouette of his shishou was clearly seated before it.

The redhead sighed and dragged himself over to his shishou, fully expecting the man to begin ridiculing him as soon as he was within earshot. So, it was a great surprise when Hiko didn't even turn around. Kenshin stopped and stared at the man. Now that he was closer, it suddenly occurred to him that Hiko didn't quite look right either. He seemed a bit thinner, less muscular... and was his hair... white?

Kenshin blinked. Rubbed his eyes and blinked again. No... it couldn't be.

"Oro..." Kenshin moaned, finally realizing what had happened. Somehow he had traveled back in time again. This man was Hiko Seijuro the twelfth, not his Shishou.

At the sound of his voice, the old man turned around, and stared at him. "You're late." He growled, his face in shadow.

Kenshin shook his head, confused. "Late? Were you expecting me, Hiko-sama?"

The old man snorted. "Only for the past hour. And since when did you start calling me anything but 'Shishou,' Kenji?"

Author's Note: I know... I'm crazy or something. But I periodically work on a story, and then I hit writer's block when I don't know where I want to go. That's when weird plots like these take root in my mind. So, while I struggle through the next chapter of "In Due Time," please enjoy this escape into insanity. (My pathetic attempt at humor... Perhaps I should stick with angst...) Anyway, this story goes with "In Due Time" in which it references bits and pieces of that story. But you don't have to read "In Due Time" to understand it, nor do I have to complete "In Due Time" to write this fiction (ahhhh... the beauty of it...) Anyway, thanks so much for reading. Please review. I could really use some input!

Dewa mata!