So, yet another college AU. I'm not sure whether or not I should apologize for this.

Anyways, I had to modernize his looks a little to keep at least some semblance of realism (but his eyes still change color because I just love that) and rather than it be a revolution he fights in, it's an international assassination network. Which, yes, means OCs. None of them are going to be playing a big part. I tried to keep his background as intact as I could while still having it make sense.

I'm also not sure if there will be pairings (if there are, it'll be with canon pairings unless requested otherwise, which would honest to go shock me), so if you want one suggest.

Warning: slight self-inflicted injuring, PTSD, and probably something else I haven't thought up yet.

Disclaimer: don't own anything you recognize.

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After Kenshin passed out from a week from not eating and he discovered evidence of self-inflicted injuries, Katsura decides it was finally time to give him a break.

"Why?" Kenshin asks the day after he's released from hospital, staring at him incredulously. "I'm fine, seriously."

The dilation of his pupils from the recently started medication and the records from the hospital say otherwise. Katsura answers, "You're the youngest we ever started, Kenshin. By a long shot. I think the five years is starting to get you. That's considered long service for even an adult."

The boy fidgets in his chair. His hair has been recently washed, half dried and not yet its usual wreck. A lot of times it's difficult for Katsura not to separate Himura Kenshin the World's Greatest Assassin from Himura Kenshin, the sweet, shy eighteen-year-old. For him, it isn't as much of a problem as it is for some of the other members with a similar problem; he's the only one who can treat Kenshin like a kid without him getting frustrated.

"It's not getting to me."

"You're getting more self-destructive by the day."

There's a moment of silence. Then, "I always forget to eat, that's nothing new. And I get itchy when I'm nervous, so what?"

Maybe he should've let one of the other higher ups do this because Kenshin wouldn't get so mouthy with anyone other than him. Just like he knows he has to finish this quickly before the kid gets that rare wounded puppy look that always makes him hesitate. Katsura is supposed to be a fearsome leader of an underground, world-class assassins' network, which goes entirely against getting to know one of his employees as well the two of them know each other. It's all his fault too, for recruiting the first (and last) assassin below the age of twenty-one. Below twenty-one by a lot, too.

Or maybe it's just because he's the person who discovered their number one squeaks when poked. Yeah, it can definitely be that.

He tries to explain, "Just because it's normal for you doesn't make common or okay." Again, a moment of silence. "Look, I'm not saying you're crazy or anything, Kenshin. I'm saying I think you should take a break. Besides, you don't like killing in the first place."

"Yeah, I don't." It's unusual for an assassin to say that outright, or even believe it at all, but the kid said it to him quite bluntly after the death of his girlfriend two years ago. And Katsura would be lying if he said he doesn't understand. "That doesn't mean—I guess that, well, I don't know. I feel like I should be helping."

Considering that Kenshin is both stubborn as hell and loyal to the point of fault, the answer isn't all that surprising. Sometimes Katsura wishes he could get through his head that sometimes the best way to help is just to take care of himself. And he needs to find some sort of compromise, so he says, "If we get a big hit, we'll contact you, okay?" Kenshin look at him warily, obviously trying to judge whether or not this is true. Sometimes having someone this perceptive as an employee isn't a good thing. He holds back a groan. "You aren't going to be cut off or anything. We'll keep you at regular contact if you want, and it's not like we're planning on committing you. The psychiatrist agreed too; you have to get of here."

There comes a tightening of his shoulders at the word "psychiatrist" which means Katsura hit a nerve. Even so, he can see Kenshin bending which means he isn't as opposed to the idea as he thinks he is.

"What would I do anyway?" he asks, relaxing a little again. A good sign. Maybe it's the pupil dilation or something, but his eyes looked bigger than before. Bigger and bluer. This is the first time in a while that he's seen Kenshin with that color. "My skill set doesn't exactly reach past what I do now, you know."

Oh, yeah. That's a pretty legitimate problem right there. "I don't know?" he answers. He needed him out of this environment and fast. "Go to college or something. You're the age of a freshman and you're reading all the time. I'm sure you must've gotten enough stuck in your brain by this point to actually get a real education."

"Katsura, I'm awful with people," Kenshin says, "and college involves dorm rooms. As in living with actual, real life human beings."

"Who don't know who you are," he points out. "Meeting people is a good thing and you haven't been around anyone your own age in literal years. As long as you keep your mouth shut and try to relax, you'll be fine. Friends are a good thing."

"Friends" is a foreign word when it comes to Kenshin. Even before he stumbled across the network at the age of thirteen, he wasn't much of a people-person apparently. Assassinating as a way to keep a living definitely doesn't help.

The kid looks at him with no definable expression on his face. Then he says, "God, you're being serious about the college thing."

"Why wouldn't I be?" he answers. "It's a good idea and considering that you look younger than your age rather than older, there's not much you can besides go to school. I started working here when I was college, you know. A chem. major at University of Westminster. I loved it."

"Fine," he says. "But can't I—well, I don't know, commute or something? Do I have to stay in a dorm?" Before he can answer, the boy runs his fingers through his drying hair and adds, "You don't want me left alone. That's it, isn't it?"

For about the thousandth time, Katsura thinks that having a perceptive employee isn't always a good thing. "Yes," he says bluntly. "I don't think I've ever seen you scratch around people before and you can't have weapons. This is me being honest. You happy?"

Obviously trying to hide how upset he was (because Kenshin isn't the only perceptive one in this room), he says, "I'm fine, I promised I would try to stop it and everything and I'm already medicated. Isn't that—actually, okay, you win."

Katsura blinks. He hadn't expected it to be this easy. "What?" he says before he can catch himself.

"I know you," Kenshin answers. "If I put up too much of a fight, you'll tell the psychiatrist who'll tell someone who can kick me out and cut me off for good."

He hesitates before saying, "Yes, that's probably how it would happen. I'm being re-stationed in Boston for a while if you want to look for a school in that area. Allen's decided to switch Ricky and me."

"Why?" Katsura shrugs. "Fine. I'll look into it. How long do I have?"

Having the boy be agreeable to this extent is rare when it comes to something that's more of an suggestion than an order, so he jumps on this chance before the stubbornness comes back. "Well," he says, "it's July right now, so deadlines and everything have already passed. I'll talk to one of the forgers in to getting you into the system as a waitlisted student with credentials good enough to make the administration wonder why you weren't accepted straight in the first place."

"Okay," Kenshin says. "What am I supposed to do about my scar? I can't exactly keep it permanently covered up and I bet at least one political science major will figure it out."

The scar. Right. That's another problem he should've already thought of, but he's been a little preoccupied with the transfer and Kenshin ending up in the hospital. Though he hadn't been in critical condition, it was enough to freak everybody out, and by this point Katsura has heard several coworkers say that it makes sense, that someone that good had be at least a little fucked in the head. He says, "We'll deal with that when the time comes. For now just look for a school. It doesn't have to be in that area if you don't want. Here, you can even use my computer to do it right now."

Kenshin shoots him a scathing look that means it hasn't slipped past him that he's not being left alone here either. Admittedly, it could be worse; he isn't using a kitchen knife to slit his wrists or anything and it sure as hell wasn't a suicide attempt, but self-harm is still self-harm even if it is done mostly unconsciously. He accepts the laptop held out to him flips it open.

And so the search begins.

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This is how Kenshin ends up in a college two hours out of Boston that sits nestled between an apple orchard and a lake because it was one of the schools in the area that still waitlisted into August. That, and it wasn't in a city. He decided that since he's been forced to take a break in everything else, he might as well take a break from the metropolitan life too. As a kid who spent the first thirteen years of his life in rural towns, large urban areas aren't exactly his thing.

"I can do this by myself," he tells his boss as he grabs his one suitcase and a backpack from the trunk of the car. He'd always liked Katsura and Katsura had always liked him, but since The Incident the man's been more worried about him than usually is. And not bothering to hide it for once, either. "It's not that hard."

"Everyone else has families dropping them off," Katsura says. "You said you want to blend in."

While yeah, he did say that, he knows it'll be borderline impossible anyway. The square bandage feels rough on his cheek. Short, messy red hair and eyes that unexplainably change color are pretty catching too. Being small doesn't help either—in America, five four is considered way below average and coupled with the fact that he barely weighs over a hundred pounds, he still looks like a high school student, like a scrawny freshman. "You don't exactly look old enough to be dad," he says, even though in actuality Katsura is thirty-six and easily could be if he messed up at a young-ish age.

He knows he's sulking, but he can't help it. Sure, his work is dissatisfying because he honest to God hates killing, but he still feels obligated to help. Since he was a kid he's been doing this as a career and he doesn't know what to do now that he's suddenly living without it.

"I drove you here," Katsura says, "and I don't feel like jumping back into the car right a way."

It's a flimsy excuse and they both know it. "I'm room two twenty-one A," he says because he doesn't feel like arguing and flimsy excuse or not, most people in their business have a thing against cars. Unless they're parents, but that's a whole different matter altogether.

His boss looks relieved as he locks the car and the two began getting themselves through the doors into Hollingsworth Hall. Kenshin carries his suitcase, backpack slung over one shoulder, and Katsura has the much easier job of bringing up the bedding. By this point, most students are on their second or third trip up, but he had less stuff than most people. That's the thing about assassins: they learn to travel light.

Unfortunately college students don't and this isn't something he's thought of yet.

The two of them are quiet as they walk, Kenshin too annoyed, wrapped up in his own thoughts, and Katsura thinking who knows what. Hopefully his roommate isn't going to be a disaster because he isn't in the mood for any problems or drama. All he wants to lay low for a while, complete a job if called, and at least make it seem like he has his head on straight. There's a minor issues with that, though, as his definition of staying sane isn't like Katsura's or the psychiatrist or any of his other coworkers and higher ups who don't understand that what he does doesn't really matter.

The door to suite 221 is open when they arrive, as well as the doors to the two rooms inside. His is the one on the left and his roommate is already in there, talking to what looks like an older brother while his mom helps him make the bed. The way the kid stands makes Kenshin think this will be the last time those sheets actually look at that.

As he lowers his stuff onto the bed, his roommate's brother notices him. "Hey!" he says, face lighting up at the side of him and Kenshin doesn't know how to deal with happy. "So you're the one who has to put up with this idiot all year?"

Oh, great. That sounds promising. "Uh, yeah," he answers. "I'm Kenshin Himura. This is my—uncle, Katsura."

"Sanosuke Sagara," says his roommate. "This is my mom and my brother Sozo."

If Katsura feels him tense from where he stands next to him, he doesn't let on. "Nice to meet you," he says, followed by an echo of everyone else.

"I'm Chiyo," says Sanosuke's mom, hurrying around her boys to shake their hands. Meeting people like this is not one of Kenshin's strong points. Actually, very, very few things are now that he thinks about it. "Sozo and I were about to head out, but I'm so glad I got to meet you first."

"You too?" he says, and it sounds like a question. As the woman turns back around to smother her son in an overpowering hug, he says to Katsura, "Don't you have to leave too?"

"Yeah, I probably should," answers his boss. "Sorry I couldn't stay any longer."

"It's fine."

"Call me if you need anything."

"Okay."

In actuality, not having to enter a building filled with rushing families by himself was an unexpected relief, but he isn't planning on letting Katsura know that any time soon.

The five of them all exchange a very awkward goodbye, ending with Sozo giving him a warning about Sanosuke being a brat as he leaves. Katsura leaves too, no touchy-feely things involved because this isn't an infiltration (though just in general, Kenshin doing one was rare) so there wasn't the need for any carefully crafted parts to play. After door swings shut behind Chiyo, the two boys are left alone.

Then there's a moment of loss because Kenshin doesn't know what to do. The last person his own age he'd communicated with was—well, that was a different situation. He shoves it quick to the back of his mind but doesn't have long to dwell on it because Sanosuke asks, "So, you like X-Box?"

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Review if you like please! And if you want a pairing. Sorry this chapter is kind of slow.