Disclaimer: About all I own of Rurouni Kenshin is my growing collection of merchandise. Those who hold the rights to it are making money off ME, not the other way around.
Opening notes: I don't know what came over me. Last night, while reading
some fics, this idea smacked me upside the head. Maybe a craving to do
a more serious and introspective RK piece than shameless plug> Twisted
Paradise, but something without the same Seissouhen-induced angst of
Fallen.
end shameless plug> So, I present you this. Reviews are appreciated,
flames will be MSTed without mercy.
For such a nice, sunny spring day, the dojo was awfully
quiet. It was amusing the difference in the noise level when the others
were out somewhere. To the best of my knowledge, Sanosuke was probably
sleeping off a hangover at his place. Yahiko was helping Tae at the Akabeko,
and Kaoru-dono was off giving a guest lesson at a dojo across town, leaving
me to take care of the chores and babysit Genzai-sensei's two granddaughters,
as he and Megumi-dono were particularly busy at the clinic that morning.
Ayame-chan and Suzume-chan had fallen asleep, so
I went about the chores that had become so familiar since I had become
a resident of the Kamiya dojo. Despite how 'feminine' a task it was, I
found I particularly enjoyed doing the laundry. True, in a symbolic sense,
it was refreshing to get dirt and stains out of something as absorbent
and fragile as cloth, but I admit, it was also satisfying to be able to
see and handle Kaoru-dono's undergarments without repercussion. After ten
years of wandering, I suppose I had come to understand what an old man
I had met shortly after I began my journey had said about laundry and perverseness.
'At your age it's weird, at my age, it's a hobby.' It was as close as I
could come to being intimate with Kaoru-dono, and I had long ago stopped
caring if other people thought I was strange.
I leaned back and contemplated the clear sky overhead
after getting a particularly nasty stain out of one of Kaoru's kimono.
(I tried not to think too much about the source of the stain, as that would
lead to other thoughts I don't dare entertain.) I heard footsteps behind
me, and was interrupted from my thoughts by a pair of small hands obscuring
my vision.
"Guess who!" Ayame's voice giggled from behind me.
Even though I had heard her coming well in advance, I played along with
the little girl's game, waving my arms about as if trying to locate the
source of my temporary blindness.
"Oro! Sessha can't see anything de gozaru yo!" I
smiled to myself at Ayame's subsequent laugh. "Ayame-chan, is that you
de gozaru ka? Sessha thought you were napping-ORO!"
Ayame had released her hold on me in favor of suddenly
pouncing me and my nearly getting a face full of dirty washwater. The little
girl beamed up at me happily. "Ken-ni! I've got a question!"
"Oro?"
I was prepared to answer any number of questions
that a child Ayame's age would likely ask- anything from why the grass
was green to where babies come from. (Though the latter would have been
accompanied by an 'oro' suitable for the situation.) I was not prepared
for the question I least expected to hear from the child.
"I overheard some people in the clinic talking about
'the old days', and they talked a lot about somebody they called-" Ayame
frowned, taking extra care to recite the unfamiliar word properly. "-Battousai."
I froze, stunned as dense as I often acted. Ayame,
not noticing my sudden tension, turned inquisitive eyes on me. "Ken-ni,
do you know anything about it?"
My heart sank at the innocent question. Ayame was
obviously too young still to comprehend the bloody past that gave rise
to the relatively peaceful era she knew, but she was also curious enough,
as I've found is typical of children her age, to ask.
I considered my options. I could tell from the look
on the little girl's face that she had since picked up on my hesitation,
and from that, she could easily guess that I did in fact know something.
If I tried to change the subject, she would most likely pursue it that
much more diligently. I couldn't bring myself to lie about the situation,
either. As much as I may regret my actions in the past, I would never allow
myself the luxury of denying that it had happened. Besides, no matter how
much I could try to deny it, the undeniable proof was forever etched into
the two scars on my face.
"... Ken-ni?" Ayame waits for me to answer her.
Taking a deep breath, I finally respond, ending my contemplation of the
events leading up to this entire conversation.
"Hai... sessha... knows about Battousai de gozaru."
"Really?" Ayame beams at her success so far. "Did
you know him?"
Ouch. How does somebody respond to that one? Do
I know him? It would be hard for me to NOT know the hitokiri Battousai,
or the madness and the bloodshed that went with the title. But again, Ayame
is still too young, too innocent to know about the bloody past from before
she was born.
I slowly nod, silently hoping that Ayame's curiosity
will be satisfied and that she'll let the subject be, rather than continue
to ask uneasy questions.
Still smiling up at me, she sits in my lap, effectively
indicating she isn't going to be done any time soon. "What was he like?"
This has got to be some sort of trial of atonement,
I note dryly to myself, before considering the question. The answer ought
to be easy. As the Battousai, I was antisocial, reclusive, paranoid, and
ruthlessly efficient in carrying out the bloody work that was driving me
rapidly to the brink of insanity. But I can hardly tell this optimistic
child that. Thinking about it more thoroughly, I also realize that while
it was certainly the truth, it wasn't the whole truth. I subjected myself
to what I did voluntarily, partly out of ignorance, partly out of youthful
idealism that I could make things better, no matter what the cost. Even
in the darkest of the times, I still honestly believed that what I was
doing would make a difference. It wasn't until after Tomoe that I began
to realize there had to be another way, that I had been amazingly immature,
and cowardly, hiding behind the belief that all the murder was for the
greater good. After she died... after I killed her, I finally began to
grow up.
I carefully select the words I'm going to use to
answer. "Battousai was..." I swear, that name will always taste sour. "...
well..." So much for all my careful wording. "He made a lot of mistakes
and did a lot of nasty things that he ended up regretting, and he hurt
a lot of people."
"So he was a bad person?" Ayame asks, and I cringe
mentally.
"No... he meant to do good things, he wanted to
help people, but he was misguided, and messed up pretty badly. He wasn't
much older than Yahiko is." I stare out at nothing in particular. Fifteen
was an awfully young age to have gained the reputation of a merciless assassin.
Ayame is quiet for a moment, and I briefly hope
that's the end of the discussion.
"Then why didn't he get in trouble with his 'kaasan
and 'tousan?" Ayame asks, and I frown slightly at the faded memories her
question dredges up. I only distantly remember my parents, their names
lost to my memory. Otousan, what little I remember of him, was a man of
modest stature and was harsh, but fair, virtually the polar opposite of
the man who later became almost a surrogate father to me, my shishou, Hiko
Seijiro the thirteenth. Okaasan... I remember her a little more clearly
than I do my otousan. She was gentle and kind, and I can still remember,
however faintly, that I got most of my appearance from her and not Otousan.
It was from her side of the family that I inherited my decidedly non-Japanese
red hair and violet eyes, both a blessing and a curse. While several women
thought it was attractive (and admittedly, I used to be rather proud of
my looks), after the Bakumatsu, such distinctive features made it difficult
to blend in to the general populace, when I didn't want to be found.
Remembering Ayame and the situation at hand, I force
myself to pay attention. It wouldn't do to space out when I'm the only
one here with Genzai-sensei's granddaughters. "Ayame-chan... he lost his
okaasan and otousan when he was very young, and he had a fight with the
man who raised him afterward, and left." I say quietly.
Ayame blinks in momentary confusion before she realizes
what I meant. "Oh..." She cuddles up against my chest, her head against
my shoulder. "I lost my 'kaasan and 'tousan too." She sniffles, and I wrap
an arm around her. I can't honestly remember if I shed any tears at all
when my parents died of cholera. Even at such a young age, my life was
surrounded by death. First my parents and other villagers from disease,
and shortly thereafter, the slavers... and the three women who saved my
life, or at least kept me from getting myself killed until shishou showed
up and killed the bandits that had attacked and killed the slavers.
Ayame sniffles a few more times before wiping her
eyes and, apparently recovering from her momentary sadness, fixated as
only a child could be, returns her attention to the subject of her curiosity.
"Ne, Ken-ni, you know a lot about him, but you didn't tell me yet what
he was like!" She shifts her position to glare up at me, and I wince and
utter a tiny 'oro!', since the little girl isn't terribly mindful of where
she puts her feet. While I recover from the glancing blow, she continues.
"You told me about him, but not what he was like." She adds,
stressing the all-important difference. "Was he nice?"
My eyes widen at the question. Of all the things
people have guessed or assumed about myself, about the Battousai being
a cold-hearted, ruthless, wicked, bloodthirsty killer, I can't readily
think of any time when 'nice' was among those adjectives. "Aa..." Twice
in under an hour she's stunned me speechless! Actually, I don't know WHAT
to say. I've always thought of myself as being generally a nice person,
with the obvious exception being my role as the Ishinshishi hitokiri, but
here I am being asked if, as the hitokiri, I was 'nice', and I honestly
don't know how I can answer that. I was young, stubborn, and admittedly
cold and rude to several people in order to protect myself and hide my
insecurities, but then again, there was the old woman at the inn who I
would assist with the chores, much like I do now for Kaoru. And there was
Tomoe. My heart still breaks at the memory, of the happiness she and I
had together, and the happiness I tore from her, though unintentionally.
Would someone who was 'nice' do something so terrible?
"I... don't really know, Ayame-chan." I finally
admit after a long silence, one hand straying to feel the rough scars on
my left cheek absently. It occurs to me that, in the seriousness of my
thoughts, I'd dropped the polite, although quirky, speech habits that had
become part of my 'goofy rurouni' routine. At least it seems Ayame hasn't
picked up on the subtle significance of it. If Kaoru was there, I'm certain
she would have noticed the lack of 'sessha' or 'de gozaru' in my speech,
and been all over me trying to find out if something was wrong. It's truly
endearing the way Kaoru gives her trust and concern so freely, and that's
part of what drew me to her, though I don't dare admit my feelings for
her. I don't want to endanger her more than I already have, and... I'm
deathly afraid that if I got closer to her than I am now... that she would
end up hurt or even dead because of me. Just like Tomoe.
Ayame and I sit in thoughtful silence for a few
moments before she suddenly gets to her feet and faces me. She regards
me with her young, innocent eyes and a happy smile, and reaches over, her
small hand softly patting me on the left cheek. "I think Ken-ni is the
nicest ever!" She declares, hugging me before running over to the porch,
where a sleepy-eyed Suzume had just emerged. I blink in momentary confusion
and stare after the little girl, at a loss. Did she really understand what
I had told her, or had she just simply grown bored of the subject?
I resume doing the laundry, this time with an attentive
audience, and think about what happened. While it had been awkward and
painful at first to discuss the subject of my former self, I feel surprisingly
content for having done it. Perhaps it's just the simple fact that, even
if only to a child, that I was able to get some of my past off my chest.
Or perhaps it's simply the innocent acceptance and forgiveness of a child
for the mistakes of the past.
Some time later, I hear Kaoru's familiar footsteps
approaching the gate, and hurry to start preparing the bath, since after
a long day teaching, she's probably going to want one.
"Kenshin! I'm back!" She calls out. I peer around
the clothes hanging to dry and smile.
"Sessha has already prepared the bath de gozaru."
I inform her from around the hanging garments. She smiles warmly and heads
for the bathhouse.
"Arigatou, Kenshin."
Author's notes: Wow, this took awhile to write o_o Would you guys believe
that I started writing this at about 10 am this morning, and here it is
2 am! That's 16 hours straight! After reading a short piece last night
involving Kenshin and the chibis, the idea for this hit me and wouldn't
let me sleep. For those who are wondering about the 'At your age it's weird,
at my age, it's a hobby', I kinda sorta filched that from Gochan's "Rurouni's
Guide to Idiocy". Getting inside Kenshin's head and thought processes is
surprisingly difficult (and may explain why I've seen so very few Kenshin
POV fics), but I think I did a decent job of it.
I've come to have a certain degree of amazed respect
for just how truly perceptive and comprehending young children can be,
which also helped fuel this story. Contrary to what a lot of people I know
seem to think, children have often proven to possess a degree of understanding
and compassion that most adults could never dream of. (One particular case
being my own 6 year old cousin and the surprising degree of understanding
he showed concerning events nearly a year ago.)
If you want to try and fit this into the series
continuity, I'd place it shortly after Megumi is rescued from the Oniwabanshu
and before the beginning of the Kyoto arc. *puffs up with pride* I don't
know what anyone else thinks, but I think this little one-shot is probably
one of the better fics I've written thus far, and I hope you enjoyed it.
Please be kind and review. I'd really like to know if this fic came out
as good as I think it did, or if it's really a piece of junk. ^^;
Japanese terms used in this fic:
'sessha'= a very humble form of 'I', and generally how Kenshin refers
to himself.
'de gozaru (yo!/ka?)'- Slightly archaic bit of Japanese, generally
translated as 'that it is', 'that you should', etc. 'yo!' indicates it's
an exclamation, while 'ka' indicates a question. (If I botched that, feel
free to lemme know.)
'oro'- Any fan of RK ought to recognize this as Kenshin's cute little
catch phrase.
Okaasan/'kaasan= mother, mommy, etc.
Otousan/'tousan= father, daddy, etc.
'Ken-ni' (also seen in the anime as 'Ken-niichan')- Ayame and Suzume's
nickname for Kenshin.
'hitokiri'= basically an assassin. Translated in the DVDs as 'manslayer'
'Battousai'= Kenshin's nickname from his time as an assassin.
'rurouni'= wanderer, vagabond, etc.
'Bakumatsu'= the revolution that led to the Meiji era, in which Kenshin
participated.
'Ishinshishi'= Imperialists, basically the guys Kenshin fought for
during he Meiji Restoration.
