Memories
Three months later.
The scent of fresh summer was prominent in all of Edo. It was a beautiful sunny morning. A typical day when the birds are chirping melodies as enchanting as sonnets, the streams are glittering beautifully under the warm sun, and the people are celebrating this wonderful and peaceful day. They went on their daily lives: vendors can be found in the market, arguing with fishermen; a chime-seller carrying a wooden cart, its accessories chiming with the wind; construction workers lazily renovate a burnt building in the center of the city this early morning, as passerby come and go.
The fire was crackling gently, as the woods burned. On the floor lay hand-made clay pots, a paintbrush, bottles of paint, and a copy of the latest newspaper. Adjacent to the fireplace was a handsome heavily-built man, with long black hair that was tied in a ponytail, who sat on a wooden stool. He was staring blankly at the fire. He wore a white cape with red lining. This cape has its own interesting history. It had been passed from one successor to another of the Hiten Mitsurugi style. The man stared down at the newspaper. His brow frowned at the headline: 'Battousai the Manslayer – Fact or Fiction?' He chortled nauseatingly and read the lead, which was printed in bold letters:
'After the destructive incidence that burned Edo, people are now beginning to talk about a mysterious assassin who worked for the Choshu Clan named Battousai the Manslayer, whose popularity grew after the bloody fight at the Murasaki ship in Edo bay, last January 18, wherein warriors of the Shogunate and the Choshu Clan had clashed swords, killing thousands of men, half of which, according to some respondents, were killed by no other than Battousai the Manslayer.'
He couldn't read further, for he himself taught this Battousai the Manslayer how to handle a sword. However, his ungrateful student left him to "protect the weak and be their savior". He thought, had Battousai not left, and mastered the Hiten Mitsurugi Technique, the latter would be the one wearing the cape right now and would not be the topic of trivia in a newspaper. To the rest of the people in Japan, Battousai was somewhat a legend. To him, Battousai was just an idiot. This man is Hiko Sojiro. There was not outline of oldness in his face, although he was reaching his forties. He took his jug of saki and guzzled it like an overgrown infant drinking milk. Hiko's undying passion is saki, and drinks it everyday as if an ordinary person drinking water. Finally being contented and feeling a little dizzy, he set the jug aside.
"…foolish student…" he muttered. His voice was very deep and manly.
"But sir, people are dying in front of me!" a young boy's voice echoed in his head.
"You said the principle of our style is to protect people! I want to use that principle! I want to save those who can't save themselves! I… I want to be their savior!"
"You naïve little pup!" he heard his won manly voice say. "The rule in this world is not as simple as that. Like other people, in order to save you, I had to kill others!"
Hiko couldn't help grinning broadly of this memory. He looked down at the headline once more: 'Battousai the Manslayer – Fact or Fiction?' and smiled more widely, for he alone knew Battousai than any one else.
"You haven't changed," he told the newspaper. He was used to talking to himself, having lived alone for many years now.
The sun was illuminating the meadows of Edo as it leaves westward. Two men were walking under the red heavens, their footsteps rustling with the swaying grass. The other man was a blacksmith, whose name is Shaku.
"All sorts of rumors were being written and spoken about you these days – in papers, in the streets – everywhere. Your physical features are also becoming famous – the red hair, the cross-shaped scar…" he told his companion. "For a man your age, your popularity became well known rapidly ever since you had disappeared from the war."
"I know. I've been hearing stories lately," his companion answered after a while. "It's really absurd that the government is making me some kind of mascot for the restoration."
The blacksmith stared at the young man, whose vivid red hair blazed in the sunset.
"Why did you leave all of a sudden anyway?" Shaku asked. "The government could've had many uses for you in promoting order."
"I have no intentions of going way beyond my principles. I also want to forget the awful things that I have done. I want to let go of the prospect of being a manslayer."
"Battousai," Shaku answered. "If you do that, your reputation as a great warrior will disappear."
"So be it," Battousai answered. "To tell you the truth, I don't care much about it anymore. What I care about now is how to help the weak. To amend for the many lives I took and to honor the men I fought in this era, I will help those who are weak without the aid of a sword."
Shaku stopped in his tracks and fumbled in his belongings.
"Himura," he said.
The young man faced him.
"If your intention is to protect the weak, then take this -" he threw a katana at Battousai, who had caught it hesitantly.
"That sword is my best work yet," Shaku said. "The Sakabatou: A sword that cannot kill."
Battousai pulled out the Sakabatou, and saw that its blade was reversed.
Shaku spoke, "Although you had found peace in yourself, you will soon find out that the rest of the world is not ready for that word. You said that you had vowed never to kill again. Hence, this sword will not take a life for you. It will protect people you want to protect – as you had said earlier, your atonement. And if ever the time comes that this blade fails to protect anymore, come to me and I will freely make you another one."
Battousai sheathed the reversed-edge sword, and looked at Shaku.
"I thought you said you will never again make another sword in your life because you felt guilty that many of your swords left Japan in puddles of blood?"
"Yes," Shaku answered. Battousai noticed bitterness in the blacksmith's voice. "This sword is my atonement as well."
The grass rustled behind Shaku as he bade farewell to Battousai, whose respect for the man increased as they parted. He watched as Shaku walked away until the man disappeared from view, with the sword that protects clutched in his palm.
Hiko Sojiro awoke the next day, very early in the morning just the way he likes it, thank you very much. The sun was still rising in the east as he went out to gather woods. He could hear the crowning of the rooster as he walked in the woods, and suddenly remembered that there was a small cemetery as few walks from here. This was where Hiko first met his "foolish student", when the latter was only ten years old, after the incidence that night before. Hiko managed to gather as many woods as he can. He turned to leave, when all of a sudden; a strong desire crept in his chest to visit the cemetery. Yes, a little reminiscing of his "baka deshne" or "foolish student" would be nice.
When Hiko had reached the clearing, he saw a familiar sight in his mind. He remembered it as if it was yesterday: a young boy stood among these burial stones, staring at his dead friends. He, Hiko, pitied the boy and went over to him.
"Boy, are those you family?" he heard his own voice ask.
"No sir," the boy's tender voice replied. "These are my friends. My dearest friends."
Hiko unplugged his jar of saki and poured the liquor on the gravestones.
"I will honor them by sharing my favorite saki," he said. "No one would want to go to Nirvana without it."
He emptied the jar and asked the boy, "What is your name?"
"Shinta, sir."
"That name is too soft for a boy who has had a brutal life. From now on, your name will be Kenshin. Himura Kenshin."
The boy looked up at Hiko and boarded his eyes at the man. "Himura? Kenshin…"
"I will personally train you. I will teach you the principles of the Hiten Mitsurugi Style. You will be stronger. And I, from now on, will be your teacher."
Hiko smiled after hearing these echoes in his head. He walked over to the same spot where he had met the so-called Battousai the Manslayer years ago. When he stood there, however, he was intrigued by a new figure that was placed along with the three gravestones. He wasn't sure if his "stupid student" would bury another special friend there, but behind the three old gravestones, he saw a magnificent purple scarf tied in a tight knot to a wooden cross. He noticed that there was no lump on the ground. He came to a realization that this symbol stood for a precious memory. Looking up at the heavens, he saw that the clouds this early morn displayed the same shades from that afternoon.
Basically, this is just a teaser, whether I should continue with the fanfic about Battousai and Tomoe. i decided to start the ctory with Hiko and the Battousai's legend in the background. Please give me your reviews.