Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin does not and never will belong to me. Alas.
AN: I've never written this sort of story before… Please tell me what you think.
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Chapter One
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Twilight.
The edges of the world were hazing up, glowing gold as the shadows faded. Peach chased grey, followed by amber making way for the brilliant red glow of the rising sun. It slid over the horizon, staining the sea and spreading. The time it took for the light to hit the city could be measured in seconds; it lit up like a beacon on the crest of the mountain, a beacon of glass and steel.
Quietly he jumped down from his perch. It looked like everything it promised to be: Utopia.
Down here was a different story altogether; the road was little more than a dirt track, cracked lumps of asphalt littering the grey dust that settled on anything that stayed still long enough. There were people everywhere, so dirty they could be mistaken for lumps of asphalt themselves. Huddled in groups or scattered alone, there were hundreds of figures; those awake eyed him warily and those sleeping woke in alarm, sitting up and staring terrified at the red band of light, creeping simultaneously down the mountain to their west and across the sea to their east.
He picked his way along the path that led up to the city, smiling pleasantly at any of the refugees that allowed themselves to meet his eyes (there weren't many). The further he got the closer they became, their blankets and backpacks being replaced with small shanty style huts that leant against each other like aged friends. There was the gentle hum of voices that grew progressively louder as he neared what was known as the Walls.
As he paused a small hand tugged on his sleeve and he turned to see a little girl with wide green eyes offering a small portion of rice. He smiled and handed over a crumpled note in exchange for a steaming bowl.
He watched her silently as she bowed in thanks before dashing off into the crowd. He knew the money wasn't for her, only hoped that whoever she had to give it to would keep her safe in exchange for her labour. Child slaves were not unheard of in the shadow planes below the city, in another life he'd have tried to save them all.
He ate a few mouthfuls of the food she'd sold him before passing the bowl to an elderly woman huddled in the gutter. She rasped out her thanks with a toothless grin, blessing him in the name of more gods than he'd have imagined existed.
"You're going to the Walls."
The voice took him by surprise, he spun round, hand on the hilt of his sword.
There was no one there.
The voice snorted.
"I doubt she'd be thanking you if she knew the papers you had on you. She'd be clawing your eyes out trying to get them off of you, her and the rest of the planes."
He looked down. A pair of angry brown eyes looked back.
"You've got a passport and if you want to keep that quiet you're going to call me your son."
"Excuse me?" He finally found his voice. The boy stared back at him defiantly.
"I want in. And if I'm your son then they'll let me."
"What?"
"Not too bright are you?"
"Are you trying to blackmail me?"
"I'm not trying, I'm succeeding. You just need to get me past the gates, then you'll never see me again."
He hadn't seen such a confident child since the days before the war, when he'd been one himself. His feet firmly planted apart the boy stared him down, large brown eyes narrowed to slits.
Lowering his voice he squatted down in front of the boy, "How would you know what papers I'm carrying?"
The boy glared back, "I was sent here to steal them."
Quickly he concentrated on the inner pocket of his coat; they were still there, heavy paper weighing against the light material of his shirt.
"And who would you be stealing them for?"
The boy's eyes widened in alarm, "No one important. But you have to take me with you."
He'd tried to sound commanding but undertones of desperation weren't missed by the wanderer crouched before him. This was a boy unaccustomed to asking for help.
"If I get you past the Walls where will you go?" The man's voice was quiet.
"I'll find somewhere."
"And how will you do that. You look and smell like someone who's lived out here all your life. They won't trust you."
The boy bristled, "I don't smell any worse than you!"
He just looked, taking in the spiky hair and grubby cheeks of the child in front of him. He raised an eyebrow.
The boy's shoulders' slumped, "I- I. You're the first person to come through here with papers for years. My boss talked like he knew who you were, and like you could get anything you wanted once you got into the city. He said that if he got your papers he could be a king in Utopia. I just thought…. that maybe if they thought I was your son they'd… let me out of this place."
There was a long moment where the crouched wanderer stared at him with blazing amber eyes; the boy wasn't sure what he saw there but after a second or two the intensity lessened. "Did your boss tell you who he thought I was?"
The boy shook his head and the man's eyes softened back to purple.
"What is your name?"
The boy looked back up in surprise, "Yahiko."
"Do you have a family, Yahiko?"
"No."
"Have you always lived here?"
"For as long as I can remember."
He stood up, regarding the child thoughtfully. "And you really want to enter Utopia?"
"Doesn't everyone?"
The man smiled, eyes crinkling at the edges, "Then you will follow me and tell the officers your name is Himura."
"Are you serious?" The boy's face lit up with a delighted smile.
"That I am."
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Rising out of the dust and bodies was a massive sheet of rock; ranging from dull grey to obsidian black it climbed vertically upwards to where it plateaued, hundreds of meters above the plane. That great cliff was what set Utopia above the rest of the world; they called it the Walls. At its base there were rows upon rows of trenches, backed with barbed wire and marked with snipers placed at intervals along the cliff. Many people had died trying to cross that thin stretch of land, and those that had reached the other side found themselves faced with an impossible climb, one which no one had, nor ever would, complete. There was only one door in the Walls, and that was guarded by legions of gunmen; you only gained entry with a passport and passports were only issued within the city. Refugees flocked to it in their thousands, hundreds more appearing every night, it was the one beacon in a dying world, but no one gained entry.
Yahiko kept walking, steered by the iron grip the strange wanderer had on his shoulder. He was beginning to panic. No one got through that gate. For ten years he'd not heard of a single person making it across those trenches alive, though countless people tried it, and here he was, being pushed right up to the Walls by a stranger who might not even have a passport. It wouldn't be the first time his boss had been wrong, and it certainly would be the first time someone not on the list got through that door. Only twenty people a year were allowed into Utopia officially, and they were chosen by lot from a list that every one in the sprawling camp had put their names on. Yahiko had been on the list since he'd been able to write, but he'd learnt to stop hoping that next year it would be him.
"Are you sure this will work?" He muttered tensely, as the man behind him smiled at a giant brute of a man crossing their path.
"It was your idea."
Yahiko felt himself break into a nervous sweat.
The crowd grew heavier as they neared the cliffs; hundreds of people pressed against chain-mesh fencing that separated the planes from the trenches. They were screaming like animals, begging for food, water, clothes. At a distance behind the fence uniformed guards paced with huge dogs at their heals, jeering out of range at the filthy mob before them.
"Please, sir, some charity, for my daughter, she is very sick."
Yahiko recoiled as a young woman clutched at the wanderer's arm, pointing at her pale baby, rapped in rags. The man's purple eyes shone sadly but he kept walking, pressing on through the crowd until Yahiko could no longer even see the path, only the legs and feet of many shouting bodies.
"Could you please point me to the gate?" he heard the man's voice above him, and after a quick response from another male he found himself being steered further into the mass of people.
Suddenly the legs cleared and he was pressing his fingers against the cool metal of the gate that led to the trenches. He'd seen it a number of times in his short lifetime but never close enough to touch, his eyes hungrily took in the paved road that began past the gate, leading past wire and trenches to a great iron door set in the rock: the gates of the Walls. He felt the air leave his lungs and his breathing quickened as the thought struck him that he might actually be going through, he might actually get to see the other side.
He'd grown up here an orphan, living off of the pity and charity of others, but no one reached their teens a free person on the planes. Almost two years ago he'd been recruited into one of the many gangs that made up the strange governing network of the camps. There were no official leaders or law enforcers down here because each and every person, on some level, still believed they'd make it to the city sooner or later – it was what they'd journeyed, some of them thousands of miles, in the hopes of - and even decades later they refused to give up that hope. There should have been anarchy, and by all accounts at first there had been, but soon enough people broke into groups and those groups fell out and for as long as Yahiko could remember gang scuffles were what shaped the order of the refugee camp.
He'd been used mostly as a pickpocket, lifting money or more often drugs (worth more than their weight in gold) from members of rival factions. He had few friends his own age, the gang he'd fallen into kept him pretty isolated out of paranoia that he'd heard too much. They fed him, clothed him and let him sleep under a roof with armed men about for protection, and at times he was grateful because without that he'd have died ten times over, but at the same time he couldn't help but wish himself somewhere else, up in the city his whole world dreamed of. When his boss had told him to follow this new wanderer he'd not told him it was passports he was lifting, that Yahiko had heard later as the boss boasted to follower over a stolen bottle of whiskey. It had been the perfect opportunity, happening so quickly he'd barely allowed himself to hope that it might work, but now here he was, standing at the gate to the Walls, waiting for it to open.
Eyes wide he turned to look at his wanderer, who was beckoning to a guard and reaching into his coat. Around him the entire crowd stilled.
You could hear a pin drop by the time the guard reached the fence, every step of his hobnailed boots echoing in the stunned silence behind Yahiko.
"You have passports." The guard said simply, taking the papers from him. A frown creased his features as his fingers brushed his ear and he began talking to someone else. "There's a man here, short, red hair, goes by the name of Himura. I'm holding his papers and they look genuine."
There was a pause as the guard stared at Himura.
"Yes, there's a scar on his cheek. And he's got a boy with him. Says it's his cousin."
There was another pause and the guard's eyes widened; he stepped away from Himura quickly, as though scared, before sinking into a low bow.
"The General will be here shortly," he said simply before barking orders at the surrounding guards.
The following minutes passed quickly for Yahiko, there was gunfire, but as far as he could tell no one was hit; when the gates opened to admit him and the wanderer there was a massive surge of bodies as others fought to follow them, the noise of their shouts was deafening but no one got through – it was as though there was an invisible force field separating them from the other side of the gate.
He found himself in a dingy office hidden in one of the trenches. Himura settled himself down in one of the chairs and waited politely, seeming perfectly happy in the awkward silence caused by the guards' apparent discomfort with his presence. Yahiko didn't dare speak in case they saw him for what he was, a shadow brat, a child from the planes.
Minutes passed and Yahiko was beginning to fidget when the sound of hobnail boots could be heard on the concrete outside. He held his breath as the sound moved closer. Himura stood up.
The door swung open to reveal a tall man with greying hair and an impressive military uniform, he was clearly the General but to Yahiko's great surprise he saluted to Himura as you would to a senior officer.
"We'd almost given up on you."
"General."
Stepping into the room the General smiled. "You've been away for a long time."
"That I have," Himura replied with a matching smile.
"If you'd just come with me," the older man asked, gesturing to a door on the opposite wall, "There are many things I need to discuss with you," at an afterthought he added, "The boy will stay here,"
Himura nodded, sending a small smile at Yahiko before following the General out of the room.
With a slight sigh Yahiko sunk back into his chair, watching the guards relax in the absence of the two other men. He wondered what Himura had done to gain respect from such an imposing man as the General. He wasn't much to look at, not very tall and dressed in patched, travel-frayed clothes. He carried a sword on his belt, admittedly strange in their current age of bombs and guns, but Yahiko had seen stranger weapons on the streets of the camp, and he had no doubt it would be effective if you ever needed to defend yourself quickly. His bland smile didn't suggest any hidden dangers, though perhaps that scar on his cheek was a relic from some violent past? He didn't seem old enough to have lived through the war, but Yahiko had been told that people aged faster in the shadow camps, perhaps his wanderings had led him to age slower?
A little bored of his fruitless musings he turned his head towards the closed inner-door, wondering if he'd be able to hear their conversation.
The muffled sound of the General's voice met his ears, "You've finally returned to join us."
Yahiko grinned, shifting to hear Himura's quieter response, "I'm not here to join anyone."
"But with your skills, your power-"
"I am but a wanderer, General. I go where my path takes me."
That didn't seem to be the answer he was looking for, the General impatiently started again, "But-"
"I switched my blade many years ago and when I swore I wouldn't kill another soul I meant it."
Yahiko's eyes widened, so he had killed. Interesting.
"Every day we must deal with new rebellions from the mob out there. We need you-"
Irritation began to seep through the polite tone of Himura's voice. "Perhaps if you fed them once in a while and let them live a little of the dream their parents died for, they'd feel less rebellious."
The General sighed, "You've been away for a long time, Battousai."
There was a tense pause behind the door. Yahiko stopped breathing.
Battousai?
THE Battousai?
"You know I no longer use that name," came the terse response.
Himura Battosai?
The legendary manslayer who could dodge bullets, counter guns with a blade? The man who carved Utopia out of international warfare with the bare edge of a sword?
Battousai the manslayer, the only reason the war ever ended?
"Himura Kenshin," he amended himself, "You've been away for a long time."
Suddenly it started to make sense, the fear on the guards' faces, the reverence of the General, the sword, the scar on his cheek – so similar to the scars men in Yahiko's gang would carve into their own cheeks as a sign of idolatry, loyalty, respect. This was the man behind the stories the old men in the camp would whisper after night fell. Hair dyed with the blood of his enemies, eyes like the fire army jets dropped on the old cities of the world. They said he killed without mercy, like a demon, and they said that in doing so he saved the world.
"That's your justification?"
"It was always going to be a problem, Himura, you knew that as well as I did. There's not room for all of them in Utopia. You can't smuggle them all in like that boy."
Yahiko's heart froze as he registered the General's reference to him.
Himura's response was tense and clipped, "The boy's under my protection now, General. And I'd appreciate it if you'd get him a passport. He will be staying with me until I find him a family."
"I'll do that for you, Himura, and I'll get you transport into the city. But please don't forget that we'll welcome you when you choose to return."
"I turned from that path a long time ago."
"I know that, but if you ever change your mind."
"I won't."
Before long there was the sound of chairs shifting and as their footsteps neared the door Yahiko schooled his face into something calmer than a mask of abject shock.
Battousai the manslayer ruffled his hair as he walked past. Yahiko barely managed not to gawk.
"When do we leave?" he heard the famed assassin ask.
"Immediately. Did you bring anything with you?"
Himura shook his head, turning to Yahiko, "Do you need anything?"
Eyes wide with barely disguised awe Yahiko mimicked his action. He had no real belongings of his own and as much as he'd love to tell the rest of his gang that not only was he entering Utopia, but doing so under Himura Battousai's protection, he was more eager just to leave the camp behind him. Grin spreading over his face he wondered what the planes looked like from the top of the Walls.
"What are you laughing at, boy?" questioned the General with a disapproving glance at the Battousai.
If possible Yahiko's grin widened, "I'm imagining how hard I'd have to spit to hit my old boss from the top of the Walls."
The older man's brow creased in surprise and behind him he heard the Battousai chuckle.
"An interesting companion you've found for yourself, Himura."
Stepping out into the sunlight Yahiko spared the wall of bodies behind the chain-mesh fence one final parting glance before trotting up to the massive iron doors after the two men. As the two men talked quietly about various people he didn't recognise the names of the Gate opened slowly and silently.
Heart racing he stepped into the clean white tunnel beyond them. It took a lot of self-control not to poke his tongue out over his shoulder; tonight he'd sleep in Utopia!
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AN: End of Chapter 1! Next instalment will hopefully be along as soon as my next exam's over, so expect Kaoru soon. But yeah, anyone reading? Tell me what you think!
If you've read it, please review it!