Hiko Gaiden Chapter 2: II: The Blood drenched past, a rurouni kenshin fanfic

Chapter II: The Blood-drenched past

XXX------------------------------------------------XXX-----------------------------------------------XXX-----------------------------------------------XXX------------------------------------------------XXX-----------------------------------------------XXX

It was a clear night. Countless stars glittered dimly in the dark sky. The crescent moon hovered forebodingly over the earth, like a reaper's sickle. It was a harbinger of times to come.

Underneath, all was quiet in the forest, save for the very centre, where a cluster of small fires lay amidst the darkness. Many small noises could be heard around them.

At the southernmost corner of the camp, a young boy sat against a tree, moaning slightly as he cradled his right arm. It hung limply in a sling, wrapped in bandages.

"Listen to you. You sound like a mule with all that moaning and groaning." He looked up to see another boy approach him from the direction of the campfires. This boy was slightly taller and broader, and was carried two large wooden bowls in his hands. A bow and quiver were slung over his back. "Here's dinner. I get the feeling all that whining was just an excuse to get a special dish, eh, Kojiro?." He handed him a bowl of plain rice and miso. "Too bad. It's just the usual."

"Shut up. It's no thanks to you." Kojiro shot back, receiving it in his left hand. "You're part of the reason I hurt it, remember?" Immediately, he regretted his harsh comment.

His companion's face fell. "I know. I'm sorry. I know it's my fault."

Kojiro reproached himself for his tactlessness. "Sorry, Kyouta. I shouldn't have blamed you. It's just that this damn arm hurts so much I can't even sleep properly. Puts me in a bad mood." Seeing his friend brighten up slightly, he tried to lighten the mood. "If only I had a body like yours. You're two years younger than me and you're already bigger than I am. What's your secret, Kyouta?"

At this Kyouta drew himself up and beamed proudly. "There's no secret. A few of us have it and most of us don't. I just happen to be one of the elite among men."

Kojiro snorted at his vanity. "The elite, huh? What does that make me?" And you're not a man.

"My underling. Just follow after me and I'll treat you nicely."

Their conversation was interrupted by a man's voice calling out behind them. "Takagi-san." Kyouta addressed him as he came closer, a little disrespectfully(it should have been 'sempai').

"Our tagalong kids look like they're having a good time." he observed cheerily. "How's it healing, Kojiro?"

Kojiro tried to move his arm out of its sling and winced. "Fine, I think. But it'll be a while before I can fight again. Sorry for being so careless, sempai."

"Don't be." He shook his head sadly. "You kids shouldn't even have to be part of this."

"It's our choice, Takagi-san." Kyouta replied sternly. "Speaking of which, have Akira-sempai and Kaneda-sempai come back yet?"

"No, the scouts aren't back yet." Takagi replied nonchalantly. "But there's nothing to worry about. There's no way the Shogunate will find our camp here in the middle of the forest."

"No, not unless someone told them where to find us." Kojiro said in agreement. At these words, Takagi tensed a little. Kyouta though he could feel unease coming from his posture.

Suddenly, they heard a commotion from the other end of the campsite. Looking at the source of the noise, they could see torches glowing in the distance.

"Why are they lighting so many torches at this time of the night?" Kyouta wondered aloud. "That could give away our position to the samurai!"

Takagi had an odd expression on his face. "Kids," he instructed them, "Don't move."

Both boys looked at him in confusion. "What's wrong, sempai?" asked Kojiro.

Takagi's eyes narrowed. "I think the Bakufu are here."

The boys gasped. Then they heard angry noises, and the next moment several tents burst into flames. The campsite was in total pandemonium. Kyouta could see people running blindly and could hear the clashing of blades and anguished yells everywhere.

Swiftly, Kyouta picked up his bow and quiver and Kojiro made a motion towards his axe. But Takagi stopped them. "Don't. Just stay here with me. I'll protect you."

Kyouta stared at him in shock. "But we can't just stand here and let everyone get slaughtered in their sleep!"

"If you enter the fray, you'll be killed before you even know it." Takagi snapped back. "And Kojiro's in no condition to fight." He peered at the nearing flames. "It's a good thing we're at the southern end of the camp."

Kyouta could only stare in disbelief. How could Takagi behave so coldly towards his comrades? Unless...

"Takagi-san," Kyouta began suspiciously, "You act like you knew all this was going to happen. Is there something you've been keeping from us?"

Takagi gazed at him uncomfortably. "You were always a pretty bright kid, Kyouta."

Kyouta opened his mouth angrily, but was interrupted by a cruel voice.

"Well, well. If isn't our little mole. In the flesh." They looked up to see several samurai in full body armour approaching them. The owner of the voice stood in the forefront. He appeared to be their leader. He wore a long silken jacket over his uniform. His face held a malevolent grin.

"Mikado-sama," Takagi addressed him, bowing as he approached. "I fulfilled my end of the deal. So please..."

Kojiro glanced between them with disbelief. Kyouta scowled. "So that's how it is. You're the one who told them where our camp was. You betrayed us, Takagi!" he spat venomously.

Takagi winced at the accusation. He gave the boys a pleading look. "I had no choice, boys. They would have hunted us down eventually. We had no hope of overthrowing the daimyo. And I still have a family to look after. You understand, don't you, Kojiro?" He extended a hand towards the wounded boy, who refused to meet his eyes. Kyouta quickly set an arrow into his bow and aimed it at him. "Don't you dare touch him, traitor!" he warned. Some of the samurai tensed.

Takagi stepped back. "I made a deal with them that would allow me to start over again." he continued. "And I pleaded with them to spare your lives as well. I promised you that I would protect you, didn't I?"

"Who cares?" Kyouta replied savagely. His hand continued holding the bow taut.

"As touching as this conversation may be," the leader sneered, "I do not like being ignored. You are not showing me the proper courtesy, peasant."

Immediately, Takagi turned to him in surprise and fear. He fell to his knees and bowed before the samurai. "I beg your pardon, my lord samurai." He gazed up desperately. "Please forgive the rudeness of this ignorant peasant and these two young boys. We will surrender peacefully-"

"Will not!" Kyouta roared.

"-Please grant us amnesty as was promi-Ungh!" Takagi cried out mid-sentence as a katana plunged into his chest.

"Takeda-sempai!" Kojiro yelled. Kyouta looked on in shock.

"You waste my time." The samurai leader drawled, as he watched Takeda gurgle on the ground. "Disrespecting a samurai by ignoring him and wasting his time; both are crimes punishable by death."

Takeda's stared at him, wide-eyed in shock. "Th-the promise-"

"What makes you think a daimyo would feel any obligation to fulfil a promise made to a filthy, low-born peasant?" he replied mockingly. "For opposing our lord you shall meet the same fate as the rest of this ragtag band of rebels. We need to set an example for the villagers after all."

"The children," The dying man gasped. He clutched the leader's feet. "At least spare the chil-" He was cut off mid-sentence as the samurai stabbed him in the neck. "We shall see."

He leered at the boys. "So what do you say we do about these whelps?" he asked one of his subordinates. "They could entertain the men with their squealing."

Kyouta placed himself in front of Kojiro protectively. He realised the implication: the samurai wanted to torture them to death for his own enjoyment.

The other samurai shrugged. "I don't know, sir. They don't look like they'd provide much sport. But we could sell them at the next slave market." he suggested.

"That's a good idea." Another agreed. "The big one looks like he could do some heavy labour when he grows up. He'll fetch a good price."

"But the other one is wounded. Doesn't look like he'd fetch much money. Keeping him alive would be a waste." Said a third samurai.

"You're right. I'll finish him off." The first samurai drew his sword and approached Kojiro menacingly. Suddenly, he was pierced through the eye by an arrow. He was dead before he hit the ground.

"Ishida!" The leader yelled in outrage. He shifted his gaze to Kyouta, who was pulling another arrow from his quiver. "To hell with the slave market." he said savagely, "Kenta, kill them both."

The second samurai drew his sword and rushed at Kyouta, swinging at him before he could loose his arrow. Kyouta cursed and blocked the attack with his bow, only to have it chopped in half. He retreated desperately, trying to avoid the man's swings. His bow was useless now, and his dagger lay within its holster inside his burning tent. He had always been agile depite his size, but that would not save him now. He unwittingly backed into a tree. Trapped.

"This is the end for you, pesky brat." The samurai taunted, raising his sword to cut him down.

"GAH!"

But before he could strike, an axe buried itself in his back. Kyouta watched him fall wordlessly to the ground. Behind him stood Kojiro, holding his axe in his left hand.

"Kojiro!"

"Looks like we're even now, Kyouta." The older boy said grimly. Then he turned around to face the other samurai.

The leader was apoplectic with rage. "Why are two kids giving us this much trouble? Kill them!"

"I'll show you what a kid can do, you Bakufu scum!" Kojiro said viciously. He turned to Kyouta one last time. "Run away, Kyouta." He pleaded. "You're pretty fast, and you've got a lot of stamina. They won't be able to catch you in their armour."

"NO!" Kyouta yelled. "Don't, Kojiro!"

Kojiro smiled sadly. "Take care of yourself, Kyouta. I won't be able to watch your back anymore." Then he turned around, and the next moment he was pierced by several swords. Kyouta watched in horror as the samurai hacked away at his body even as he lay on the ground.

Finally, the leader looked up at Kyouta with a satisfied smile. "Finally. Let's finish with you."

As he approached, Kyouta thought of running, but he could not bring himself to abandon his dead friend's side. The leader raised his bloodied sword high above him, his eyes glinting maliciously. Kyouta closed his eyes and braced himself for the killing blow.

But it never came.

"AAAAAHHH!"

Kyouta opened his eyes to see a severed hand lying at his feet, still clutching its sword. He looked up in surprise. A white-cloaked figure stood between him and the samurai. It appeared to be a man of average height and build.

"You bastard!" The samurai leader cried, cradling his bloody stump. "You'll pay for that! Who do you think you are? This land is ruled by our daimyo. Samurai from other prefectures have no right to interfere."

"I am no samurai." The man replied, in a voice that was gentle, yet stern. He calmly sheathed his sword, ignoring his peril and the drawn blades of his opponents.

The leader sneered. "A Ronin then. I suppose these commoners hired you to help with their pathetic rebellion? You took your sweet time to show up, so they can't have paid you much."

The man shook his head. "I have no relation whatsoever to either side of this petty conflict. However," here his voice rose. "I cannot tolerate needless bloodshed. You held an overwhelming advantage over these rebels, yet you showed them no mercy, even those that surrendered. And now you wish to slaughter children?"

"Don't lecture us on ethics, Ronin!" The leader retorted. "Any man who dares defy a samurai shall pay with his life. That is the code of Bushido that is law throughout the Shogunate. You should know that well. Now step aside and we may just spare your life. Or do you intend to continue opposing us?" He drew his wakizashi with his left hand.

"Believe me when I say that I mean you no hostility whatsoever," the man replied, "But I will not allow you to harm this boy."

The leader's face contorted in rage. "Then you shall die with him!" He lunged at the man with his wakizashi.

In a split second, the man crouched into an odd stance that Kyouta did not recognise, and it was over before he could blink. He did not even see the man drawing his sword; all he saw was an arc of reflected moonlight as his blade sliced through armour, flesh and bone. Blood splattered everywhere as the samurai's dismembered body crashed to the ground. His companions looked on in shock.

"Mikado-sama is dead!"

"He killed the captain!"

"Get him!"

Kyouta heard the angry murmur of the samurai as they moved forward to avenge their leader.

What he saw in the following moments would be burned into his memory for the rest of his life. With superhuman speed, the cloaked man moved through the ranks of the samurai, cutting them down with deadly swiftness. Kyouta shrank back against the tree in fear and shock. He was no stranger to death; having spent a year among the rebels, killing and watching people kill. But he had never seen anyone kill with such ease before. A sick feeling rose in his stomach.

"Who the hell are you?!" A samurai yelled in desperation, as he faced the man with his two remaining companions.

"Who am I?" The man paused briefly. "Since I am about to end your life, the least I could do for you is to give you the respect of knowing my name. I am Hiko-" He parried the first man's strike and slashed open his stomach, "Seijuro-" he decapitated the second, "the Twelfth." he finished, grabbing the last samurai and spearing him through the chest. "Carry that knowledge with you into the afterlife, so that you will know how to address me when we meet again."

When the last of his opponents had fallen to the ground, Hiko wiped the blood from his sword and peered upwards at the crescent moon. "These are dark times." he mused sadly. "Even the moon appears to look down mockingly on this diseased world. And yet," he looked around at the glittering stars, "when so much beauty surrounds us, even amidst this bloodshed, a man cannot wholly lose hope." Then he turned around, and Kyouta saw his face for the first time.

He had black hair, knotted at the top, with long side locks that reached his shoulders. He was not old; his face bore the features of a man in his prime, yet his expression and demeanour conveyed a sense of great maturity, as if he were aged beyond his years by his cares. Most striking of all were his eyes. As he peered kindly at Kyouta through his half-rimmed glasses, Kyouta perceived that many memories lay behind those deep brown circles, which were filled with sadness and pity. Kyouta noted that underneath his cloak, he wore a gi and hakama that looked like an odd cross between a samurai's robe and a Buddhist priest's garb.

"Are you hurt?" He asked gently.

Kyouta shook his head. Not physically.

He moved closer, and Kyouta felt himself pressing his back against the tree.

"I cannot say that you have nothing to fear from me," the man said, "But can I assure you that I will not harm you any more than I have through my actions."

Slowly, Kyouta allowed himself to relax. Hiko gazed at him searchingly. "What are you doing here? A battlefield is no place for a child."

"I'm not a child!" Kyouta replied indignantly, overcoming his fear. "I'm fourteen years old."

Hiko continued giving him his searching gaze. "No, you are not. You merely look fourteen. You are mature beyond your years, but you are still an adolescent."

Kyouta blinked in surprise. How had the man seen through his lie? Because of his size, he had always succeeded in fooling people about his age.

"Either way," Hiko continued, "one so young should should not have to bear arms. What would your parents think?"

"I don't know." Kyouta muttered grimly. "They're dead."

Hiko widened his eyes slightly, his only sign of surprise. "Dead?"

Kyouta turned away from his gaze. "My parents were sculptors. We weren't rich, but we never had to go hungry either. Our village was better off than most. Until," his voice rose, "until the daimyo interfered. It was a year ago. He wanted to raise our taxes because he and his samurai weren't getting enough revenue to live as lavishly as they wanted."

"That would be illegal." Hiko observed. In the Shogunate, taxes on the peasantry were imposed at fixed rates that did not account for factors like inflation. This had been the subject of many disputes between poorer samurai landowners and their well-to-do peasant subjects.

"It was." Kyouta agreed. "And the village resisted. We threatened to inform the Shogun. The daimyo didn't like it. Then one night," here his voice choked, "when we were sleeping, the samurai raided the village." He looked up at Hiko. "They pillaged and burnt everything. Most of us were killed. My house was burnt down with my parents inside." Tears streamed down his face.

There was a shocked silence, then he continued. "A few of us survived by fleeing into the forest. We started a rebellion to oppose the samurai. We had the sympathy of the other villages, and before long we'd built up a small army." His eyes smouldered. "I joined it because I had nowhere else to go. And because I wanted to make the samurai pay for what they did. I've always been big for my age, so they let me tag along. We had neither the manpower nor the weaponry to fight the samurai head on, so we attacked from the shadows. And that's how we've been living. Until now...." He trailed off.

Hiko remained silent. He shook his head. "We live in afflicted times." he lamented. "The smell of blood is all too common, now and ever. Perhaps that is how it will always remain. There is no cure for this disease that plagues our race. Even so," Kyouta looked up. "The answer does not lie in avenging yourself with more bloodshed. Violence only begets more violence. The cycle of revenge and murder is an endless one."

"The samurai killed my parents!" Kyouta yelled angrily. "I had to avenge them!"

"Would your parents have wanted you to avenge them?" Hiko asked quietly. "The dead do not desire revenge, only happiness for the living."

"Shut up! You know nothing! You'll never understand how I feel." The boy's tear-streaked face contorted in anger.

"I do understand." Said Hiko, and for a brief moment, Kyouta saw loss and regret flickering in his eyes. Nevertheless he wrenched the katana from the dismembered arm at his feet and pointed it towards Hiko. "Stay away from me!"

"Calm down, boy." Hiko said gently, trying to pacify him. "I did not mean to hurt-"

"So what I'm doing is wrong? So all their lives were in vain? You're no different from the samurai! You're a murderer too!" Consumed by loss and anger, Kyouta swung the sword wildly. Then he tripped on a tree root, lost his balance and fell. Everything went black.

XXX

Kyouta did not know how long he had been sleeping when he finally opened his eyes. He remembered dreaming about fire and blood and gleaming swords. He suppressed a shudder, and pulled himself to his feet with a yawn. Then he saw the burnt ruins and the corpses and the dried blood. And he remembered, with horror, that it hadn't been a dream. Why did I pass out?

"So you are awake. You haven't very slept long." He turned around to see a cloaked figure standing some distance away. Hiko. "You had fainted earlier." He explained, seeing the confusion in Kyouta's eyes . "It was probably from the shock. You've been unconscious for three hours."

At his feet was a man-sized pit. "What are you doing... sir?" He asked uneasily.

"You can already see the answer." Hiko replied calmly. "I came too late to prevent their deaths, so the least I could is to lay them to rest." He looked at Kyouta. "Will you help me?"

Kyouta thought of his comrades and of Kojiro, killed like animals and left to rot on the grass. "Yes."

"Thank you." Hiko handed him a shovel and pointed him to a nearby grave, beside which a man's body had been laid. "You may begin with that one."

Kyouta stared at the body. It belonged to the samurai leader. He turned to Hiko in anger and shock. "This is one of the samurai!" he exclaimed disbelievingly.

"I know." Hiko responded, as if he had anticipated Kyouta's reaction.

"He's a murderer! He destroyed my village! He killed my friends! He doesn't deserve to be buried!"

Hiko looked at him. "He may indeed have been a cruel man who oppressed and killed peasants mercilessly," he said, "but he was also a brave samurai who faithfully served his lord and performed his duties. And he, too, had friends and family whom he loved, and who will mourn him now that he is gone." he added in a sad tone. "Ultimately, whatever we do in life, we are all human beings, first and foremost. A life is a life, whether it belongs to a murderer or a saint. And it must at least be given the respect of a proper burial. In any case," He looked at Kyouta sternly. "When he was alive, this man may have been a murderer, but now he is nothing more than a corpse. Hating him now will not bring your friends and family back, nor will it bring you any happiness."

Kyouta remained silent, contemplating Hiko's words. After a few minutes, he wordlessly pushed the man's body into the grave and began filling it with his shovel.

XXX

By the time they finished, dawn had arrived and the morning sun rose, bathing the bloodstained grass in an amber light. Kyouta and Hiko stood over the graves amidst the burnt remains of the campsite. Hiko chanted two funeral prayers, a Buddhist one for the samurai and a Shinto prayer for the peasants. "May you find peace in the afterlife." he finished. Then he spotted Kyouta placing a small object on one of the graves.

"What is that stone for?" Kyouta heard Hiko approaching behind him. He stared below at the slab of rock on which Kojiro's name was carved.

Kyouta closed his eyes in memory. "He was the only real friend I've ever had." he said quietly. "I've never been good at getting along with other people. He protected me from bullies when we were younger, and we were always together after that. When I joined the rebels he came with me, even though he still had a mother left. And he saved my life a few times even after that. I have some skill with carving on stone. I thought I'd at least mark his grave..." Neither of them spoke for a little while.

"What will you now?" Hiko asked finally. "The rebellion has been crushed."

"I don't know." Kyouta conceded. "I can still fight... there are other rebel groups in the country. But what difference would it make? They can't win against the samurai, can they? They're outnumbered and ill-equipped... but what can I do on my own?"

Then he looked at Hiko. "But you're different. You're strong. Stronger than any samurai I've ever seen. Why don't you rise up against the Shogunate? If someone like you joined one of the rebelling prefectures, it would make a real difference."

Hiko merely smiled. "That is precisely why I can never take sides in any political conflict. Any side that I join would inevitably be the victor."

"But that would be a good thing!" Kyouta yelled. "You could bring down the Shogunate! You could create a new era for the people!"

Hiko shook his head. "A long time ago," he said, "when I was young, I thought like you did. I believed that by serving a just cause, my sword could end conflict and build an era of peace and happiness. But I was wrong. When all is said and done a sword is a tool of destruction, not salvation. A swordsman cannot build a new era by shedding blood. All he can do is to protect the people he sees before him, one-by-one." He gave Kyouta a slight smile. "That is why I wander the country as a Ronin, so that in my own small way, I can help mend the world's hurts."

He smiled gently. "And I do so as a free sword; one that serves no cause other than that of justice. For a sword that is bound to a lord or ideal, no matter how noble, can never truly serve to protect people from oppression. That is something I learned from bitter experience." He absent-mindedly ran a hand over the hilt of his katana, and for the first time Kyouta noticed that he carried two swords. Had he been a samurai once?

He looked down at Kyouta. "You probably already know this, but not far to the north there is a path that leads to the nearest village. A stout boy such as yourself should have no trouble finding work there. Go there and keep yourself away from war and conflict. If you wish to honour your family and your comrades, you should live on and cherish their memory instead of throwing your life away in vain. " He turned to leave.

"Wait!"

Hiko turned around to see the boy standing firm, his dark eyes glaring at Hiko unwaveringly.

"Take me with you." he said, "If only a free sword can save people from suffering, then I'll be a free sword too. Take me with you and teach me your kenjutsu."

Hiko raised an eyebrow. "You're too young."

"I'm old enough to have killed people."

"With a bow, not a sword."

"I can learn. I'm stronger than I look, and I've always been a good learner."

Hiko simply shook his head. "Out of the question." he said plainly.

Kyouta intensified his glare. "Then I'll keep following you till you agree. I'm pretty fast, and I don't tire easily."

Hiko narrowed his eyes, his only visible sign of anger. "You do not know what it is you ask for, boy. A free sword fights only for justice. He does not kill for personal satisfaction. He does not seek fame and glory, or wealth, or power, or companionship or even remembrance. You will lead a life of loneliness and poverty and constant danger, haunted by remorse and the scorn of others."

"Suits me just fine." Kyouta replied firmly. "I don't give a shit about money and power. And I've never really cared what other people think of me. All I want is the strength to protect innocent people from the scum who make life difficult for them. Samurai, bandits, yakuza, it doesn't matter."

For a while, they remained there, Hiko gazing at him contemplatively. "What is your name?" He asked finally.

"Kyouta."

"Kyouta." Hiko repeated. He smiled slightly. "That is a good name. It suits you." He stepped forward, and with a sigh, placed a hand on his shoulder. "Very well, Kyouta. From today, you shall be my apprentice."

Kyouta stirred. Did I fall asleep? He looked up to see the moon shining directly overhead. It was past midnight. His mind made up, he stood up and wordlessly made his way back to the shrine. Inside the Buddhist section, he heard a faint humming sound from the prayer room. Not wanting to disturb his master's meditation, he quietly made his way to his own room and settled down into an uneasy sleep.

Glossary:

Sempai - Respectful term for a senior.

Ronin - Masterless samurai.

Gi and hakama: Japanese upper and lower body garments.

Kyouta: 'Great strength'

Author's note: Whew! It's finally finished. This middle chapter is the main reason this fic took so long to publish. Yesterday I re-wrote most of the earlier draft and today I spent the entire morning writing the last 2000 words. The thing about about Hiko 13/Kyouta's story is that I wanted it to have parallels to Kenshin's and at the same time be different. The specifics will be explained later. Some will notice that Kyouta's dialogue seems too mature for his age. I'm afraid I just couldn't find simpler words to convey everything he had to say. I suppose we can chalk it up to the fact that Kyouta's especially bright and mature for his age.

Please review. Criticisms are welcome.

EDIT: I really should spend more time editing my drafts before I publish them. I ran this chapter through my mind a few times and the dialogue in the second half seemed amateurishly written. I've re-written it now. Hiko 12 is a Buddhist now, not Shinto as I originally intended. As an ex-samurai, I realise he was more likely to practice Buddhism, the Shogunate's main religion. As for why he houses in an abandoned Shinto shrine, in those days the two religions were closely connected and many shrines were jinguji, which means they also housed a small Buddhist temple inside. And it wasn't uncommon for smaller jinguji to have a solitary Buddhist priest who maintained the buildings of both faiths.