Chapter 10. Impossible Choices

Master took them back to Suo prefecture in the late autumn of that year – the fourth year of Ansei. They visited a temple where Master's teacher, the old Hiko Seijuuro the 12th, had been buried to pay their respects.

At Kenshin's shy request, they took time to visit Shinta's graveyard as well.

When he knelt in front of Kasumi's grave, Kenshin realized that he had been with Master for a whole year now. He hadn't really noticed the time before. But, somehow, it also made him feel grateful that Master had found him in this lonely graveyard. Back then, he hadn't really understood it, but Master had quite likely saved his life.

So as he made a small prayer for Kasumi, Akane and Sakura, just like Master said was a common practice, Kenshin took extra time to thank them for giving him the chance to live. And then, he thanked Kasumi especially, because she had told him to keep living for her.

It hadn't been easy since the sickness that swept over his family… but all in all, life was good now.

After that, they had travelled to the Nagato prefecture, where Master led him to a small lonely house on a mountainside. Master had looked weird when they had got there, like he was seeing something in the empty abandoned cottage. But when Kenshin asked about it, the swordsman had just said that it used to belong to his teacher and it was where Master had spent most of his training years.

The house had been abandoned for years and it was in great disarray. Everything was dusty, creaky and smelly. The roofing had gone bad in some spots, too, so the first task Master took upon himself was to fix it. Kenshin's duties were mostly cleaning. Then came the restocking for the winter; the old abandoned cottage had no food, firewood or other necessities stored. Almost all of Master's painfully earned money went to buying what they needed.

Truthfully, Kenshin was a little terrified to see all that money spent in mere days.

Master saw his apprehension, and explained to him gruffly, "It's only money – and as such, only useful for buying necessities. There is no point in hoarding it. Besides, it's better to stay in one location for the winter, rather than to risk it on the road."

Remembering last winter, Kenshin could only agree. Travelling in snow had been quite awful, not to mention sleeping in the freezing weather…

When Kenshin had the chance and some time alone, he still occasionally tried to figure out the trick of using coldness to strengthen his muscles for speed and better jumps. For some reason, his failure seemed to gnaw at him endlessly.

Maybe it was because he wasn't used to failure, for not figuring things out on his own. One way or another, he had always managed to solve his problems. It was a deep conviction in him that if he just tried hard enough, there was always a way.

Or maybe it was just he was too stubborn to let go, to stop trying.

However, because of the failure, he was angry at the spirit, feeling like it had betrayed him in some way. He hadn't felt like talking to it because of that either. Maybe it was unfair of him, but he couldn't help but to feel his failure was the spirit's fault.

When Master had abandoned the speed-training and ki-training as inefficient, he had moved Kenshin to focus his time on agility. So now Kenshin's days were filled with regular stretching and gymnastics practices, like standing on his hands, doing cartwheels and flips. It was fun and challenging, almost enough that he could forget his ineptitudes.

Another good thing with new types of training was that it eased his panic and stress, and he didn't have to suffer nightmares so often either.

It seemed like he was really getting better, bit by bit.

The basic katas felt like second nature by now and he did the basic strikes mostly for form's sake and to keep his arms fit. Master had decreed him good enough at them and the sparring had gotten a lot more fun. They would spar at a faster pace and instead of kicking him away or flipping him to the ground, like he had been prone to do earlier, now Master would even occasionally tap him with the blade to mark the hit.

When Master was displeased, he would leave a scratch or bruise to remind him to keep his stance or to protect his form better. Because of that, it almost felt like they were fighting for real and Kenshin found the sparring a lot more appealing than the endless repetition of basics.

During the evenings and mornings, they would continue with the reading and writing lessons, and Master's word puzzles grew to be more complex. Kenshin really liked solving them, and one time he had dared to ask the swordsman where he came up with them.

"They are poems, not riddles. But as where they are from, well… Some I have read before and just recite to you. But mostly, they are of my own composition."

"You make these up? But they are really good! You should write them down so that other people could read them, too!" Kenshin exclaimed enthusiastically, trying to cover his surprise. He hadn't really thought of the surly swordsman as a person who liked playing with words.

"And how would you know if they are any good? With your literature experience? Idiot student," Master scoffed at him incredulously.

Kenshin knew by now not to take it personally, and didn't even get annoyed, but choose to stir the rice stew in the pot.

Lately, it seemed that Master had taken to calling him "idiot" more often, but it didn't matter.

In actual truth, he could very well be a real idiot when compared to the Master, but that wasn't the point. Rather, the important thing was the way Master said it. It wasn't an observation, but spoken in an amused tone, and Master's ki feeling slightly warm, like it was a pet name. Like "dear child" that Osumi-san used. And what came to their comparative intelligence, well... it was like he and Master just thought in very different ways.

Just like how spirit and I always quarreled…

Regarding the poems though, Kenshin decided to let the matter be for now. Master seemed a little bit embarrassed and harassing him right now wouldn't help at all. However, it didn't mean Kenshin couldn't mention it later again. And maybe, if he could get Master to write his riddles down and show them to someone, other people could enjoy them just like he did.

That night when Kenshin retired to his bedroll, he took his top to play with it. At first, he had hid the toy because he had been afraid of it being taken away. Then, he had kept hiding it because he hadn't wanted to be seen as a weak kid or ridiculed about playing with it so often by Master. But now, he just didn't have anything else for reassurance, so any of those silly worries didn't matter anymore.

The top was the last thing he had left of second-mother-Kasumi, and it was just easy to think of her encouraging and kind words when playing with it.

She had asked him to live.

"Live for me," she had said, back when he had been Shinta.

This past year, he had done his best to fulfill her wish. No matter how hard it had been, even after Master had taken him in and given him the new name "Kenshin" and agreed to call him by his name, as a sign of respecting him as a person.

A person. Not a slave. Not a thing like a kettle or a bucket. Not a child either, or anything else. Just a person in my own right.

Back at the graveyard, Kenshin hadn't had anyone; it had been just him and the spirit, alone. But now he didn't really have his friend anymore, either.

While the spirit was still there, it wasn't exactly a friend.

A friend was someone one could talk to no matter what happened. And yes, the spirit was still willing to talk to him, but it was angry at him. Before, it had been angry at people but never at him. To make it worse, he had absolutely no idea why the spirit was angry at him, either.

Kenshin huffed in annoyance, and turned to lie on his other side on the bedroll. Then he tied the string around the top's knob yet again and pulled - it started to move again, the pretty colors mixing together.

Just why is the spirit so angry at me anyway?

It didn't make any sense; he hadn't done anything wrong. It was just being impossible and refused to understand. Kenshin's eyes opened wide and he stopped the spinning top abruptly.

It.

The spirit, the spirit-friend… it.

It didn't have a name.

He had made sure to be called "Kenshin" and even rudely demanded it from Master, because he had wanted to be a person in his own right. He had insistent on being called by his name, because he hadn't wanted to be a thing.

But all this time he had been treating the spirit like it should always help him without getting anything in return. He had always just spoken to the spirit whenever he felt like doing so; always assuming it was ready to help him. Never thinking twice, never pausing to think at all.

All this time, he had used his friend – the only one who had always been there with him, who had always done everything it could to help him. And in return, he hadn't even treated the spirit as a person.

Utterly stunned by the realization, Kenshin tried to remember back to the spring… last summer, the early autumn. All those arguments with the spirit, how something just hadn't been right with them anymore. How he had felt that the spirit had betrayed him by not helping out.

Yet all that time he had left the spirit alone. He hadn't offered to help it in turn when it clearly wanted company and help. Instead, he had just scorned its selfishness.

Kenshin felt sick to his stomach.

He had tried his best to be fair and kind, a good boy like his mother had always wanted him to be. But all this time he had been a really bad friend to his oldest… no, his only friend.

Swallowing softly, Kenshin turned to his back and tried to think of a way to make it better, to fix this mess.

When he had got caught for listening in to Osumi-san's and Master's private conversations, he had been asked to apologize for his rudeness.

An apology. It couldn't even begin to cover the hurt he had done the spirit, but it would be a good start.

Kenshin frowned and searched for the coldness inside him. There was the wall… the spirit had retreated almost fully to the other side and it felt very cold. Somehow, it seemed small, lonely and weak.

It was enough to make him feel he should cry in shame. He had done this to his only friend. But crying didn't help anyone; so instead, he gently nudged the spirit through the hole he had dug in the wall earlier.

It didn't answer.

Kenshin didn't relent, but sent a memory of his realizations to it.

A flicker of interest. A picture of the carved rock – prison. Anger. Sadness. Loneliness.

'I'm sorry,' he thought to the spirit. 'I have been a bad friend to you.'

A silence. But then…

'Yes.'

'You didn't have to help me out with the speed training. I was wrong to demand it from you.'

A stunned silence. But then… petting agreement.

Kenshin felt wetness in his eyes and sniffled. Kasumi's top clutched in his hands, he swallowed. 'I promised to help you, but I didn't. I left you alone. I am sorry. Please, forgive me.'

For a while, nothing happened.

But then…

The petting comfort feeling.

It was like the best feeling in the world.

After that, for the rest of the night, Kenshin just talked with the spirit, for hours, nothing but talking and sharing memories. Not demanding anything, just sharing stories and agonies of training, the successes and failures. Telling how he hadn't managed to figure out the speed trick for muscles and how it had become a sore point for him. How he had tried to figure it out and always failed.

The spirit had then sent him a feeling of guilt. And then: 'One was angry with the boy… so one didn't want to tell… But truth is that one doesn't know.'

For a second, Kenshin felt a flicker of anger - it didn't know? Why didn't it admit it right away?

But, those words were very odd for the spirit. Never before had it said something like that, and then Kenshin realized that the spirit-friend had answered to his apology with one of its own. The very first apology the spirit had ever made.

So, there was only one thing to do.

'I forgive you.' Kenshin thought to the spirit and added a feeling of pride and fondness.

Maybe it was alright that the spirit didn't know either. It was for the best, really. They would figure out the speed trick with muscles and ki together.

After all, they were a team.

The next day, Master went to hunt after training. Kenshin felt tired and asked to be left behind. Master had called him lazy but hadn't protested more. After all, living together one learned to let the other person have some space every now and then.

So Kenshin sat on a rock near the house, next to the clearing they used for practice and idly drew shapes in the ground with his toe while speaking with the spirit. The current topic was about widening the hole in the wall, whether it would help with the training dilemma or not. The spirit thought that it could help to increase the amount of coldness to use, yes, but other than that… it wouldn't do much.

Somehow, Kenshin had drawn the letter for heart with his toe. He added "big" next to it without a second thought. Together the letters formed his former name, just like that. On a whim, he drew the letter for "sword"... added another "heart" next to it.

My old and new name. Together, side by side.

An idea took him.

'Would you like to have a name?'

Hesitation. Questioning feeling.

'It's just… every person should have a name. And you are a person,' Kenshin tried to explain.

The spirit didn't say anything. Instead, the coldness moved a bit like it was squirming inside him.

'It is wonderful to be called by my name. I still really like it. And I think it would be something you would like, too.'

Hesitation again… but then the petting agreement.

'I was thinking… how we share the same body and how you knew me before… and how my name was "big heart" before and how it is now "sword heart" so… you could be "sword and big."'

A small pause… but then…

'Kenta.' The spirits whispered softly, and send the petting agreement.

The winter came and went, spent in the old Bastard's house. At first Hiko hadn't really wanted to return to the god forsaken flea infested little house in the middle of nowhere, because whatever he did, the Old Bastard would be looking over his shoulder there. But Osumi's words had kept haunting him and he had finally managed to swallow enough of his spite to return there.

At first, it was just to check it out to see that it would be inhabitable. If not, he could just return to the road and find work in a city or something. But when they got to the familiar mountain, it hadn't hurt to see the house where he had lived most of his youth. Where he had killed the old man.

It hadn't hurt. He just felt numb.

And it was better for his apprentice.

So they had stayed.

The boy had progressed well enough, despite the disappointment in the summer's training. However, even if he was guiding the training to agility for the moment, he still resolved to keep the boy's physical training geared towards speed. Maybe the boy would grow to it. It wasn't like it was easy to condition speed to the muscles and then train a child to use the resources he had.

And Hiko finally admitted to himself, pushing the boy too hard had just stopped all the progress.

There seemed to be a trick to it. If he didn't push enough, the boy would stagnate, but if he pressed too hard the boy would stress, lose sleep to the nightmares and every wisp of progress would just melt into thin air.

So, he would just have to judge the situation better and adjust the training for the child's capabilities.

Osumi-san had had certain wisdom in that.

She had said last winter that he couldn't treat Kenshin as a miniature adult. And though it took time to admit that he had misjudged the situation at the waterfall, he had finally given up and changed the approach and moved the boy to other forms of training.

Seeing the boy's incomprehension with ki and desperate tries with it… What had possessed him to introduce the ki as a method for strengthening the muscles this early, anyway?

Using ki internally was among the last steps of Hiten Mitsurugi. It was the key to special moves of the style, the final steps; the Kuzuryusen, to Amakakeru ryo no Hirameki… to the godlike speed. No. He should have stayed calm, even though the boy had displayed a unique talent with the hearing trick. He had just been impatient and seen the opportunity.

Besides, Ki was mostly used externally. There were other sword schools that had managed to incorporate it to their styles in that manner.

The internal usage demanded incredible control and innate talent. So much so that very few people could do it at all. It was not something people figured out by accident; after all, channeling the swordspirit could lead to serious muscle damage.

And losing control?

Well, when Hiko had been interested in creative applications of internal ki-usage as a boy, the Old Bastard had taken time to introduce him to a monk with similar talent. The man had tried something similar Kenshin had managed – enhance his vision with ki. But the monk's control had slipped and the blood vessels in his eyes had burst.

His apprentice had been insanely lucky with the hearing trick.

But now as the spring had come, Hiko felt his restlessness stirring and it was time to go back to wandering. He had a duty and even an apprentice wouldn't deter him from it. The boy followed him where he went, despite his troubles in accepting Hiko's way of following the philosophy of Hiten Mitsurugi.

Not that it mattered. Kenshin would get used to it.

The seasons ran, and during the summer of fifth year of Ansei, Hiko finally become annoyed enough at the noise the boy kept while walking and showed the trick how to find sure spots for steps, how to watch the surroundings and how to move silently.

They had made a game of it.

It wasn't all that hard to keep sneaking up on the kid until the boy figured out how to continuously use ki to locate him. Then the boy had asked if it would be possible to hide the ki presence.

Hiko had just smirked and tried to explain the concept – to spread it thin and suppress the flare. He had been waiting for Kenshin to catch up with that.

And it was a good way to ease back to training with the ki.

The boy had an unusually large and defined ki presence, but ki was like a muscle in a way – the more one used it, the easier time one had with it. And training served to increase the swordspirit. Maybe the earlier failure had been because the boy didn't have good enough control?

So they learned to mask and unmask ki and kept using the life-force to detect people. It was good training and the game was almost fun. The boy was getting pretty good at hiding. It was also useful because of Hiko's self-appointed mission to keep the roads and forest clear of vermin, he now wouldn't have to worry so much about the boy.

However, it was worrisome how many bandits and other outlaws there were, as well as other signs of general unrest. When they visited the villages and moved from prefecture to prefecture, Hiko had more and more difficulties passing the borders. He still managed to travel as a ronin, but it was clear that people had deep distrusts for the sort.

The boy's appearance kept gathering ugly looks whenever they stopped at the villages, as well.

It seemed like the country was slowly reaching a boiling point. Already there had been some talk of rebellion against the increasingly strict Shogunate.

At the early harvest season, they took time to visit Osumi-san in Matsue. The boy had been ecstatic to see the kind samurai lady again. She had been welcoming and asked them to stay for the night with a sly wink. Hiko had just smirked fondly at the minx.

However, visiting her house made it abundantly clear that he really should be firmer with teaching manners to the kid. Because during the delicious meal that Osumi-san had prepared, the kid had dared to demand him to show his poetry to her. Kenshin had claimed that other people should be able to read his words, too. Osumi-san, of course, had agreed with the boy while flashing a conspiring smile.

He couldn't really say no to that smile.

So he had recited a few of his better verses to the lady.

What had surprised him was that Osumi-san seemed to enjoy them as much as the boy had. And then she had suggested that he should write them down. Apparently she had a friend in Hagi, who could be interested in them and maybe, if the poems passed his critique, they could be used in a book.

It was a completely ridiculous idea, but damned it didn't please something in him. Crafting poems was just a hobby, and it helped to keep the boy's interest in reading practices. But if Osumi-san was also pleased with them, maybe the idea had some merit?

So during the next stop at a town, Hiko bought a proper paper and ink set.

A stray idea had him pushing Kenshin to try to write with the proper tools… and well, it shouldn't have been a surprise.

It really shouldn't have.

But the boy's handwriting was absolutely atrocious. Hiko felt like hitting himself. Teaching anyone to write with dirt and sticks for nearly two years… of course the pen would be held differently. But what was done was done, and it would take forever to correct the mistake. And the boy, no matter Hiko's attempts to educate him, was a country bumpkin through and through. Maybe the skills would serve the Kenshin's needs as they were.

In Hagi, they met up with Osumi-san's friend, Kawase-san, who according to Osumi-san would have knowledge and interest in poetry. And surprisingly, after Hiko had given the man a few of his works to read, the reaction had been positive. One thing led to another, and after some discussion, Kawase-san had endeavored to buy the poems for publishing them in a poetry collection.

To say that Hiko was unsure about the idea was a severe understatement, especially after Kawase-san had asked what name the poems should be published under.

The honorable name of Hiko Seijuuro was an inherited one through the sword style and shouldn't be used for other efforts. And if by some miracle his poems would bring fame, well it wouldn't do to use the name that should be only known for its efforts in defense of the common people.

…But to publish his words, well, the temptation was there.

Hiko knew that he was a vain and prideful man. And to gain recognition for his talents was too good a lure to pass up. So, he had smirked and agreed to Kawase-san's proposition. "Let's just use the name Kii no Hiroto."

And the agreement was made. And they agreed that when Hiko had more, he should bring them first to Kawase-san in Hagi again.

Kenshin had been smug as a cat after they left the town with money bag pleasantly heavy.

Hiko had made the boy sweat it out with practice. It wouldn't do for the idiot student to know that he had managed to prompt Hiko to such insanity.

The little brat was already bad for his resolve.

He hadn't even remembered to buy Sake in ages.

It was spring again, the sixth year of Ansei apparently, and Kenshin was currently balancing on top of a cut bamboo tree. It was a new exercise. Master would cut trees and had him trying to balance on top of the cut – a bit like with how Kasumi's top would balance on the sharp tip. But the boy couldn't spin to make it easier.

No.

He had to just try to figure out how not to fall.

And Master liked to make it hard by making the cut higher and higher. This one was at the height of Kenshin's waist.

He had now spent three winters with Master and had grown quite a bit over the last one. So the first thing they did when coming down from the mountain after getting Master a job was to use the pay to buy new clothes for Kenshin. He now had a new shirt and pants. The pants were a funny light purple color. It looked girlish. Maybe that was why they had been cheap? He had protested having to wear such a color, but then again… new was new.

To make up for the indignity, well. No. Kenshin just wished it would be so, but it was most likely because of the training that Master had bought him also gauntlets to protect his hands. They were simple, just cloth and leather, that had metal plates in the back of his hand and forearm.

But they were cool.

They made him look like a warrior. The spirit – Kenta – agreed that they were awesome.

During the seclusion in the winter, Master had taken to teaching him simple mathematics. Kenshin didn't know what he had done to the older man to earn this torture. Math was hard. The reading and writing lessons continued with the poetry, and he was getting quite good at reading. Master would every now and then write up poems for Kawase-san.

Lately, Kenshin had been left to do all the chores in the house. He would cook, clean, fetch the water, chop the firewood, sew the clothes and do the laundry. When he complained it was unfair, Master had just remarked that it was time for him to earn his keep. And besides, did he have anything more important to do during the quiet winters?

There wasn't anything he could think to counter that, so he had just accepted his fate. After all, living and training with Master had settled into a routine. It was a comfortable one.

The friendship with the spirit, Kenta, had also grown tighter. When Master would go to train or wanted to be alone, Kenshin would have time to spend with his friend.

The trick of using the ki for speed was still evading him. The two friends had tried everything they could think of to figure it out, but to no avail. Well, unless one counted few instances of spectacular bruises and faint limping the next day that Kenshin always did his best to hide from Master. If asked… well, in a way it was muscle ache and growing pains… wasn't it?

The constant failure was a sore point but he refused to give up.

Every now and then, he would widen the hole in the wall, and the good feelings from touching the things in the wall kept reminding him of why he trained. Also, Kasumi's top was something he still kept always with him.

Kenta had flowed more to his side of the wall. It made talking with the spirit easier and using the coldness to sense Master's movements had become like a second nature now. Kenta didn't like when Master sneaked up on them and kept a constant watch. It was also probably because Master claimed that Kenshin shouldn't have his "head in the clouds". It was disgraceful and a bad habit according the older man. So, whenever the swordsman caught Kenshin talking with the spirit-friend, he would make a mean remark about it.

Those remarks usually ended with "Idiot student!"

Kenta really didn't like Master calling them names. Kenshin didn't mind the habit, but it felt good to know that the spirit was on his side.

The sword training had become like second nature, and was nowadays more focused on sparring. Kenshin loved it, even though Master had started to score hits more often. Whenever he made a mistake or left an opening in his defenses, Master would cut or bruise him as a reminder. He didn't mind, the pain was an old friend by now and it just meant that the swordsman trusted him to handle it.

The physical training had started to include even more challenging balancing and agility training. Kenshin suspected that it was something that Master wanted him to be able to combine with his swordsmanship later. Thus, balancing on bamboo poles.

'Master is coming west,' the spirit whispered.

And there it was, the familiar feeling of coldness. Kenshin stood straighter. It wouldn't do to slouch in front of the older man.

Master stepped out from the forest, carrying a couple of rabbits by their ears. "How is it going?"

"Good," Kenshin answered, trying to focus. Somehow Master's presence made balancing harder. It was almost like the bamboo pole swayed more.

Master stepped closer, making a clear show of the rabbits. "Some meat for dinner."

Kenshin just grunted.

"Catch."

…and he threw the rabbits to Kenshin.

"…aaaaaAh! Ow. Ow. Ow."

"You need to focus, idiot student!"

'He just had to do that… didn't he?' Kenshin grumbled to the spirit. 'And it was going so well…'

"And get your head out of the clouds! Idiot student! It's no wonder that you fall down so often the way you keep…"

Oh yes, business as usual.

"Oh, it's so romantic."

"A nobleman's son, taken as a hostage to keep the peace."

"And when he was required to return to marry a woman of his father's choosing…"

"The young man returns… handsome, riding a white steed and dressed in white."

"Oh no, I know what happens!"

"The young lord, nah… the prince declines!"

"Yes! He has fallen in love with another!"

"No! He doesn't want to rule!"

"Quiet now! It's my story!"

"The young lord returns… but says that he cannot marry, for he has a duty."

"Ooooh."

Giggle.

"And… when the old lord demands that he has a duty to his family, the young prince…"

"… just disappears," all three voices chanted together.

"Oooh. I love that story. I wonder what happened to the prince."

"No one knows. It's a mystery."

"And the best thing is, they say that it really happened with the noble family of Kii."

"No way!"

"Yes! And that new poet that everybody talks about has the same name as the young lord!"

"You are making that up."

"No! It's the truth!"

"It's not like it would ever happen. But imagine it, a lord abandoning his duty to the family for art?"

"A scandal!"

"But so mysterious."

"Ah."

Kenshin shook his head and scoffed at the ridiculous story, but didn't voice his opinion. At first, the tale had sounded interesting, but truthfully, the reason he had really listened to it had nothing to do with the story.

Rather, it was the three pretty girls dressed in fine kimono and wearing pale face paint who had caught his attention. It was like they were proper ladies, even finer than Osumi-san. Kenshin had never seen anything like them before. So when Master had given him some money to spend while he went to talk with Kawase-san, well it had been almost a given thing to follow them.

The girls stopped every now and then to look at the vendor stalls in the middle of the sunny streets of Hagi's market place, which was filled with people. It wasn't easy to follow the girls, but he had gotten really good at sneaking around. And keeping track of the girl's soft ki presences, almost faint enough to fade in the sea of coldness, it was fun.

Kenta enjoyed the challenge of it, also.

But most importantly to Kenshin, the girls were something new and pretty. He almost wanted to go talk to them. To ask them questions; why were they dressed so prettily? What was the white paint for? Was it hard to walk on the high wooden clogs? They looked to be a bit older than him, but they were not quite adults, so maybe they wouldn't mind?

He had almost gathered his courage to go talk to them when one of them, the youngest in a red kimono, saw him and paused to stare.

Kenshin immediately shied away, and hid behind a vendor stall.

"Hey, look… a foreigner."

"What?"

"I saw a foreign kid back there."

"No way! How did you know it was foreigner?"

"The kid – I think it was a boy. At least, it was dressed like a boy. Really ragtag though. But… he had red hair."

"Kimiko-chan, don't joke. No one has red hair. At least proper people don't. It would look so ugly."

"It was red and yes. It looked so weird, really ugly."

"Where do you think you saw the foreigner?"

"Just behind us."

A small laugh. "There is no one there."

"There was! I saw it! Dressed in rags, red hair, really pale skin and pale eyes!"

"Now I know that you are making that up. Are you sure you are not describing a demon from a kabuki play?"

Mocking giggle.

"Kimiko-chan, you are so simple. If it was a foreigner, he would be rich. Everyone knows that foreigners are rich."

"And he wouldn't be alone! A foreigner would have bodyguards!"

With that, the girls turned and walked away. The one in red, Kimiko-chan turned to look back once. Kenshin didn't feel like following them anymore.

When Hiko came back from his meeting with Kawase-san, he was feeling extraordinary pleased with himself. His poetry had sold well, and in addition to wanting more of his poems, Kawase-san had paid him quite a bit more than Hiko had ever imagined something like art would earn him.

Now he wouldn't have to look for escort jobs in a while. He really didn't care much for escorting the greedy merchants or doing bodyguard work. He didn't like using his swordsmanship for his own gain; it just didn't sit right with him. The sword of Mitsurugi was for the protection of the common people, not for his selfish needs. But then again, the money was a necessary evil for living.

He had found his apprentice waiting for him just outside the publishers shop looking surly as only a teenager could ever be. Kenshin was still small and scrawnier than Hiko hoped for a kid of ten years old, but then again, it wasn't like that was likely to change.

The boy's speed hadn't been improving in spite of the hard physical training, so Hiko had started to look for other options. The boy had talent with balancing and gymnastics, and the agility training had produced very good results so far. But a small and agile swordsman, what would work out with that combo to produce the sort of ability Hiten Mitsurugi demanded? Speed was the logical answer. But then again, not every small fighter specialized in speed.

Well, at least some of the ki training had worked out fine thus far. Not the internal usage but sensing and masking the swordspirit. Maybe he could start introducing external ki usage soon? Douryusen would be a perfect place to start.

Kenshin is really subdued, though. What is up with that? He had given the boy time off to explore and some money to spend. It should have made the kid happy, shouldn't it?

"Why the long face, Kenshin?" Hiko finally asked.

"Why don't people like foreigners?"

Ah,he should have known. Someone must have remarked something aloud about the foreigners. Hagi wasn't a particularly nice place for Westerners at the moment, with all that Yoshida Shoin business and the "Sonno Joi" nonsense. Well, Choshuu radicals could do whatever they wished as far as Hiko was concerned. But how to explain to the kid what was brewing in politics?

Not damn much, not without giving the naïve kid a bone to hang on to. Hiko swore the kid would never let a matter be. It was like that poetry nonsense – Kenshin had gotten an idea and a year later found a way to push it. There was no way that Hiko would clue the kid in to politics.

No, it was far better to redirect that attention and focus on the heart of the issue. Kenshin was at the age where everything revolved around him. So, it wouldn't be about politics. No, it would be about that damn hair.

"Someone commented on your hair again?"

"Yes."

"You shouldn't pay attention to other people's issues. If it bothers you, cover your damn hair or something."

A silence. But then…

"Yes, Master."

"You want me to buy you a hat?"

"No."

"Or even better, use your own money to buy a hat. Then I wouldn't have to keep seeing you lose your head in the clouds!"

"Master!"

With a laugh, Hiko kept walking. The boy followed, already seeming to be in a better mood. Who knew that teasing the brat could be fun?

And it distracted the kid.

A perfect solution to the problem, indeed!

For some reason, Hiko's feet led them north after Hagi. They followed the coastal line with a comfortable pace. The summer was hot, but the breeze kept it pleasant enough. They didn't encounter much trouble and Hiko kept the boy busy with different exercises on top walking. They would camp early and the boy would cook for them. He had gotten better at it, Hiko thought approvingly. Osumi had given the boy the basics and from there the experience had taken over.

She really was a remarkable woman, educated but retaining her sense of humor. She had pride in her skills, and a practical sort of wisdom that Hiko couldn't help but to approve of. He had found himself thinking about her more often, and of her constant good advice concerning Kenshin. Hiko was fairly sure that he would have managed just fine on his own, but Osumi had given him a lot to think on. And it didn't hurt that she was a generous woman in every way.

Occasionally, when the mood struck him, Hiko would wonder what he would be like if the world was different. If he didn't have his duty, if he was the marrying sort, Osumi would be just the kind of woman he could see himself falling in love with.

But the world was what it was.

He had his apprentice and his duty. He was content.

But still, when they reached Izumo, it was almost logical to head for Matsue as well. After all, Osumi-san had been delighted whenever they had taken time to visit her. Kenshin also recognized that they were near Matsue. So together the pair headed eagerly to the small coastal town.

"I am getting older."

Osumi's father, the old samurai Isamu-san, noted calmly.

Hiko was again sharing a drink with the older gentleman. He had grown to like the Samurai, in his own way and just nodded at the remark. What need was there to add any words to the observation? Truth was what it was.

The sake tasted sweet. He hadn't had any in ages. Hadn't really thought about it, either. He just hadn't felt the need to buy the rice wine. But now, it just tasted good. Hiko didn't feel even a hint of his former need to drink for numbness; to forget… but just enjoyed the taste.

"Osumi, too, is getting older."

"So are all of us. Even my apprentice has grown. I don't know whether to be glad of it or to be disappointed about it."

"Ah yes, the boy. He displayed better manners this time, almost enough to pass for a lad of proper name."

Hiko couldn't help laughing at that. "Oh, Kenshin is a country bumpkin through and through. But one does what one can."

"My daughter seemed delighted to see him. You as well." The older man looked at him with a sideways glance.

Ah, this… Hiko looked away. He knew that the old man knew of his closeness with Osumi-san. It wasn't proper. Most fathers wouldn't have stood for it. But Osumi was a widow with a strong will and absolutely no hesitation to lash her tongue. And she was Isamu-san's only daughter, so the older man wasn't willing to press the issue, much.

Still, there was no need to rise to the bait. It would serve no purpose to argue about it. No, for now it was better to derail the conversation, Hiko thought with a frown. "The unrest is growing in the south."

"Mmmhm. Tokugawa is growing desperate. The foreigners keep pushing and the system is growing unstable. Has the situation been getting worse in the countryside?"

"It's getting grim. Taxes are growing heavy to bear. There are more outlaws… and ronin. It's making travelling more difficult."

"Ah."

The old man fell silent, looking down at his saucer of sake, letting his thumb trail the side of the cup thoughtfully.

"I liked your Master," Isamu remarked, but didn't look up. "I don't know you well, but my daughter holds you in high regard. I have no heir."

Hiko froze.

"I would like to have you as my son. Through marriage or through adoption, it doesn't matter to me which."

Oh no. This…

"I would prefer you to marry Osumi. She would be happy with you, I think."

Hiko swallowed. Distract. Avoid. Buy time. And he choked out, "Have you discussed this with her?"

"I have inquired. She told me she wouldn't say no. She would even accept the boy into her household."

"I…."

"Think about it."

And with that, the old Samurai rose and patted his shoulder, walking away with heavy steps, letting a slight limp in his left leg show. It hadn't been there last year. Shiomi Isamu, the man was white and crooked, way over sixty, Hiko knew.

But how can I get out of this?

Do I even want to get out of this?

If it had been a simple offer of marriage, Hiko could have easily declined. But this was a beautiful trap in its simplicity. Everything a ronin would ever want; a good name, good connections, wealth, and a wonderful woman.

A home.

It had been so long ago that Hiko had had a home.

He still had his duty to Hiten Mitsurugi, but the duty had chafed, been heavy on his shoulders. He had been avoiding it, if he was honest with himself. He had taken to training Kenshin in good remote locations and cleared the vermin on the way, but he hadn't really been seeking more proper ways to protect the people as he had sworn to do. He hadn't been fulfilling his promise to the Old Bastard as well as he could have.

And he had an apprentice now.

When he had trained Kenshin, in time he could pass down the mantle of Hiko Seijuuro. Why couldn't he just accept this generous offer and enjoy life?

He could be happy here. Kenshin's training would be easy to complete when he wished to – after all, staying in one place gave him better chances to train the boy.

But, when the Old Bastard had taken him in, taught him, and then he had returned home. It had all seemed so bitter and shallow compared to the simple truth and beauty of Hiten Mitsurugi swordsmanship. And the principles of the sword had seemed true, so appealing compared to the measly cesspit of lies and politics, family duties and constant betrayal of noble life. It had been an easy answer then.

Why isn't it now?

During these three years, have I lost my way? My belief in the truest philosophies of Hiten Mitsurugi? My dedication to help those in need?

It was a stunning realization.

Kenshin had spent the evening with Osumi-san. She seemed happy to have him there with her and had asked about their journeys and Kenshin's training.

Her kind questions were opened a floodgate. After all, it wasn't often that Kenshin had a chance to spend time with other people other than Master or Kenta. Especially with people who liked him. And above anything else, he trusted Osumi-san, which was the reason why, after some time, he managed to wind up to somewhat embarrassing waters. "I saw girls in Hagi. They were really pretty and dressed up nicely."

"Oh. Did you go talk to them?" she asked with an eager smile.

"No," Kenshin answered and frowned, thinking how to get to what he really wanted to know. "I followed them. I wanted to go talk to them… wanted to ask questions."

"But?"

"Then one of them saw me and stared. I couldn't help but to listen in, and they called me foreigner. I am not foreigner. Why do people keep calling me that?"

"Hmmm. You know it already, I think. You look different and people don't know what to think of different things. And some people are scared of anything different."

"I don't think I am scary," Kenshin whispered doubtfully, looking up to meet her kind brown eyes.

"Oh, you are not. But the thing is, since the foreigners came, the Shogun has had to agree to a lot of agreements that haven't been very good for the country. And the economy has been growing unstable. So the shogun has increased the taxation. It's making a lot of people angry right now. And scared of what will happen."

"So, it's because of foreigners that people are suffering?"

"Well, not exactly… but some people think so. They are saying "Sonno Joi" - "Revere the emperor, expel the barbarians", because they hope that it would make things better."

"Huh."

"Don't think too much about it. It doesn't concern you yet. But it's good to know, because if the "Sonno joi" movement gains popularity, just one look from unfriendly eyes and you could get into a dangerous situation because of what you look like."

Kenshin nodded, the seriousness in her words making a chill race down his spine.

Maybe I should have bought the hat after all…

Osumi-san's father Isamu joined them at the morning meal.

Kenshin didn't know what to think of the older man. He seemed nice enough, but sometimes it felt like the old Samurai didn't speak the same as he thought. And though the older man didn't seem to dislike him, not like most of the older people, he still seemed distant. So Kenshin endeavored to be really careful and polite in the old Samurai's presence. After all, they were quests in his house. And Osumi-san was his daughter. Saying or doing something rude would cause Osumi-san or Master to be ashamed of him.

Osumi-san had cooked the meal, like she always did. It was really good. And though Kenshin tried to figure out how she had made it so good, it was pretty useless. Perhaps it was like she told him back then when they first met; that everyone could cook, but for some people it was art.

Master looked really distant, like he was thinking hard about something. Osumi-san and Isamu-san seemed to be aware of it, but didn't offer any comments.

They enjoyed the meal in silence. When they were finishing up, Master said, "I am grateful for your hospitality and generosity, Isamu-san and Osumi-san. Unfortunately, I must decline. I have a duty and a student."

Osumi-san nodded sadly. Isamu-san frowned, but didn't say anything.

"Come on, Kenshin. It's time to go."

He didn't know what was going on, but everyone was really tense as they gathered their bags to leave.

Like usual, Osumi-san followed them to the gates and smiled at Master. However, her smile was far from her happy smiles. "I didn't think that you would take it. For whatever it's worth, I could have learned to love you."

"And I you," Master said in a weird voice. Kenshin didn't know what to think of it, but the tension and sadness seemed to hang around them.

What were they waiting for? Kenshin fidgeted, wanting to get back on the road but not voicing the opinion – it wasn't his place to interrupt.

Then, finally, Master turned and walked to the gate.

He stopped.

And with a look over his shoulder back to Osumi-san, he whispered, "Thank you."

AN: Edited first by Chie in 2014, then again 04.01.2016 by BelovedStranger.

I would encourage you to google the names mentioned in this story. The people, political statements, places… all have significance. And what Osumi meant with her warning to Kenshin was the rising tension against foreigners, which not soon after lead to murders of foreign merchants and diplomats and caused all together nasty business, such as the bombardment of Kagoshima. Btw, Shiomi family of Matsue is also something of interest, as the house has been preserved as a museum and there are wonderful pictures available.