Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.
Chizuru was, hopelessly and without a doubt, lost.
When she had abandoned the clearing the policeman had found her in, her mind had been in a state of frenzied panic. It had only been after she had turned one too many corners - corners chosen in a completely random order, so as to lose any other suspicious characters - that she had stopped, exhausted. Then she had pitifully attempted to place her mind back together, a task she completed with a bit of effort. Upon remembering the fierce, golden-eyed glower Fujita had thrown her, she shuddered. In a way, those eyes made her think of Kenji. Fierce, little room for compassion... would Kenji end up that way, if he were to continue with the belief that he was greater than others? The thought sent a second shudder down Chizuru's spine, and she inhaled deeply in another attempt to calm herself.
"Fujita" was a character to keep an eye on, and if his words carried any merit, he would be keeping an eye on her, too. What connection did he have with Kenji? Dismissing the worrying questions and thoughts from her mind, the young Raikoji attempted to identify her surroundings, searching for clues that might lead her to finding her way out. The high walls and curved rooves prevented her from seeing a good deal of the surrounding area, and, curling her fingers tightly into her palms, Chizuru bit back a curse. Climbing onto the rooves was out of the question. The next option was to wander aimlessly until she caught site of the Gion Shrine, the greatest attraction the festival had provided. Straightening and resolving herself to the task, Chizuru picked a random alley and strode into it.
She had been walking for about fifteen minutes when she was finally able to identify her surroundings, but the shrine of the Gion Festival was not her marker. It was, instead, the open window of a tall building next to her that allowed her to pick out her location. From inside came numerous voices, accompanied by drunken laughter - which Chizuru thought tasteless, considering the time of day - and the piteous squeals of young, unlucky women. Chizuru bit back a cry as her heartbeat increased dramatically, then pressed herself against a shadowed wall as a man dragged one unfortunate young woman towards the wall next to the window, his roaming hands saying much more than necessary. Despite his partner's obvious distress, she did nothing to prevent his actions. She had no choice in the matter.
'A brothel,' Chizuru thought, slipping away from the scene. Such things were very common around the slums of Kyoto. She felt her face heat up in embarrassment as the young girl's whines soon turned to pleasured giggles, then broke out in a run. She herself had unwillingly... serviced... men, but she had never grown used to it. She would never drop to the level of doing such horrid things willingly, not unless she and Mana were starving or dying. Desperately pressing the thoughts from her mind, Chizuru continued, glad to have at least learned her remote location.
It was a good deal of time later when Chizuru's belly rumbled in complaint, and she groaned. The revolting sounds from within the brothels had increased over the time, then had been replaced by sounds of children and their parents. She was once again nearing the center of the city, where a good deal of the activity took place. She hurried on, eager to escape the narrow maze she had placed herself in.
And then she stopped for a moment, her eyes widening just slightly as a strange, putrid scent assaulted her nostrils. Chizuru blinked, placing a hand over her nose in discomfort; the smell was easily dismissed, but she could not control the curiosity that drove her to dive into the alley. She cautioned herself against getting lost again, and to prevent such a thing from happening, she grabbed her hair ribbon - it was a dirty, ugly thing, one she hardly wore at all - and set it on the ground behind her, facing the alley she had come from. She then followed the scent, which became more revolting with every step she took. And yet, despite her efforts, she could not label the scent. Was it... rotting? She wrinkled her nose in distaste, but continued nonetheless.
And then, after taking the one-way alley for a few minutes, Chizuru stopped altogether, her mind going numb and her eyes wide. The smell had long-since become overpowering, then soon after accompanied by the sound of running water. The scent was fed by the moisture. It was not just the stench that horrified her - had that been the case, she would have left long ago - but the reason for it.
Chizuru had been completely right when she had labeled the scent as rotting. A strangled gasp escaped her lips, a terrified scream lodged in her throat. Her lips moved numbly as she tried to create words, to cry out for help, but those died on her lips. It was the man - the one who had assaulted her in an attempt to kill her that night - lying in the water, his top half splayed out on the edge of the vast puddle. Flies that had always been present suddenly created a horrible, ear-shattering droning as they feasted upon the carcass. Chizuru immediately felt the need to eat vanish as she stepped forward hesitantly, resisting her every urge to run. She reached out hesitantly - she needed to know the cause of death, at least - and turned him slightly, recoiling in disgust as the skin she gripped gave way beneath her fingers. Flies landed on her hands, unsure of the state of her own flesh, and she swatted them away in horror. The dead man's skin had long-since absorbed as much water as it could, resulting in a rotting, prunish state. Upon seeing his face, Chizuru turned away, repulsed beyond belief.
The man's piggish face, which she had strove so hard to forget, had been completely crushed in. Blood that had long-since dried crusted his remaining features, creating a morbid mask. His eyes were screwed shut by the unnatural state of his face, his noise and mouth slanting inward. Feeling the remainder of her breakfast stirring within her, Chizuru released the body, wiping her hands feverishly on her kimono, and ran into a dark corner to be sick. Her stomach lurched painfully, spewing up the last of her digested food. How long had it been since she had lost her food over something like this? She couldn't remember. After her temporary sickness passed, Chizuru wiped her mouth, spitting out the remains and tasting the bile of her stomach in her mouth. Revulsion filled her as she glanced back at the man, and she finally managed to place a thought together in her mind.
'Who did this?' she wondered as she recalled the crushed face, each gruesome detail burned into her mind. It couldn't have been a coincidence, and this wasn't the normal mugging. The state of the man, his body clear save for his head, suggested that the attack had been quick and precise. Whoever had performed it also had, without a doubt, immense strength. She instantly went over the names in her mind: Kohaku, Yousaku, Kagami, Akiro, and... Kenji. She then reluctantly began counting down, knocking each one off. Kohaku was terribly strong and clever, but he was not the type to just leave a body in an alley. He would have disposed of it in the river, at least, for the sake of secrecy. Yousaku used needles and a katana, both of which were incapable of inflicting this type of wound. For using the katana, Chizuru knocked Kagami and thankfully, Kenji from her list. That left Akiro.
This brute had known Akiro's name at the least, suggesting a higher position amongst his hired thugs. Akiro was nowhere near as organized as his brother, nor as well sponsored. He hired cheap thugs to compensate for his lack of sheer numbers. Oh, he had strong henchmen and he was quite clever, but he was nowhere near the level of Kohaku. Would he waste a valuable henchman? Chizuru doubted it.
Who committed the crime, then? Chizuru went over her list two more times before finally settling with Kagami. She knew the least about him, and he had a good deal of precise thugs at his disposal. But how did he know? Chizuru felt her heartbeat quicken as she went over the possibility of having been found again. 'Too soon,' she thought feverishly. 'I can't move Mana-ne to a different place, and-- Kenji!' Her mind whirled as she ran from the scene of the murder. What would happen to him? If Kagami had witnessed her assaulting, then he had seen Kenji, and... she bit back a desperate sob as she fell to her knees, rubbing her hands through her hair. He was in danger.
And then she was morbidly aware that she was not the only one in the alley; well, not the only live one. Ragged breathing that did not belong to her reached her ears, followed by a foul curse and then a hiss of surprise. For a moment, an agonizing silence followed. Chizuru dared to hope that the man had overlooked her, but she was not so lucky. A sharp pain exploded in her back as a foot descended upon it, slamming her down forcefully. A slight gasp escaped her before she picked herself up quickly, whirling around and facing her next attacker. Before she could properly address the enormous, muscular brute, a fist slammed across her face. Chizuru stumbled back, her hands blindly searching for something to support her. She failed, and with another cry, tumbled onto the cruel stone road beneath her. She could taste blood in her mouth, could feel it running through the scratches in her hands. Her vision was reeling as the man mercilessly kicked her in the stomach, earning a third cry from her. She knew another blow like that would break a rib or two.
A fourth blow was about to make contact, but Chizuru managed to roll to the side and avoid it. A bad-tempered curse came from her attacker, and before he was able to pursue her, she found a wall and stood against it, extending a hand in his general direction.
"Don't!" she barely managed to croak past her bloodied lips. She vaguely wondered what kind of good such words would do, but shoved the thought from her mind as the burly man brought a fist down on her shoulder, grounding her a second time. "You're working for Akiro, aren't you?" This time, the man paused; Chizuru dared to hope that he had discovered compassion, but rather, he sneered at her and nodded. The girl mentally swore as she clumsily rolled again, regaining her footing with a good deal of difficulty. Her body throbbed in agony as she attempted to dance away from his fists. Had he a katana, she would have all ready been dead.
Chizuru bit back a scream as he lurched out and grabbed her by the kimono. In a desperate attempt to escape the blows he would soon throw upon her, she dragged herself away, only to be dragged back and swung harshly. The young Raikoji gasped as the fabric of her kimono tore, revealing the white yukata she had worn underneath it but nonetheless freeing her. Half-running, half-staggering, she strove to put as much distance as she could between the two of them. But the fabric of her remaining kimono restricted her legs, and in an attempt to free herself, she stepped over it. The abandoned remains of her kimono allowed her to increase her pace and stride, further placing ground between them.
"Bitch! Akiro payed me a good price to kill you!" the man roared, taking after her with amazing speed. Chizuru bit her lip and looked ahead; upon catching site of the ribbon she had placed on the road earlier, she ran faster. Her body ached in complaint, begged to be allowed rest for the sore areas, but she ignored the throbbing and pressed herself on. The angered roars followed her, barely changing in volume.
Then something caught her eye; hills in the distance, framing the very top of a tall, red shrine... panting as she picked up her pace, Chizuru marked the Gion Shrine as her vantage point and charged forward, ducking into alleys and weaving through the maze with reckless abandon, but still managing to keep an eye on the building. She was cut off as the man who had been giving chase whirled around a corner she chose, slamming into her with his full weight and strength. Chizuru fell back with a pained gasp, sucking in her breath a second time with his fist shot out and hit her face as she fell. Feeling her head scream with pain, she stumbled; she had been so close to escaping, and her exit had been cut off. The constant, panicked running had drained her of a good deal of her strength.
Another blow knocked her back - she was barely quick enough to block a portion of it with her hands, absorbing most of the impact and pushing her more than hurting her - and she failed to immediately pick herself back up. A sobbing gasp escaped her as she drew in a breath, her hands searching desperately for something to defend herself with and finding nothing. The man merely laughed, insanity replacing his ability to feel compassion for his victim. Chizuru saw him raise a hand in preparation, then squeezed her eyes shut.
She then listened as the man's pleased chuckles turned into agonized screams.
Something heavy hit the ground - Chizuru dared to hope that someone had come to her aid, someone had knocked him out - and she opened her eyes, searching her savior's face. A panicked cry escaped her as she struggled to her elbows, somehow finding the strength to push herself back up. It was Fujita--... wasn't it? No... as Chizuru studied him for a moment, she realized that this was not the wolfish man who had interrogated her earlier. This man was much more youthful, and his face possessed a gentle feature that had failed the fierce policeman. Although there seemed a slight gap in the immediate strength between the two, Chizuru knew he was strong. Before she could run, he extended a hand, helping her to stand.
"Are you all right?" he asked, concerned. Chizuru nodded vaguely, glancing over towards her aggressor. He was still, but hopefully not dead; despite the amount of damage she had sustained at his hands, she couldn't wish him dead. Seeing her first attacker in such a gruesome state prevented it. As she turned her head slightly, she caught site of his arm; it was slashed deeply, blood running from it. Biting back a gasp and pulling her hand from the police's, she looked away. He followed her previous line of vision and calmly resheathed his sword, which she had failed to notice earlier. "I'm sorry if such things make you queasy." He wasn't mocking her.
"Will he... will he be all right?"
"Yes. He's lucky he's so thick," he said, a cold smile breaking out on his lips. Chizuru felt the immediate need to shudder, but suppressed it. "If he hadn't been, he would have lost his arm." Then, turning and allowing her to rest against the wall for a moment, he tore a piece of the man's clothes and used it to tie a good portion of the wound. "He'll be tended to once I bring him back with me."
"Bring him ba--... why do you need him?" Chizuru questioned. The young man stared at her as if she were insane. The young Raikoji looked away, feeling embarrassed. Of course he would bring him to a police station; he had just assaulted a young woman. Upon reading her facial features, the policeman nodded, realizing that he need not lecture her.
"He's certainly a large man," he mumbled offhandedly, lifting the man by his unmarked arm. "A little information on your assault would be useful." For a moment, Chizuru feared that she, too, would be dragged away unwillingly, but the silence that followed his words erased her fears. He wanted answers now.
"I... he... that is..." Chizuru took in a shaky breath, then continued, a good deal of false confidence in her voice. "He was my old... lover." It hurt to lie in such a horrid way, especially when such an action made her would-be-murderer the object of old affections. But as she continued, weaving the fabrication quickly and precisely, she grew less embarrassed and more confident. A loathing that was not so false crept into her voice. "I had only recently broken off our relationship. He doesn't take rejection easily..." She gestured to her state of dress. "...you can see that."
"Ah," the policeman said neutrally. Chizuru breathed out a sigh through her nose, but tensed up once again when he continued. "His name would be very helpful, then. I could search for a history in this sort of violence."
The young Raikoji swore in her mind. A name! She hadn't considered that when she had been lying. She would beat herself later for such a mistake. At present, her mind was whirling in an attempt to pull a completely random name from her list.
"Yamanako Jiro," she answered. The young man's eyes flickered, and for a moment she felt her stomach drop. Could he see through her lies? But then he nodded, momentarily banishing her fears. He then stood and began dragging the man from the clearing. Chizuru blinked for a moment, many questions filling her mind; she stepped forward to help, but only found herself hindering him as she stumbled from exhaustion. "How did you find me?" she croaked as she stood, following him at a staggering pace. There was little chance that a policeman had been wandering through the maze just as aimlessly as she.
"I came here to avoid the crowd," he said simply, and although it seemed a pitiful excuse, he made it sound true. "I also got reports concerning strange people in this area. I'm glad they weren't completely bogus." He shifted the man on his shoulder, causing him to groan slightly. Chizuru couldn't resist a smile. The gesture seemed to encourage the man, for he grinned too. "I hope you choose better men next time."
"There won't be other men," she said, attempting to smile. The truth of such words shook her, but she masked her worries. The curious look she received from the policeman unnerved her, and she continued. "So, I can't be satisfied with you apprehending my attacker without knowing your name."
"Saitou Tsutomu," he said almost cheerfully. "Pleased to meet you."
"Thank you, Saitou-san," she replied. "You've saved me a good deal of grief." And then the morbid memory of the dead man in the alley returned to her; all cheeriness vanished from her mind, replaced by a sense of immediate urgency. Although no words were spoken in such a brief period of time, Tsutomu seemed to notice it.
"What is it?"
"There's... there's something suspicious," she began slowly, turning towards the scene from which she had just escaped. "Down that alley. I... I didn't get a close look, but I could smell something."
"And?"
"I think it was rotting."
xXx
For what seemed to be an eternity, Kenji stared at his father, who returned the stare with equal intensity. Then Hiko snorted dismissively and turned back towards the fire, muttering about how the only good thing his pupils had to offer was their cooking. Kenshin himself remained silent, his violet eyes boring into the blue ones of his son. There were no questions. He was not confused. All Kenji could see in his father's stare was utter disappointment, and that was what wounded him the most.
"Kenji," Kenshin finally said, his voice tired, resigned. His next words hardly matched with his obvious mood. "I'm glad I found you." Kenji was suddenly aware of his own teeth being ground together, his clenched fists.
"I'm sure you are," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Kenshin looked shaken for a moment by his son's coldness, but then he narrowed his eyes, hardening his emotions. His inability to openly confront Kenji infuriated the young man. Could he not be looked upon as an adult? Hadn't he proved his maturity by leaving home, by making himself independent? All the frustration his had ever felt towards his family, towards his father, made him burn.
"We need to talk, Kenji," Kenshin began grimly, almost forcefully. Kenji returned the statement with a glare that spoke volumes. If his father expected to drag him back home to his mother, to his siblings and friends, he was wrong. The young Himura had finally found his freedom; there was no way he was going to let it go so easily. Kenshin, seemingly reading his son's face, continued sternly. "Your mother has been attacked and wounded."
That was unexpected; Kenji's eyes widened, worry for his mother overcoming his frustration towards his family as a whole. Kenshin himself was glad for the change. It meant that Kenji was not completely heartless. He was nowhere near what he had feared.
"What? Why?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing. Rage at Kaoru's attacker ate at him, fueling his anger.
"A young man attacked her last night," Kenshin said, searching his son's face for any signs of recognition. "She was pierced by numerous needles-" Kenji's eyes widened as realization hit him, "-around her neck. According to Megumi, her attacker was a master doctor."
"I... I can't beli--"
"Yes, you can," Kenshin cut him off, his voice lowering to the point of a growl. His son was involved with Kaoru's assaulters; the look in his eyes had said that much, if only for a moment. "You are under the employment of these men." The rage was barely contained in his voice. Kenshin wanted nothing more than to demand the answers his son was holding from him, to demand why his son had allianced himself with such people in the first place. What had happened to the child that had, many a time, stranded himself on the roof of the dojo? What had happened to the innocent boy? And just as soon as he asked himself these questions, he knew the answer.
Kenshin had given Kenji a demon. He had given him the ability to lock away his emotions, his true feelings, from the world. He had given Kenji the Battousai. As the guilt for what had happened to the boy hit him, Kenshin ground his teeth, his hands itching for a sword. He was good with words - he had used this talent many a time to convince enemies of their inner problems - but with Kenji, he would need to use something different. He would need to show him that even without Hiten, there was true strength.
And then Hiko, as if reading his former student's thoughts, grabbed his own sword and tossed it to Kenshin. He caught the weapon as if he had been expecting it; he immediately stood, alert and waiting for his son's confusion to pass. When Kenji finally seemed able to comprehend that his father was actually challenging him - that something he had always wanted was coming true - he could not suppress something akin to a sneer. Although this greatly disturbed Kenshin, he said nothing, his mouth drawing into a tight line. He slid the blade from its sheath and flipped it, facing his son with the blunt side of the blade. The sakabatou he faced was once his own; he knew it better than anyone. Although Hiko's sword was masterfully crafted, there was a possibility that it could not hold against his old reversed blade.
"This is what you wanted, wasn't it?" Kenshin asked, his voice low and dangerous. Kenji immediately drew the sakabatou from its sheath, a silent nod confirming his thoughts and fears. Kenshin bit back on his urge to protect his son rather than to fight, to preserve instead of endanger. He instead thought of how Kenji had threatened his family, and determination resolved his actions. "If you cannot see how weak you are, then I will show you."
Kenji's grip on the sakabatou tightened momentarily; Kenshin took note of how he had so easily wounded his son's pride. Had it expanded since they had last seen each other? The possibility was mortifying. His cynical attitude towards strangers, his pride and arrogance about his strength... he was like both Saitoh and Shishio. But before he was allowed to contemplate any further possibilities, Kenji had crossed the distance between them, his sword drawn and headed towards his ribs.
Kenshin immediately brought up Hiko's katana, worrisome thoughts abandoned in favor of observing his newest opponent. Kenji was not terribly strong - he had grown up using a bokken, so this weakness was unavoidable - but he was fast. His slim frame and quick feet made up for his lack of natural muscle. Kenshin smoothly rose his sword to cover his shoulder, the sakabatou's next target; he could almost feel Kenji's anger driving him on. Was this his usual motivation for fighting? If so, he would not last long. Another strike forced Kenshin to duck and bring Hiko's katana above his head, blocking the swing that had transformed into a downwards slash. He was then caught slightly off guard as his son pulled the blade away and turned, using his speed and momentum to propel his third strike. Kenshin actually had to utilize his ability to escape, throwing himself backwards and regaining his footing. Despite himself, he was proud of Kenji. His son was not good enough to defeat him - it would take a good deal of time and hard training - but he had an exceptional amount of ability. His pride was banished as Kenshin reminded himself of the source of this power: the Battousai.
"So slow," he said as he blocked another blow, this one aimed at his skull. He saw Kenji grind his teeth and struck his first blow; his son, unprepared for an offensive move, just barely blocked it. Kenshin then flipped the blade - the blunt side faced his opponent - and struck a second time with speed he thought he had lost, landing the blow flawlessly. Kenji stumbled back, a pained gasp escaping his lips as his hand flew to his injured shoulder. Kenshin took the opportunity to crouch and sweep his son's feet out from underneath him. Kenji picked himself up nimbly, unwilling to give up. It was his mother's determination that drove him to this. Kenshin decided against attacking while his son readied himself again; he wanted to see more of Kenji's talent.
And so, Kenshin allowed himself to be absorbed in the fight with Kenji, his thoughts forgotten. If he had taught him more, would his son have surpassed him by now? Although unlikely, it may have happened. Kenshin felt a twinge of regret, but pressed it away and focused on the deadly dance he had willingly entered. After a moment, Kenji's ragged breathing evened out, his body conditioning itself so that it may work sufficiently for a longer time. Kenshin allowed himself a smile. Kenji was going to be so very strong, and despite Kenshin's peaceful wishes, he found himself satisfied with that. But while he was mildly enjoying the fight, Kenji obviously felt otherwise.
"You never did anything for me," he said suddenly, his voice low, his bangs masking his eyes. Kenshin hesitated, caught slightly off guard. The sakabatou swung towards his head in a swift arc; Kenshin pushed his body to block it with the katana, but was also surprised by the amount of power hidden behind the blow. Kenji's voice remained low as he repeated the phrase a second time, then a third. "You never..." Another blow, and Kenshin was hard pressed to block it and gain his son's back, "...did anything for me!" And when Kenshin met his son's eyes, he fell back a step, the site carrying the weight of a physical blow.
Amber.
Kenji seemed to notice this surprise, and immediately after the cause of it. A sickening sneer painted his features. "So you've noticed, too. Do you like them? I hate them." The sneer vanished, replaced by barely contained fury. "They've only reminded me of what you didn't do when you had the chance!" And with those words, he charged again.
The blade was suddenly centimeters from making contact with his face; Kenshin's eyes widened as he immediately ducked, the point of the blade sailing harmlessly over his head. He swung out at Kenji's legs in an attempt to make him lose his footing, but he failed; his son danced out of the way almost effortlessly. Kenshin tried a few more intricate attacks, swinging and slashing, blocking and thrusting, but Kenji seemed to parry every move. Earlier, he had been unable to do this. He was growing strong too fast, and his obvious will to do harm to Kenshin was appalling. Kenji's words only helped to deepen this emotional wound.
"You wasted your time playing the perfect dad! You could have actually taught me something!" Another blow. Another. Kenshin felt his breath shorten just slightly as they continued, but he was far from exhausted. If only he had the Hiten style, it would be so much easier to defeat Kenji. Kenshin pressed the nagging thought from his mind, gritting his teeth and dodging another. "I'm weak, right? I'm slow, right? It's all because of you!" And then Kenshin's eyes widened as a swift Hiten move was brought upon him: Kenji was gone, vanished from his place on the ground as he jumped and brought down the sword in a swift, powerful move. Ryutsuisen. Kenshin audibly gasped as he jumped back slightly, blocking the blade at an angle and forcing Kenji's weight from him. The blade in his hands staggered slightly, but remained strong.
Kenji's sakabatou was suddenly swung towards him, its speed and power quite obviously conveying his every wish to damage his own father. Kenshin felt instinct take over - he could not dodge, and attempting to block the blow could permanently damage Hiko's katana - and before his body could scream in protest, he ducked and swung, centrifugal force propelling him around.
"Ryukansen!" he hissed as the blade collided with Kenji, sending him backwards. Then his entire body was screaming, cursing him for having used a Hiten move; he, too, stumbled back and could not get up. Kenshin drew in a ragged breath, suppressing a cry as pain licked up through his entire body. He tried to force himself into a standing position; all he could move was his hand, with which he released the katana. He had been a fool, and for such a mistake, he was paying the price. Megumi's words on his condition according to Hiten Mitsurugi echoed through his mind almost accusingly.
Kenji was in a condition much like his father's. Pain burned through his side, where the flipped katana had struck. The force and speed of the attack had caught him completely off guard; had the sharp end been facing him, his torso would have been slashed from the rest of his body. He bit his lip, challenging his pain and pulling himself up. Kenji blinked as the rage vanished from him in small portions, slowly replaced by shame. He had lost control of himself. And he had still lost. But as he glanced over in his father's direction, ready for a challenge or a sermon - he preferred the former - his eyes widened. Kenshin was still helpless, lying on the ground. If anything, the impact of the attack had wounded him more than his son.
"Father," he croaked, a number of emotions in his voice. He was ashamed. Frustrated. And despite these emotions, the first and foremost in his mind was regret. The name Kenshin had given the move, most likely shouted through pure habit, had labeled the attack as a Hiten move. Kenji knew the rules applying to his father: he was not to use the style. After having learned the final move, his small body had slowly but surely lost the ability to fight the way he had used to. In the act of defeating his son, Kenshin had wounded himself. Kenji shakily brought himself to his feet, struggling with the urge to hate his father and the will to assist him. He finally chose the latter, extending a hand; upon realizing that his father could not even move to pull himself up, Kenji became seriously worried. He finally dropped all formalities. "Dad."
"Stupid pupil," Hiko's voice said accusingly from the other side of the yard. Kenji didn't even bother to look at his master as he continued, "He knew the consequences of using those moves. He'll be pretty sore by the time he can move."
Kenji stared at his father, unwilling to submit to his regret. But as he moved forward just slightly, Kenshin visibly throbbed and Kenji forgot his pride, kneeling at his father's side and allowing a silence to settle upon them. It was suddenly mortifying, witnessing his father fall. Kenshin had always been a source of strength; he had never been one to tremble or stagger. Kenji looked away, unwilling to meet the truth of what he had done. He focused his mind on other things.
"Mom will kill you if she notices," Kenji finally murmured, breaking the silence with a topic they mutually enjoyed. "And she does notice these things." For a moment, Kenshin was silent; Kenji felt worry flood through him. Was he really hurt that seriously? Or did he simply prefer not to speak with his son? The second thought carried more emotional weight than the first, and in an effort to banish his worries, he continued. "I lost control." The statement hung in the air, nagging and bare without an apology to follow.
"Yes," Kenshin murmured, a shuddering breath following his word. Kenji felt relief flood through him as his father continued calmly, "But you couldn't have defeated me, even if you had continued." Kenji felt a slight pang as his pride took the blow, but he pressed his rage aside. More important issues were at hand.
"You said Mom was attacked," he said, breaking through the somewhat pleasant atmosphere. Kenshin was silent - his mouth set in a grim line, his brow furrowing - and nodded. He wanted Kenji to continue, to explain, but the constantly expanding silence suggested otherwise. Finally, the young Himura drew in a shaky breath and dared to question his father. "The boy used needles, right? And Takani-san said he had medical skills--"
"Kenji," Kenshin finally interrupted, his violent eyes boring into the blue ones of his son. Kenshin's grim demeanor vanished just a bit upon seeing his son in a more stable state, but he continued in all seriousness. "You know who I was talking about. I saw it in your face." Kenji seemed to deflate slightly; he nodded, to which his father closed his eyes and drew in a steady breath. His energy was returning, slowly and surely. The pain was beginning to ebb. "What I want to know is why you would assist such people."
"I wanted... strength," Kenji murmured, looking away guiltily. Kenshin was silent, and, encouraged by his lack of reprimands, Kenji continued. "I was told my family wouldn't be involved, but something must've happened--"
"You trusted these people enough to tell them about your own family?" Kenshin breathed, his voice calm. Kenji immediately stiffened, shaking his head furiously.
"I didn't! They... they just knew." The reasons should have been obvious - the Battousai was a legend, after all - but nonetheless, Kenshin seemed to want more explanations. "I look like you, and everyone knows about you." He couldn't suppress the bitter tone that came along with his words, and when met by his father's gaze, he looked away. He had so easily forgotten how kind and loving Kenshin had been to his family. He had forgotten that his mother, his siblings, even himself... they were all Kenshin had to hold onto and to love in only a way a man could care for his family.
And if Kenshin knew what was best for the remainder of his family, he would leave. Kenji hardened his heart against all other possibilities, closing his mind on the one option he had chosen and deemed as correct. The sorrow and regret Kenji had felt earlier vanished, replaced by determination.
"You will leave."
Kenshin blinked - he hadn't expected such a quick change of attitude from his son - and stared at the younger Himura, who merely stared back with unquestionable conviction. Inhaling sharply, Kenshin forced his body into action, ignoring the searing pain running through his limbs and down his spine. Kenji's eyes did not so much as flicker as his father sat up, gasping from the mere effort. The words he had spoken had been and order, not a request.
"Kenji, you underestimate me."
"No, you underestimate me," his son countered evenly. Kenshin shook his head, eyes downcast as he once again grew used to operating his own body. What would it take for Kenji to understand that he wasn't as strong as he made himself out to be? How long would it be until he realized that his family, his close companions, were to be relied upon instead of forced away? Kenshin almost laughed at the irony of such a thought. Hadn't he, too, pushed Kaoru and the others away in a futile attempt to keep them safe?
"You can't fight people like these by yourself," Kenshin said simply. "And you can't just forget that you have a family to come back to."
"I don't intend on returning home for a good time, father," Kenji returned coldly, stressing the final word to the point in which it carried no respect whatsoever. Kenshin felt the immense gap between them, fathomless and growing. "And I work for these people. I have no intention of fighting them. Besides..." His eyes flickered, rage briefly shadowing them as he continued, "...your being here is endangering your family."
Your family.
Kenji had just disowned his own family.
xXx
Mana had not expected to be reunited with the Shinomori family, but it was a blissful surprise. The young Raikoji was met with countless greetings, friendly gestures, and warm invites as she was led into the Aoi-ya by Himura Kaoru. A few faces were unfamiliar - there were two children Kaoru had claimed to be her own, and another who addressed himself as Myogin Shinya - but she knew and greeted the Shinomoris as if she had known them all her life. As she sat on the porch overlooking the scenic backyard, playing with the adorable child Aoko, she reminisced about her own childhood. It had not been as warm and loving as this had been, but she wasn't about to complain. Mana could have very easily spent the rest of her life with people like these. Why had Kenji chosen to abandon them?
"Mana-chan, you're a natural with children," Kaoru said, grinning as she watched Mana comb her fingers gently through Aoko's thick, dark hair. Said girl merely smiled modestly, squeezing the child in a gentle embrace. She would make a fine mother. Aoko himself was already smitten with her; the six year old smiled and allowed her to coddle him as he had allowed no other.
"Where's nee-san?" he asked suddenly, and both Mana and Kaoru blinked; the former, realizing that it was Chizuru of whom he spoke, smiled reassuringly.
"She wasn't feeling really well, but I'll bring her later-- Chizuru-ne?" She blinked in surprise as said girl wandered out onto the porch, her eyes nervously assessing the people around her. The employee who had brought her bowed politely and left to complete her chores. Chizuru's knuckles were white as she looked down, having completed her inspection. Mana could have laughed; there was no danger among such people as these. "How are you feeling, Chizuru-ne?"
"Fine," she murmured offhandedly, her expression brightening as Aoko dashed over to her. She leaned down, ruffling his wild hair. "How're you, Aoko?"
"Great," he said, beaming uncharacteristically. "I've been practicing." It took Chizuru a moment to realize what he was talking about, but once she realized that it was of the paper-ball twirling of which he spoke, she grinned.
"Are you any good yet?" To this, Aoko looked down at his toes bashfully, shaking his head. Chizuru merely shrugged. "It takes a long time to get used to. Don't worry. If you keep it up, you'll have it down in no time."
"Chizuru-chan," Kaoru voiced, and when faced by said girl, she smiled. "I'm glad to see you again." And uneasy smile crossed Chizuru's features as she nodded. Then her eyes flickered as a question arose in her mind.
"Do you have any children?" she murmured, fully aware of the number but not wanting to seem presumptuous. Kaoru beamed as she pointed to Shinta and Ai; the former was play-wrestling with an unfamiliar, spiky-haired boy while the latter watched from a safe distance, Rei sitting by her side.
"The redhead is Shinta," she said, "and the girl is Ai. The boy Shinta is playing with is Myogin Shinya. His parents couldn't come because Tsubame just found out she's pregnant, and they need to plan for the baby." A warmth crossed Chizuru's features as the last sentence was spoken. Kaoru then fell silent, thinking of the son that had left. Kenshin had gone to get information from Hiko. That much was obvious; why did he insist on keeping secrets from her? Kenji was her son just as much as he was Kenshin's. A brave smile crossed her lips, disguising her sadness. "I also have a son who's out traveling. His name is Kenji."
"...I see," Chizuru murmured. The group fell silent for a moment - save for the chattering Aoko made - and Kaoru, nervous, broke it.
"So, where are you two staying? Around the center of town?" Chizuru shook her head, specifying very little but guaranteeing that it was an inn rather than a house. The three then chatted aimlessly for a while; the pleasant atmosphere was broken when a string of vulgar language filtered from the Aoi-ya, followed by a harsh smack and further arguing. Mana was wide-eyed; Chizuru's mouth hung open in surprise as a tall, spiky-haired man came out, followed by a beautiful, dark-haired woman. The former was causing all the swearing, it seemed.
"Dammit, Fox, it wasn't my fault!"
"Don't take me for a fool, Rooster! It doesn't take a genius to figure out who broke a few expensive valuables! You'll be lucky if the Shinomori family doesn't throw you out! You've been nothing but a pain in the behind, and if you keep it up--"
"I don't remember asking for you to babysit me!"
"I don't remember wanting to babysit you, either! You've got the manners of a two-year-old!" As the argument raged on, Chizuru's gaping mouth formed a smile; she shook with suppressed giggles as the verbal darts became sharper, far more personal than need be. The conversation had long-since abandoned the subject of broken items, pushing into each other's personal lives.
"Stupid hag! No wonder you aren't married yet; you're too damn annoying! If it weren't for your decent tits, no guy would take a second look at you!" This comment was followed by a cold slap across the face from Megumi, who, amazingly, retained her calm demeanor as she fought back.
"Well, that's a plus to being stupid and ugly," she taunted. "You never bathe, you never shave... it's a wonder girl's don't run away from you upon sight!" She waved a hand in front of her nose for emphasis. Sano bristled.
Chizuru, who had been watching the argument as it had raged, smiled slightly. She shifted slightly, moving to her knees, but a pained gasp escaped her, drawing the attention of all and silencing the fight. Mana looked at her wordlessly, then sat next to her and gently pressed her fingers on her sister's stomach; surprised and unprepared, the young Raikoji gave a pained cry. She then bit her lip and grinned, pulling away.
"It's nothing," she said. Mana was about to argue when Megumi, having interpreted Chizuru's pain, stepped over to her and extended a hand, helping her to stand. Chizuru looked somewhat confused and altogether hesitant, but the female doctor was a silent, commanding figure as she led her away. The remainder of people watched as the two silently entered the house, closing the door behind them. Mana then went back to Aoko, giving him the undivided attention he had gained earlier.
"What was that all about?" Sano half-snapped, confused and unable to completely lash out at someone. No one made a move to answer him; he whipped his head around, attempting to catch someone's gaze, but he ultimately failed. Chewing on his trademark fish-bone, the wanderer snorted. "I'll never understand women."
xXx
"Who did this to you?" Megumi questioned as she rearranged Chizuru's clothing to cover her bruises once again. The young Raikoji attempted to smile, but the doctor's stern face rejected any hopes of fooling her. Megumi was clearly enraged - whoever had done this had gone much too far, almost to the point of breaking her ribs - and, feeling defeated, Chizuru sighed. Must she continue to lie?
"My... former companion," she said, hoping she looked as embarrassed as she felt. Megumi's features did not soften. Feeling vulnerable and transparent, Chizuru attempted a smile typical of any teenage girl and continued chatting pleasantly, "I had only recently broken up with him, but he'd always had a bad temper..." She gestured to her midsection, ignoring the guilty twist in her gut. "He wasn't exactly pleased with my decisions."
"Really," Megumi said coolly, her tone doing nothing to disguise her sarcasm. Chizuru almost flinched; the woman's cold glare spoke more than words could ever relate. It was obvious enough that the female doctor didn't believe her. Suppressing the immediate urge to spill her guts, Chizuru nodded.
"Really," she echoed. Megumi rose a brow in return. The female doctor finally opened her mouth, looking fully prepared to officially shoot down Chizuru's lies, but a cry from the yard drew the attention of both women. Chizuru immediately stood, gasping as pain licked up through her midsection. She then slid the door open and bolted out. Megumi followed hesitantly; the cry had been nothing to worry over. If anything, it had been a happy sound.
Chizuru stopped as soon as she reached the porch; she had long-since memorized the details that made up Himura Kenji. A smile drew itself across her lips, but before she could call out to the figure across the yard, Kaoru did. Kenji's mother ran forward, a broad smile on her own face as she repeated her son's name over and over. Chizuru watched, feeling somewhat out of place, as mother embraced son. Kenji was silent for a moment, still and unmoving; then he drew up his own hands, returning the embrace. Kaoru's lips moved, but Chizuru could not pick out the words. Kenji said nothing. Then Kaoru stiffened; her son had drawn himself away from her, placing an arm's distance between them. His lips moved. Kaoru's smile faded.
Chizuru took a few reluctant steps forward, her eyes never leaving Kenji's cold, stern face. Was this all the compassion he would show his own mother? Whatever he was saying was obviously wounding Kaoru; as she returned his words, her hands balled into fists. She was pleading with him. As she slowly closed the distance between them, Chizuru could catch small fragments of the conversation they were holding. Kenji did not notice her. If he did, he was ignoring her.
"...to Tokyo with us... your father has... you've lost some weight..." Kaoru was desperately trying to make her son smile, to win her son over with the bond only a mother could forge, but she was failing. Kenji's eyes flickered as Chizuru came close enough to touch, but he did not meet her gaze.
"...I think it would be best for you to leave," he told Kaoru, who blinked in confusion. "I have no intention of returning soon. However, until I do..." His eyes narrowed, "You are no longer my family."
Then his hand was on Chizuru's wrist, pulling her quite forcefully towards the exit. Unsure of what to think, what to say, said girl instinctively balked. Kenji, however, paid no heed to her protests. He merely glanced over to Mana, and with a jerk of his head, she was following behind. Chizuru looked back to Kaoru to find the woman standing where she had previously been, her mouth drawn into a tight line. Was she going to cry? Was she going to beg her own son to reconsider his actions? Chizuru dug her heels into the ground, and in response, Kenji pulled harder. The young Raikoji kept her eyes on Kaoru. The cries of Kenji's siblings and close friends, the people who cared so much for him and were tossed aside by him, had only just reached her ears. But Kaoru was silent. Chizuru looked away, easing her protests. She had no business in the family's problems.
"Kenji," Kaoru suddenly murmured, drawing Chizuru's attention. She looked back to the woman to see that she was wearing a bold, confident smile. Kenji regarded this unexpected response coldly. "We may leave eventually. And you may not be coming back with us. But..." Her smile broadened as she continued, "...I expect to see you back at the dojo once you've grown." Then she turned, wordlessly leading the others back into the Aoi-ya.
Chizuru ceased her struggling altogether, allowing herself to be lead away. A silence fell over the three as they slowly made their way towards the outskirts of the city. Kenji did not release her wrist, and while amidst her thinking, Chizuru could have really cared less.
Why had Kenji abandoned his family? What kind of sin could they have committed to earn such hatred from him? But then again, Kenji's eyes hadn't been full of hatred; they had been clouded over with a cold, dispassionate film. He held no grudge against them. Then what could it have been? Chizuru nearly sighed aloud, distressed with her confusion. Could someone have threatened the Himura family? Who would have the guts, with people like Himura Kenshin and Shinomori Aoshi to fight against? If Kenji was taking a threat seriously, it was not a person to be overlooked.
'A person like Kohaku...'
Upon remembering the man who had caused her such grief, who had abused her both mentally and physically, Chizuru immediately stiffened. Kenji's grip on her wrist tightened in an instant response to her fear. But even as she felt a small amount of comfort, the young Raikoji also felt suspicions cloud her mind; suspicions directed towards the young man leading her. His hands, once lightly calloused from much use with a bokken, were already showing signs of growing rough in texture. How often did he practice with that reverse-bladed sword of his? There was little time for such things, and with Hiko living so far away, he rarely practiced with the thirteenth master of Hiten.
Was he getting practice elsewhere...? Chizuru remembered looking at her father's hands as an innocent child - failing to realize what he would eventually do to her - and picking out the places that had most often felt the hilt of a sword. As questions about Kenji's source of strength flooded her mind, Chizuru found herself facing other worries. Kenji's overall interest in their troubles was not like him. Was he the type to help strangers in need? He seemed like an uncaring person, one to avoid sticking their noses in others' business, and yet... there were times when kindness flickered through his eyes, be they blue or gold. Chizuru didn't know which to call him.
The fact that he held her wrist so gently now made her want to believe that he was naturally kind. But his actions earlier - along with the seed of suspicion that had just been planted in her mind - kept it from happening.
to be continued...
A/N: Argh, sorry for taking so long, guys. School just ended, and I had finals and the like... boo. D: I'm not too pleased with this part, but I dunno. I seriously need to get the plot moving.