Chapter 34

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That looks like Kenshin's hair, Aoshi thought, idly, spotting the pony-tailed figure from behind. The man was dressed in bright blue hakama and a white kimono -- it was a better clothing than he was used to seeing Kenshin in, but they were definitely his style.

His hair, though it was the right length and color, was also a little different -- it was shinier, healthier, less shaggy. He'd been taking better care of it, and it flowed loosely in a silky length that was neatly trimmed at the ends and held back with a silver clasp. He remembered that Kenshin used to hack off the ends with a knife when it got too long for convenience, then simply tie it back with a bit of whatever string he could find to keep it out of his eyes.

Yeah, that's him, Aoshi decided, lengthening his stride to catch up. Even from behind, and half a block away, Kenshin was unmistakable. He ignored the pain in his hips and back; it was a constant companion these days.

Kenshin paused at a stand selling fruit, giving Aoshi a chance to approach him without breaking into an undignified limping run, or shouting.

He was accompanied by a girl -- for a moment, Aoshi wondered if she was a girlfriend or wife, but he would have heard if anything had happened to Kaoru, and he couldn't picture Kenshin cheating on the Kamiya woman. Those two were very deeply in love and utterly dedicated to each other.

Anyway, when the girl turned a bit, and when he saw her face in profile, he realized she was far too young for him. A young teenager, at best -- she had the face of a child. And she was dressed in boy's clothing -- hakama and a kimono like Kenshin's, though Aoshi realized as he drew closer that she'd embroidered flowers on the sleeves of the man's kimono and down the legs of her hakama.

She's a fighter, he realized. That stance is unmistakable. She moves like Kenshin does, or like Hiko used to. Very interesting ... and she's got a wakazashi at her waist. As short as she is, she'd trip over a full length katana. And the wakazashi is just short enough for her to legally carry.

A woman who fought couldn't wear a kimono; it was too restraining. Misao's solution had been that itty-bitty skirt she'd worn so long ago, and trousers now. But if this girl was trained to fight with a sword like Kenshin, she'd find hakama valuable because they'd hide her footwork in a battle. Obviously, however, she wanted to be seen as a girl - hence, the embroidery. Odd, Aoshi thouhght, Most female blades I've known have tried very hard to look like boys. Except for Misao. Who's just Misao and a law unto herself.

"Himura-san!" He said, when he was close enough to speak normally.

Kenshin turned, and a sunny grin broke across his features. "Aoshi-san! Hello!"

"It's been a long time," Aoshi said -- and Kenshin didn't look a bit different, but then, Kaoru had warned them about that in her letters. "What, seven years?"

"Hai. It is good to find you well, Aoshi-san," Kenshin said, gravely. Concern flickered in his eyes, though Aoshi wasn't sure why. "This is my daughter, Chiyoko."

"I didn't know you had a daughter." Aoshi tilted his head, regarding the girl again. They looked nothing alike, except that both were, of course, painfully short. Chiyoko was a solid girl, though -- short and stout, with well-developed muscles and callused fingers.

"She's mine in all but blood," Kenshin said, gravely. He rested a hand on Chiyoko's shoulder, "My apprentice, also."

"A girl?"

"Hai." Kenshin agreed. Aoshi figured there was a story there, but he wasn't going to ask. Maybe Kenshin would volunteer it later, maybe not. Misao would likely find out and tell him eventually.

The girl was silent, simply watching him with wary brown eyes. A quiet one, then; there was impressive calm in her brown eyes.

"Does Hiko know?"

"I plan to visit him this afternoon, but I'd hoped to get a room at the Aoiya first, if you'll have us," Kenshin said, politely, and a little warily. Aoshi wondered why he was being so cautious. Had something happened?

"You're not in any trouble, are you?" Aoshi asked, bluntly.

Kenshin blinked and grimaced in reaction to that. "No. Not official trouble, anyway. Because of what I look like ..." he gestured at his youthful features, "Some claim I'm a demon, or a sorcerer. It's been getting worse, lately ... we ran into a man who remembered me from the Bakumatsu on the way out here, and he thought I was a vengeful spirit."

"Fools," Aoshi snorted. Kenshin was many things, including, quite possibly, cursed; he'd never been vengeful, however, even during the darkest days of his past. At any rate, Aoshi figured he knew Kenshin -- you leaned more about the character of a man when you called him 'enemy' than when you called him 'friend' -- Aoshi figured whatever else Kenshin was, he wasn't a threat to anyone Aoshi cared about. He said calmly, "Yes, you're certainly welcome."

"Mm. Thank you, then." Kenshin looked much happier, and Aoshi realized he'd simply been worried about the reception he would meet.

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Kenshin heard Misao before they saw her -- shrieking laughter, a yell of indignation, an, "I'm going to get you, you brat!" rang from inside the Aoiya.

Chiyoko, next to him, stopped short in surprise at the noise. Foot traffic on the street it front of them swirled around them. Aoshi didn't even blink, however; it would take more than Misao shouting at, presumably, one of her children to unsettle him. Kenshin just shook his head, and followed Aoshi into the building. He was privately looking forward to watching his quiet, reserved daughter have to deal with Aoshi and Misao's children -- the thought amused him.

Misao sounds remarkably like Kaoru yelling at Yahiko. I almost miss those battles.

"Misao! We've guests!" Aoshi shouted.

"Oooh! You're so dead, you little monkey-boy!" Misao's voice carried to them. Then she added, for their benefit, "Coming, coming!"

The boy in question appeared first: perhaps six or seven years old, with enormous brown eyes, an impish grin, and way too much energy. He skidded to a halt in front of Kenshin, declared, "Like your hair, Mister, can I touch it?" and promptly extended a hand up.

"Ari!" Aoshi scolded, "Where are your manners?"

"I lost 'em," was the instant rejoinder from the boy.

Kenshin smiled, crouched down on one knee, and flipped his ponytail over his shoulder. "It's okay, Aoshi-san."

The boy patted the hair and said, "It's cool. I want hair like that when I grow up!" Fingers -- which were sticky with some substance that smelled sugary -- poked his cheek next. "Like your scar, too. Makes you look tough. Grrrrrr! What's your name, mister?"

"Kenshin ..."

"Himura!" Misao shrieked, making her son jump in surprise. She'd hit a possibly higher note than before. He stood up just in time to be tackled in an ecstatic hug. After nearly cracking his ribs, she released him, favored him with an enormous grin, and declared, "You look wonderful!"

He could say the same about her -- she was at least forty, but as tomboyishly athletic as she had been at sixteen. Her braid was laced through with large amounts of silver and grey, and she had wrinkles about her eyes and mouth, but she was still Misao. As contrasted with Aoshi who -- and here Kenshin shot him a covert look -- was looking old these days. His shoulders were bent, and deep lines surrounded his eyes. He was balding, and he moved as if something hurt -- hips, probably. Aoshi wasn't going to grow old with grace, Kenshin thought sadly.

"Himura?" Misao had picked up his turn of mood. She gave him a questioning mood.

"You two look wonderful," he half-lied. "It's been a long time."

"Indeed it has, Himura!" She turned her attention to Chiyoko. "Is this the daughter that Kaoru mentioned in her letters, the one you adopted who's like you?"

"Hai. This is Chi-chan. Chiyoko, this is Misao, who is one of my oldest friends. And ..."

"Uncle Kenshin!" An excited voice exclaimed. He was tackled by a Misao-clone -- who'd been nine the last time he'd been here, and was now sixteen. He remembered her as a giggly child who'd had a tremendous puppyish crush on Kenji, much to everyone's amusement -- except for Kenji. What was her name ... Natsuki, he recalled. Misao's third-oldest, she had two sisters who would now be eighteen and nineteen.

She's Chiyoko's age. Kenshin was suddenly struck by that. Natsuki was actually a year older than Chiyoko, and was the same age that Misao had been when they'd first met. Awkwardly, he returned the girl's hug.

Natuski giggled, "Kaoru said in her letter to Mama that you were coming! This is so cool!"

"Chi-chan, this is Natsuki." Kenshin extracted himself from the arms around his neck and caught Aoshi's epxression as he did so -- the ninja actually had a hint of a fond expression playing around his eyes, if not his mouth. Well, with kids like his, gaining the ability to smile was probably inevitable.

More children were piling in through the door -- he counted seven by the time every single kid, even the ones too young to remember him from his last visit, had greeted him with enthusiastic hugs. The older two were missing, probably moved out with families of their own started.

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That afternoon, with Chiyoko in tow, he headed off to find Hiko. As it turned out, that wasn't difficult -- Hiko hadn't left his mountain for the last thirty years.

He found the man sitting on a log in front of his cabin, still wearing the same cloak or, more likely, a duplicate of it, but looking ... diminished. Smaller. Hair gone completely white and thinning, shoulders stooped, and he was too thin. Kenshin stopped short, cataloging the damage time had done to his master with some dismay.

He expected a sardonic comment, but none came. Surely, Hiko knew he was standing there ... finally, he cleared his throat. And yet still, no response came. He walked closer, half tempted to try to surprise Hiko with a swat from his iaito ... but the thought of what would happen if he succeeded stayed his hand. If I can hit him, it means he has truly grown old. I do not want to find that is the case. And I do not wish to embarrass him.

Hiko was whittling on a bit of wood -- making a carving of a wolf, Kenshin saw. Only when Kenshin's shadow fell across the ground in front of him did he look up.

Opaque eyes squinted at him. Kenshin's heart flopped to his toes. Hiko was not blind, no, not yet. But soon. And there was an unhealthy cast to his skin. Kenshin speculated in his head, Too much sake, not enough proper food. He hasn't anyone to cook for him, and I can personally attest to the fact that he'd rather not cook for himself -- I learned to cook out of self defense because he wasn't going to!

"Well," the man said, rising stiffly, "If it isn't my wayward fool of an apprentice and his little wife. I'd recognize that red hair anywhere."

Damn, Kenshin thought, as Chiyoko made a startled but tiny noise. She looked up at him, obviously wondering how to handle this.

But Hiko squinted, then shook his head. "Too short. Not Kaoru. Who're you, girl?"

"This is my daughter, Hiko," Kenshin said. "Her name's Chiyoko."

"That boy of yours never mentioned a sister." Hiko grumbled. He squinted again. "She's got a sword. You teaching her to fight, boy?"

"She's ... I adopted her, a few years ago. She was orphaned." Kenshin said. "And yes, I'm teaching her. She's ..."

"Like you. One like you, yes, I can sense it now." Hiko snorted. This gave Kenshina bit of pause; Sense it? He's not Immortal, but Hiko's always been a bit on the uncanny side. Maybe he can sense the ki of Immortals is different than the ki of mortals. Maybe he's always known I wasn't entirely normal.

Hiko added, with a frown, "She's short."

"Not like I can exactly help that," Chiyoko responded, needled. Kenshin gave her a surprised look; as always, sharp retorts were unexpected coming from her. Chiyoko added, "And so's Kenshin-papa."

"He's got a good twenty more pounds over you, is a at least six inches taller, and has a great deal more upper body strength than you do, girl," Hiko replied, with an intense frown. "And still, there's things Kenshin can't do because he doesn't weigh enough. Like throw a good punch, or out-muscle almost any man if it comes down to a brute-force shoving match. The only reason he's still alive is that he keeps coming back from the dead."

"She hasn't a choice, Master Hiko," Kenshin said, quietly, putting a quelling hand on Chiyoko's shoulder. "She's like me, as you say. She has to learn. And she's fast -- she'll be faster than me with another year or two of training behind her."

"Mmm. You're going to get your heart broken, Kenshin. Best thing for her is to find her a man who will protect her." Hiko's words stunned Kenshin into silence.

"What man would have me?" Chiyoko snapped, bitterly. Hiko's words had obviously touched a raw nerve with her, just as they'd poked one of Kenshin's worst fears for Chiyoko squarely dead on. "I look like I'm twelve. And I'll always look this way. No man I'd want will ever want me! That's for sure." She turned on her heel and stalked off in the direction of the city, hand on the hilt of her wakizashi and back very, very straight.

"Damn you, Hiko," Kenshin growled, furious. "We came here to pay friendly respects. You're a nasty, bitter old man. You haven't changed a bit except to grow nastier and more bitter."

"I only said what needed to be said," Hiko said, mildly. "She seems like a good kid. She'll only die in the first battle she has with a serious opponent. Best you find her a nice samurai husband who'll treat her well."

"She survived her first battle," Kenshin hissed. "After the bastard killed me. She lived. Kaoru said she never hesitated, she just went for the kill, defending me and Kaoru"

"Mm." Hiko's rheumy, faded eyes blinked a couple of times. In a dry tone of voice, he said, "You lost. You've let yourself get soft, then. Never thought you, the Hitokiri Battousai, would have that problem."

Kenshin ran a hand over his face in exasperation. He was seriously regretting the impulse that had led him up to Hiko's mountain. In a clipped voice, he snapped, "I was unarmed, and the man was good. And I thought you didn't approve of the Battousai."

Hiko's expression softened suddenly. He heaved a sigh. "I was disappointed in the choices you made as a boy, Kenshin. I am proud of the man you have become." One corner of Hiko's mouth turned up in half a smile. "That son of yours, Kenji -- he's a tribute to you, to the man you are now. You can tell the worth of a man in the behavior of his children ... And it was a joy to have him here, those years you sent him to live with me ... You're right. I'm old, I'm bitter. But I'd have to be a fool to not recognize the good man you've become."

"Thank you," Kenshin said, at a loss for what else to say.

Hiko sighed heavily. "Don't thank me. I didn't do little Shinta any favors when I made him my apprentice. Though I wouldn't change anything if I had it to do over again, Kenshin -- because I didn't do Shinta any favors, but Kenshin has done a great deal of good in the world."

The old man -- and Kenshin realized he'd never think of him again as anything but an old man -- nodded in the direction that Chiyoko had stomped. "You'd better go after her now. And -- give this to your boy the next time you see him. It should fit him, at least. But tell him he doesn't have to wear it, just keep it for me."

Hiko shrugged out of his cloak and tossed it overhand to Kenshin. Kenshin caught it with one hand. "I will," he said, quietly, suddenly chilled to the marrow. I won't ever see him again alive, he thought, then dismissed that. He's only twelve years older than I am. He's not that old.