There You'll Be

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin and its associated characters are the property of Nobuhiro Watsuki. I don't own anything! Heck, I don't even own the song 'There You'll Be' which belongs to Faith Hill.

A/N: Well, this is my little one shot that was inspired by the OVA. This is set somewhere between the end of the bakumatsu and when Kenshin meets Kaoru. This isn't really a romance, but I do make references to the relationship between Kenshin and Tomoe. I don't hate Tomoe. (At least, not anymore). I think she did love Kenshin in her own way and he loved her in return. But I feel that the love he felt for Tomoe is different to the love he feels for Kaoru. In any case, we all know that Kenshin respects her for teaching him how to love and this is what this fic is about. Please don't flame me just because you don't like the K/T coupling. I love K/K anyway. Maybe I'll even stick a little bit in at the end. Sorry to ramble on about this for so long. Comments and criticisms are welcome.

~*~*~*~*~

// When I think back on these times

And the dreams we left behind

I'll be glad cause I was blessed

To have you in my life //

It was finished. The rain of blood had finally ended. Pale amber eyes surveyed the land around him; this had once been a battlefield. Not so long ago, blood had bathed the land, blood that flowed because of people like him. The hikotiri, assassins. He had a more fitting name for people like himself. Murderers.

No more. He would never raise his hand with the intention of killing again. True, he kept a sword, but it was not a killing sword, nothing more than a mere sakabatou, it could injure yes, but he was more concerned with using it to fulfill the principle of Hitten Mitsurugi Ryuu. Rather than a sword that killed, this would be the sword that would protect.

This was his atonement. His promise to his wife, his love. He closed his eyes, feeling the pain that always appeared when he thought of her.

Koishii…I miss you…

Every moment with her was imprinted into his memory, even the scent of her. In his mind, she lived on, as beautiful as she had been when he'd first met her.

The remembered scent of white plum was enough to tear him apart inside. He had been so blind, to the point of believing that she would betray him. Even after what they had shared. Perhaps once before all she had wanted was revenge. He could understand that, he could forgive that. If she had felt even a fraction of the loss that welled up in his own heart…yes he could understand.

He had no one he could claim revenge on. No one to blame but himself. And he wouldn't take the easy way out. It would be so easy to do that, to commit seppuku and be done with it.

And then we would be together again, koishii…

No, this was his punishment. Life, living, would be his punishment. He would go on living, living without her. And in her memory, he would use his sword to truly help. He would use his sword without murdering.

Even so, this would never truly wash the blood from his hands. In his own eyes, he would always be a murderer. He wasn't able to forget the lives he had taken. In all truth, his sword was his curse. It was his curse and his salvation.

And his shishou…angel or demon? It was he who had taught the boy, Shinta, the art of Hitten Mitsurugi Ryuu. It was he who first placed a sword in that untrained boy's hands. But it was also Hiko Seijirou who had saved the child from certain death, who had named him and forged him into the swordsman he was today.

If not for his shishou, he would be dead. Another statistic of battle. Or he would have been killed a long time ago, when the raiders had first attacked the slave caravan.

Memories of his time there assaulted him and tears pricked his eyes, Why do the people I care about have to die? He raised a blue clothed arm and wiped the moisture away roughly. Even Katsura, the man who had been his mentor when he first joined the ranks of Ishin Shishi, was gone. Living only long enough to witness the final victory and the birth of the Japan that had been his dream.

In his shishou, lived the only family he had left. But he couldn't, wouldn't return to Kyoto. It was too soon, the memory of the blood that had fallen there was too fresh.

And he was just a boy.

// When I think back on these days

I'll look and see your face

You were right there for me //

The boy-man stirred in his sleep, sweat beading across his furrowed brow. Damp strands of red hair clung to his forehead and his grip on the sakabatou at his side tightened.

Blood, he was walking through blood. It clung to him, the metallic scent of it pervaded the air. And he kept walking, sword arm ready, as though fearing an attack.

"Battousai!"

He spun, unsheathing his sword as he did so, letting it swirl around him in a deadly arc. A battle cry escaped his lips before he even realized what he was doing.

Nothing.

Nothing but the bodies that littered the landscape. Killed by his hand? He wasn't sure. Shaking, he sheathed the sword and continued his journey.

"So, we meet again," the voice was mildly amused…and familiar.

Amber eyes narrowed, and he turned to face his enemy. "Hajime." He spat the word out coldly, "I should have known."

Saitou lowered himself into the gatottsu stance, "This time, Battousai," he sneered, "You die."

His feet shifted into the battoujitsu position, knowing nothing but the fact that the man before him was his enemy. Without even thinking, he closed his eyes, focused his energy…and struck.

White plum.

The sensation of his blade meeting, then tearing through flesh.

The scent of white plum.

A limp body fell into his arms.

Warm.

'No, no, not again…'

Blood seeped through his gi, the scent of it intermingled with the scent of white plum. "No…" the broken whisper escaped his lips, "Please, no…not again…"

Tomoe. Unmoving, her waterfall of dark hair splayed about her, she lay in his arms.

"Koishii…" Tears ran unchecked down his face, "Kami-sama…what have I done?"

"TOMOE!!!"

His eyes snapped open, flashing amber then violet before returning back to amber. The sweat was pouring off him, his knuckles were white as he gripped his sword hilt.

Belatedly he realized that it was a dream, and that he was in a room in a cheap inn. A room that he had rented not more that five hours ago. Just a dream, he told himself, Nothing more.

He sank back down into a sitting position, seemingly unaware of the tear tracks that ran down his face. It was a dream, a frighteningly realistic dream, but nothing more.

Nonetheless, he wouldn't be sleeping anymore that night.

// In my dreams I'll always see you soar above the sky

In my heart there'll always be a place for you,

For all my life

I'll keep a part of you with me

And everywhere I am, there you'll be

And everywhere I am, there you'll be //

Another group of men wanting to fight the battousai. It seemed that everywhere he went, his reputation preceded him. He was too noticeable and rumors flew too fast. It was the hair and the scar that gave him away. His narrowed amber gaze surveyed the men around him. Only one carried a sword, and it was a pretty pathetic one at that.

It would be an easy battle, even if they did outnumber him. But this wasn't what he had planned on when he decided to become a rurouni. He hadn't counted on his reputation. Now that the true danger of the bakumatsu had ended, all too many people were willing to challenge him, to see if he really was as good as stories claimed.

He supposed all this would die down in time. For the moment, it was merely…irritating.

"Well? What do you say, Battousai? Do you think you can take us all on?"

He didn't think he could, he knew he could. But he said nothing, just inclined his head slightly, allowing them to make their own decision.

Decision made. The leader came straight for him, sword raised, his mouth contorted in order to sound a battle cry.

Too slow.

Kenshin pivoted, unsheathing his sakabatou in the process. He reminded himself that this wasn't a normal sword, in order to keep his enemy down; he would have to break bones. Easy enough, he'd had enough practice in the last couple of weeks. The hikotiri in him noted how easy it would be to kill the man.

But he wouldn't do that. He would only raise his sword in self-defense.

The blade slid out of its sheath smoothly, swinging an arc and meeting the other sword with a resounding 'clang'. That one blow told the former assassin all he needed to know about his enemy. The man's sword skills were adequate, if a bit rusty. Enough perhaps to dissuade a common thief. It was nothing compared to the skill of the battousai.

Both men jumped back, and Kenshin re-sheathed his sword. His hand however, remained poised above the hilt, ready to draw again if necessary.

"I don't want to fight you," he stated calmly, "If you would let me pass, I'll be on my way."

It wasn't going to happen. He cursed himself for being so stupid. He should have said something sooner. Pride would not allow his opponent to back down, not with all his friends watching. He had to know that he couldn't win. I really need to learn to speak up; I'd probably avoid these sorts of fights if I just turned them down. Stupid, hot-headed young fool. He stopped his thoughts there, the man in front of him was at least five years older than him, if not more. That, and he was starting to sound a little like his shishou.

His opponent watched him carefully, but he could not hide the sweat pouring from his brow, or his heavy breathing. He raised the sword again.

Kenshin reacted. Before any of the watching men could blink he had rammed his sword hilt in the other man's stomach, effectively winding him. The taller man fell to the ground, gasping.

He continued his journey, as soon as he reached the next town he would find something to cover up his scar. Anonymity would be a relief.

// Well, you showed me how it feels

To have the sky within my reach

And I will always remember all the strength you gave to me

Your love made me make it through

Oh, I owe so much to you

You were right there for me //

He traced the cross-shaped mark on his cheek absently. Neither wound had ever fully healed. Sometimes, he didn't want them to. They were a reminder of what he had been, and a reminder of what he had lost. He closed his eyes…

Cold. Even the warm body in his arms was growing colder.

"Koishii…"

Her red lips moved silently, trying to tell him it would be okay. Even as he was at a loss for words, unable to comprehend what had happened, unable to understand why it had happened. He wanted to tell her to stop, to save her strength, to tell her she would be okay.

Lies. He knew it was a killing blow.

Pale hands tightened around the knife handle. He saw the gleam of the blade, rising to meet his amber eyes. It didn't matter, without her, he was nothing.

"Ken…shin…"

The blade was colder than ice. Cutting through his flesh, just deep enough to scar. He could feel it, dragging down the side of his cheek. He was aware of the blade, but there was no pain. No pain other than the pain in his heart.

Blood ran down his cheek.

"Remember…me…a-anata…"

Blood stained the snow. His blood, her blood, intermingled. A single tear fell from his eye, landing on her smooth cheek. His katana lay at his side, forgotten. Her blood coated the once-shiny blade.

She wasn't breathing anymore.

This was her legacy. A reminder to never forget her, to never forget love. To tell him that he was human. He was allowed to be human. Tomoe, you taught me so much. You taught me about love, you taught me about dreams, you taught me about life when all I had known was death.

"Arigato, Tomoe." He whispered softly, his words snatched away by the wind.

With shaking hands, he covered the scar with a bandage.

// In my dreams I'll always see you soar above the sky

In my heart there'll be a place for you, for all my life

I'll keep a part of you with me

And everywhere I am, there you'll be //

"I wouldn't do that if I was you."

The frightened girl fell to the ground, whimpering with fear. Her would-be attacker turned and found himself facing a short, red-headed man with narrowed violet eyes. He laughed, "And what are you going to do about it, boy?" His eyes took in the blade strapped to his side, "Are you going to attack me with that toy blade of yours?" He laughed again.

"I advise you to leave her alone," the rurouni said coldly, he had no tolerance for people like this. Arrogance would be this man's downfall.

"Oh yeah?" He charged with fists raised…

…and found himself down on his back, eyes turned skywards. "What the-"

"Are you going to leave this girl alone?"

Unsteadily, the bigger man climbed to his feet, "So, you're fast. That's nothing much, not unless you're going to run away from me, kid!"

He charged again, yelling incoherently.

Kenshin wasn't so merciful this time. He jumped up and slammed his blade into the man's shoulder, causing him to crumple on the ground, moaning in pain.

"I'll ask you again, will you leave this girl alone?"

No answer.

The red-headed rurouni sighed, some people could be so stubborn. He waited patiently, sword still unsheathed.

Then, "H-hai…"

"And you won't be doing anything like this again, will you?" he said, making it sound like a command, not a question.

"Hai, hai, wakamarisu," he struggled to his feet, bowing as he was able with the injured shoulder.

He watched the man stumble off, then turned his attention to the girl who was still cowering on the ground. "Excuse me, miss? Are you okay?"

Wide-eyed, she nodded slowly. He offered a hand and she took it, climbing to her feet slowly. Her face was flushed and much of her hair had escaped it's binding, the wisps settling around her round face. "Hai, domo arigato," she bowed awkwardly, then flushed a deeper red when she realized that her obi was loose, causing the neck of her kimono to gape open.

Kenshin found his own face heating up, "Ano…"

The woman's eyes widened, and she whacked him over the head with the basket that she had formerly abandoned on the ground. "HENTAI!!"

He was on the ground, a lump the size of a fist decorating his head, "Oro…" He would never understand women.

// Cause I always saw you in my life, my strength

And I want to thank you know for all the ways

You were right there for me

You were right there for me

Always… //

Funny how his name – or rather, the name of the hikotiri he had been – had become legend. He didn't feel much like a legend. It had been years since he'd set foot in Kyoto, but there was something he had to do, something he'd been putting off doing for too long.

It seemed different. The streets hadn't changed, but the people had. They no longer cowered in their houses, afraid to come out. They were happy, carefree. This is the Japan Katsura-san wanted. This is the Japan we fought so hard for. It was one thing he could be proud of at least.

Even though it had never really been his war. I only wanted to help people. I only wanted to make their lives better and I tried to do it the only way I knew how. With my sword.

He had been wrong. He knew that now. He had been too young, and he had grown up too fast. In those bloodstained days, you had to be a man, no matter your true age. At times, he wondered how he had survived it when so many others had died.

"You're happy like this, aren't you?" Not an accusation, she was just stating a simple fact.

But it startled him. He hadn't realized that he could be happy like this.

"You just need a house, some seeds and you're happy. It could be so simple."

Simple. His life had never been simple. Not from the moment his parents had died. He had lost his innocence then. Lost his innocence, his parents and his home, all in the same week. He regretted never having a childhood, but that was the way fate was. He couldn't change his life now.

"Yes," he replied quietly, "I suppose I am happy."

She looked at him over the meal, the unspoken question lingering in her eyes. 'Then why do you do it? Why are you waiting for them to call you back?'

He couldn't answer her. His true purpose for joining this war had long since been lost under the blood he had shed. He was the perfect killing machine, supposedly emotionless, deceptive looking and frighteningly effective. Only a few knew of how he would scrub and scrub at his hands, trying to rid himself of the blood. Only a few would allow themselves to grow close to the Battousai.

So he said nothing.

His feet found the way there, even without thinking about it. The small graveyard was well tended to at least. Quiet, secluded. He focused on only one headstone. It was the only thing that marked the resting place of the woman he had once called 'beloved'. Kneeling, he laid his sword on the ground beside him.

"T-Tomoe…"

I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.

Wordlessly, he placed the flowers next to the small marker. "I'm trying, Tomoe," he whispered softly, "It's been so long. I'm sorry I haven't come sooner."

His red hair fell carelessly into his violet eyes and he brushed it away, "I'm still trying to forgive myself for-for everything. It's hard, I know you don't want me to blame myself…but I can't help it."

I'm sorry I can't fulfill your last wish. I'm sorry but  I still can't live a normal life. I haven't done enough yet.

Silence suited this place. He remained kneeling, with his head bowed.

The scent of white plums lingered in the air.

Himura Kenshin smiled.

// In my dreams I'll always see you soar above the sky

In my heart there'll always be a place for you, for all my life

I'll keep a part of you with me

And everywhere I am, there you'll be

And everywhere I am, there you'll be… //

He looked into the blue eyes of the woman he loved, and she smiled tiredly back at him. Wisps of dark hair clung to her pale face and he gently brushed them away.

"Daijoubou de gozaru yo?"

Kaoru laughed softly, "I'm fine, Kenshin."

As though on cue, the small bundle in her arms started to squirm. He found himself looking at a miniature of himself.

His breath caught in his throat.

"Anata, this is our son."

His son, their son. The word scared him. He was a father. He didn't know if he'd even be a good father. He had never had a real father figure to look up to. Just his shishou…and he certainly didn't want his son to grow up with a father like that.

The baby gurgled and grabbed on to his finger, squeezing tightly. "Oro?" he squeaked, still trying to come to terms with the fact that he and Kaoru had created this little wonder.

"Ne, Ken-chan, what should we call him?" Kaoru asked, trying not to smile at his reaction. You'd have thought that he would have gotten used to the idea he was going to be a father in the nine months she had been pregnant.

"Ano…" he scratched his head, "How about…Kenji?"

"I like that," she said, "Do you want to hold him?"

"ORO?" Hold him?!

Kaoru laughed outright at that, "You won't break him, Ken-chan. And you are his father, you're going to have to hold him sometime."

Gingerly, he accepted the small bundle, the baby fidgeted a little, then lay still. Kenji stared at his father with large, unblinking eyes. Then he cooed and baby talked, waving small fists in the air.

Despite his nervousness, Kenshin smiled. This was his son. He noticed Kaoru was asleep, and he quietly left the room so he wouldn't disturb her. In the yard, he could hear Sanosuke and Yahiko arguing about something. His family.

He realized he was happy.

// There you'll be… //

A/N: Wow. All finished in one day too. Well, I tried to capture Kenshin has he makes his journey…and I hope I've done it adequately well. I hope you people like it. It's not strictly K/T, right? Oh well, if you think it is then that's a first for me. It's more about Kenshin really and how he's grown through life…or at least, that was the purpose. Anyway, read and review please. I like to hear comments.

© 2002-26-05

Abi