Kokoro No Itami Nakunaru Made Zutto: Sanctuary

By: Hitokiri Gentatsu

Rating: PG13

Disclaimer: I own none of the Rurouni Kenshin characters and I am definantly not making any money from this story.

Chapter One: The Monk and the Samurai

"Your disappearance was a show of determination to never kill again…"

Yamagata Aritomo

RK Episode 3

subtitled

The young man on the bed before him hovered on the edge between life and death. Haishidiya, the newest member of the order, looked down at Kenshin sadly and began to say prayers over the young samurai, his prayer beads making a faint sound as he prayed for the state of the young swordsman's soul. He closed his eyes in prayerful meditation for the unnamed man several more moments, and then he opened his eyes to look at the pale face before him.

"I wish I knew your name," he said quietly, still looking down at Kenshin with sadness in his eyes. "And why you would attempt to take your own life."

He bent over Kenshin's still form and removed the bloody bandage from the swordsman's waist, carefully cleaning the wound beneath it of the blood that continued to seep from it. Then he checked the stitches he used to close the wound. Satisfied that all was in order and that he had done all he could at the moment, he covered the wound with a clean bandage and pulled the blanket over the young man again.

Haishidiya put a cold cloth on the swordsman's forehead and put a hand to the man's mouth to check that he still breathed. The monk eyes studied Kenshin's face and wondered who the samurai was and what had brought him to such a remote location as this. His smooth face and slight frame made him appear to be a youth who could not yet have attained manhood but the scars on his body spoke of a hard life spent in war. This meant that the man's age could very well be closer to his twenty years. Haishidiya studied Kenshin's face again. The skin of samurai's face was deathly pale from loss of blood, but he reasoned that Kenshin's skin was naturally so. The cloud of red hair spoke of foreign blood but it was clear that this man was no foreigner. Clearly, he was of the samurai class for he carried a sword and only samurai were allowed to do so. Though his weapon was not the daisho usually carried by samurai, it was still of good quality from what he could tell without actually touching the sword.

He puzzled over this information and over the deep scar the marred the young man's otherwise smooth and youthful face. It was in the shape of a cross and, for some reason, although it was clearly an old wound, it remained open and unhealed. Haishidiya ran a finger over it carefully, thinking about what he had seen in the forest. Whoever this man was, he was clearly a samurai in service to a powerful clan or daimyo and had seen fighting in the recent Boshin War. The style of his clothing indicated that much.

"Perhaps he was committing seppuku because that clan or daimyo lost his place or his honor. Maybe this young man is a ronin who lost his place."

The monk knew that sometimes the code of the samurai required him to join his defeated or dishonored lord in death or that a samurai who had been forced to become a ronin often chose an 'honorable death' over a life of poverty. Haishidiya was from a samurai family himself so he was aware of this but there had been no fighting in the area for the entire war and there were no samurai families in the village.

"He spoke of atonement. Atonement for what? Doesn't he know that in order to atone for wrongs committed you must first find the courage to live? Truth can only be found in living life and there is no truth to be found in death." Haishidiya shook his head and returned to his prayers hoping the man's life would be spared.

*

Kenshin felt as if he were floating. There was blissful nothingness all around him. He knew no fear, nor regret, nor sorrow and here in the darkness he felt no pain. He longed to stay there, within that nothingness for all eternity but something was nagging at his mind, calling to him with a soft feminine voice, which he tried desperately to answer. 'I will…protect…' There was the smell of white plums for a brief instant and he felt a hand brush his cheek. Then he heard a different voice, a man's voice, softly chanting.

His eyes snapped open and he hissed in pain as his self-inflicted wound made itself known to him again. His body burned with fever and his head was spinning.

"Kuso," he muttered softly and the man's head snapped up at the word.

"So you wake at last," the man said and Kenshin could see it was a monk somewhere near his own age.

Kenshin struggled to rise so that he could pay the man the proper respect but the monk put a restraining hand on his shoulder and pushed him back gently.

"You must rest and conserve your strength for now. I'm called Haishidiya and you are in our temple."

"Himura Kenshin," Kenshin replied weakly, his eyes now closed. "Why didn't you let me die?"

"Dying now would serve no purpose. Only in living can one find atonement."

Kenshin felt tears running down his face. He whispered: "I…you don't know who I am…what I have done…"

"Whoever you were and whatever you did doesn't matter now. You are a man whose soul is in torment and whose heart requires healing before you can move on with your life." Haishidiya looked down at Kenshin. "But before this can happen you must rest."

"I cannot rest," Kenshin said as he opened his eyes again. "I cannot…my life…worthless…"

"All life has worth. Every living thing in this world has a purpose. You just need to find yours." The monk paused. "Rest now Himura-san. You will come to no harm here."

Haishidiya watched as Himura slipped back into sleep and he placed another cold cloth on the man's brow, hoping to bring down his dangerously high fever and wondering if Himura would even remember their conversation when he did wake.

*

A cool morning breeze slipped through the half opened window near Kenshin's futon. It tugged at the loose strands of red hair around his still, pale face but Kenshin didn't wake. Outside the wind chimes tickled their many notes, which were echoed by the sound of bells somewhere inside the temple complex. Keshin remained in the deep sleep he had fallen into a week previous, his eyes closed and his face smooth and unlined with worry. Haishidiya entered the room, his feet making no sound of the mats covering the floor. He looked down at Kenshin's serene and peaceful face. There was a look of concern in his dark eyes and his forehead was creased with worry.

He had tried calling Himura's name, any number of prayers and chants and a great number of noises but nothing seemed to work. No matter what he tried, Himura simply would not wake. Haishidiya was afraid the young man would die without having a chance to truly live. His body had been fighting a dangerously high fever brought on by the severity of his wound for the last several days and it seemed as if the young swordsman would die. The monk knelt next to the samurai's still form and laid a hand on his forehead. He was surprised to find that his hand encountered sweat on the young man's brow and that the fever had lessened somewhat. It looked as if the fever was breaking at last and soon that part of his ordeal would be over.

Haishidiya offered a quick prayer of thanks to the gods and then removed the bandage from Himura's wounded stomach. He studied the wound carefully, his nose hovering inches from it. The skin around the wound was no longer an angry shade of red nor was it hot to the touch. There seemed to be a little swelling around the area but, aside from that, it was healing nicely and there was no smell of rotted flesh in the wound either. It appeared it would heal just fine now.

Satisfied that things were going as well as could be expected and that Kenshin's wound would heal properly, Haishidiya placed a fresh bandage over the wound. Silently he thanked the gods that Himura had not done worse damage to himself. He studied the young man before him, concern still etching his features. He watched Himura's chest rise and fall with each shallow breath the swordsman took and hoped that he would wake soon. It was vital that he replace what he had lost and that he begin to get his strength back.

The monks of the Chowa Heiwa Temple were being forced to leave the security and safety of it soon and it had been agreed that they would all go their separate ways so as not to attract undue attention to themselves or their order. Haishidiya had already agreed to take Himura with him when he returned to his native land but first the man must be strong enough for the journey, which would take many weeks, and he must be able to travel under his own power. They would never be able to pass through the stations on the road or the border guard in his han either if Himura was not well.

"Please wake, Himura-san."

*

Kenshin opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling above him, trying to remember what had happened to him and where he was. His purple eyes swept the room in momentary confusion as nothing about it was familiar to him. He took in the room's plain, wooden beams and paper walls but they didn't tell him anything about the place he was in. Calmly, he waited for his mind to catch up with the rest of him.

Then he heard it again, the musical sound from his dreams. A wind chime moved in the breeze, sounding a single clear note. He could see it hanging from a beam outside the window and he watched it swing to and fro. Then the note produced by the chime was answered by another note from a bell in the distance. A look of confusion swept across his features as his mind processed this new piece of information.

"A temple?" he thought as he tried to shake off his confused state of mind. "Where? Why?"

He closed his eyes in concentration, trying to remember what had happened, and then he opened them again and sat up to get a better look at his surroundings. He felt a sharp pain shoot across his stomach and looked down to see a large bandage covering the area. Suddenly memories rushed forward from some hidden part of his mind: he saw himself kneeling in a clearing surrounded by trees. He saw the glint of the blade of Tomoe's tanto as he gripped it forcefully in his right hand and pointed it at himself. He felt the pain of it enter and slide across his stomach. His eyes widened as he remembered something else: when the blade had pierced him, he remembered instinctively jerking backward to minimize the damage that was being done so that he would not die of the wound.

He opened his eyes, which had become clouded with tears. He could not even manage to commit seppuku properly. His samurai spirit wailed in anguish at this additional dishonor, but it was abruptly cut off as another thought came to him and with it, a memory.

--A fire flickering, a pain in his heart that would never heal any more than the cross scar on his cheek would, the still and pale form of his wife, the horrible wound he had inflicted hidden from view by white garment she wore, words he had spoken to her with hope, now seemed so meaningless and trite in the face of his anguish. He couldn't protect her or his own happiness. And yet he made a promise to her as she lay there, sleeping the eternal sleep called death.

"I will never kill again…never again…"—

He had promised her that all those years ago, using her death by his own hand as the reminder of why he had sworn such a vow, and he always kept his word. He had promised in his heart to hold all life sacred and, for better or worse, that included his own life. Then Tomoe's words came back to him.

--You must live. You have a duty to protect Japan and her people remember…"—

"A duty…" he whispered, knowing that it was true. "I have to live…but…"

It was then that he noticed the young monk who was in the room with him. Kenshin jumped, surprised that the man had snuck up on him so easily, and he reached for the sword he no long carried at his side. He stopped and looked at the monk curiously, discovering that the man could hardly be older then he was. He had a calming presence and a strong aura of tranquility about him that was somehow soothing to the swordsman. The monk had a tray of food in his hands and smiled down at him.

"It is good to see you awake again, Himura-san. I have brought you dinner."

Kenshin studied the man's face, finding that it was familiar to him, but he was unable to remember the monk's name.

"Arigato…?"

"Haishidiya," the young man supplied and he smiled, setting down the tray next to Kenshin.

"Haishidiya-dono," he said, bowing carefully to the man before applying himself to his dinner.

Haishidiya raised an eyebrow at the antiquated honorific. "We need to build up your strength and get you well enough to travel in three days time."

Kenshin raised an eyebrow of his own at the monk's statement and absently brushes his hair out of his eyes. "Why Haishidiya-dono, if I may ask?"

"The Meiji government," Haishidiya spat the words out harshly. "Has ordered us to leave here in three days time. Most of the others have already done so but I stayed behind to tend to your injury. You will be leaving with me when I do because your wound is not fully healed yet so you and I will be returning to my home together. You can stay with me until you are well enough to continue your journey."

Kenshin nodded without arguing and went on eating his meal. As soon as he was strong enough to travel on his own, he would part ways with the monk but for the time being it was a wise arrangement.

"Where is your home, Haishidiya-dono?" he asked, chewing on his food thoughtfully as he spoke.

"Aizu."