Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin belongs to Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha Inc. Not mine, please don't sue. *huggles Soujirou plushie*

A/N: Random bout of inspiration while watching reruns! *evil reruns* Based on this sentence: "You hadn't been able to protect me. If you really abide by what you say, why didn't you protect me?" (my lousy translation from the Chinese manga, sumanu.) Confusions abound, very very non-kanon, and possible OOCness. And we see Sou-chan topless! *drool* I might write a follow-up. ^__^ R&R please!

Summary: Do you ever wish you could change the past, or imagine it under different cicumstances? Soujirou has a dream, and he wakes feeling more confused than ever.

"Shosen no jyakuniku kyoshoku: Tsuyoku reba iki, yoake reba shin." - Shishio Makoto

Naive no Kokoro

Rurouni Kenshin fanfiction by Toraneko

Soujirou sat heavily on the bench, and drank his tea with a grateful sigh. He had been walking non-stop since that morning, and hadn't bothered to stop for lunch, so almost every muscle in his body was aching and screaming for deliverance. How Soujirou could accomplish that, he had not in the slightest idea.

He had been travelling for three years already, following his mentor, Shishio's, tragic death. A certain red headed rurouni had completely thrown his thoughts and his ideals out of the window, forcing him to rethink his way of life and how this could be accomplished. Therefore, he set out on this journey, hoping to find what he was looking for, the truth.

He had been misguided, that fact he did not deny. But what Shishio had told him, "The basic law of nature: the strong survive and the weak die.", still held true. It was happening in the animal kingdom every single day. Until Himura Kenshin had walked into the picture and questioned that single theory, Soujirou thought, with boyish honesty, that this was the truth and that it should be carried out no matter what. He did not believe in protecting the weak; what was the point if they were going to die anyway? Might as well make it quick and painless for them.

Repelling the repititive thoughts from his mind, Soujirou finished his dinner and proceeded to the small room in the inn. Those thoughts had not manifested themselves since a few months ago, and he distantly wondered why they returned to haunt him. 'Maybe Shishio-san is unhappy with me..' he thought sadly as he drifted off to sleep.

Soujirou's dreams wandered to the many times Shishio had taught him how to sharpen his sword fighting skills. He remembered Yumi standing at the side, occasionally scolding Shishio in a playful manner should he be too harsh on the boy, or Kamatari's constant cheering, or Anji's silent admiration. He sorely missed all of them, they were almost family to him.

During his childhood, no one ever trusted him; he was bullied and beaten, forced to work as his family's slave, just because he was a bastard child. And yet, here he was, second best swordsman in Japan, falling not too far behind Himura Kenshin. Still he was not satisfied. He wanted the truth.

'If I could just go back... to where it all started... maybe... maybe..'

"You bloody bastard!" A crash, followed by a thud, was heard, and a small figure flew into the yard. It was not the first time this happened. "I told you to move every single sack to the barn by tonight! I don't care whether or not you're tired, just do it!"

The boy looked up, a small smile transfixed on his face. A sake jug flew towards him, striking him on the forehead, causing an old wound to reopen and spurt blood.

"Go!"

The boy staggered off, glad to be out of the older man's presence. He stumbled into the backyard, and went to the well to draw a bucket of water to clean his wound. Lowering a cloth into the cold water and raising it to his forehead, he cringed a little as the water stung the wound.

Suddenly, in the distance, he heard a yell, followed by the sound of a sword slashing a body. Curious, he ran over to see what was going on, hiding behind the shadows of houses cast by the full moon overhead.

"Ch, I seriously think I'm getting too old for this." A tall man, wearing a long white cloak topped with red, grumbled loudly as he felled the nearest swordsman, apparantly a ninja. The figure behind him, almost two heads shorter than the tall one, scoffed silently and cleared out three of the ninjas. The majority of them was on the floor, either dead or barely consious. Only one of them was left. Pointing his sword in the ninja's face, the tall man said threateningly, "Tell your okashira to back off, or he'll get it." The ninja panicked, then ran off.

Flicking his wrist to get rid of the blood on his sword, the short figure quietly sheathed his sword and started walking. "You know Kenshin, I don't know why I followed you here. You obviously don't need me."

The walking figure stopped, then turned. "Shishou, you know the Ishinshishi, or rather what remains of it, needs whatever help they can get. And I'm not going to let you sit it out this time."

'Ishinshishi?' the young boy thought, slightly intimidated, and stepped back, trodding on a stick in the process.

The two men whirled their heads in the direction of the sound, and saw the boy cowering in the corner. "A..ano.." The young boy stammered a little and stumbled, falling flatly on his bottom.

The tall man glanced at the shorter one, who was apparantly his student, and received a nod. He sheathed his sword and picked the boy up by the back of his gi and held him at his eye level. "You saw nothing tonight, you heard me?"

The boy nodded nervously. Just then, "Soujirou! Where the hell are you, get BACK here!" Seeing the boy cringe, then glancing suspiciously in the direction from which the noise was coming from, he shrugged, then placed the boy on the ground. "Can't help ya there kid. Go on." Giving the boy a shove, he turned and walked off with his pupil.

The boy gave a fleeting look at the two figures, then ran off..

'If I could just go back... to where it all started... maybe... maybe.. it would have turned out differently...'

Soujirou started in bed, and shot up, cold sweat running down his bare chest. Flipping the covers off hastily, he walked to the window and threw the shutters open, letting the cool night air calm his emotions. The full moon shone on him brightly, an ironic reminder of the cruel massacre which he initiated so many years ago. He smiled, a smile full of regret and pain, of crushed hope and shattered dreams.

He remembered what Kenshin had commented about him, that he might have turned out differently if he had ran into another person instead of Shishio. He lowered his head and clasped his hands together, as if in prayer, and wished that he might find the answers to his questions.

Somewhere, in the far distance, a figure tossed and turned, unable to sleep, as her thoughts were wrought with a blue eyed beauty.

~Owari