Apprentice
Chapter 19
A true swordsman
(AN: First some requested translations: Oyasumi naisai-Good night. You say Oyasumi naisai before going to bed. Aisoku is "beloved son". Itadaikitaimatsu means "Let's have something(eat)"I think, said traditionally before meals. Sumanu means close to "I beg your pardon." It's a less pleading way of saying you're sorry than gomen naisai.
And Chiki, I really liked reading your review. Good to know I'm on track, and all my research and thought didn't go to waste(and my memories seem to be intact, too). Yes, I'm over 40 and have 3 kids. I have two part-time jobs too, on here in my home office, and another one working at my youngest daughter's elementary school when school is in session. But, I have to write to keep sane, so I make time for it. I'm usually in my office writing like crazy all hours of the night. See my bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep? )
____________________________________________________________
Kenshin faced his master in the clearing, the early morning sun just now breaching the mountaintops, much as he had over 10 years ago. As had Kenji in the past months.
Kenji watched with rapt attention as his father and Shishou Hiko proceeded to engage in the flashing deadly dance of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. His eyes drank in every nuance of movement, every shift of balance and position.
Naturally, this was merely a practice, no blood would be drawn, no contact made. Slashing, thrusting and swirling swords would be pulled away at the last millisecond from vital areas.
"Hiten-mitsurugi-ryu-son-sen!" screamed Kenshin, charging.
Seemingly wild flashing swings of his sakabattou, each one stopping short of a vital point, faster than the naked eye could detect followed the battle cry.
Hiko smirked, standing with folded arms as Kenshin displayed his still amazing sword skills. He looked down. There was a slight red mark on his left wrist. He frowned at Kenshin.
"You tapped me, baka," he growled. "You know what that means, don't you?"
"ORO?" replied Kenshin, nonplussed. The mark was barely discernible, but he felt a small tingle of embarrassment flush through him. Or maybe... fear?
Then he realized he was no longer Hiko's "stupid apprentice" and glared at him out from under his shaggy bangs.
"I suppose I shall have to sit under the waterfall and meditate about my errors for an hour or so," replied Kenshin testily.
"Did Shishou really make you do that, To-chan?" asked Kenji, wide-eyed.
"Actually, it was only a half hour," grinned Hiko. "Two hours would have killed him. He looked like a half-drowned rat as it was."
Kenshin rolled his eyes, arms folded across his chest. There were times he felt the main reason Hiko had apprenticed him was to have someone to humiliate on a daily basis.
"No, your 'punishment' will now be to stand while I show you how to correctly execute the ryu-son-sen."
Hiko threw off his cape and quickly assumed the stance of right leg forward as he prepared to quickly draw his sword from the saya to initiate the ryu- sho-sen.
"Ryo-son-sen!" he roared, rushing at Kenshin. For a large man, Hiko's speed was incredible. He stopped short of Kenshin's vital areas, sword flashing in the early morning sun. The attack was so swift, Kenshin barely registered it, but suddenly he felt a slight sting on his left wrist. And when Kenshin looked down, there was a small red scratch.
Hiko was doubled over laughing. "You tap me, I tap you, fair is fair, baka" his laughter booming loudly in the silence of the morning.
Kenshin frowned.
Kenji looked at them, not quite sure of what was transpiring between the two men. Was his father angry at Hiko?
Suddenly, Kenshin grinned and looked ruefully at his "wound".
"I suppose the best punishment is a memorable one," he chuckled.
He sauntered off to the river's edge to bath the scratch in cold water.
Kenji jumped up to follow him, looking first for a small nod from Hiko.
Kenji sighed in relief as he followed his father to the river. The slight flaring of the two men's ki had alarmed him. He had felt the intensity even in this small display of skills.
Kenshin squatted down to wash the stinging welt. He still had a small grin on his lips.
Kenji moved to squat down beside his father.
"To-chan?"
"Aa, Kenji-chan?"
"Do you ever get angry at Hiko-san?" Kenji whispered to his father rather loudly.
Kenshin looked at Kenji out of the corner of his eye.
He was biting his lip, seemingly in nervousness.
"Aa, Kenji-chan," replied Kenshin seriously.
"REALLY?" asked Kenji looking relieved.
"I suppose you ask me this because you have been angry at Hiko-san," Kenshin said to him in a quiet tone. It was not a question.
"Hai," said Kenji, looking ashamed.
"What did you do when you got angry?" asked Kenshin, sitting back on his heels and looking directly at his son.
"I hit him with a bokken," said Kenji almost inaudibly. His chin rested upon his small chest refusing to look up.
"Oro?" asked Kenshin, not quite sure he'd heard correctly.
"I hit him with my bokken!" Kenji said a bit louder, now looking up. Conflicting emotions played across the boy's face, humiliation, anger and even a hint of pride.
"Then what happened?" encouraged his father.
"I ran away," said Kenji shortly. "Hiko-san was mad at me. I didn't even know I hit him!" he abruptly cried out, fists clenched on his lap.
Kenshin sighed. "Kenji-chan, I need to know everything."
"I jumped in the river, but Hiko came and got me. I hurt my arm on a big rock. I bumped my head really hard, too. Uncle Aoshi came and helped. And Aunt Misao, she was there. They took care of me." Now that Kenji had begun, it was though he was driven to confess it as quickly as possible.
"I see," Kenshin said, controlling his reactions. Apparently, Misao's letter had not been exactly forthcoming in details.
"I had to stay in bed a whole day," continued Kenji, "and when my arm got better, Shishou made me work really hard to make up for the time I couldn't train."
"Is that all?"
"Hai, Otosan, that's all."
Kenshin sighed. It could have ended much worse, he shrugged mentally. Kenji had always had amazing luck when it came to getting out of dangerous situations.
"Hiko-san says I must control my spirit, to-chan," said Kenji seriously.
"I don't want to be a poisoned dragon."
Kenshin gasped. "Where did you hear that?"
"Hiko-san said that he wouldn't allow a student of his to be a poisoned dragon."
"I see," said Kenshin again. "Do you understand what that means?" Kenshin asked him carefully.
"Someone who uses his sword only to kill, and likes killing," replied Kenji soberly.
"Yes, that's right. I have always liked sword skills Kenji, but I never liked killing." This last uttered in a sad and wistful tone.
"Did you kill many?" Kenji asked in an awed whisper.
"Hai," said Kenshin swallowing painfully. He looked at his hands. "I did, although I thought it was all for a good cause. But I discovered there is no truly good reason to kill. A sword that protects does not have to be a sword that kills."
Kenji was awash in his father's sadness and regret and it threatened to overwhelm him. Tears came to his eyes.
"Are you all right, chi-chi?" he asked his father in a small voice.
"Hai, Kenji, but I had hoped to never have to say this to you."
"It's okay, chi-chi. I forgive you."
Kenshin's head jerked up to look at his son and he saw tears running down his son's face. He reached over and grabbed him in a fierce embrace, burying his face in the boy's hair. Hiko came up noiselessly behind them, and then quickly turned to leave, unnoticed.
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Kaoru and Omasu were busy cleaning.
"I"ve never seen so much dust," complained Kaoru, her hair covered with a scarf as she furiously wiped. She had decided that with Hiko, Kenshin and Kenji gone for the morning, it was time to launch an assault on the cabin's state of cleanliness. Sano fled with a mumbled excuse about going fishing.
"You know men," said Omasu. "They have no eye for such things." She shrugged as she swept the floor.
"I've seen worse," Kaoru said, grinning. "You never saw Sanosuke's bachelor apartment. I swear to you, it was scary. Things moved!"
The two women laughed and continued their assault on grime.
Sano was down by the river, drowsing in the early morning sunshine, fishing pole propped against a rock.
"I could get used to this," he sighed.
"Sano!" called Kaoru's voice from up the hill.
"Damn!" he swore softly, thinking of where he could quickly hide.
"Sanosuke!" he heard again. "I need you to get more water for us!" Kaoru called.
"Damn women and their ridiculous ideas of cleanliness!" he thought. "It's going to look the same in a few days, why do they bother?"
"I'm uh, right in the middle of catching a big fish for lunch, Jou-chan!" he called back.
"Then why aren't you holding that fishing pole, tori-atama?" hollered Kaoru, suddenly not so far away.
He jumped up quickly. "I, er, I..." he said lamely.
"Just come and get us some water, you bum!" chided Kaoru. She had to laugh at her friend. Sano was as good-hearted as anyone could be, but he was a free spirit, to be sure.
"I'm not a bum," Sano said. "I shouldn't go around with people who have such a low opinion of me." He gave Kaoru a look of mock sadness.
"That doesn't work on me or your wife, Sagara Sanosuke, so knock it off," she told him, but she was snickering a little.
"Okay, Jou-chan, put me to work," he said resignedly and walked up to the cabin with her, first grabbing his fishing pole. "The fishing was lousy anyway."
"Don't worry so much, I'm feeling much better now," said Misao to her husband. "I'll be fine when they bring Kenji back for the celebration."
They were preparing for bed at the end of a long day. "The medicine Megumi gave me is helping," she said. "I'm only a little sick when I first wake up."
Aoshi nodded, sitting down on the edge of the futon. He stretched out his long frame and watched as Misao unpinned her hair and slowly combed it through.
He rarely made any comment, but he watched her do this almost every night. Something about the simple act of watching her comb out the long black strands seemed to bring him pleasure. Misao felt it was enough that his face softened and his eyes grew warm as he observed her nightly ritual, there was no need for words.
He suddenly exhaled audibly and rolled over, putting his hands underneath his head.
"What is it?" she said, turning and looking intently at him.
"Nothing," he replied shortly.
"That's not an answer," she said, reaching out a leg and poking him hard with her toe. He frowned slightly and shifted away.
"I'm going to keep doing that until I get an answer," she warned.
"Misao's torture techniques make up in persistence what they lack in pain," Aoshi thought, but said nothing. No doubt she would indeed poke at him physically and verbally until she got her answer.
"I know you too well, Shinomouri Aoshi, you're worried about something else," Misao stated, putting down her comb.
"Yuki," he said briefly.
"So, you've noticed it too, anata," said Misao, sighing and reaching out to lightly caress the back of his hand.
"She spends all free her time reading, alone," said Aoshi, rolling back over on his side to face her.
"Sounds like someone else I know," said Misao, raising her brows at him.
He grunted and shifted uncomfortably.
"You should speak to her," said Misao. "She's worried that when the new baby comes, we won't pay any attention to her. She thinks you want a son."
Aoshi raised his brows and widened his eyes. For him, this amounted to an exclamation of surprise.
"Really?" he asked quietly. "Did she say this?"
"Hai," said Misao. "A few months ago when we went to see Kenji."
"You should have told her to come speak to me," Aoshi murmured.
"I did, anata," Misao said, "but she is too stubborn and proud. Like someone else I know." She gave him a pointed look.
"Hm," he said, "I'll talk to her tomorrow." He visibly relaxed and closed his eyes.
Misao smiled. She leaned over and blew out the small lamp.
"Oyasumi, anata," she whispered.
She felt a hand reach out and gently stroke her hair in the darkness. She smiled and nestled against his warmth.
(AN: Trying to put Aoshi in a humor/WAFF fic is like trying to mine for gold with a teaspoon! He does make very dryly intelligent remarks in the manga that I find entertaining. But I'm weird. I think belly-button lint is entertaining. I've been dying to write a Misao-Aoshi private moment scene, and this is the best I can do in this fic. )
Chapter 19
A true swordsman
(AN: First some requested translations: Oyasumi naisai-Good night. You say Oyasumi naisai before going to bed. Aisoku is "beloved son". Itadaikitaimatsu means "Let's have something(eat)"I think, said traditionally before meals. Sumanu means close to "I beg your pardon." It's a less pleading way of saying you're sorry than gomen naisai.
And Chiki, I really liked reading your review. Good to know I'm on track, and all my research and thought didn't go to waste(and my memories seem to be intact, too). Yes, I'm over 40 and have 3 kids. I have two part-time jobs too, on here in my home office, and another one working at my youngest daughter's elementary school when school is in session. But, I have to write to keep sane, so I make time for it. I'm usually in my office writing like crazy all hours of the night. See my bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep? )
____________________________________________________________
Kenshin faced his master in the clearing, the early morning sun just now breaching the mountaintops, much as he had over 10 years ago. As had Kenji in the past months.
Kenji watched with rapt attention as his father and Shishou Hiko proceeded to engage in the flashing deadly dance of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. His eyes drank in every nuance of movement, every shift of balance and position.
Naturally, this was merely a practice, no blood would be drawn, no contact made. Slashing, thrusting and swirling swords would be pulled away at the last millisecond from vital areas.
"Hiten-mitsurugi-ryu-son-sen!" screamed Kenshin, charging.
Seemingly wild flashing swings of his sakabattou, each one stopping short of a vital point, faster than the naked eye could detect followed the battle cry.
Hiko smirked, standing with folded arms as Kenshin displayed his still amazing sword skills. He looked down. There was a slight red mark on his left wrist. He frowned at Kenshin.
"You tapped me, baka," he growled. "You know what that means, don't you?"
"ORO?" replied Kenshin, nonplussed. The mark was barely discernible, but he felt a small tingle of embarrassment flush through him. Or maybe... fear?
Then he realized he was no longer Hiko's "stupid apprentice" and glared at him out from under his shaggy bangs.
"I suppose I shall have to sit under the waterfall and meditate about my errors for an hour or so," replied Kenshin testily.
"Did Shishou really make you do that, To-chan?" asked Kenji, wide-eyed.
"Actually, it was only a half hour," grinned Hiko. "Two hours would have killed him. He looked like a half-drowned rat as it was."
Kenshin rolled his eyes, arms folded across his chest. There were times he felt the main reason Hiko had apprenticed him was to have someone to humiliate on a daily basis.
"No, your 'punishment' will now be to stand while I show you how to correctly execute the ryu-son-sen."
Hiko threw off his cape and quickly assumed the stance of right leg forward as he prepared to quickly draw his sword from the saya to initiate the ryu- sho-sen.
"Ryo-son-sen!" he roared, rushing at Kenshin. For a large man, Hiko's speed was incredible. He stopped short of Kenshin's vital areas, sword flashing in the early morning sun. The attack was so swift, Kenshin barely registered it, but suddenly he felt a slight sting on his left wrist. And when Kenshin looked down, there was a small red scratch.
Hiko was doubled over laughing. "You tap me, I tap you, fair is fair, baka" his laughter booming loudly in the silence of the morning.
Kenshin frowned.
Kenji looked at them, not quite sure of what was transpiring between the two men. Was his father angry at Hiko?
Suddenly, Kenshin grinned and looked ruefully at his "wound".
"I suppose the best punishment is a memorable one," he chuckled.
He sauntered off to the river's edge to bath the scratch in cold water.
Kenji jumped up to follow him, looking first for a small nod from Hiko.
Kenji sighed in relief as he followed his father to the river. The slight flaring of the two men's ki had alarmed him. He had felt the intensity even in this small display of skills.
Kenshin squatted down to wash the stinging welt. He still had a small grin on his lips.
Kenji moved to squat down beside his father.
"To-chan?"
"Aa, Kenji-chan?"
"Do you ever get angry at Hiko-san?" Kenji whispered to his father rather loudly.
Kenshin looked at Kenji out of the corner of his eye.
He was biting his lip, seemingly in nervousness.
"Aa, Kenji-chan," replied Kenshin seriously.
"REALLY?" asked Kenji looking relieved.
"I suppose you ask me this because you have been angry at Hiko-san," Kenshin said to him in a quiet tone. It was not a question.
"Hai," said Kenji, looking ashamed.
"What did you do when you got angry?" asked Kenshin, sitting back on his heels and looking directly at his son.
"I hit him with a bokken," said Kenji almost inaudibly. His chin rested upon his small chest refusing to look up.
"Oro?" asked Kenshin, not quite sure he'd heard correctly.
"I hit him with my bokken!" Kenji said a bit louder, now looking up. Conflicting emotions played across the boy's face, humiliation, anger and even a hint of pride.
"Then what happened?" encouraged his father.
"I ran away," said Kenji shortly. "Hiko-san was mad at me. I didn't even know I hit him!" he abruptly cried out, fists clenched on his lap.
Kenshin sighed. "Kenji-chan, I need to know everything."
"I jumped in the river, but Hiko came and got me. I hurt my arm on a big rock. I bumped my head really hard, too. Uncle Aoshi came and helped. And Aunt Misao, she was there. They took care of me." Now that Kenji had begun, it was though he was driven to confess it as quickly as possible.
"I see," Kenshin said, controlling his reactions. Apparently, Misao's letter had not been exactly forthcoming in details.
"I had to stay in bed a whole day," continued Kenji, "and when my arm got better, Shishou made me work really hard to make up for the time I couldn't train."
"Is that all?"
"Hai, Otosan, that's all."
Kenshin sighed. It could have ended much worse, he shrugged mentally. Kenji had always had amazing luck when it came to getting out of dangerous situations.
"Hiko-san says I must control my spirit, to-chan," said Kenji seriously.
"I don't want to be a poisoned dragon."
Kenshin gasped. "Where did you hear that?"
"Hiko-san said that he wouldn't allow a student of his to be a poisoned dragon."
"I see," said Kenshin again. "Do you understand what that means?" Kenshin asked him carefully.
"Someone who uses his sword only to kill, and likes killing," replied Kenji soberly.
"Yes, that's right. I have always liked sword skills Kenji, but I never liked killing." This last uttered in a sad and wistful tone.
"Did you kill many?" Kenji asked in an awed whisper.
"Hai," said Kenshin swallowing painfully. He looked at his hands. "I did, although I thought it was all for a good cause. But I discovered there is no truly good reason to kill. A sword that protects does not have to be a sword that kills."
Kenji was awash in his father's sadness and regret and it threatened to overwhelm him. Tears came to his eyes.
"Are you all right, chi-chi?" he asked his father in a small voice.
"Hai, Kenji, but I had hoped to never have to say this to you."
"It's okay, chi-chi. I forgive you."
Kenshin's head jerked up to look at his son and he saw tears running down his son's face. He reached over and grabbed him in a fierce embrace, burying his face in the boy's hair. Hiko came up noiselessly behind them, and then quickly turned to leave, unnoticed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kaoru and Omasu were busy cleaning.
"I"ve never seen so much dust," complained Kaoru, her hair covered with a scarf as she furiously wiped. She had decided that with Hiko, Kenshin and Kenji gone for the morning, it was time to launch an assault on the cabin's state of cleanliness. Sano fled with a mumbled excuse about going fishing.
"You know men," said Omasu. "They have no eye for such things." She shrugged as she swept the floor.
"I've seen worse," Kaoru said, grinning. "You never saw Sanosuke's bachelor apartment. I swear to you, it was scary. Things moved!"
The two women laughed and continued their assault on grime.
Sano was down by the river, drowsing in the early morning sunshine, fishing pole propped against a rock.
"I could get used to this," he sighed.
"Sano!" called Kaoru's voice from up the hill.
"Damn!" he swore softly, thinking of where he could quickly hide.
"Sanosuke!" he heard again. "I need you to get more water for us!" Kaoru called.
"Damn women and their ridiculous ideas of cleanliness!" he thought. "It's going to look the same in a few days, why do they bother?"
"I'm uh, right in the middle of catching a big fish for lunch, Jou-chan!" he called back.
"Then why aren't you holding that fishing pole, tori-atama?" hollered Kaoru, suddenly not so far away.
He jumped up quickly. "I, er, I..." he said lamely.
"Just come and get us some water, you bum!" chided Kaoru. She had to laugh at her friend. Sano was as good-hearted as anyone could be, but he was a free spirit, to be sure.
"I'm not a bum," Sano said. "I shouldn't go around with people who have such a low opinion of me." He gave Kaoru a look of mock sadness.
"That doesn't work on me or your wife, Sagara Sanosuke, so knock it off," she told him, but she was snickering a little.
"Okay, Jou-chan, put me to work," he said resignedly and walked up to the cabin with her, first grabbing his fishing pole. "The fishing was lousy anyway."
"Don't worry so much, I'm feeling much better now," said Misao to her husband. "I'll be fine when they bring Kenji back for the celebration."
They were preparing for bed at the end of a long day. "The medicine Megumi gave me is helping," she said. "I'm only a little sick when I first wake up."
Aoshi nodded, sitting down on the edge of the futon. He stretched out his long frame and watched as Misao unpinned her hair and slowly combed it through.
He rarely made any comment, but he watched her do this almost every night. Something about the simple act of watching her comb out the long black strands seemed to bring him pleasure. Misao felt it was enough that his face softened and his eyes grew warm as he observed her nightly ritual, there was no need for words.
He suddenly exhaled audibly and rolled over, putting his hands underneath his head.
"What is it?" she said, turning and looking intently at him.
"Nothing," he replied shortly.
"That's not an answer," she said, reaching out a leg and poking him hard with her toe. He frowned slightly and shifted away.
"I'm going to keep doing that until I get an answer," she warned.
"Misao's torture techniques make up in persistence what they lack in pain," Aoshi thought, but said nothing. No doubt she would indeed poke at him physically and verbally until she got her answer.
"I know you too well, Shinomouri Aoshi, you're worried about something else," Misao stated, putting down her comb.
"Yuki," he said briefly.
"So, you've noticed it too, anata," said Misao, sighing and reaching out to lightly caress the back of his hand.
"She spends all free her time reading, alone," said Aoshi, rolling back over on his side to face her.
"Sounds like someone else I know," said Misao, raising her brows at him.
He grunted and shifted uncomfortably.
"You should speak to her," said Misao. "She's worried that when the new baby comes, we won't pay any attention to her. She thinks you want a son."
Aoshi raised his brows and widened his eyes. For him, this amounted to an exclamation of surprise.
"Really?" he asked quietly. "Did she say this?"
"Hai," said Misao. "A few months ago when we went to see Kenji."
"You should have told her to come speak to me," Aoshi murmured.
"I did, anata," Misao said, "but she is too stubborn and proud. Like someone else I know." She gave him a pointed look.
"Hm," he said, "I'll talk to her tomorrow." He visibly relaxed and closed his eyes.
Misao smiled. She leaned over and blew out the small lamp.
"Oyasumi, anata," she whispered.
She felt a hand reach out and gently stroke her hair in the darkness. She smiled and nestled against his warmth.
(AN: Trying to put Aoshi in a humor/WAFF fic is like trying to mine for gold with a teaspoon! He does make very dryly intelligent remarks in the manga that I find entertaining. But I'm weird. I think belly-button lint is entertaining. I've been dying to write a Misao-Aoshi private moment scene, and this is the best I can do in this fic. )
