Rurouni Kenshin: The Phoenix Saga

Episode 6 - From Foe to Friend:  The Dashing, One-of-a-Kind Gentleman.

(Note:  Please don't yell at me about the name you'll see.  It may be kinda stereotypical, but I think it sounds neato, so blah! :P    Oh, and I really hope at least some of you out there will like the character I'm referring to... I know I do. ^_^ -- Sonja the Saiya-jin).

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The rurouni awakened with a raise of his head, blinking in the low sunlight.  It was stilly pretty early in the morning.  Good.

He noticed that Sanosuke was absent, but could sense he was close, so his concern dissipated just as soon as it had arisen.  He then looked down at where the guard lay, still sleeping, curled on his side and facing Kenshin.  In the light of day, it was apparent that the man's natural skin color was actually pretty dark, although paled a bit from the illness that came from his time in the cold forest.  Oddly enough, the stubble on his face seemed fairly organized, showing he had recently shaved except for above and below his lips.  Apparently, he considered his appearance important to his sense of dignity.  He looked to be a handsome, dashing fellow once he would be able to take proper care of himself.

In fact, he looked quite different from Jean Luc.  Not that Kenshin had seen enough French people to know what the standard was.  Somewhere in his memories, he felt a sense of familiarity.  Was it by the sea?  Yes, he was sure of that much.  But before he could think any further, the guard murmured a bit, speaking a language different from the French Kenshin had heard.  It reminded him of how Sanosuke spoke, and he found that rather odd.  (Note:  Sanosuke rolls his "r"s, in case you never really paid attention to his Japanese dialogue.  That's not necessarily denoting accent, but is rather a slurred, easygoing speech pattern in Sano's case. -- Sonja).

Kenshin then heard Sanosuke approaching through the vegetation, and he stood and stretched a bit in one smooth motion.  He folded up the blanket, brushed it off, then brought it to where the street-fighter emerged from the foliage.  Sano smirked as he accepted it.  "Ah, thanks.  Didn't drool on it, didja?"

"I have found that I do not 'drool' in my sleep, that I do not," Kenshin answered with a smile.

"Heh.  Wow, our guest must really be tired," Sanosuke observed, looking at the sleeping man as he put away the blanket,  "Aren'tcha gonna tell me about him an' stuff now?"

"Alright," Kenshin answered, beginning to lead Sanosuke back the way he had come.

"Hey man," he interjected, "Not that way!  I took a crap over there."

Blink.  "Oh.  Here then."  He walked to the right for a ways until they could speak more freely without waking the third man.  Once they reached a small clearing, Sanosuke leaned on a tree trunk casually, hands in his pockets.

"Alright, Red," he drawled, "What happened?"

"Well," Kenshin began, sitting on a log covered with frozen moss, "during my turn to guard, I heard a man approach us.  He is a French guard--"

"An' he tried to kill you, right?" Sanosuke exclaimed, pointing to his neck to represent Kenshin's wound.

"To put it bluntly, yes," he replied, "but he has had a very difficult time in these woods, that he has.  He became exhausted, and so I allowed him to sleep with us, that I did."

Sanosuke's lips drew pursed, his eyes a bit narrowed as he walked up to Kenshin, face forward to look closely at the cut on his neck.  Kenshin looked up at him quizzically, asking "Oro?"

"If I poked that," Sanosuke wondered, "would all your blood squirt out?"

"Judging by how you poke," he answered, "It is possible, that it is."

"And you let the fella who did that have your blanket an' everything."  He backed away again as he said this, arms crossing.  "He coulda killed you!"

"Well, he is no longer dangerous, I believe," Kenshin said, "So please treat him kindly, I ask of you."

Sanosuke sighed.  "Well, I've always trusted your judgment, so I'll do so now."  He then smirked.  "After all, I did try to kick your ass when we first met, an' you gave me a chance.  I'm guessin' this is similar."

Kenshin nodded with a small smile.  "I knew you would understand, that I did."

"Heh, yeah yeah," Sano said, cracking his knuckles, "Now, you better wake me up or somethin' if you're fighting again.  I wanna at least watch, if not help out, ya know."

Kenshin raised his hands defensively.  "I shall," he said, "Although I still say you will be grumpy."

Sano sprang forward and pulled Kenshin to his feet by the front of his gi, a move the rurouni could have easily evaded but allowed.  He let himself be shaken around rapidly, eyes and mouth wide and silly, as Sanosuke yelled (with fiercely rolling Japanese syllables), "I don't care if I'm grumpy or start cryin' or whatever! I ain't gonna miss another fight happenin' right next to me, got it?!"

"Um, excuse me," a new voice said.  Sano froze, looking in its direction with a now clueless demeanor, letting go of Kenshin.  Eyes now swirly, the short man fell over with an "Oro-o-o..."

The French guard stood at the edge of the small clearing.  He had the borrowed blanket folded in his arms.  Despite the shy way with which he clutched it, his stance and expression seemed pleasantly outgoing.  "You are ze two who spared me, yes?" he asked.

"Well, uh, if you wanna call it that..." Sanosuke answered, rubbing the back of his head and smiling sheepishly.  "Um, I guess Kenshin here's more responsible for that.  Right, buddy?"

Kenshin stood up, straightening his gi and smiling amiably with a hint of embarrassment.  "That is my name," he said, "Himura Kenshin.  I would prefer to think of you more as a guest, that I would."

"Well," the man answered, "I am quite surprised, actually.  Had tables turned, I would have cut you back even zough I am considered a righteous man."  He bowed, staying bent as he spoke.  "Please accept my apologies for last night.  You are clearly not ze monster I seek."

Kenshin bowed back, tugging Sano down as well by the hanging ends of his headband with a jolt.  "We accept your apology," the rurouni answered, "And please, be sorry no more; I know why you did as you did, and I bear no ill feelings, that I do not."

"Lemme up," Sanosuke murmured, head twisted at an odd sideways angle.  Kenshin stood and let go, all smiles, as his friend hopped back upright and rubbed his neck, trying to regain his dignity.

The guard's smile, as he straightened, was pleasing, and seemed to be a natural expression of his although it obviously had not graced his face for a long time.  His emerald eyes showed sincere gratitude and lingering regret, though.  "I don't know how to thank you for forgiving me," he said, "Eet's not what I would normally expect.  I'm so glad I did not keel you, but still what I deed was terrible."  His head lowered at the last sentence.

"Eh, think nothin' of it," Sanosuke said, smiling himself now and waving a hand dismissively.  "Ya can't just kill Kenshin anyway, cuz he's... well... he's Kenshin."  As if that explained everything.  "By the way, I'm Sagara Sanosuke.  What's your name?"

The man's confident air returned, and he tucked the blanket under his left arm and bowed once again, right arm over his chest in some kind of salutation, appearing quite distinguished as he did so.  His voice took a curious turn in accent; the first word contained a rolled "r" while the second resumed the French accent.  "Enrique D'Artagnon," he stated, "Guardian of an estate I am not to name."

"Hm," Sanosuke observed, "The different accent...  Are you from two places or is that just how you French people talk?"

Before Kenshin could disapprove of his friend's inquisition, Enrique chuckled with surprisingly good nature.  "I was born of a Spanish mother in Madrid," he answered.  Which did not help Sanosuke understand the situation any better.

"Spaniards," Kenshin quietly said, a bit distant in thought.  "I recall seeing some sailors of that nationality when I was younger, by the sea, that I do."

"Quite likely," Enrique said with a nod, looking proud of himself, "So you are looking at one of half-blood from each country."

Sanosuke got it now.  "Heh, cool," he said, "so why do you seem to stick with the French accent?  It sounds harder on the throat."

Again, Kenshin was compelled to reprimand Sano's brusque manner, but D'Artagnon seemed to take it completely in stride as he laughed and leaned on a tree, answering "Well, eet's what I am used to.  I knew both languages as a child, French and Spanish, but when I moved to France steel as a child, I stopped using the latter.  Eet only seems to emerge at random, but ees no longer my natural tongue."

"You seem quite fluent in Japanese, that you do," Kenshin commented.

"I feegured I had a choice between relearning Spanish or learning Japanese before coming here," he answered, "and I chose the latter seence doing both would be quite confusing."  He gestured freely with his arm, seeming quite at ease with the gentlemen before him.

"Yer pretty smart then, for a gai-jin (foreigner)," Sano observed.  He seemed to like this fellow.

Another chuckle, Enrique taking his turn to rub the back of his head sheepishly.  "Well, eef you would like to theenk so, I permit it," he said with a smile,  "although I would not say so of myself."

Kenshin found himself liking D'Artagnon as well.  As they continued conversing, it was apparent that, while being a skilled fighter and one of iron will, Enrique was also a gentleman, yet flowed wittily along with comments of any nature.  His earlier release of stress in the form of battle, as well as the night of warmth and kindness, seemed to bring out the kind of person he truly was.

When asked why he and the other guard seemed to specialize in knife combat, he crossed his arms, by now having handed Kenshin's blanket back to him, and smirked.  "Because, my friend," he answered, "Swords are illegal in the Meiji domain."  He chuckled, then added "I am guessing you are an exempt authority?"

"In a sense, I am," Kenshin answered, "at least in Tokyo.  So does that mean you are skilled with a sword, I ask of you?"

Enrique looked to the left, burying the toe of his boot in half-frozen dead leaves, then flicking it upward in a way that flipped a nearly straight stick, about 90 centimeters long, into the air.  He caught it at one end and swung it all in one smooth motion in the air, twirled it, then took a confident stance with a one-handed grip on the "sword."

"I can demonstrate if you're not too busy," he smoothly delivered in his Spanish accent, appearing quite suave and ready.

"I believe you," Kenshin answered, unable to keep from smiling at the cool display, "However, we are on a journey which we must continue soon, that we are."

D'Artagnon expression darkened.  "Ah, yes," he said, "The search for zat... that monster."  He seemed to be cleaning up his accent within the short time he had been speaking.  "May I come with you?"

Kenshin cocked his head a bit.  "That would not be wise, my pardons," he said gently, "You are quite weakened from being out here for so long in the cold.  You really ought to go to Tokyo and take care of yourself, that you should."

The man shook his head slowly, his somehow compelling smile returning to his worn features.  "That may be true," he said, "However, the whole reason I've fallen to this state, ees because I wish to bree… bring the monster to justice.  Wouldn't it be a shame for this to be for nothing?  My face must look quite disgraceful by now."

Sanosuke chuckled.  "Well, I guess you're right about that much." Then he thought about that, and waved his hands with a goofy grin. "Er, not your face though, you've somehow been shavin' or just don't grow much.  Or somethin'."

D'Artagnon chuckled again, though by now a bit grimly.  "Thank you for noticing.  I do keep my knives sharp enough for several reasons.  But please, I wish to aid in the punishment of the despicable men responsible for the misery they have caused.  If I walk too slowly you don't have to wait for me, but I think I can keep up.  For however long it takes."  His head lowered at the last statement, as if already gathering himself for a long journey.

Kenshin and Sanosuke looked at each other as if trying to find their answers in the other's face.  Finding only the same question, they looked back at Enrique, then back at each other.  Finally, Sanosuke rested his fists on his hips and said to the gai-jin "Well, I personally think you seem rugged enough to keep up.  If you get too tired though, then there's nothin' wrong with goin' off to get taken care of.  We won't call you a quitter or anything."

Kenshin considered, then grimly stated, "It is your decision, Enrique-dono, that it is."  He made a strained effort to pronounce the name with the Spanish accent and had a difficult time.

"Oh, just call me Enrique," he said, gesturing dismissively and pronouncing it with the fairly accurate Japanese accent he was trying for, "or gai-jin, or whatever you like.  I am at your service."  He bowed once more, a more gracious, flowery bow than the standard Japanese gesture.

Kenshin looked upon him with a fair amount of worry.  He had not wanted innocent people to be unnecessarily involved in this issue.  Yet, this man's strength and skill were amazing even in his weakened state.  And he seemed quite happy at the prospect of accompanying them.  Indeed, he had had a difficult time, and helping against the enemy would make that worthwhile.

"Sa, ikuzo de gozaru," the rurouni signaled with a grim smile, and the three headed back to the campsite.

*****

At about midday, biscuits were passed out and the travelers ate on foot.  Kenshin felt impressed that both of his companions were keeping up with him so well.  They had conversed little to save energy, but when they did speak, D'Artagnon was cheerful, polite, and debonair.  He seemed to have the pride of one of high breeding, but the on-equal nature of a commoner.  He was also curious about Japanese customs and mannerisms, seeming very eager to fit in.

Between that, though, his luminous green eyes held a deep pain behind them, well hidden at most times yet visible at others.  At least, Kenshin noticed.  He wasn't sure if Sanosuke also did, although it was a given that the French Spaniard was grieved by what had happened to his lord.  Kenshin felt that there was something else there, too.  Something serious enough to make this man much like himself.  As if he too had come from a difficult past, or was perhaps still enduring the difficulty, yet had somehow attained a kind nature and held onto it firmly when a lesser man would have let it go.

I hope things turn out well for him, Kenshin thought, that I do.

Sanosuke did indeed know that the gaijin had something bugging him.  Seems crap like that always happens to the cool people.  Oh well, the fellow seemed to have things under control, much the way he and Kenshin did.  At least, in general.  Sure, sometimes they slip a little, but they've both been in control lately.  This fellow seemed far too confident in himself to be broken down easily.  Whatever was troubling him, Sano was sure he could get through it with style to spare.

Somewhere during the course of occasional conversation, it was revealed that the French guards, eight in all, were concentrated around both Kyoto and Tokyo, since they had not been sure which "kyo" area was the one they were looking for.  Enrique found it pretty humorous that the names were the same except that the syllables were reversed, and was glad to be going in the right direction.

It was when they were passing through a town, however, that their rhythm of travel was once again interrupted.

"Arrêtez, Espagnol métissent! (Halt, Spanish mongrel!)"  A sneering male voice called out from their right.  All three paused and turned their heads to see another French guard, this one a bit more solidly built and a couple centimeters shorter than D'Artagnon though obviously far older, and of lighter skin and hair tone.  He was clean-shaven and seemed in very good condition unlike the disheveled half-Spaniard.  In fact, he was standing just outside of a restaurant he had probably eaten in.  His green eyes and expression were bitter, his smirk making it difficult to tell if he was born with an ugly sneer, or just trying to look that way.  Kenshin had already noticed, followed now by Sanosuke, that this man was wearing not one, but two swords.  This secluded town may not have much law enforcement, but to so blatantly wear swords in public, especially as a foreigner...

Seemingly unphased, D'Artagnon missed hardly a beat as he elaborated, "Good sirs, this is Captain Aleron, a fellow guard at my lord's estate.  And so as not to leave you in the dark, he just called me a Spanish mongrel."

"Better guard you mean to say of you," Aleron hissed acidly, his accent obvious as he butchered the language.  Then he smirked wider and added "I do learn Japanese now, do improve."

"Ah, but where's the accent for it?" Enrique asked, his own Japanese quite fluid by now, "And just how long have you been lying in the lap of luxury instead of searching for whom we were sent for?"  While the other seemed to show great animosity toward Enrique, the Spaniard was gracious enough not to reciprocate.  But this somehow angered the other man still further.

Then, his dark eyes turned to study Kenshin more carefully.  Specifically, to the bandage on his cheek.  Suspicion appeared on his face.  "What ees below tape?" he asked.

"Please," Enrique sighed without missing a beat, "Must you be so impolite to a stranger in their own country?  You don't even know his name, and yet you already edge into his personal--"

The man wasn't even listening, walking abruptly toward Kenshin, meaning to pull the bandage off himself.  Enrique was about to change his words to protest, but Kenshin raised his hand, stopping the advance of the angry foreigner.  "I shall answer your question verbally," he said levelly, "On my cheek are two scars that cross, received long ago."

The eyes widened, then narrowed more violently than before.

Enrique quickly piped up in French, obviously trying to quickly explain that Kenshin was not the enemy, but he was silenced with a look of shock when the end of Aleron's sword was suddenly centimeters from his face.

"So," the armed man purred dangerously, "traitor are you?"

Sanosuke exclaimed a wordless yelp, eyes wide with shock yet burning with anger.  Even Kenshin was surprised; the movement was so quick he had barely caught sight of it.

Enrique seemed to regain his composure all too quickly.  "No," he answered, sounding as calm as he had before the other's invasiveness, "I am not.  I tried to tell you, this man is not the monster we look for.  In fact, these two are hunting for him.  The scar is a coincidence."

The armed man made a questioning sound, not understanding all the words, so Enrique repeated in French.  To which the former replied, in Japanese so all present could understand, "You do lie.  And a superior, you go against."  He took a step closer to Enrique, the sharp tip coming closer, its target not moving away from it at all.

"Hey, whatterya tryin' to pull, buddy?"  Sanosuke asked, edging a shoulder in front of his newfound friend, moving him gently but firmly out of the way as the blade stopped advancing, "What's the deal here?  Ain't you guys supposed to be on the same side?"

"Let me save my Captain from embarrassment with his language abilities," Enrique gently stated, "To put it shortly, I'm on his side... But he's not on mine."

"Huh?"  Sano asked, looking at him with cocked brow.  Enrique had a surprisingly grim expression despite how gentle his voice was.  His eyes seemed to be struggling to stay on Aleron's, as if he felt fear of the man but was refusing to give in to it.  Kenshin was also seeing this, but not yet reacting.  Sano looked at him, then back at Enrique as the man slid quietly by and was approaching the stranger with a name.

"I assume you brought that other sword for me?"  Enrique queried evenly, with a small smile, "I suppose you're not as beastly as you let on after all."

"Eet ees stupeed beat you no fight back, so peetiful ees you," Aleron answered, looking and sounding dangerous and seeming very glad of that.  He moved back a bit, then threw one sword and sheathe at Enrique, not to him, obviously meaning to hit him with it.  But the half-Spaniard stepped deftly aside and raised his leg so the sword hit his boot rather than his friends behind it, and it clattered to the ground.

Picking it up and examining it with an air of professionalism, D'Artagnon calmly requested, "Well, if you wish to fight me, for whatever reason, please let us not do it here in the street, in front of the women and children.  Though actually..." He looked up with a smile and opened his hands, letting the weapon fall to the ground yet again, "...I'd rather not fight you at all.  Swords are illegal here.  Surely you know that?"

Captain Aleron was an obvious hater of the truth if it did not match what he wanted it to be.  Still smiling maliciously, he was suddenly in front of Enrique and slashed his sword.  More like flashed it, its movement so fast it was like seeing the slit of silver as a minnow catches one single instant of sunlight in a stream.  A look of shock covered Enrique's face, followed by most of his uniform falling open, halved buttons falling with small thumps to the ground.  A line of dark red beads began to form down much of his chest.

"What the hell?!" Sano blurted, stomping wrathfully toward the offensive guard.  But D'Artagnon extended an arm, grabbing the younger man's sleeve.  Sanosuke looked at him with puzzlement, as well as taking that moment to examine the wound.  It wasn't dangerous, but had to be painful, as it was beginning to bleed quite a bit now.  The half-Spaniard's eyes seemed full of determination as he shook his head at Sano.  Then he smiled once again.

"No need for the two of you to be involved," he said, voice a little strained from the wound he had received, "I will not trouble those who need not be troubled."  He then picked his sword up from the ground.  "Since you so adamantly insisted, my good Captain, let us go to the end of town."

They both began to walk down the street.  Enrique then added to his friends "You may watch if you like," with a small grin.  Sano and Kenshin followed at that, watching Aleron glare at Enrique with a cruel, overbearing smile.

Sanosuke quietly asked, tone indignant, "Kenshin, why ain't you stoppin' this?  That weirdo's no good, an' 'Rique's in no shape to be fightin'."

"We do not know enough about this issue to take sides," Kenshin answered, "and I understand his will not to involve others in his fight, that I do.  Besides, his eyes say that he has a personal reason for this."

Sanosuke hissed and jerked his head to face away from him, but he knew he was right.  Still, that didn't make this crap justified.  If it looked like their gaijin friend would need help, he decided he'd step in whether Kenshin liked it or not.  Then, he piped up to the two guards "Look, guys, you're supposed to be on the same side! Why are you fighting? Aleron, if you're after Kenshin why not challenge him?!"

In the background, Kenshin's eyes narrowed into little lines.

"We can't answer now, Sanosuke," Enrique said quietly, voice so even he almost sounded tired in his efforts to stay calm.  Sanosuke could find nothing to say to that and remained quiet for the time being.  He had no idea what was going on with this weird sequence of events.  It made little sense to him, and being in the dark really irked him.  Plus he was worried...  This "superior" would make mince-meat out of their friend if he had his way, he was sure of it.  Yes sir, he figured he'd be jumping in within a few seconds.

Once the group had reached a sparsely populated edge of the town, feet among browned grass sleeping the winter away, Enrique D'Artagnon and Aleron took stances facing one another, Aleron's an obvious swordplay pose, Enrique standing seemingly at ease, weapon still sheathed and a hand casually lowered at his side.  His exterior was the definition of calm and confident, yet Kenshin could feel surges of negativity within him.  Regret, misgivings, some fear...  All kept admirably in check, but still there.

Captain Aleron's blade pointed toward his opponent. "Draw, boy," he stated.