AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hmmm….I really don't update enough. And too much games really works havoc on my now-secondary hobby. Ah well. Can't complain. And on a more serious note, do have fun reading. I don't write for you but I really can't expect you to believe that. Let's just say that if I am a writer, it would be very unbecoming to not have a reader. I don't write just to cater to my own ego after all. That's where you come in. See you on the other side. Update probably won't be very soon.
AUTHOR'S NOTE VERSION 2: By the way, I have hell formatting my paragraph breaks because something's weird. You will soon see so please take it with the customary grain of salt. Thank you.
DISCLAIMER: I WOULD WALK THROUGH FIRE FOR YOU NOBORU WATSUKI! THE FLAMES WOULD LICK AT MY FEET BUT IT WOULD NOT MATTER! FOR YOU NOBORU WATSUKI! FOR YOU!!!!
Way The World Turns
What a strange person…
But then again, most of the Juppon Gatana were already strange people to begin with. Holding his sakabatou steady, Yahiko ignored the slightly annoying tapping the sandal made with the ground. If anything, Soujiro was perhaps one of the stranger swordsmen he had ever seen. Holding the table knife loosely over his shoulder, he assumed neither ready stance nor any position. Bouncing up and down lightly on his right foot, he almost seemed to be waiting. Though he was smiling nonchalantly, his flat eyes were narrowed in concentration with a dull focus that just didn't feel right.
And then there was that other feeling…
Nothing. No coercion. No fear. But no read and no anticipation. Literally, a ken-ki dead zone. All he could really detect from Soujiro's movements and behavior was the slightest sense of amusement. The sarcastic air was just replaced by a condescending arrogance that made it difficult to concentrate.
"Well, let's begin." Soujiro voice was soft. "Try to keep up."
And quite literally, the ground beneath Soujiro's feet exploded. Before the dust had settled, a knife had already crashed against his sakabatou and drove him back two steps. Staring evenly at him through the sparks the blades created, Soujiro's smile didn't waver. "Don't think too hard."
"Shut up!" Breaking the lock, Yahiko grimaced as Soujiro dropped to a crouch and ducked under the return sweep.
"You're too slow anyway." Soujiro grabbed Yahiko's thigh with one hand and deftly spun his knife in the other. "One leg isn't worth anything." Without any hesitation, he plunged the knife as deep as it could go. Fortunately, the knife was designed to cut through cooked meat rather than raw muscle. The blunt edge certainly did much to hinder its progress.
But for the most part, the effects were not lost at all to Yahiko. Doubling over in pain, a quick elbow blow across the chest sent him spinning across the pavement before coming to a stop a good few feet away. If Soujiro even noticed the blood that had splashed onto his hand, it was impossible to read past the smile that never grew wider or smaller.
"Well, maybe I did underestimate your leg Yahiko-kun?" Soujiro mockingly pointed at his thigh. "You seem to have stolen my blade." The knife was still halfway embedded to the hilt through his leg. Crossing his arms, Soujiro laughed softly. "Well, I guess I'll just try harder."
It had been a long time since he had been stabbed by a real weapon. True the scars he had taken from past battles still had not completely disappeared, but to go close to five years without having spilled any blood in combat had dulled Yahiko's appreciation of its texture…its feel. There had been no hesitation in the strike at all. Struggling to his knee on his one good leg, Yahiko blinked away the sweat than had begun to build on his forehead. More than the pain, that unnerving smile was annoying him to no ends…that complete lack of bloodlust or blood joy.
"Don't you feel anything?" Yahiko growled, "Can't you stop smiling?"
"I wouldn't be worrying what I feel. After all, I told you I was going to dissect you. Instead…" Soujiro's voice grew softer. "I would be considering how you're going to try to hit me with a sakabatou you have no clue in wielding and a leg with a hole through it."
"Damn you."
Soujiro held out his hand innocently. "Well, let's not be unfair Yahiko-kun. I can hardly hope to defeat a swordsman of your caliber without a blade can I?"
There should have been sarcasm in that statement. At least some hint of what really was going on in Soujiro's mind. But there wasn't. All there was was that playful sense of amusement. Grimacing at the pain, Yahiko tore the blade out of his thigh and brusquely tossed it forward.
"You aren't like me at all are you? So very honorable." Bending forward to pick it up, Soujiro sketched a bow. "Thank you kindly."
Why is he annoying me so much? I just can't stay calm when I'm fighting him…Slowly getting to his feet, Yahiko glowered at Soujiro. What is it about him?
"Stop glaring at me. Come."
"Why are you still smiling?"
"…what are you talking about?"
"I'm asking you…" Forcing himself to his feet, Yahiko brought the sakabatou almost all the way around his back, "Why the hell are you annoying me so much!"
The final swing.
An impossibly fast blur and the warm coat of blood that received the cut.
Soujiro softly whispered into Yahiko's ear, "I've got a better question. How did you like it? My Shukuchi?" He chuckled softly. "You thought too much didn't you?"
"…you bastard…" Almost falling on Soujiro's body, the only thing bracing him up was the knife that was suddenly embedded in his stomach. Yahiko felt his pupils dilate as the feeling in his body began to go numb.
Giving the knife a slight twist, Soujiro smiled. "I echo your sentiments exactly."
"YAHIKO-CHAN!" Tsubame's scream came from somewhere in the crowd.
"There's always something very poetic about getting stabbed in the stomach. After all, that's how samurai commit seppuku isn't it?" Tearing out the knife, Soujiro tossed it easily to the side, a stream of blood spraying from the wound. "You're from a samurai family. You of all people should at least start to understand."
Unable to stand up straight, Yahiko collapsed to the pavement as the sakabatou clattered from his grasp. Placing a hand on his diaphragm, his hand felt slick with his own blood.
"Was it a genpukku present to you?" Picking the fallen blade up, Soujiro balanced it in his palm. "Ironic isn't it? Himura-san thought you worthy to be his successor."
"…"
"Now what could he be thinking…I just can't understand. You aren't stronger than Himura. You aren't even stronger than I am. Why give a sword to someone who isn't even strong enough to protect the weak?" Soujiro sighed, "It's just so confusing."
Two hits. That was all it took. Lying on the ground, Yahiko still couldn't believe it. Soujiro was fast…no, faster than Kenshin. He hadn't even finished his swing before taking the blow to the gut. He hadn't even been able to see Soujiro move before taking the blow to the gut.
Is…is this really what I am?
For so long he had wondered what it was to be truly strong. To be able to compete with the swordsmen of Kenshin's caliber. He always knew in the back of his mind that whenever he dueled with Kenshin in the past that Kenshin was holding back. How far…how much…he was never sure.
But like this. To be so completely far behind…
What am I then? Yahiko felt a hollowness in his chest that wasn't just from the loss of blood. What have I been doing?
"The flesh of the weak is the food for the strong." Spinning the sakabatou around to the reverse edge, Soujiro slowly raised it above his head. "Something very interesting to decide to live by. Let's try it on you shall we Yahiko-kun?"
What have I even fought for so long for?
A small figure pushed her way from the crowd of spectators.
"STOP!"
Soujiro's eyes narrowed. "Now what are you doing?"
"STOP! PLEASE STOP!" Protectively covering Yahiko with her body, Tsubame looked back up at him, "You've won. Don't kill Yahiko-chan."
"Move aside. This doesn't concern you."
"No!"
"I'll kill you. Then I'll kill him." Soujiro's laugh was eerily hoarse. As if something was begin to crack. "Do you want to die for nothing?"
"…even if you say that…and even if it's true…I won't move."
"...What are you talking about?" Snarling in an almost desperate anger, Soujiro swiped the ground besides Tsubame. Tracing the slash back to her neck, the look in his eyes grew glassy. "Get out of my way! What can you do to protect him?"
Biting her lip, Tsubame held Yahiko tighter against her. "I don't know…but I won't stand aside and let you hurt him."
"Girl…" Involuntarily taking a step back, Soujiro's hands began shaking badly as he stared back at the small waitress. Running a hand through his hair, he winced in pain as if someone had just driven a rock through his skull. "What does it do…?"
It was happening again. Somewhere through the duel, the emotion lock had come back up again. And for the first time, Soujiro noticed the blood that had sprayed onto his sword arm and kimono. The texture and the color…it both attracted him and completely repulsed him. Turning his gaze back at what was happening in front of him, Soujiro's voice caught in the back of his throat.
"My…god…" His voice was a pained whisper.
A small girl whose robes were already starting to soak the blood from the pavement was bodily placing herself between his blade. A small girl who neither had a sword in hand or the actual courage to be asked to do such a thing. Her eyes were wet with fear and her tears and her lip was shaking badly as she tried to remain resolute. Resolute even when there was very little she was actually doing…and even less she could actually do to stop him.
Staring back at him, she whispered, "Don't do this…"
Don't.
It snapped. Completely snapped. Before he could even begin to feel the blinding pain in the back of his head, he screamed. What he screamed…what he was trying to say…was all lost in the crumbling abyss as his emotion lock completely shattered. Like before, his throat ran raw with screaming. Like before, he knew it was his scream because his throat ran raw.
Somebody save me. Somebody protect me. No one will save you. No one wants to protect you. Kill them. Don't kill them. They're weak. You're weak. So kill them all. You'll be killed. Or you'll be killed. Food for the strong is the flesh of the weak. WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE ME?
Staggering from the incoherency…the chaos of his thoughts, Soujiro gripped his head tightly with his left hand as if through force alone he could squeeze them away. Turning back, only dimly aware of where he was, who was watching him, and what he was still tightly holding in his blade arm, he ran. From the thoughts. The chaos and the screams. His screams and the screams of the memory that refused to die.
That image. That last clear image in his head…of that small girl crouched over her loved one, with her robes stained red…
That image followed him even after he couldn't run any longer.
[PARAGRAPH BREAK]
"…I'm sorry."
"Don't say anything Yahiko-chan."
"I'm sorry I made you cry…I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."
"…"
Yahiko smiled. "I'm always like that. I get so cocky because I've won once. I think I'm so strong…and that I can do anything. And then someone stronger always comes…and I always need to depend on somebody to save me."
"That's not true. Yahiko-chan saved me a lot of times."
"But not this time Tsubame." Getting up, Yahiko winced as a shot of pain lanced through his side. "And that's the only time that really matters." Breaking into laughter, he smiled. "Isn't that funny though? In the end he was still smiling…in the end…" Bracing himself with his seiyuu he leaned against the wall, "…he took my genpukku sakabatou. Kenshin's treasured blade."
"Yahiko-chan…"
"Tsubame…what have I been doing all these years?" His voice cracked. "All for what?"
"To be like Kenshin…"
"But who am I then? Who am I if all I ever try to be is like someone else."
"…" Unable to respond, Tsubame nervously began putting away the medical supplies. "I'm…I'm not that good at being a doctor. Megumi-san can take care of you better than I can, Yahiko-chan."
"…Yahiko-chan…" Yahiko shook his head. "I tell you so many times not to call me that…and every time you say sorry. Why do you always call me that? We've each other for so long, and you still call me that. Haven't I grown up in your eyes? Haven't I changed even a little bit?"
"It's not that…" Inexplicably, Tsubame's face grew deep crimson as she averted her eyes. "It's not like that at all."
"…how am I going to explain this to Kenshin?" Unable to stop the shame, Yahiko slumped to the ground, "How am I ever going to explain any of this?"
[PARAGRAPH BREAK]
It was a rather sordid observation, but as the last convulsions racked his chest, Soujiro couldn't help but notice that vomit was not that different from blood. The way it splattered across any surface and the bitter smell of fluid was almost indistinguishable. The acidic tang of alcohol bit at the back of his mouth but with most of the sake dripping down his chin, it left more room for him to think…to breathe. Coughing, Soujiro took a deep breath and held it in his lungs for a long time.
"Ten years…"
For ten years that he had wandered, he had not been able to break his emotion lock. He did not want to kill. He had cried when he had killed…all of that was true. Himura-san had brutally branded that into his mind…perhaps more painfully than Shishio-san ever did. But what Himura could not understand was that his repression was more instinctual than taught. He had lost his own emotions out of choice rather than any tutelage or coercion.
Some things were better forgotten. Even things which should be remembered.
His head hurt badly. More than anything his head hurt. With it came the crystalline clarity that focused the world to a dull point. But it was, as always, a dark crystal. Clarity still did not mean he could see anything through it. And that was the frustrating part. To feel anger, remorse, and regret…but never being able to comprehend what they meant.
Or how to act upon them.
"Yumi-san…I really am stupid."
Fighting that boy really had no merit. And in fighting him, his emotion lock shouldn't have come into place. It wouldn't have made any difference even if his ken-ki could be detected or not…the boy didn't have either Kenshin's raw speed or experience to even begin keeping up with the Shukuchi.
And still…he had lost control of himself over an opponent so trivial.
That girl…
"Damn…" Gripping his head again, Soujiro bit back the wave of nausea, utterly failing as whatever remained in his stomach spilled back out onto the pavement of the alleyway.
That girl who willingly stared down the eyes of the Tenken…and though she was perhaps weaker than any who had done so before, there was nothing lacking in her eyes. She had fully intended to die protecting the person she held most important. Even if ultimately, her sacrifice would be completely in vain.
To love. To live. To die.
Myoujin Yahiko who had friends.
Who had the belief of the greatest swordsman ever and his blade as merit of that faith.
Who had a home to return to…and loved ones who would welcome him home.
And who had that small girl who looked at him with shy eyes and a deep blush whenever he was near. And who would set her beliefs, her love, and her life on the line to die at the hands of someone who had nothing.
In Myoujin Yahiko, lay everything Seta Soujiro was not. They had tread diametrically opposite paths. He had chosen the way of the sword. The blade and the death. To protect himself, Soujiro had forsaken protecting anyone else. To grow strong, he had abandoned ever having anything dear. To live life by himself and through himself.
Soujiro closed his eyes as the numbing uncertainty bore down on him. To be loved…to be protected. To live and love living…he had given that all up. Not even his smile and his indifference could negate that fact.
"Himura-san, if you had protected me…what would I have chosen? What would I become?" Soujiro slowly got up and began making his way out of the alleyway. "Damn it all to hell."
The moonlight arced across the sky and the glint of metal sparkled softly in the otherwise dark pavement. Pausing mid-step, Soujiro glanced at the sakabatou embedded in the concrete out of the corner of his eye. "Why did I carry you along?"
It was a strange blade. The edge reflecting the light curved the wrong way, making it seem as if someone had reached across and bent the shape of the katana the other way. It was a smooth silver edge, undulled by blood or the sharpness of another sword.
Soujiro's eyes narrowed. In the edge, his reflection coldly stared back at him.
"Stop that. I'm not in a mood to get mocked by a sword."
Turning around, he slid his hand around the hilt and pulled it up. It felt strange to once again hold a katana designed to be a masterpiece. The weight, the feel, and even the grip all meshed into a perfect symmetry. Swinging it lightly through the air, Soujiro felt an odd pang of reminiscence…like once again he was holding his Kiki-Uchi Monji again.
"But you crushed my precious katana like nothing…" Running a hand through the blunt edge, Soujiro sighed, "I still don't understand how." It was probably just one of those nights where nothing really made sense. "Well, whatever." Spinning the sakabatou, Soujiro placed it over his shoulder. "You're just one annoying blade. I don't want to deal with you. Let's see if I can return you to your real master." Soujiro smiled. "After all, I already destroyed his successor."
It was a heavy blade. The weight of the steel weighed heavily on his back. It made the night seem much longer than it probably was.
[PARAGRAPH BREAK]
"Kaoru-dono, where is Yahiko?"
"Yahiko? Oh, that's right, I got a message from Tae. Yahiko wants to stay at the Akebeko tonight."
"Oro?"
"That little brat!" Kaoru glowered, "Since when did he have enough time to flirt with Tsubame? I'm going to ream him out when he gets back."
"It's alright Kaoru-dono." Kenshin tried in vain to relax his wife. "It's not every night that we get to spend alone."
"Alone? Do you mean…?" It's just going to be me and Kenshin…and tonight…and….and… Blushing, Kaoru squealed, "Kenshin you're so naughty!"
"….oro?"
"Just because we're husband and wife doesn't mean you get to think like that! When did you get so bold?"
"I think we have a misunderstanding…"
"But tonight!" Jumping into his arms, Kaoru neatly silenced the stuttering Kenshin with a long kiss on the mouth. It was amazing sometimes, what the most fundamental things could bring about. Probably at any rate. Slowly breaking off, she smiled, "But tonight, it really is just us. I'll make an exception just for you."
Well, there were probably many things worse than just making a simple misunderstanding. It was a human trait Kenshin could accept wholeheartedly. Well, if he was inclined to think much at all.
"Kaoru…dono?"
"I don't mind when you use dono by my name Kenshin. Because when you say it, I never feel like it's just another title. Because you've said it to me when you said I'm home…when you told me you loved me." Kaoru whispered softly, "But I'm going to have to do something about that tonight…so make an exception just for me." Pushing Kenshin playfully away from her, she smiled languidly. "I'll be waiting."
The door clicked shut behind her and the night sky left Kenshin wondering how such a cold wind did so very little to cool him down. Perhaps it had been a very precipitous chain of events after all. Kenshin laughed softly to himself. "Hai, Kaoru-dono."
"You know, Himura-san, I once saw Yumi do the exact same thing to Shishio-san. I must admit however, your woman is far more direct about it."
"…if you wanted to catch me surprised, you should do better." A slight pause. "Though you probably won't believe me, I am somewhat relieved to see you."
"We do have much to discuss anyway."
"Ten years is a long time."
"Not really." Stepping from the shadows behind the sakura tree, Soujiro shrugged. "But that's just opinion. By the way Himura-san, I believe I have something that might belong to you." A soft clink of metal against the unpaved soil. "But then again, who do you think it belongs to? That's just opinion too."
"…"
"I expected that look in your eyes." Soujiro neither flinched nor moved from the dark glare Kenshin slowly turned at him. Crossing his arms, his eyes were similarly hard. "Much like you, I have much to atone for. Even if you can willingly step aside from the past, I will judge who will succeed you. As one who was defeated by you, it is my responsibility. Himura-san, pick up the blade and answer me. That too is your responsibility."
"Be that as it may…" Kenshin made no move to grasp what used to be his. "…you should not have involved Yahiko."
"…I beg your pardon…" Soujiro averted his eyes. "Yes. That would have been for the best. I beg your pardon for that Himura-san." Sighing, Soujiro grimaced. "I have been unable to find it. The answer…the truth that I told myself I would find after ten years of wandering. Shishio found his answer…you found yours. My emotion lock I have been unable to break. The small boy you did not protect…I have not been able to let go."
"What happened?"
"I would have killed him, Himura-san." Soujiro's voice was pained. "And I would have done so with your sakabatou. And I cannot explain why I would even want to do so. I have not changed at all over these ten years. I am still the Tenken no Soujiro. What have I been doing all this time? What was so different between us? It should be obvious…" Soujiro's fist was trembling. "It should be obvious…but it isn't."
"The skill with the blade has not dulled upon you Soujiro. I can tell that very easily. What have you chosen to do with it?"
"…I didn't want to kill…really…" Soujiro took a step forward, as if begging Kenshin to believe him. "And in those ten years, I still did not want to kill. But…" Frustrated, Soujiro exploded, "The world doesn't give a damn what I believe. The Meiji Era was supposed to change all that, but the world has stayed exactly the same way. It doesn't care about protecting anything!" He slammed a fist against the sakura. "So I couldn't stop it. So even though I did not wish any of them to die…they did…and by my hand." Soujiro laughed hollowly. "That is the path I have never chosen, but I have always tread. What do you make of it? Is it not laughable? I cannot even live by my own principle. Tell me how laughable it is…Himura-san."
"I will neither laugh or mock you. My path of atonement did not run easy…but our paths were never similar from the beginning. Like your childhood…I cannot even begin to understand what you have gone through. Like now, I still cannot understand."
"…then pick up your sakabatou and rectify that situation. You made me understand something so clearly through your ougi once ago. I believe you can do so again."
"...if such a thing were possible anymore…" Kenshin smiled ruefully, "If only your solution was so simple."
"Eh?"
"Hiten Mutsurugi Ryu is the ultimate godlike technique. In strength and speed it cannot be comparably surpassed. When pressed, the techniques of Hiten know no limits…but the same cannot be said of the user."
"…"
"Megumi-dono requests that I take a bitter tea every night to prevent my muscles from deteriorating any more. She also asks that I don't leave Tokyo without her prescribing medication. Kaoru-dono nags me constantly about not wearing enough warm clothes and goes into hysterics if she even sees me cough. She spends too much money buying me medicine that I'm not sure even works." Kenshin smiled. "And I've felt it within my heart. Hiten Mutsurugi Ryu…my Hiten Mutsurugi Ryu…has been rendered completely ineffective."
"I don't believe it…" Soujiro disbelievingly stared at him. "That cannot be the truth."
"I've become a father, Soujiro. My son will always love the mother more than he will ever love me, but I will still be able to watch him grow in an era that does not necessitate the sword. And if I am fortunate…I will live to see my son have his son. I have given up the blade to let that happen. To accept that which I can no longer do…and embrace what I thought I never could do."
"…but you were the Battousai…no…" Soujiro shook his head. "You're Himura Kenshin!"
"I cannot compare with your Shukuchi, Soujiro. I barely did before." Sighing, Kenshin asked quietly, "What are the extent of Yahiko's wounds?"
"…he won't fight for a week or two. He took a knife to the stomach and leg."
"Perhaps that is the greatest irony. The same morning, Yahiko laid me out against the dojo wall with one hit."
"…"
"That is all I can say. I will fight Soujiro. But I cannot fight with a blade anymore. If you seek a battle of truth, then you have already found it. But it is as I have always said. You cannot find any truth through victory or defeat. You have defeated Yahiko. Even unarmed, you could probably kill me with even less effort. And then you will be the strongest…but will you find the truth you seek? I cannot say you will. You are free to try, but I still cannot say you will."
"You are a harsh taskmaster. I knew it from the beginning. You would never begin to give me an answer but you would expect me to find it all by myself." Soujiro cracked a bitter smile. "Same old isn't it?"
"Some things are best left unchanged."
"…but I too have reached a very strange crossroad. On one hand I am the Tenken. On the other hand I am Soujiro. Now where have I heard that before? Himura Kenshin? Himura Battousai?" Soujiro's eyes narrowed. "I wonder sometimes. When I think about it clearly…I can come to only one conclusion."
"Oh?"
"You met your woman. You met the chicken head. You met the boy. You who walked alone found the people who were willing to walk with you. The clairvoyance to walk with you. How fortunate isn't it?"
"…perhaps."
"So that is the story of the great Himura Kenshin. The real truth behind the killer. He got lucky. The dice fell and landed the right way." Soujiro glowered, "If I am at all incorrect, please tell me otherwise. If not, lend me some rope so I can hang myself right here and save all of use a lot of trouble."
"No, that probably is what my story really is. I found these people…and in them I found my answer to atone for my sins."
"Well, does Kaoru have a long lost sister you might want to introduce me to? By all means, I am quite open to suggestion." Soujiro did not laugh at the rhetoric. "I have not had your fortune. And I can say that I do not have your mindset. We should be the same…but we aren't."
"…giving up the blade…we can't do it. Can we?" Kenshin smiled. "I still can't. Even now. Kaoru doesn't like it, but at heart I am still the swordsman. Was it the same for you?"
"…something like that."
"That is why we are the same." Kenshin nodded to the sakabatou, "But at heart, that is why we are different."
"A moot point considering I could easier wield a kitchen knife then I could your reversed blade."
"Is that your final answer?"
"…Himura-san…" Soujiro's voice was laced with disbelief, "Allow me to state this as bluntly as possible. I would rather use the bone in my right arm as a blade than even try to use your blunted stick."
"And that is why I am asking you to take it. Because when you do learn how to wield my blunted stick, only then can you come back and tell us we are truly the same. Then, if you still have not found your answer, will what has happened to me be truly completely fortune. And then…if you so wish, I will fight you."
"You said so yourself that Hiten Mutsurugi Ryu has been rendered useless."
"So I did." Kenshin's voice did not waver. "Do you believe that is completely true?"
It should have been easy to be skeptical. Though the moon was quite clear tonight, the silver linings in Kenshin's hair were more than just the glow. The harsh crossed lines in his cheek were growing less pronounced but the lines edging around his eyes, the lining of his muscles, and stressing his mouth had risen to take their place. The Ken-ki was there but had lost much of its edge. It no longer exuded the dominance he had felt so long before. Much like everything about Kenshin, it had waned.
But the eyes.
Nothing had diminished there. The focus that did not break away or falter. And the challenge that took nothing for granted. In Kenshin's eyes, it was all reflected.
Kenshin's body might not be able to keep up with the spirit, but that had never been the problem. If pressed, Soujiro had no doubt the failures of the body could ever keep up with the unyielding determination Kenshin possessed more than any other person he had ever met. Conviction. The utmost faith. That was a shield almost as effective as his blade of Hiten.
It was that conviction that was the basis behind his Amakake Ryu no Hirameki. The fine line that set him apart from Soujiro's greater strength and incomparably faster Shukuchi.
Himura Kenshin may have let go of the blade, but as his namesake went, he was still the heart of the blade. That would never change.
"…" Soujiro grudgingly conceded. "And what of Yahiko-kun?"
"Do not misunderstand me. The genpukku present I gave him still stands. It will always be his as long as he has the strength to grasp it. Consider this a loan. When all is said and done, I intend for you to return it." Kenshin grasped the hilt of the sakabatou and neatly spun it around. Holding the blade easily on his palm, he extended the hilt back to Soujiro. "But while you do have it, make the best of it. That is all I expect…and all you should expect."
"Why?" Soujiro asked. "Why him? In that boy how did you see your successor?"
"Why him is it? Because he wanted to be strong…" Kenshin's eyes flashed towards his. "And he knew what he wanted when he achieved that strength."
"…which is…"
"…something I am sure never even crossed your mind Soujiro. Your incredible talent and creativity. The hours you put behind your swordsmanship. Truth to be told, I could never defeat your strength. You did that for me. But for what? Why be strong? Why even fight?"
"You think I fought for no reason?"
"No. I think you fought to become strong. I think you became strong for no reason."
"And your sakabatou might rectify that situation?"
"Why don't you come back and tell me?"
"Because, frankly…" Soujiro grimaced, "How do I put this…I hate your guts."
"Oro?"
"Yes. That oro too. That aggravates me to no end." Grabbing the hilt suddenly, Soujiro spun it across his palm and jabbed at Kenshin's neck with the bladed edge. Shearing across Kenshin's red hair, a large clump fell to the ground where the wind neatly picked up the pieces and scattered them across the courtyard. Soujiro lined the blade up against the nape of his neck and pressed just gently enough so the edge indented the skin rather than pierce it. "Couldn't you at least try to act less nonchalant? I know you're serious but I can't help but stay just a bit skeptical."
"Same goes for you."
"En gaurde." Soujiro grinned. "A very good answer." Lowering the blade, he paused and just stared at Kenshin. As if trying for the first time, to understand this strange person. "10 years…has it really been that long?"
"Amazing. I must agree."
"…has it been kind?"
"Enough. Everything else I've just learned to deal with."
"Is it so bad? Not being strong? Is it so bad letting your woman protect you for a change?"
"…when it becomes difficult to wake up in the morning, you might almost consider it a blessing."
"Considering its much better to go back to sleep with her besides you."
Kenshin arced an eyebrow, "Are you trying to tease me Seta Soujiro?"
"You never did have a sense of humor." Soujiro grinned. "But coming here was a good idea. There really is something about you…something that I doubt you give yourself enough credit though."
"Oh?"
"But I'll let you figure it out yourself…old man."
"…go back to Kyoto."
"Eh?"
Kenshin smiled gently. "I hated that city for so long…but when I went back, I found a lot of peace there. It's where it all began for me…and for you."
"…oddly nostalgical of you…I think it's the first time I've ever heard a straight answer come from your mouth." Trailing off, Soujiro nodded his head curtly. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Take your time though. Maybe you've never slowed down all this time…so even if you did see anything, you never could get more than just a glimpse. Spring is coming. The Kyoto trail is going to be quite beautiful."
"Sure." Turning around, Soujiro snapped his fingers. "I'll tell you all about it."
The boy had changed. Not a lot. Probably not enough. But ten years was not wasted. The soles of his sandals were scuffed but not worn. He had slowed down and started to live…without a smile that so easily disguised everything. Time was on Soujiro's side, whether he knew it or not. Just because it took Kenshin ten years to finally find out his truth didn't mean that applied to him. Time would heal all wounds.
Kenshin stroked his cheek.
All of them.
But a nudge in the right direction was never a bad thing.
[PARAGRAPH BREAK]
"Go to Kyoto…beautiful sakura…" Soujiro grimaced at the barren trees lining the roadside. "Himura, I just KNEW you HAD to be taking something to make you hallucinate that badly."
It was probably even the wrong season for sakura to begin blooming. After all, the air was probably far too cold and dry for blossoms. Kyoto was not a popular place this time of year, with most people seeking warmer climate and more hospitable décor down south. As it was, railroad transportation had made walking down the godforsaken trade highways completely obsolete.
Modernization led to isolation…as it was…of course.
"But not seeing anyone…" He smiled to himself, "…being by yourself…that isn't so bad…is it?"
"That really depends on your state of mind…doesn't it?" Sitting easily just by and above the roadside, a man garbed in a rather garish white cloak mockingly raised a sake dish at him. "But that's a thought I can drink to."
He had been trying his best to ignore that disturbance. Shooting him an annoyed glance, Soujiro shook his head. "A bit cold to be drinking sake isn't it?"
"Of course not." He poured another dish. "Only when something is wrong with your heart does sake become hard to drink."
"Then I'll be on my way…and leave you with that thought."
"You are an impatient brat." The man chuckled. "Just like my idiotic pupil said."
"…." Soujiro paused and scrutinized him carefully. "Oh?"
"He told me you might need some help. But like always, that idiot never gives me enough details to work with. Normally I would tell him to leave me alone but he was very adamant about you. He's very eloquent when he wants to be."
"No, I would never have guessed." Soujiro felt his lip curl into a feral smile. "But that is interesting. May I inquire just who I am talking to?"
"It's impolite to be sarcastic with a straight face. You're just as disrespectful as that idiot pupil." Getting up, the man brought out a katana cased in a wooden sheath from the folds of his cloak. "But the best usually always are disrespectful.13th Master of Hiten Mutsurugi Ryu…Hiko Seijuro."
"…well what do I say to that…?" Soujiro grinned, "That does deserve an oro."
tbc