Rurouni Kenshin is the property of creator Nobohiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shounen Jump, and Sony Entertainment. However, one day I will make enough money to buy Ken-chan.
Warning: This is a series of yaoi vignettes. Technically, they're shounen-ai, as I'm no good at writing smut. But there are some rather sexual terms.
All of these are featuring Kenshin with, well, someone. Since I love Kenshin with everyone. Exept Yahiko. Or Okina. Or Gohei....Well, I like him with a lot of people.
Kogoro Katsura
He is laying on the futon now.
He. My chosen killer. The boy I made.
Hitokiri, I think. A shadow hitokiri. But right now, as he sleeps, no one...absolutely no one would know of such a thing. A little boy, they might think. Or maybe, seeing the marks on his neck, an oiran.
I tell myself that I am not corrupting an innocent. I would never try to bed a mere child, but he seduced me with light touches and subtle looks, and I, such a model of self control, was helpless to his advances.
I want to let my fingers slide down his hair, to stroke his skin, but I still myself. Kenshin is breathing shallowly, his half-asleep phase. I do not wish to interrupt his rare moment of rest.
I do not want to desecrate this one pure picture of him. I am afraid that if I reach out, he, thiswill be blown away, like a petal in the wind.
Flame. That was what I first thought when I saw him, his red hair a contrast to the dirty fields. He can be the light to lead us through the revolution, I thought.
But now, in this moment of quiet, all I can see is his skin, paler than a sakura blossom.
That is what he is, perhaps. The fragile beauty of it. The young death. I suck in a breath at that thought. No, he will not physically die young; he is too good at what he does. But... but....
What have I done? What have I done?
He is awake now, I note, his eyes half-open underneath his lashes.
I touch the bruises on his waist. Like a trampled flower. "I didn't mean to be so rough."
Kenshin laughs. It is a light, hollow sound. He grabs my hand and brings it up to his mouth, lightly sucking on the tips of my fingers. I can feel my body beginning to stir again. I hate it when he does that. I hate it and I love it. Love making should be a distraction, something quick before turning back to my work. He can keep me in bed for hours on end.
"Trust me, I've had it far worst." He does not smile, yet pushes his slender, willowy body against mine. His skin is cold, but it is his words that cause me to shiver. If Kenshin believes that his words will comfort me, he is sadly mistaken. Fourteen...he is fourteen, too young to speak those words..
Too young to be fucked by some politician twice his age…
Too young to kill...
"Who?" I whisper, and I hate myself for saying it. I regretted them before they came out. For such a statesman, I know nothing of sensible pillow talk. "Who has hurt you?"
Kenshin stiffens, but pretends to not have heard. He untangles his slight body from under mine, kissing me lightly on my cheek. Like a child would. Not like the young man who spread his legs for me but an hour ago.
"I have an assignment tomorrow, Katsura-san," he whispers. "I must sleep." He walks out. I cannot hear his footsteps.
I know the answer to my own question. Perhaps I have not treated him cruelly, or entered him without preparation...but I have hurt him. I cannot sleep soundly, with his lingering smell in the room, and feeling very lonely without the little boy hitokiri cuddled up beside me.
It is spring now, and Kenshin still has not returned to my bed. He bows respectfully, but does not meet my eyes.
I have heard it said that sakura are most beautiful as they fall.
I wish I could have seen him in bloom.