Disclaimer: I do not own Kenshin. Be grateful, because I would not share. Nor do I own any of Watsuki-sama's other characters. Kadsure is my own creation.
Meeting a Legend
Chapter One: Convergent Paths
The rocky ground up the steep slope could be felt through the traveler's sandals. The day seemed much hotter outside the shade of trees now below him. Kadsure wiped sweat from his eye and was grateful for the goattrack winding its way around the mountaintop.
The hospitality of the village in the valley it led to would be worth it; as the news he carried would be to them.
Kadsure didn't come this way very often, but those living here were familiar. There were some few messengers like him, traversing wilderness-at least compared to cities like Kyoto and the newly-named Tokyo-to bring word to less-frequented areas. His route was beneath the notice of most merchants, not on or near any lengthy, maintained paths for wagons and carts. He was also paid little for his service, but he couldn't mind.
Kadsure had grown up in a place much the same and found it amusing to return to it so happily when as a younger man he had wished so much to leave.
It was a satisfactory arrangement; he was an honored guest when he did arrive, bearing letters and tales, balancing important news with ridiculous entertainment and gossip. He flattered himself that, though only in his mid-twenties with an admittedly rustic background, he could compete with the best of the sharp-witted oldsters about a fire. This, he reassured himself, was worth the toil with his heavy pack alone for days and nights at a time. As long as he remained somewhat of a curiosity and brought a bit of excitement, he could be welcome in many areas and easily bear temporary privations.
Some company would be welcome, but he had done well so far by himself; though an easy, if unprofitable, mark, he had not encountered bandits or roaming bands of renegade soldiers, or even too many honest folk, for that matter. There were always stories of such happenings-he told some himself-but though they did occur, it was not as frequent as feared. Bad news always had gone further.
That made it all the more satisfying to carry word of new births and marriages, not just sickness and death; prosperity and good wishes, not entreaties to relations.
He expected to see a resident soon. The breeze at the false peak was refreshing and Kadsure could now make out the stream flowing a distance below him. It would lead him circuitously to the center village, if he chose to follow it. The marks of human occupation were now everywhere; felled trees and cleared fields, fenced pasture, all the anticipated signs even a small community made over generations.
Kadsure adjusted his pack and proceeded with a bit more bounce to his step despite the heat of the afternoon.
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Small clues let Kenshin know he was approaching civilized territory once again. These were confirmed when he crossed a recent human trail that had left a snare for a rabbit behind. He suspected that in another half hour he would come upon the village most likely beyond the western edge of the woods he was walking through.
Kenshin had abandoned the road many miles northeast of here, habitually skirting all places with a greater likelihood of knowledgeable contact. By now, four years after Toba-Fushimi, he was old news, but his legend had grown in the telling. Battousai was a hero or a villain, the skilled slayer of warriors and samurai for the Ishin patriots or the bloodthirsty slaughterer of women and children. They increased the danger of recognition immensely, but conversely reduced it as well, as the stuff of stories did not often enter into daily life.
As long as he did not appear in the middle of the night, as long as he smiled, people would somehow overlook the proof of his red hair, and merely be curious, naggingly puzzled. Until he drew his sakabatou in conflict, most would even do no more than look askance at his blade.
If swords were drawn, it was time to leave.
Those who were actively seeking revenge against the Battousai were worrisome enough, but incalculably many more would seize the opportunity meeting him would provide. His main concern must always be for the innocents and bystanders that would be in harm's way.
If he left early enough, Kenshin could help the people he met and leave before the burden of his past attracted trouble. Wandering was the best solution for all.
His resolve firmed, Kenshin cast aside all appearance of wariness while ironically raising his mental defenses, prepared to meet strangers over the next rise.
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Nekotsuki and member of RCUS, I present this especially to you!
benign intent