X Marks the Spot: Strange Acquaintance

DISCLAIMER: Not my booty. (I couldn't stop myself.)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my sequel to Crossing the Line. However, I am intending to write this story in such a way that it is not necessary to have read that story first. I know many readers, myself included, can be picky when it comes to pairings, so I understand that someone who wants to check out a Kenshin/Shura may not necessarily be interested in a Sano/Kaoru.

-ooo-oooooo-ooo-

Alone.

With each step of his travel-worn sandals he would pass by another traveler. None of them knew the diminutive man wearing pale shades of red and walking beside them was a killer. To be fair it had been nearly twelve years since he had murdered anyone. Although, only one year ago he found the blood of an escaped convict staining his reverse blade sword.

Nevertheless, he had been a renowned assassin.

And yet, even when he was at the height of his skill, sending blood raining down upon the earth in the midst of a difficult political revolution on a daily basis, he never enjoyed it. It was simply what he was. He was an assassin. He killed whom he was told to kill. He stayed where he was told to stay. And he even married whom he was told to marry.

It was with the absolution of that marriage that he moved into a new chapter of his life where his sword became a tool for protecting instead of an instrument of death. He spent his time wandering just as he was doing now--only coming to rest for a short but meaningful span of time in Tokyo.

That time ended, and he was once again alone in a crowd of strangers. The road was thick with people. They crowded into the same space and breathed the same sickly warm air: the young, the elderly, the infirmed, the healthy, the beautiful, the strong, the vulnerable, and the guilty.

They were all together, and they were all alone.

"Himura-san!" called a youthful voice as a small figure barreled through the lines of people. The wiry, dark-haired boy skidded to a halt at the traveler's side and with a lop-sided grin, offered him the scroll he was carrying. "Himura-san, you forgot this in your room!"

Kenshin did not need to open the scroll to know what it was. Upon the rolled parchment was a delicately painted scene which, while beautiful, could never compare to the enchantment of the actual location it depicted. It gave the barest glimpse into the detail and magnitude of a specific grove of flowering sakura trees at night, sparkling with the light of hundreds of fireflies.

A slender, calloused hand accepted the scroll somewhat hesitantly. He had not intended to leave it behind in one of the many rooms he had recently boarded for the night. But perhaps something in his subconscious had caused him to overlook it.

The painting symbolized more than just a breath-taking place. It triggered a particularly haunting memory of a time when he had a chance to choose a different path for his life and let it pass by. It was his burden to bear--the painting, the memory, and the past. A convenient accident could not change that, so he only nodded politely to the inn keeper's child and continued his journey alone.

After hours of walking aimlessly, he found himself among trees and birds; far away from the bustle of other people. It was a toss up between which he preferred--the towns or the country. In town he was self-conscious that someone would see him for who he had been--Battousai the manslayer. The X-shaped scar on his face clearly labeled him for those who understood the inner workings of the revolution.

However, at times like these when there was truly nobody in proximity he found he had less to keep his mind distracted. In the forest he didn't need to concentrate on the crowd; keeping his senses alerted to any who may strike at him or any who may be in danger. His mind was free to wander wherever it pleased. The only problem was it always wandered back to the same face.

In his mind two effervescent, ocean-colored eyes set upon a creamy, flawless completion and framed by dark tendrils of hair stared into his soul. Full, pink lips smiled at him as though his very presence fueled the light of her radiance. It was the face he had enjoyed for the span of a year. It belonged to a girl who had touched his heart and changed his life.

And as he treaded the rough forest path he knew she still beamed with that same inner glow, but there was a new recipient for the love it conveyed.

Not for the first time, he considered the sad irony of the situation. After years of having no place to call home and no one to call family he stumbled into the lives of Kaoru Kamiya and Sanosuke Sagara.

They were arguably the only true friends he had ever allowed himself to have, and they were certainly the people he cared about the most. And in the end, when his own guilt and inner conflict prevented him from expressing how much he really cared for Kaoru, it was his best friend that did.

He couldn't blame them. He could never blame Kaoru for anything at all. The only thing she ever wanted from him was for him to stay by her side. And the only thing he ever seemed capable of doing was leaving.

This time was no different.

Kenshin ducked to pass under a low lying branch obscuring the trail. A sharp broken twig snagged his hand and tore at his skin. A tiny bead of blood appeared on the surface. Dark red contrasted with the light tone of the skin. He rubbed his finger over the small wound to remove the offending presence. He silently wished that was all it would take to erase the blood from his past.

The sounds of other travelers not far ahead met his trained ears and tabled his mental monologue for a later time.

His sandaled feet carried him to the site of a robbery where he paused to assess the situation before taking action.

He gazed upon one extremely young, fragile-looking wisp of a man, dressed in a full range of blue fabrics who was standing in the center of a ring of five enormous thugs. They towered over their prey, weapons in hand and ready to strike. But one thing was keeping them from collecting whatever currency he carried.

The outnumbered, out-muscled, boyish man was smiling.

"I'm going to wipe that smile off of your face, Baka!" declared a man with matted hair and a lazy eye once he shook off the surprise of seeing such a calm appearance on someone about to be pounded. He gripped the makeshift club he had obviously liberated from a nearby tree and rushed toward his thin opponent.

The rough wood splintered upon contact, sending the man on the other side of the hit down for the count with blood pooling around the non-lethal wound.

"Ryoichi!" gasped a wide-eyed criminal as he realized the swift blow had been delivered to one of their companions and not the man dressed in blue.

"I have no wish to engage in battle," came a far too upbeat voice to their immediate left.

"Get him!" The remaining four standing thugs rushed upon his position, but once again he vanished more swiftly than their untrained eyes could perceive. His speed and uncommon ability to remain placid in the midst of conflict had the bandits thoroughly rattled. They were becoming exceedingly clumsy and doing more damage to themselves than to their intended mark.

Kenshin was not surprised by the scene unraveling before him. He had witnessed the fast young fighter once before in Kyoto not long after the night of the fireflies. Initially, he had readied himself to aid the outnumbered man, but within minutes the boyish man with large eyes the color of the sea at night found himself to be the last one standing without so much as drawing his sword.

"I was wondering when I would see you again, Himura-san," he said without bothering to look in Kenshin's direction. He was still busy checking the wounds on the fallen men.

"Hello, Soujiro. It is unlikely that we ran into one another here." The red head was not taken aback by the fact the younger man had sensed him even in the midst of a confrontation. He would have expected no less from the highly skilled former assassin.

It had been at least a year since Kenshin's battle with Shishio in Kyoto. Soujiro had been Shishio's right hand man in his war to overthrow the government which had used him for his death-dealing abilities and then tossed him aside when he was no longer useful.

Soujiro had taken to his position quite naturally. He thoroughly embraced the Darwinian principals Shishio had taught him--the strong survive and the weak must die. It was his battle with Kenshin that forced his beliefs to be tested and found to be...lacking.

Content that none of the men who had knocked one another out were in need of medical assistance, he approached the rurouni. "Actually, I expected to see you."

This time Soujiro had managed to catch Kenshin off guard. "Why is that?"

"I have been searching for answers and meaning for my future while you have been seeking atonement for your past. It seems only reasonable that we would both be drawn to a village rumored to be for people just like us." His large, expressive eyes flashed brightly. The eerie aspect was that they always seemed fixed upon the same pleasant expression.

The wheels inside Kenshin's mind spun furiously, trying to remember any bits of conversation he had stumbled upon in his travels that would give him some indication as to what Soujiro was referring. He berated himself for not paying more attention to the people whose lives he had been passing through recently and turned his confused, violet eyes to the other man.

"I am afraid I have never heard of such a place."

"Then I suppose it is odd we have run into each other here of all places. If what I have heard is to be believed then we are only a day's journey away from Shoukyaku, the village of second chances," he replied politely.

"You believe your questions will be answered there?" Kenshin asked with genuine curiosity.

He cocked his head slightly and continued projecting his smiling mask. "It is supposed to be a village founded on the principals of hope and redemption. It is a place where those who used to spend their lives torturing others for power, wealth, and perversion can find new ways of conducting themselves. It is a haven for misfits and criminals who want to mend their ways and lead normal lives without judgment. So, if not there, then where?"

'Where, indeed?' thought Kenshin. The concept of such a place sounded wonderful to his guilt-laden heart, but years of experience had built a jaded wall around that heart, and it told him to beware of trouble anywhere criminals gather.

Perhaps he would find salvation, and perhaps he would find a battle ground. Either way he knew he wanted to see the place first-hand regardless of the consequences.

Soujiro's chipper voice pulled him out of his reverie. "I would enjoy the company if you would like to travel with me to Shoukyaku."

Kenshin's flame colored hair swung and swirled with the force of the breeze blowing against the pair of former assassins. He carefully regarded the younger man's offer before accepting. "I would appreciate that. Thank you, Soujiro."

Kenshin was used to being alone. He had come to expect it. Even when he was closer to someone than he had ever been he was still far away. But he would travel with the smiling Soujiro. He would see this village of redemption with his violet eyes. And he would do his part to payback the universe for the blood he had spilled.

And it seemed he would have some company in his solitude--at least for now.

-ooo-oooooo-ooo-

AUTHOR'S NOTE: No Shura yet, but soon. I hope you enjoyed so far, and I'll see you next chapter! Please review!

P.S. Shoukyaku means repayment/redemption. At least that is what the online translator that managed to not use kanji told me. Either way, I just needed a Japanese sounding word so if you know it to mean something else, then oh well.