Memory's Touch: Games
A RK fanfiction by eriesalia: onigirichan mindspring dot com
Standard disclaimer applies.
Note:
Shisho="Master"
They could always sense one another's presence; it was that way with warriors – even those who no longer carried swords. And even though night had long since descended upon Kyoto and enshrouded it in darkness, Aoshi sensed his former adversary approaching the Aoiya.

He dressed quickly before he drew himself to the window and expectantly looked into the courtyard below.

His light blue eyes narrowed slightly, however, when he realized the man had come alone. Quickly his feet moved down the stairs, before he could even formulate a complete reason as to why this might be.

"Kenshin—" The voice of a woman could be heard through the paper-thin screen door that separated him from the courtyard.. Aoshi stopped short, aware that for the moment, there was someone whose claim to the red-haired man was higher than all others and who did not require warrior's intuition to know of Himura's presence. Aoshi was certain Himura was already aware of his presence; but he waited behind the posts that supported the building's structure– allowing the man a moment to focus solely on his wife.

From his position, he watched, with something like curiosity as the younger woman drew to the man.

"I was worried," Himura's wife stated, her voice strained with relief.

"I am sorry," Himura answered with a smile that spoke of a thousand apologies and a sorrow that went far beyond him simply being several hours later than expected. "I should have hurried, that I should have."

"Kenji is already asleep," Kaoru Himura's eyes shone in the darkness. "But I'll wake him—"

"No—" Kenshin sighed, in a way that made both his wife and Aoshi tense. And suddenly that concern which had first propelled him downstairs so quickly after Himura's arrival could not be ignored or delayed longer.

"Where is Megumi Takani?" He stepped out from his place his voice was tinged with impatience, a quality which apparently surprised not only the Himuras, but himself. "Has something happened?" he corrected himself more quietly.

Himura's eyes turned to him, reflecting something wise and amused – something which might have bothered him once, but was far better than an expression both grave and worried. "Miss Megumi is—"

The sound of the door opening, forced him to hold the question that he had wanted to ask.

"Himura!" "Kenshin!" Aoshi closed his eyes and waited for the gaggle of Oniwabanshu to note the very same thing he had noticed already for himself.

"You're back!" "What took you so long?" And finally, "What has happened to Takani-sensei?"

Himura hesitated slightly, overwhelmed perhaps by the cheerfulness which often marked the interactions with the others in the Aoiya. "I'm back, yes," he answered finally. "But—"he turned to look at Kaoru," I'm afraid I must go back. Miss Megumi has taken a bad fall—"

His eyes snapped back open.

"A fall?" Several female voices echoed aloud the concern in his own mind.

Himura sighed. "She's somewhat unsteady on her feet, and may have a broken arm. I would have liked to bring her back but I couldn't manage to find enough help in the outlying areas—"

"Where did you leave her?" Aoshi's frown deepened.

"She's perfectly safe, I assure you," Kenshin held up his hands. "I've left her with Shisho."

"You've left her where?" Okina gave him a puzzled look. As he and the others registered the meaning of 'Shisho," his face suddenly split into an amused grin . "With Hiko Seijuro?"

"With Shisho," Kenshin nodded guilelessly. "So she's being well taken care of—"

Aoshi's sense of relief was momentarily turned aside as two outraged howls followed. "It's not fair—" Omasu and Okon were seething in jealousy. "That woman alone with Hiko-sama. Himura-san, you didn't!"

Kenshin Himura gave them a puzzled look. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Women always seem to throw themselves at your master's feet," Okina said lightly.

"But Shisho--" Himura clearly looked aghast at the implications. "Really, he's much too old and ignorant for that sort of thing—"

"Watch it, young man," Okina grabbed Himura by the ear. "Who are you calling old and too infirm to appreciate the wiles of a beautiful young woman?"

"Jiya!" Misao poked Okina, clearly disgusted by where the man's head was heading. "Miss Megumi isn't even here to defend herself against an old man's tongue--"

Okina was chortling regardless. "Isn't this a funny state of affairs?" He directed a look at Aoshi. "Isn't it?"

Aoshi did not answer.

"Well, I suppose we should send someone to help Himura," Okina stroked his beard. "Kuro is still away, but I suppose Shiro wouldn't mind—"

Shiro stepped forward dutifully to speak. Aoshi held up a restraining hand. "Shiro is expected to pick up a delivery tomorrow."

"Is that right?" Okina paused unnecessarily. "Of course, of course," he shrugged. "I forgot that we have that shipment coming in. I suppose I shall go and lend my strength, as poor as it is—"

"I shall accompany Himura," Aoshi found himself deciding the issue. "And tend her injuries and bring her back."

"A sensible idea," Okina nodded, a bit too vigorously.

"We could come, too." Misao spoke up hopefully. "I've been there before, as has Kaoru."

Aoshi sensed Kenshin's discomfort at the suggestion. "I think not—"he stated calmly. "The less interruption there is to both Seijuro Hiko and our duties here, the better."

"Aoshi is right," Okina coughed, drawing attention away from him. "The man is a hermit, and would not welcome an entourage of guests. Aoshi is being sensitive to the master's needs – yes-- and of course, he's the most logical and best suited person to escort our lovely doctor."

The others nodded, aware that Aoshi's own skill in medicines and herbs was far superior to their own, as was his availability and strength.

But –as the elder man hurried the others into stating their goodbyes and ushered the rest inside, Aoshi had a nagging feeling that somehow Okina had finessed the situation to be misconstrued. Several of the looks at him had been questioning and perhaps even suddenly curious. And in the case of Misao – startled.

As he turned to face Kenshin's thoughtful expression, he thought again of warrior's intuition. However, in certain cases it went beyond the ability to sense one another – it was said that men who fought one another in battle, also came to know the other's thoughts and wishes.

Intuition now told him that if Kenshin Himura had not known earlier his own confused feelings regarding the woman they were to retrieve, that he knew now.


The tea lay cold on the low, small table. But she could not bring herself to finish the last dregs of the expensive concoction. Megumi Takani was still mulling over the harsh words he had just uttered.

"It is true," Hiko Seijuro had stated. "He is weakened."

Kenshin had once said it was probably the mastery of the succession technique that had triggered that decline. After his battle with Shishio, she had noticed it while tending his wounds. And then after he battled Yukishiro Enishi it was more evident.

She knew that but wished it wasn't so. How cruel that the same Hiten Mitsurugi style that kept Kenshin perpetually youthful could also kill him. "I had told him that it was because of his physique... and that by now he would be unable to use it. But beyond that–"

Hiko took a long draught of his sake. "For a doctor, you seem to understand something of the martial disciplines."

"I have seen enough," she bit her lip. Enough fighting to last a lifetime.

"Death for masters come quickly – the end of our life; the point where meaning has been lost, or rather our sense of meaning has been lost. The essence of the style is not just about protecting others, but the desire to live." He smiled evasively. "That kid has proven his understanding of that mastery at least once, by the scar I bear."

"Scar?"

He ran a finger down the length of the shirt that covered his chest, indicating where that scar was. "You were aware that the mastery of the succession technique requires for the pupil to beat the master."

Her eyes rounded.

"I was nearly killed by that technique; and to wield it also takes an inordinate amount of strength of effort on part of the person who gave it to me."

"But you survived--"

He set aside his small cup of sake. "I did because of his reverse-blade sword and because of my superior strength."

Megumi wondered darkly if he was bragging, or if he was simply being reasonable in his own self-assessment. "But why would the succession technique trigger such a decline?"

"The strength of Hiten Mitsuruugi style lies in physical strength in one sense, but it draws also from the wielder."

"In other words—"

"The attacker also bears the brunt of the attack. That is why it can not be used so liberally, nor is it meant to be used as such. The immense focus is one thing; but the transference of that requires immense strength. Kenshin has used the most severe of techniques at least twice –"

"Not twice," Megumi shook her head glumly. Soujiro, Shishio, Enishi. Her brows creased as she suddenly recalled where she had also heard of a chest- long scar elsewhere. Aoshi.

"With a stronger, bulkier body it would not be an issue. But with years of fighting under his belt—"

Megumi hung her head , at the feared words. So she had been right—He would decline and continue to. "Then there is no hope?"

"You do not understand swordsmanship, doctor. There is danger to wielding a blade, that is true. But there is something beyond what you can see and understand. The will can exceed all. Even if he wanted to, even if you told him he could not every use the technique again -- if that desire exists – he will pick up that sword."

"And kill himself," she muttered bitterly. "He must know that."

"Have you not heard anything I've said?" Hiko wiped his brow in irritation. "The will to live, whether it be in pain or in happiness can surpass anything your science can tell you."

"Then what is your assessment," she asked sharply. "Stop speaking in riddles—"

He smirked, clearly enjoying her impatience. "Tell me – did you notice that he walks around these parts without a bandage on his face?"

She thought for a moment, thinking back carefully. Most of the time in Kyoto he had stayed indoors, but those last days when he went out—

"His scar," she looked at him excitedly. "He hasn't covered it—"

"The need to has lessened," he looked satisfied when she understood.

She gave a sharp sigh of relief. "Then it's true... my sensei told me that such scars can prolonged by emotional wounds—"

"And healed—"he added.

"Then the essence of the Hiten Mitsuruugi style—"

Hiko fingered the edge of his shirt. "It does not require him to hold a sword; for a sword fighter is not made by it, but by his will. He is still a master of it and so, despite what medicine states, there is hope that he will not be killed by it—"

She fell back on her legs, overwhelmed and yet relieved. "Are you certain?"

"As certain as the scar on this chest," he opened the fold of his shirt revealing underneath something of a long thin line down his chest. "At one point," he ignored the puzzled, almost embarrassed look on her face at the sight of bare skin, "it spanned more than a finger in width, and was as deep. But now—"

"It's barely there," she whispered in awe as she realized the significance of that thin line. Such a scar, that deep and long to be healed as such in these five or six years – was impossible. Unwittingly, she reached out towards that thin line, towards that scar -- unaware of the crease that grew on his brow.

Suddenly, he stood. And guiltily, she brought her outstretched hand back to her lap, the fit of distraction now broken. She berated herself for her lapse in judgment and her forwardness; she had simply been curious; perhaps even attracted by that scar and what it represented, but in the context of this deep conversation, it was inappropriate.

"I am fully recovered," he had turned towards the door, to leave she assume, but stared instead at a shelf of pottery. "I have all that I need in life and found my meaning and purpose. That is the significance of my showing this to you."

"I am glad," she bowed her head. "If only because it gives me hope for Ken-san."

"And yet, the answers are not as easy as you think it. " Hiko said somewhat mysteriously as he touched one of the pieces on the shelf..

"What do you mean?" Megumi looked up suddenly, worried. "The scar is fading—"

"The scar is but one sign. The real answer is not found simply in that. You must look harder for the answer you had wanted." He picked up a green glazed cup and eyed it carefully.

"But surely you know—"

"The answers to questions do not come so easily, doctor." With something of his usual smirk on his face, he tossed the cup in her direction. Had it not been for his perfect aim, it would have fallen to the floor carelessly and broken into hundreds of small pieces. But Hiko Seijuro was not a clumsy man, and so the cup fell squarely into the soft folds of her kimono.

With her one good hand she picked it up, confused.

"Study it," his voice was amused, challenging. "Study it until you hate the sight of it. Then perhaps you'll get an answer."
Author's Notes: smirk Hiko is so infuriating in his instructions and his vagueness.
Okina is infuriating in his deviousness. I love them both. Hahahaha!

The details regarding the Hiten Mitsuruugi style and Kenshin's decline come from various points in the manga. (hopefully correct) As for the reasons for the decline, it's my conjecture on what I think about chi and life-force. It may be wholly incorrect, as I am not a martial arts specialist. But having read oodles of fantasy novels, I think it's not implausible. And yes, crossing blades with an opponent is one way to know a person better.

Too tired to do the shout-outs. Or rather, won't comment because I am afraid of revealing too much. heh. But I love you reviewers anyways... it encourages me to update quickly... and half of seven is already drafted. extortion mode on