In Due Time

Kenshin had been stunned into silence. His shishou? Did that mean that Hiko had finally given up on Kenshin and taken a new apprentice? He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"Rurouni?"

Kenshin was pulled from his thoughts at the sound of Miki's voice. "I'm sorry, that I am. Let us find your shishou. I'd like to speak with him."

Miki smirked. "He's probably inside. Come on."

Kenshin followed the youth to the doorway.

"Shishou, we have a guest. A rurouni," Miki announced, slipping inside.

The eerie feeling that had been prickling at Kenshin's mind intensified when he stepped into the shack. The shelves of pottery were gone, replaced by a few katanas and a large blade that Kenshin knew as "Winter Moon," an heirloom of Hiten Mitsurugi. And in the middle of the small room sat the man Miki had called "shishou." The old man was wrapped in a heavy white cape, his long, silver hair shining in the dull light of the lantern.

This man, who clearly couldn't be the Hiko Seijuro that Kenshin knew, looked up at them from his sake cup. He raised an eyebrow at the boy before turning to Kenshin. "Rurouni, is it? And how is it that one such as yourself has found himself in the company of my baka deshi?"

"Shishou!" Miki's face was red.

Kenshin managed a polite, very weak smile. "Your deshi found me after I'd injured myself in an accident, that he did... sir."

The older man looked interested, his bright eyes twinkling. "So, to pay him back, you protected him on the road?"

"Shishou," Miki ranted, growing both embarrassed and irritated. "I was protecting him."

"With his ki?" the man asked, silencing the boy. "I strongly suspect that your rurouni could have taken care of himself quite easily. I haven't felt such ki in awhile." He turned back to Kenshin. "You have the feel of one who has killed many. Perhaps... too many."

"What?" Miki's eyes widened as he turned to the small man beside him. "Rurouni?"

Kenshin expression was dark, his narrowed eyes in shadow. "That is long past, sir. I live in the present now." He hesitated, again looking at the old man before him. "Or at least, I did."

The man's eyes darkened. "Miki," he said suddenly. "Go fetch some water for our guest."

"But Shishou-"

The man's glare silenced him. "You invited him, baka. It's your responsibility to treat him well. Especially someone of his caliber."

Again, the boy was taken by surprise by his shishou's respect for this simple rurouni.

"Baka..." There was a warning quality to his voice now.

"I'm going," Miki grumbled, grabbing a pail.

"Take your katana, and keep your eyes open."

"I know, Shishou," the boy snapped, stomping out of the shack.

Kenshin watched the boy leave, starting to feel overwhelmed.

"He's a good boy," the man said with a small smile. "Stubborn, and difficult to deal with at times, but good at heart." He turned his attention back to Kenshin. "Sit," the older man gently commanded. "Share some sake with me, and we'll talk."

The redhead sat, accepting the sake cup.

"You aren't from around here, Rurouni, are you?"

"No," Kenshin replied, "that I most certainly am not." He paused. "This place... I... You are Hiko Seijuro, then?" Kenshin finished weakly.

The older man smiled. "Yes. You may call me Hiko-sama. Everyone else here does, except my baka deshi, of course." The old man leaned forward a bit. "But you were expecting someone else, weren't you?"

Kenshin sighed. "Yes. I was. I..." He looked around again. "I grew up here," he said softly. "As a youth. I was trained by my shishou in Hiten Mitsurugi at this very spot."

The old man leaned back. "Really?" he asked, not looking particularly surprised. "And when would that have been?"

Kenshin paused to think. "Almost twenty years ago, Hiko-sama."

"That's interesting," the old man replied. "It puts us at quite a dilemma, considering the fact that I have lived here for nearly forty years, myself."

"Oro..." Kenshin moaned. "I was afraid you were going to say something like that."

The older man laughed. "Then we're even, Rurouni. I got the sense that you were studied in Hiten Mitsurugi when you approached. I could feel it in your ki, even though it was impossible."

He sipped at his sake, while Kenshin just downed the whole cup. Hiko-sama poured him some more. "So," he said. "What options does this leave us with?"

Kenshin blinked up at him. "This leaves us with options, Hiko-sama?"

"You've either traveled forward or backward in time, haven't you?"

Kenshin began he second cup, taking it as quickly as the first. "I don't like these options, Hiko-sama, that I do not."

"Rurouni..."

"My name is Himura Kenshin, Hiko-sama. Once known as Battousai," the redhead said suddenly. "Do either of those names mean anything to you?"

Something flickered in the old man's eyes before he shook his head, and replied, "I don't know you, Kenshin."

"I've probably traveled backwards in time, then," Kenshin mumured. "I expected as much. I can't see my shishou taking another deshi."

"Too old?"

Kenshin smiled at the thought of Hiko ever being too old train. "No. Just too stubborn."

"Ah."

Kenshin sent the man a sharp look. "We could solve this quickly, Hiko-sama," he said. "What year am I in?"

The older man took a drink of his sake and shook his head gravely. "I don't think discussing that would be a good idea. You may feel the need to... change things... Just as I would if I knew what year you were from. The temptation is too great."

Kenshin sighed. "I understand, Hiko-sama. I'm just worried. I don't know how I got here. I don't even know when 'here' is. How do I try to go home?"

The old man smiled. "I wouldn't worry about it, Kenshin. Did you try to come here?"

"No."

"Then what makes you think you need to try to return?"

"I don't know," Kenshin said, dropping his head. "Oro... I don't like this, that I do not."

Hiko-sama smirked at him. "Just relax, Kenshin. You can stay here until things work themselves out." He looked past the rurouni toward the door. "Isn't that right, Miki?"

Kenshin turned suddenly, surprised to see that the boy had already returned.

Miki stood in the doorway, watching them with interest.

Hiko-sama stood slowly, stretching a bit. "I'm going out for a walk. Baka deshi, our guest is your responsibility. Make him comfortable."

"But shishou-"

"Hiko-sama!"

But the man had already brushed by them and had left the shack.

Kenshin and Miki looked at each other awkwardly.

"I'll get you a futon," the boy said. "You can use mine."

"I can't take yours, Miki."

The boy sent him a sharp look. "Just take it. I'm offering it to you, okay?" Miko turned his back on the rurouni and went to get the futon. He went about his business in silence. "So," he finally said tentatively, "your name's Kenshin, huh?"

"Wha-?"

"I caught the end of your conversation with Shishou," he said, turning to look at Kenshin. "Don't worry... if it was private or something. I just heard that you're staying here, and I heard him call you Kenshin. That's all." He grabbed the futon. "Is that your real name?"

The redhead gave him a quizzical look. "Why do you ask that?"

Miki shrugged. "You don't like a 'Kenshin,' I guess. So, I thought maybe you took that name when you became a swordsman." He began laying the futon out. "My brother's name was Kenshin. He was born as Masakazu, but my father renamed him when he was old enough to train with a sword. I would have been renamed, too, but I figure I'll be taking the name Hiko Seijuro eventually, so I'm not worried about it."

"About what?" Kenshin asked.

Miki looked up. "About my dad dying before he could rename and train me." He shrugged. "It isn't a big deal to me. A name's a name, right? It doesn't change who you are or anything. My brother was just as much a baka as Himura Masakazu as he was when he took the name Himura Kenshin."

Author's Note: Thanks again for reading and reviewing this strange plotbunny that has taken residence in my head...

Thanks to all reviewers for taking the time to drop me a note! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Dewa mata!