In Due Time

"You are an enigma, Himura Kenshin," the old man said softly.

"Oro?" Kenshin's expression was one of almost childlike innocence.

Hiko-sama chuckled, shaking his head. "That's exactly what I mean. You strike me as a quiet, gentle person. However, there is a great weight on your shoulders. So heavy that there is often a dangerous edge to your ki and a darkness in your eyes. You are... were a soldier perhaps?"

Kenshin closed his eyes and leaned back, the sun warming his face and making his hair glow like a sunset. He was the picture of angelic innocence.

"Hitokiri," he said softly, shattering the moment. His words were uncharacteristically sharp, cutting Hiko-sama like a knife. Kenshin's expression was unreadable.

"Hitokiri..." the old man whispered. "You used Hiten Mitsurugi to kill from the shadows? You abused your power." Hiko-sama's bright eyes were clouded with rage.

Kenshin had seen this look once before when he had asked his own shishou to allow him to join the revolution. It was a look of pain and disgust and anger. Only his shishou's eyes had wounded Kenshin far worse with the touch of betrayal hidden withing them.

"Hiko-sama..."

"Why?"

"Hiko-sama?"

The old man held his hand up to silence Kenshin. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "According to the principles of Hiten Mitsurugi, I could turn my back on you for that. I could kill you if I felt it necessary. Hitokiri deal in death. Their souls are forfeit." He paused, opening his eyes and looking at Kenshin. The fury was gone, replaced with confusion and sadness that was far worse. "But your ki is steady. You're no killer."

"No," Kenshin replied softly, running his hand along the hilt of his sword. "But I was... once. That is why I carry the sakabatou. To protect the weak without killing. To atone."

Hiko-sama snorted at the mention of atoning, but said nothing. They sat quietly for a long time, each lost in his own dark thoughts.

Finally Hiko-sama spoke. "I want to trust you, Kenshin." He sighed. "Miki does, and he's a damn good judge in character. But you were once hitokiri. And you are scarred."

The redhead blinked in surprise at Hiko-sama. "What does my scar have to do with anything?"

The old man suddenly looked tired, the lines in his face seeming deeper, as though this conversation were aging him. He took a long drink of sake directly from the jug, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Let me tell you a story, and perhaps you'll understand..."

There is a village just at the base of this mountain. It is small, filled mostly with poor farmers. However, two years ago, there lived a strong, well-known family. The elder, Himura Kin was a samurai, known for his influence and ruthlessness. Himura Kin had two sons. The eldest, Masakazu, was training in swordsmanship with his father to serve the Shogunate. Masakazu was strong, proud, and almost as ruthless as his father. Together they were quite formidable and very hated. Their words and actions had led to the deaths of many men, and the loss of homes and property for many more."

"What of the brother?" asked Kenshin.

The older man smiled grimly, taking another drink. "Himura Miki was cut from a different sort of cloth. When he was very young, he suffered from an illness that had left him very weak, and that he had never fully recovered from. Because of this, Miki was pampered by his mother, but was otherwise ignored by his father and brother." Hiko-sama shook his head. "A blessing in disguise, really. Miki picked up few of his father and brother's traits."

Again, the old man paused and smiled softly. "I used to buy sake from a man in that village, and would see Miki every now and then. He was a good boy. I wouldn't call him exactly polite... but he was respectful, unlike the others." He snorted. "For instance, he'd have never dreamed of trying to buy my training.

Kenshin just stared at him. "They didn't."

Hiko-sama nodded gravely. "Himura Kin once saw me deal with some unfriendly ronin. He insisted that I train his son, Masakazu. I declined. I think I may have been the first person he'd had to deal with who couldn't be bought." He shook his head. "Ironic, really. Had it even occurred to the baka to ask if I'd train Miki, I'd have done it for free."

"Even with his illness?"

The old man laughed shortly. "The illness had been over for years by then. The boy was very weak from it, yes. But he was also never given a chance to try. Some illnesses are worsened by treatment." He shook his head as though to clear it. "Anyway, to the point. At the base of this mountain is a forest, and it is a nesting ground for bandits and other dangerous sort. Because of this, villages in that area need to constantly be on the look out. As it so happens, a group of ronin attacked the village the day I had come for sake. Himura Kin and Masakazu fought bravely against the ronin. Both wound up dead. I wound up fighting a number of the ronin myself. Once things were under control, I had time to realize something odd. Kin and Masakazu were the only two deaths dealt by the ronin. Suspicious, I headed to the Himura home. I arrived in time to see Miki standing in the corner, covered in blood, trying to fend off a ronin with one of his father's swords." Hiko-sama sighed. "True strength there. His mother was behind him."

Kenshin's eyes were wide. "He managed to protect her?"

"He was protecting her body. It was her blood covering him. I took him on as my deshi after that. He had the strength that Masakazu lacked. Strength of will and heart. It was slow work to get his body to catch up."

"What does this have to do with me, Hiko-sama?"

The man's eyes darkened. "It was no coincidence that those ronin wound up at Miki's house. As I said, the Himuras had many enemies. Someone wanted them dead. I killed the ronin that Miki faced, but he told me that there had been two others who got away. Those two are a danger to my baka deshi. They attacked a samurai, and there is a witness left alive. They will be dead men if identified. If they're still alive, they won't let Miki live."

"But wouldn't Miki be able to..."

"Miki has blocked a number of those bad memories out. He can't remember any of their faces. He has a hard time remembering much of anything from that day. But he did tell me this. That one of the men... the one who seemed to be in charge, had a scar on his face, and called himself 'hitokiri.'"

Author's note: Sorry the updates take too long, and sorry this chapter is so short... but at least I warned you not to expect regular updates for this one! I hope you liked the chapter. Thank you so much for reading, and please review!