Author's Notes: Opps...turns out I made a mistake in the last update, chapter 7. It was Tomoe's fiancee, not brother who got killed. I fixed that, thanks to Richard for pointing that out. As for reviews:
Darkepyon: Well, if I don't put him with Akane, Shampoo, Ukyo, or Kodachi, that pretty much leaves...Kasumi and Nabiki. Or I make up an original character. I wasn't too sure if I should go ahead with the Ranma/Kasumi thing because as of this moment I have no idea what to do about Doc Tofu. I'll try to figure something out.
Duke: Why, thank you for your kind words. This arc is going to be...a little shorter than the last one, and it will mainly concern itself with Ranma learning about the Neko-ken. However, there'll also be other things he's going to learn, some conflicts he has to resolve. Needless to say, when he comes back, he's going to be ready to learn some kickass techniques from both Happosai and Ryoko.
Brindani: You know, a Ranma/Ukyo matchup kinda makes sense, too, cause I sorta started it, as well...hehe...well, we'll see
Drkjester: I'm gonna start on a Ranma/someone romance in this arc, sometime in the next two chapters...gotta figure out who to pair him with first, heh. But you're right, I put it off a little too long, and I'm going to try and (hopefully) remedy that and put some romance elements into it.
Mikebreslau: Hm...depending on your definition of "impossible", you might or might not be disappointed by this chapter, because Urd is going to give Ranma something he's gonna use. I actually had her give him the shard of the Nanban Mirror instead of just plain sending him back in time because I thought that made it more...realistic. It's supposed to be his choice, and I try to keep out of things involving fate and destiny.
Hiryo: Uhmm...I must admit, I don't really know much about Jubei-chan, not enough to actually get her into the story, at any rate. Also, I have no clue who Michael is...(sweatdrop).
As for this coming arc, it's mainly going to play out...yep, you guessed it! With the Kenshin cast! Not all of it, though, and I tried to keep the complicatoins to a minimum. I personally don't like time travel, but having Ranma use the Nanban Mirror to go out and meet someone he really wanted to meet seemed more plausible to me than moving the Kenshin crew to modern Tokyo. I'll try to keep the time travel to a minimum, and I promise this is the only point in this story involving time travel!
Chapter Eight: New and Old, The Meiji Era
Ranma stretched as the morning sun shone on his back. Shifting his backpack slightly he glanced up at the sky, the early sunlight causing the morning dew to glitter like tiny pieces of glass. The pig-tailed martial artist grinned as he bathed in the sun, enjoying a peaceful morning, and stopped when he spotted a small hut. He actually had found a road earlier that morning and decided to follow it, wherever it might take him. As he came closer to the hut he noticed it was a small tavern.Calling it that would have been an overstatement, the building was so small it could barely hold a tiny kitchen, and banks were set out on the grass next to it.
Deciding to stop and ask for directions – after all, Ranma did want to know where he was headed – he slowed his steps and knocked on the counter when he reached the hut. "Yes, young man?" an elderly lady chimed, and Ranma looked around for her until he glanced down and found the diminuitive woman. His first thought was that she reminded him of Cologne, with her small, wrinkled stature and deep, wise eyes. His second thought was, It's a midget. "I was just walking and..." the pig-tailed martial artist was interrupted by a not-so-subtle growl from his stomach, reminding him that he hadn't had breakfast yet. The hostess chuckled and grinned a toothy grin.
"I'll be right back, young one," she said, and was gone. True to her word, not five minutes later she reappeared from the kitchen carrying some meatballs and onigiri on a tray. Offering it to Ranma, she smiled once more and motioned for him to sit down on one of the benches. Looking at the food critically for a moment, Ranma fought an internal debate. His stomach won, and he started eating at a rate that had the elderly woman giggling like a schoolgirl. "What is a young man like you doing out here?" she finally asked him out of the blue.
Ranma tried to respond, but between his mouthful of rice all that came out were semi-articulate grunts that caused some more giggling from the hostess. Swallowing, Ranma tried again. "I'm just travelling. I actually started because I have this martial arts technique to master...but I've been on the road for weeks now and I'm not a single step closer to even getting a hint about it." A small smile crept onto his face. "Then again, I just might be looking for some answers, too. For my problems at home, ya know." He chuckled. "I figure a couple years on the road ought ta do it, give or take a few."
Once again, the woman shot him a toothy grin. "That sounds quite difficult. But I once had a young man come through here...he couldn't have been any older than you, saying almost exactly the same thing. That he was trying to find his own truth, his own way to live." Curiosity raised, Ranma asked, "What happened to him?"
"I don't know. But sometimes, answers can be found in the past, as well as the present," the hostess said, her smile shifting to an enigmatic one. Ranma finished the last grains of rice and paid for the meal. "Where does this road lead?" he asked. The old woman smiled. "South, I believe. The young man asked me exactly the same thing," she told him with a smile. "Well, I guess I'll be off then," he told her and left. Once Ranma was out of view, the form of the old woman shimmered and revealed a silver-haired, young woman in her place. "You'll meet them, Ranma," she whispered. In a flash of light, Sailor Pluto appeared next to her. "You didn't just send him back in time, did you?" Setsuna asked.
Urd glanced at her, and smiled wryly, something the emerald-haired Senshi hadn't quite expected. "I didn't. I gave him the tool to visit the past, if he wishes to do so. Trust me, worse could happen if he doesn't go back and learns what he has to. If you don't believe me, I can have Skuld show you, she's more reliable than that piece of crap you use." Urd turned around and started to walk away. "By the way...the Nanban Mirror does not affect the timeline."
Setsuna twitched for a moment at the comment about the Time Gate, before contemplating whether she should go after the pig-tailed martial artist. She decided that since he was using the Nanban Mirror, he'd end up in an alternate reality and wouldn't change history in hers.
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Ranma followed the street that the old woman had told him lead north, when he reached into his pocket and felt an unfamiliar object there. Pulling it out, he discovered it was a shard of glass about the size of his palm wrapped in cloth to prevent it from cutting him. The reflective material glinted in the sunlight, and Ranma smiled as he thought he recognized it. Heh. Wonder how that got there. Wonder if it still works? The pig-tailed martial artist shed a tear on the shard. He barely had time to gasp before he fell into the shard of the Nanban Mirror.
"Ow..." Ranma groaned as he stood back up. "What the hell was that?" Glancing around, he noticed not much had changed, and shrugged, deciding to keep going and follow the road, heading away Tokyo. When he saw he nearest city – Kyoto – come up, however, he realized something was very wrong. The buildings weren't as modern as was supposed to in 1994. Neither were the streets, for that matter, and Ranma wondered just what kind of messthat shard of glass had gotten him into this time. Shrugging and deciding to take care of finding a place to sleep first before he found out what year he was in, he headed through the streets of the city. Weirder things had happened to him, and he could always use the shard to go back. Besides, a different time meant no Kuno and no Ryoga.
"Aoiya, Inn and Restaurant," Ranma read. "Sounds promising," he chuckled and headed through the door. "Welcome to the Aoiya!" A cheery voice greeted him. The voice belonged to a black-haired bundle of energy, as Ranma soon found out as the girl bounded towards him. "What can I do for you?" Ranma glanced downward at the little girl. She was wearing some sort of uniform or costume that was rather skimpy, her long black hair pulled back in a pigtail that reached to the small of her back. Wow. She and the Senshi must have the same fashion consultant, he mused. And somewhere off at the Gates of Time, Setsuna sneezed.
"I need a room for the night," he said. The girl nodded, and bounded off, beckoning him to follow. "We have an open room," she announced. "I'll take you to Jiya so he can sign you up. If you need anything, call me, I'm Makimachi Misao!" The girl chattered on happily, with Ranma trailing her.
She led him to an elderly man with a long beard and...victorian muttonchops? Ranma paused and blinked, checking whether he had really seen that. The old man was still there, as was his odd beard. He offered a small bow and an amused but thorough look and dug out a large scroll. "Good afternoon, and welcome to the Aoiya, I'm called Okina!" Digging out a pen from the depths of his robe, he opened the scroll, glancing at Ranma. "What would be your name?" "Saotome Ranma," the pig-tailed martial artist replied. "All right, Misao will show you your room. How long would you like to stay?"
"Uh...I don't have a clue, actually," Ranma chuckled nervously. "Probably just till tomorrow?" The old man nodded and scribbled some more, before asking Ranma to pay. The martial artist funbled around in his travel pack and dug out the few yen bills he had, before realizing something. "This may sound like an odd question...but what year is it?" The girl and the old man glanced at each other, before Misao told him, "1880, thirteenth year of Meiji, why?" Ranma mentally swore, before putting his money away. He wouldn't be able to use it here anyway. Hm...Meiji era, huh? Maybe I can run into that Himura Kenshin. Heh. This might not be so bad at all. No Ryoga, no Mousse, no Kuno... "Looks like I'm broke," he told them. "Sorry about that." As he turned to leave, the old man asked him, "Wait. Do you have any experience working in a restaurant?"
Ranma turned around, a Cheshire-grin spread across his face. "Hell yeah," he said. "Whatever you need done, cooking, cleaning, serving, daughter rescued or dragon slain." Okina grinned. "Excellent! Misao will show you where you can work!"
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As Misao led Ranma through the halls of the inn, she eyed him curiously. He was wearing foreign clothing but looked Japanese. "So, Ranma, what brings you to Kyoto without money? Maybe you're a homeless tramp?" Ranma nearly fell flat on his back at that announcement. "Not...really," he told her. "I'm just travelling around for a bit. I'm a martial artist and I'm trying to find a certain technique," he told her. It wasn't exactly the truth, but he didn't particularly feel like explaining the Neko-Ken.
"So you're rurouni like Himura?" Ranma froze. "Himura? You mean...Himura Kenshin?" Misao nodded. "Yeah, you know him?" Her eyes took a suspicious glint. "You're not looking for him to kill him, are you?" she asked, indicating the sword over his shoulder. Ranma followed her gaze to his sakabatou, before shaking his head. "No! I'm looking for a legendary martial arts technique called the Neko-Ken. I'm headed back to Tokyo at the moment." Misao seemed to be perking up at that. "I'm headed to Tokyo tomorrow, myself! I'm going to visit Himura, maybe we can travel together?"
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Ranma glanced at his travel companion. Despite the girl's appeareance, he was surprised they ahd been making good time, and he expected them to be in Tokyo in less than a week. The only thing that he could fault Misao of, however, was the fact that she was a chatterbox. She always seemed to be talking either about Himura, or some Aoshi-sama that Ranma had absolutely no clue about. From what he had gathered, he figured he must be some sort of super-swordsman of a sorts, judging from Misao's description. He dismissed the more improbable stories about him as hero worship, but if only part of what she was constantly telling him about were true, then that Aoshi was an impressive swordsman in his own right. Even if he came across as an iceblock for a character.
"Say, are you any good?" Ranma looked up sharply at the sudden question, astounded that Misao had stopped her flood of words. "What?" he asked. She rolled her eyes and suppressed the urge to stick her tongue out at him. "Are you any good at martial arts? You said you were a martial artist, right?"
Ranma nodded. "I'm the best," he bragged, his ego taking over as he grinned widely and puffed out his chest. "Really?" Misao rolled her eyes again. "You a swordsman, too, like Himura?" When Ranma shook his head, she arched an eyebrow and pointed at the sword Ranma carried over his shoulder. "Then what's that for?"
"I just started practicing swordsmanship. My main style is kempo," he told her. "Wow! Really? You'll have to spar with me sometime! I bet Aoshi-sama could beat you! I mean, you look pretty strong, but even Sanosuke looks tougher than you!" His head swirled with all the information she was pouring out, and he closed his eyes and shook his head to try and get rid of the forming headache.
To distract himself from her endless chatter, the pig-tailed martial artist glanced around him, when he suddenly realized he hadn't been splashed with cold water once he last two days. Amazing. I haven't had my curse triggered in two days... Before he could finish that thought, however, thunder crashed and rain started to pour down. Great... Ranma groaned as he felt the tingling sensation that accompanied his change. He just hoped Misao wouldn't overreact. Of course, he realized he should have thought of that possibility and travelled alone, then again, he wasn't one for pre-planning, anyways.
"Say, Ranma, you..." Misao's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates when she turned to find her companion gone and replaced with a short, busty, red-headed girl that was about as cute as you could get. "Where's Ranma?" she asked. Ranma-chan sighed and maneuvered them both beneath a tree. "Long story. I'm still Ranma, though." She mentally swore and raised her aura to dry off her clothes. "Ever been to China?"
Misao shook her head suspiciously, and Ranma noticed her hands were moving into the folds of her clothes, ready to withdraw the hidden kunai, no doubt. "There's this place called Jusenkyo there. It's a cursed valley of pools, each with its own tragic story of something or another that drowned in there. Anyway, I happened to kick Pops into the Shamonnichuuan, or some other obscure Chinese name. Spring of Drowned Panda. I fell into the Nyannichuuan, Spring of Drowned Girl. Now whenever I get splashed with cold water I end up like this, and warm water turns me back."
To prove her point, Ranma-chan dug out a cup out of her backpack and held it out into the rain, filling it up with water. Using a burst of ki, she heated it up and dumped it upon herself. He nearly chuckled when he saw Misao gape as he changed into a boy and back into a girl when stray raindrops found their way through the canopy of leaves. "Are you some kind of...sorceror or something?" The girl asked. Ranma-chan groaned again. "Nope, it's a curse. Got me into a whole lotta trouble, too."
Their conversation was cut short when the splash of water and mud reached their ears. Ranma-chan whirled around in a combat stance, pushing her sakabato into her belt, while Misao's hands came up with about a dozen kunai ready to throw. Both of them held still as a convoy of seven horsemen and a wagon carrying another two men and three women passed them on the road. Ranma's eyes narrowed as he took in the shackles that held the women. "Slavetraders," Misao muttered. "They exist, even in the Meiji era."
Ranma-chan nodded grimly, before pulling Misao even deeper into the foliage. "What are you doing? We can't let them get away!" Misao protested, but Ranma silenced the other girl with a finger to her lips. "I know, but we need a plan. If we go in like this we're endangering them and us. There are at least nine of them, and only two of us." Misao protested. "If you're too chicken to do it, then..." she never finished the sentence as the foliage before them parted and the two girls stared right into the faces of four men. "Look at what we have here...two cuties." The thug took in the kunai in Misao's hands and the sword on Ranma's belt. "Now, put away those weapons and we won't harm you. Wouldn't want to waste such pretty faces, now, would we?"
His only reply was Misao yelling "Kecho-Giri!" and launching herself at him in a flying kick that knocked him all the way back to the road. Not bad, that girl's pretty good, Ranma mused as she rushed forward, slamming the sakabato's sheath into the thug in front of her, before twirling it around like a bo and knocking a second over the head. She ducked under the sword one of the slavers had pulled and brought the hilt of her sword up into his chin, turned around and landed a powerful roundhouse kick on the one behind her.
"Kill them!" The order came from the street. The remaining three slavers drew their weapons and charged with a battlecry, their charge suddenly interrupted by a yell of "Kansatsu Tobi-Kunai!" From the sidelines, dozens of the small throwing daggers flew, forcing the slavers to dive out of the way. Misao readied the next volley of her kunai when she felt the point of a gun on the back of her neck. Swearing under her breath for letting herself be caught off-guard, she thought of a way out of the situation.
"Kachuu Tenshin Amaguri-Ken!" Ranma pummeled one of the attackers before turning and slamming the blunt side of her sword into the next. Steel rung as she brought the blade up to block a sword strike that would have split her head and lashed out with a kick that doubled over the man, before sending him into unconsciousness with a strike to a shiatsu point. She could see the wagon from where she was fighting, the women half-clothed and hurt. Their aureal chi told her of their despair, and it fueled Ranma's anger and disgust at these men. Pushing the saya of her sword back through her belt forcefully so it gutted the thug trying to sneak up on her, Ranma spun, delivering a vicious blow to his head with the flat side of the blade.
"Hold it right there, missy!"
Ranma turned at the voice, her throat suddenly very dry as she counted the unconscious bodies on the ground. Eight. The very last of the nine slavers held Misao against him, and had a gun pointing at Ranma-chan. "You put up a nice fight, and it's a shame to have to kill a pretty girl such as you...but they do say business over pleasure. Drop your sword." Eyeing the man suspiciously, Ranma dropped her sword. "Atta girl. But you didn't really believe I would let you go?" The gunshot rang out throughout the clearing, along with a scream of "NO!"
A wet splash could be heard as everything else went silent and a body hit the ground. Then, everything seemed to speed up again for Ranma-chan as the slaver grinned evily and pointed the gun at her. "Your turn," he said, pulling the trigger.
Ranma stood there for a moment, seemingly in shock, staring at the fallen body of her travel companion. Chikuso...I shouldn't have let this happen...How could I...CHIKUSO! Pure, animalistic rage burned in Ranma's blue eyes as she took in the proof of her failure as a martial artist. I wasn't strong enough, or fast enough, or smart enough. I wasn't good enough. Maybe oyaji was right, I am a weak, whining girl. Her anger ignited her ki, battle aura blazing up in a flickering red flame hot enough to boil away the drops of rainwater that still fell. "Kijin Raishuû-Dan!" With a yell, she unleashed her fury in the single, most deadly attack of her school, rage wrenching open the memories of the sealed techniques.
The slaver didn't have time to scream before he vacuum blades cut through his bullet, then through him. Ranma sank to her knees, her battle aura still burning around her, relishing the feeling of having taken the man's life, and being appalled at herself at the same time. Revenge felt good. She was strong. Strong enough to kill that disgusting person. She had enjoyed wielding the power to kill him. Glancing around and seeing the other slavers on the ground at her mercy, Ranma smiled. They would pay. They deserved nothing more than death. "What...in the world?" A small voice interrupted her plans for taking out her anger on the unconsious criminals, and back to Misao. She rushed to the fallen girl's side. "Misao!"
"That was...ouch!" The girl tried to sit up, but slumped back, holding her side. Ranma could see the blood seeping between her fingers. "Let me see," she told Misao, prying her fingers off the wound. It wasn't as bad as it had looked, the bullet had only done minimal damage, glancing off one of the kunai Misao kept in her clothing. "Heh...I wouldn't be much of a ninja if I let myself be killed that easily," Misao chuckled, causing Ranma to arch an eyebrow. "You gotta tell me about it sometime," she said before hitting a couple of presure points and undoing the strip of cloth she used for a belt. Tying it around the other girl's side, Ranma nodded at her handiwork. "That should do it. I hit a couple of pressure points to counter the pain, so you'll feel numb for a while. That's about all I can do. You wanna go to a doctor's?"
Misao shook her head and pointed at the wagon. "Those women," she said. Ranma understood what she meant and began searching the slavers – those who hadn't woken up and run away – for the key to the shackles, before grunting in frustration and just using a miniature ki blast to melt the chains.
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The remainder of the trip to Tokyo was rather quiet as Misao sensed something was wrong with her travel companion. Ranma had been brooding for the last days, never really talking and only replying when directly spoken to, and only in monosyllables. The Oniwabanshuu was getting worried. She couldn't figure out what could have happened to do that to her companion, and decided to leave Ranma be.
Ranma, on the other hand, wasn't in the mood for talking. His mind kept wandering back to the incident with the slavers. He remembered very well the feeling of ecstasy, of power that had coursed through him as he had killed the man, something he had to admit he had felt when he had slain Saffron, as well, even though he had been distracted by his feelings for Akane that time. The pig-tailed martial artist also had to admit he would have found it very difficult to present the case of that particular slaver and people like him before a court and not come up with some sort of severe punishment.
Add to that what he had seen in those womens' eyes, and what he had seen when he had freed them...they had been tortured, beaten, violated. It was a fate he shuddered at the mere thought of, and he knew that he would do anything in his power to prevent that fate from occuring to any he held dear. That man deserved what he got. For what he did to those women...he deserved death. Didn't he? A martial artist is supposed to protect people, but even at the cost of a life? Is it right to take his life to prevent him from ever hurting anyone again, is it right to take his life for revenge?
Ranma shuddered. He was a martial artist. Killing was something he didn't do, that honor forbade him to do. Yet...when he thought back to those women, he felt appaled and disgusted at the man, and when he had shot at Misao on top of that, he had been angry enough, furious enough to actually want his death. He stared down at his hands. He had only taken a life once, and even then, Saffron had been reborn. This man hadn't. There was blood on his hands, irreversible, undeniable this time.
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Kenshin was doing the laundry when he heard a knock on the front door. The hitokiri turned rurouni didn't think much of it. What he did take note of, however, was Yahiko's battlecry and subsequent loud crack. When he reached the front gate of the dojo, Kenshin's eyes widened and he had to fight to suppress the urge to laugh. Misao was standing at the other side of the gate, with a strange boy accompanying her. Yahiko was opposing them, standing before the other boy, his shinai still raised – or what was left of it, anyway. The wooden sword had broken off and left the young apprentice with only the hilt and about four inches of the blade.
Once she saw him, Misao rushed him, and Kenshin found himself on the receiving end of one of her bear hugs as she glomped on to him. He heard the other boy chuckle, before setting down the girl. "It certainly is nice to see you, Misao-dono. What brings you here?" His glance wandered to Yahiko and the stranger, and with a disapproving tone, he told the boy, "Yahiko, how many times have we told you not to attack anyone you see before you're absolutely sure they mean harm?"
"But Kenshin! He's carrying a sword! No one carries a sword and comes here unless they wanna kill you!" Yahiko wailed. Turning his attention to the boy who still stood outside the gate, Kenshin gave him an appraising gaze. He was lean, with piercing blue eyes and raven black hair tied back into a short pigtail. His clothes were foreign, and he had a sword slung over his shoulder.
Noticing the swordsman's gaze, Ranma chuckled nervously and bowed slightly. "Hello. I'm Saotome Ranma. Sorry 'bout this." The familiar phrase caused a round of chuckles, and Misao urged him in. "Come in already, Ranma! Himura doesn't bite!" With a grin at the still shell-shocked Yahiko, she stagewhispered, "I'm not so sure about Yahiko-chan, though!" With a giggle, she ran off, Leaving Kenshin, Ranma and Yahiko standing at the gate.
"Come on in, Saotome-dono," Kenshin bowed and stepped aside to allow Ranma in. The pig-tailed martial artist grimaced. "Call me anything but that, please. Ranma is fine. Saotome-dono reminds me of my father...and he didn't do anything to deserve that honorific." The martial artist picked up thepiece of the shinai that lay behind him and handed it to Yahiko. "There ya go. Next time, though, hit harder."
Kenshin watched the exchange, then led Ranma inside. "I apologize for Yahiko's behavior. Hes a little protecive of all of us, and we don't get too many friendly visitors here, de gozaru yo." Ranma chuckled. "Looks like it. I'm used to being challenged daily myself." Suddenly, a scream ringing with primeal rage reached them. "DON'T CALL ME –CHAN!"
Kenshin chuckled. "Looks like Yahiko regained his wits, de gozaru."
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Ranma stood in the doorframe, looking out into the yard of the house attached to the dojo, so much like the Tendo's...a voice broke him out of his reverie. "There seems to be a lot on your mind, Saotome-dono," Kenshin said, as he approached the boy. The pig-tailed martial artist didn't turn around as he replied, "Yeah. I've had a lot to think about on this trip." Kenshin assessed their houseguest for the first time. He held himself with the grace and pride of long martial training, and his aura exuded power far beyond what a seventeen year old boy should possess. It made Kenshin wonder just who he was.
"Why did you come on this trip, if you will allow Sessha to ask this question?" Ranma arched an eyebrow at the use of language, but dismissed it as a historical or personal quirk. Most likely the latter. "I've been trained in martial arts since I could walk," he began as he settled down on the porch and invited the rurouni to sit down next to him. "My father wasn't the best of teachers, but you couldn't fault him for efficiency. Now, I gotta take over the school and become grandmaster."
Ranma gazed off into the distance. "My sensei has set me the task of mastering this ancient technique called the Neko-Ken."
The red-haired swordsman shook his head. "Sessha has never heard of it, de gozaru. I can see that you are a martial artist of exceptional skill, though," Kenshin added with a small smile. "Sessha thinks that Sano is going to be quite upset if he finds out there is another well versed in hand to hand combat here. Most likely he will challenge you to a fight." Chuckling, Ranma grimaced. "Figures. Wherever I go, challenges seem to follow. Thanks for the warning, though."
The two sat in companionable silence as the sun set and dipped the yard into darkness. Suddenly, Ranma glanced over at the former assassin, and asked, "How do you cope?" "Oro?" Kenshin turned a confused look on the pig-tailed martial artist. "How do you cope? Going from being the feared Hitokiri Battousai to being a mere rurouni. One who strikes from the shadows without warning or mercy, to one who only fights when absolutely necessary. How do you manage it?"
Kenshin shuddered a little at the nickname he had been given during the Bakumatsu. Did everyone these days know who he was? He thought a long time about the boy's question before replying. "The Bakumatsu was a bloody time. Everyone did things they were not proud of, but were necessary. I myself wanted to help ease the suffering of the people, and the only way I perceived to be able to help was to put to use what I had learned."
"The Hiten Mitsurugi." Ranma stated. It wasn't a question. He had also noted Kenshin's speech patterns had changed, his eyes flashing with specks of gold, and the pronouns he used.
"Yes, the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. Killing was wrong, yet I was young and naive. I didn't think there was any other way. But..." Kenshin didn't finish his sentence. "Tomoe?" Ranma asked softly. The swordsman nodded. "Yes. Tomoe. She showed me true happiness, and for the first time I was content to just let the world be and just be with her. It was not to be."
The pig-tailed youth could feel the pain emanating from the former assassin, but he felt he had to ask this question. "I...My whole life I've been taught that it is a martial artist's duty to protect those who can't protect themselves," he started. "But..." his voice dropped to a whisper. "But...I've seen people get hurt, and the only thing I could do was act after they got hurt. Honor won't allow me to do otherwise..."
Kenshin stared at the pig-tailed boy in astonishment, looking into eyes that held infinite regret and infinite anger all at once. "How am I supposed to protect people from getting hurt when I have to let them get hurt in the first place?" Ranma nearly yelled, his frustration clearly evident.
"If Sessha may ask...what happened to make you think like that?" A glance into the pig-tailed martial artist's eyes told him his answer, though. "This has been building for quite some time, correct?"
"Yeah," Ranma muttered. "All my life I've been taught to protect others, yet I've seen so many people oppressed and suffering, and I can't do nothing to help them until someone abuses them first! It's not fair! I...I got so angry at a slaver back on the road here that I killed him..." he whispered, regret and disgust in his tone. Kenshin's eyes widened at the admittance.
"It...I was so angry at them, I hated them so much for what they had done to those women and children, and that I was unable to help them, unable to stop Misao from getting hurt...I killed him." Ranma's face contorted into a maniacal grin, before setting back into calm. Kenshin couldn't help but worry about the sanity of the pig-tailed martial artist.
"Taking a life is never easy, and it never should be. Not in cold blood, not in self-defense, not in revenge. The day killing becomes easy for one, is the day we loose what makes us human," the swordsman slowly began. "Sessha has vowed never to kill again, yet several times Sessha has been tempted, to protect loved ones. It is a responsibility that comes with power, de gozaru yo. No one who wields enough power to be able to take life can escape that choice forever. You will have to decide for yourself whether you are willing to live with the burden of having to see people suffer to be able to help them, or with the stain of blood on your hands to never see people suffer."
Ranma sighed as Kenshin remained silent, both of them out of words, knowing it was up to the pig-tailed martial artist now.