The Week After
Yahiko
The Day after the fight.
Writhing and unwrapping himself from the blankets, the young man slowly got up, using the back of his hand to get any sleep from eyes. He cursed under his breath about the bight day that filtered in to wake up. His hands also tried to push back his untamed hair from his face, muttering about a haircut in some form. The young man, named Yahiko stood up from his warm bed.
Looking around in the mess of a room he claimed in the dojo, he was looking to find and smell somewhat clean cloths. More then once he had been ripped into by his teacher about this mess of the room. As well as a kind, but firm tone of the red haired samurai about his cloths. Yahiko thought back to see the man do laundry with a pastime unlike any he had seen before. All he could do was shake his head as he got dressed in a hurry, knowing if late on his training and chores, the fiery temper of the lady swordswoman might be an end to this young life.
Still, as stepped out, shutting the door, something struck him odd. The stillness of the land and home seem unreal. No cooking was smelled, or the yelling of the router or the raccoon could be heard. Eeriness crept back to the young trainee, then the events of the night before where remembered to the young man. His heart skipped a beat; the worse fears ached into his mind and body. Turning on his heel, he made his way to the others rooms. Sano's snoring came in loud and clear to his ears, a note on the vixens door said she had gone to check on the other doctor. Yet as he made his way to the woman's door, he happened to walk right into the other person he was looking for, the red headed samurai. With the tradition. Of swirling eyes and oro coming from his lips. Yahiko fell down to the ground of the earth. Using a mix of very color lingo was let out by the young man.
'Kenshin, Watch where your going.'' He almost shouted. Then he remembered why he was in a rush and stood up. Kenshin shook his head, clearing away the ruouni look, and smiled at Yahiko. But inside the young man's mind, the images of the battle in the dojo played in his head. How could it be, that the man who sat smiling in the dirt at him, and the cold killer from before be the same.
Yes, Yahiko knew who this man once was, and who he was now. There was not one person in Japan that did not know the name of the patorts living weapon; Battousai. Still, even with these thoughts running in his young mind, Yahiko offered a hand to the red head. Kenshin smiled and took the hand up, feeling the strengthen of the young's one to his own, and more of the promise of what was to come in the coming years of adult hood. Both samurai stood there, waiting to see what the other would do.
'Yahiko, Miss Karuo has gone to market to pick up some food for tonight. She said you had to clean the dojo floor.'' Kenshin said, smiling all the same.
Yahiko would have normally said or did some kind of action to protest this doing. Yet, much to the shock of the older man, he shook his head yes. Turning and heading for the training hall. Kenshins' smile melted into a faint frown. What was wrong with him today?
Yahiko found him self just stopping short of the door way to the hall. He could not go in, the scenes of the battle before played in his mind. Kenshin, the man he looked up as a samurai, who used his sword and skill to protect change into a ruthless killer, even his eyes, the warm color of sping and blue change in a heart beat to the amber of hellfire. He started to shake, an almost animal like unsent to flee and run took his body. Which is what he did, turning on his heel, he fling open the back gate, running into the woods. All being scene by the man he once knew, or thought he did. Running helped to clear his head, his feet hitting the ground give him something to cling into. Yet his chest felt on fire, his mind welting, trying to make sense of all that happened to his world.
Yahiko stopped, his knees hitting the ground, while his body gasped for air. Sweat ran down his forehead and chest. Cooling him to a point. He had no idea how long he had ran or too. All he needed at this time was the peace of the woods. After some time had passed, his body catching up from the long and hard run. Yahiko made his way to a tree and sat under it, the green light fluttering around him in a peaceful motion. He laid his head on the trunk of the tree. Closeing his eyes, trying to shut out the thoughts that tore at his young mind. What he had sceen had been battle, not like the others before all the time. This one before had been about death, not protecting, or letting the other live. Coldness struck his lungs, but most of all, his very morals. Shock let go, letting take on all that had been damped up for the night.
Tears crept into his eyesight, making the world grow blurry around the young man. He was not ready to deal with this. The picture of the red hair man spung forth anger to him. His fist hit the ground, letting the anger find a way out of his young body. Confustion bloomed with the anger, this man was the sourse of it. How could this man, the one who had saved him, tought him, found him a place in life and hope. Turn into a killer, and shatter his own morals just for a fight. And then go back to that image of the man he had come to see as an brother and teacher. Which one was he truly behind that mask?