(A/N: First attempt at Kenshin-verse fiction. Some SPOILERS for volume twenty-four of the manga, characters belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki and enjoy)

Give Effort

"She isn't dead, battosai."

Kenshin started a little, but did not look up to put a face to the voice he knew recognized. He didn't think he could move anymore, and didn't want to try. It didn't matter what the old man said – he'd said no one had ever had as many visitors as Kenshin had, that he'd come down too soon.

It didn't matter. He had failed. Kaoru was gone.

"Battosai. She isn't dead. I know what you're thinking."

It didn't matter. His sword was chained up. If he couldn't protect the person who mattered most, what did he deserve the title 'battosai'? Had he ever wanted it in the first place? Maybe some day, long ago. But now, now he hadn't wanted it for as long as he'd possessed it – and that felt like a very long time.

"Look at me." Aoshi said in the same hard but patient tone, and Kenshin opened his eyes just enough to see the man's booted feet before him, not even a foot away. He still would not lift his head; it hurt too much to move, hurt too much to think about anything. Aoshi wasn't speaking the truth, he'd seen her, she was gone and she could never come back; he'd failed, he hadn't been able to do what he'd sworn to do, the same mistake he'd made before was happening all over again, he couldn't go on with that guilt riding on his shoulders…

"Himura. Stop."

That was another jolt. His name. No one used it. It had been forever since he'd heard it.

He hadn't realised he'd been curling further into himself, shrinking away from everything like he could melt into the wall at his back. He also hadn't heard, hadn't seen, hadn't felt Aoshi kneel in front of him and put a hand on his shoulder, like it could keep him from being swept away into the dark river carving a deep chasm in his mind.

"It's too much…" Kenshin managed to mutter, his voice very small and dry, throat and lips cracked from lack of water. He didn't remember when he had last drunk something, last eaten. He didn't remember feeling hungry or thirsty – he didn't remember feeling anything over the last few days. Nothing but a dull sorrowful ache.

He didn't see Aoshi wince at the sound of that dispirited voice, and didn't notice how his tone was softer the next time he spoke. "I'm not going to let you quit."

This would be third time he'd been surprised. He looked up finally, his own hollow eyes meeting with Aoshi's firmly set ones. Had he been paying just a little more attention, he would have seen the concern raw on Aoshi's face, the worry that had driven him to come here and try to help Kenshin completely evident on his stoic features.

"What are you saying?" Kenshin asked in the same dull, listless tone, the words even softer than before. Aoshi's eyes did not let him hide what he would have liked for no one to see – the man on the inside, broken, lost and drowning. The others thought they'd seen his worst, but no one else but Sano had seen the inside.

"I mean you're not going to end like this. She is not dead. You helped me when I had nothing left to live for, and I am going to return the favour. You still have something you wish to live for, but you don't believe it exists. It is still there, Himura – people still need your help. The most important one needs no one's help but your own. You're the only one who can save her."

"You can't save what's lost."

"She isn't. I'm telling you Himura, she isn't dead."

"Sanosuke left." That statement was very solemnly presented, as if it explained everything. In reality, it applied very little to Kenshin's state, but if he allowed it to bother him, maybe Aoshi would move onto better topics… or even leave, and let him rest in peace.

"Because he could not stand to see you like this. His faith in you could only go so far under so much pressure. No one wants to see you like this. She would –"

"Shut up." Kenshin interrupted, with no force but for how aggressive the words were.

"I will not." Aoshi said, sounding like he was pleased to get some sort of rise out of the man before him, no matter how fragile it was. Anything was better than the sullen deadness. "She wouldn't want you to be like this, Himura, even if she were dead."

"Stop… using that name." Kenshin protested weakly, still seeking to draw Aoshi's attention elsewhere. He kept saying she was alive, kept on pressing it and pressing it and he was scared – so scared – that if he heard it again, he was going to start to believe it.

"No, Himura. I want you to listen. You believe that you're lost and have nothing left. I believed the same once. You gave me a reason to live when the Oniwabanshu were slaughtered. I'm giving you a reason: The belief, the hope, the smallest glimmer of light that there's something left to matter to you. She is alive, Himura, and she needs you to help her."

Finally, even if it was only that a sliver of hope as Aoshi promised, even if it was a small twinkling light nearly drowning in negativity, Kenshin believed. He hadn't examined the body himself – there was a chance. He didn't know how, other than he didn't put it to Aoshi to give him hope when there was none. But there was a chance.

Very slowly, and Aoshi backed away to allow him room, he unfolded his limbs, giving each one a moment to become used to being moved again, and achingly, rose to his feet. Even when he almost stumbled forward, Aoshi did not move to catch him. When he was standing again, holding the chained sakabato loosely in one hand, he looked to Aoshi again and, quietly, asked, "Why so much effort?"

Aoshi was turning, beginning to walk out of the village. "Because," he said, giving Kenshin just one backwards look before continuing on in trust that he would follow, "You were the reason I didn't give up."