Part One: Wind

The little man walks down the crowded street, avoiding the gazes of others with a practiced ease that suggests he is accustomed to keeping those deep eyes the same violet color as haha-ue's favorite kimono averted from questioning looks. People look at him askance because of the patches on his faded kimono and frayed gray hakama and the sword at his side, whisking the ends of their kimono out of his path and whispering behind their hands, but he doesn't seem to notice, keeping his gaze on the street a few feet ahead of him as if it is the only thing he sees. But Io can see his slender shoulders tighten and hunch and knows he hears them whether he shows it or not, and the whispers leave scars less obvious than the strange cross-shaped mark on his cheek.

Io can't help it—the strange, small man is fascinating to her. His hair is the same color as the glowing coals in the fire, as the sun when it sets in the sky, and it tangles silkily around him as the wind tears at the fine strands, whipping it out of its tail and around his face. He doesn't look up from the road in front of him and yet he somehow avoids even bumping into anyone on the crowded street. Even though the wind is cold and winter is coming, he doesn't shiver, though his ragged kimono is thin and he wears it loose. What she can see of his chest is thin and pale, and Io can count his ribs.

"Sumimasen," she murmurs to the storekeeper with whom she had been haggling over the price of a daikon radish, and she ducks out of the shop and back into the street, agilely dodging passerby until she reaches the small man's side. There are advantages to being small, and Io has learned all of them by now. "Sumimasen," she says again when she reaches him because she has been raised to always be polite and she's trying to get his attention, but he doesn't respond. She hesitates a little, trying to figure out what to call him. He is too small and looks too young, his face smooth and unlined, to be an ojisan. "Sumimasen, oniisan?" she says again, falling into step beside him. When he still doesn't respond, she reaches out to touch his sleeve.

He gives a strange, shuddering movement at the contact and looks up slowly from the ground until he can look her in the face. His bizarre but beautiful violet eyes are deep and dark and haunted, and the color and the pain deep within them catches and holds Io until he blinks, slowly, and the swirl of lavender agony recedes a bit, like a storm calming in his eyes. "G-gomen," he says softly, and his voice is quiet and almost fragile-sounding, nothing like the loud, demanding voices of the men she is accustomed to. He lifts one hand and pushes strands of fiery hair back out of his eyes. "Did ojou-dono want something?"

Io almost laughs at his overly formal form of address, but there is a quiet gravity in his features that stops her. "You must be cold, oniisan," she says instead.

He smiles, a slight quirk of the lips that is a wistful mixture of sweetness and sadness. Something about it tugs at Io's heart. "It is very kind of ojou-dono to think of it, but sessha is fine, de gozaru," he says, and gently removes his sleeve from her grasp.

Io hesitates, because he doesn't look fine. There are deep, bruised-looking shadows in the hollows around his eyes, and his lips are tinged with blue. "Oniisan," she blurts, then hesitates again.

"Hai?" he says again, and his voice is still gentle and soft. "What is it, de gozaru ka?

"You don't look fine," she finally says, admitting exactly what she thinks.

He actually smiles and laughs a little. "Sessha sees you're not one to let something go so easily, de gozaru."

"It's freezing," Io says, dancing a little on her feet to chase away the persistent chill as she does so. "Oniisan must be cold."

His smile widens. "Sessha is a little cold, ojou-dono. But not enough to matter."

Io can feel her mouth curve downwards into a frown as she tries to process this statement. It doesn't make any sense. How can being cold not matter? "Do you have somewhere to go, oniisan?" she asks finally.

His smile dims a little, getting that sad edge again. "Don't worry about sessha, little one."

By this Io understands that he doesn't have anywhere to go, after all. She takes a deep breath. "Do you want to come home with me, then? We have a few extra rooms since ani-ue—" she bits her lip and breaks off, remembering that haha-ue doesn't want her talking about ani-ue and his death two years ago because he had fought for the wrong side. She doesn't understand—after all, ani-ue is still ani-ue, no matter who he'd fought for—but haha-ue always tells her that she's only a little girl and too young to possibly understand, and Io supposes she must be right.

But the red-haired man acts as if she hasn't suddenly broken off in mid-sentence. "That is very kind of you, ojou-dono," he says. "But sessha couldn't possibly impose."

"It wouldn't be an imposition," Io continues recklessly. "And my name is Io."

"Io-dono," the red-haired man says with a slight smile. "And you may call sessha Rurouni."

Io blinked. "That's not a name," she says.

He smiles again. "True, Io-dono. But it's the only name sessha can give you, de gozaru."

"Why don't you come with me?" Io adds. "I need someone to help me carry the tofu back, anyway."

The rurouni smiles and tilts his head to one side. "All right, Io-dono. Sessha will help you with the tofu, de gozaru."

Io smiles, pleased that she has gotten her way and that the red-haired man will be going back with her.

Japanese Terms Glossary:

Haha-ue: Archaic, fairly formal term for "mother."

Kimono: Japanese clothing.

Hakama: Loose Japanese trousers.

Sumimasen: Excuse me.

Ojisan: Uncle, a term many Japanese use to refer to any older man.

Oniisan: Older brother. I don't know if Japanese use it the same way they use ojisan, but Io is a creative person.

Gomen: Sorry.

Ojou-dono: I don't know if this is a term, but ojousan is an extremely polite word for "miss," so I figured Kenshin would just use the "dono" instead of the "san."

Sessha: Term Kenshin uses to refer to himself. Means something like "this unworthy one."

De gozaru: very polite form of "desu," which means "is." A very formal way of ending sentences.

Ka: Japanese verbal question mark.

Ani-ue: Archaic, polite term for older brother.

Hai: Japanese yes.

-Dono: The extremely deferentional honorific Kenshin puts on the names of almost everyone he knows.

Author's Note:

Okay, random RuroKen drabble. Just felt like writing a story set during Kenshin's ten years of wandering about someone else who's life he might have impacted, but I don't know if I'll go on or not. Tell me what you think and I'll see. The girl, Io, is named after and based on a woman named Shibue Io who lived earlier in the period and was an interesting and tomboyish sort of girl, though the character is an original character not a historical figure. Just thought I'd play around with that a little.