Author-chan's notes: HIYA, EVERYONE!!! ^_^ I'm up with chapter seven! Go me!
Well, on with the fic!
Key:
"talking"
'thoughts that can only be heard by thinker, a.k.a. private thoughts'
/thoughts that can be heard by thinker and spirits, a.k.a. telepathy/
*** indicates scene/time change
Like Father Like Son
(Chapter Seven: Kenichi)
Night had fallen at the Kamiya dojo. It had been a week or so since Kenichi's birth (or rebirth to be precise). The usual dojo visitors had left for the day. Yahiko had left some time ago to prepare dinner for Tsubame and his five-year-old son Shinya. Megumi and Sanosuke had stayed a few hours longer before they too left to go back to Megumi's clinic, arguing, as usual, as they went. All who were left in the dojo were the Himura family. Sasuke had been put to bed, and had quickly fallen asleep after a bedtime story from his father. Chizuru had also fallen asleep, and the baby was resting with her. Kenji, however, couldn't sleep. He was walking outside in dojo yard looking restless. Unknown to the young redhead, his father had done the same thing many times before his death. Kenji stopped his pacing and looked up into the sky. A breeze came to ruffle his flame-colored locks. The wind played with his hair gently, and Kenji was briefly reminded of how his mother would smooth out his hair as a child. The gentle zephyr brought the fresh scent of sakura blossoms to his nose. It was funny. If he had thought about it, Kenji would have remembered that it was the wrong season for cherry blossoms…
Taking in one last breath of clean air, Kenji walked back towards his home, a slight longing expression on his face. A slender hand moved to brush the hilt of the heavy sword strapped on his back before Kenji entered the building that contained his family.
***
Kenshin could feel it again. That irritating feeling he got just before his infant body began wailing again. Kenshin grumbled mentally to himself. At the moment, he was sleeping peacefully, but apparently his body was having different plans. The poor ex-rurouni was battling with himself to stay asleep and rest a bit, but apparently he was fighting a losing battle. Kenshin could only sit back and do nothing as his disobedient body opened his eyes and began to cry.
He could faintly hear Chizuru's sleepy murmurs and grumbles. Then the sensation of being picked up and placed on someone's shoulder was felt as was a gentle rubbing motion on his back. Slowly, but surely, his cries calmed down to soft whimpers and then ceased all together. Kenshin's tiny hands grasped the fabric covering the shoulder he was resting on like it was a lifeline.
"You sure like attention, don't you Kenichi-chan?" the soft gentle tones of Kenshin's son implored. Kenshin almost squeaked in surprise, realizing that it was Kenji, not Chizuru, who had came to him. Kenji smiled down at the baby, still rubbing the child's back. On the floor, Chizuru murmured tiredly again, and Kenji decided it would be best if he continued attending to his "son" elsewhere so he wouldn't wake her.
***
The main dojo, a few minutes later
Kenji paced about the dojo, his newborn son in his arms. He knew from his experiences with Sasuke that babies tended to fall asleep more easily if they were being moved around a bit. Although little Kenichi had stopped crying, he continued to stay awake, his vibrant violet eyes not leaving Kenji's face for a moment. Somewhere in Kenji's soul he shivered in fear. It was almost as if the child was analyzing him with an eerie calm that made Kenji think of when a swordsman gauged his opponent for weaknesses. His father, the man that Kenichi so closely resembled, had eyes like that, eyes that were constantly aware and allowed no detail to escape unnoticed despite the expressions on his face and the thoughts in his mind. Eyes like that didn't belong on the face of any child, let alone a newborn baby.
Suddenly, Kenichi yawned, his little face scrunching up cutely. Kenji suppressed a laugh. How could he possibly think that this little thing in his arms could have eyes older than his? When Kenichi looked at him again, his large lavender eyes contained only child-like innocence and curiosity. Kenji smiled. No matter how much Kenichi looked like his grandfather, he wasn't him. Kenichi was his own person, and as long as he, Himura Kenji, was alive and breathing he would make sure his sons would be given every opportunity to grow up as themselves, not some legend's shadow. Kenji clutched his son tighter, allowing his chin to rest gently on Kenichi's downy red hair.
"Kenichi-chan," Kenji whispered quietly, "I know I'm not the perfect person. I'm not the best swordsman in the world; Yahiko is much better than I am. My –my tou-san was a much better swordsman than I am. I wasn't even the perfect son. I left my kaa-san, even though I knew she was sick, and I was at odds with my father, particularly his beliefs and his actions. I suppose I still am. But I shouldn't hate tou-san for what he was. He couldn't help the fact he was a conflicted soul with a hitokiri and a pacifist locked in eternal battle in his heart."
Kenji paused in his speech. Was it his imagination, or had Kenichi gone deathly still like his tou-san had done all those years ago under the sakura trees? Kenji took a deep breath, his teeth clenching.
"But I hate him!" Kenji growled, his blue eyes flashing stormily, "I shouldn't, because kaa-san didn't, but I do! I hate him! He abandoned us, kaa-san and me! And then he died! Why did he die, Kenichi-chan? Why, right when I was just about to figure him out? Why did he die right when I was going to forgive him? Couldn't he –couldn't he have waited for me at least to say goodbye?"
Kenji closed his eyes, letting hot tears slide down his cheeks and land on his son's head. The baby remained quiet, but he became stiff as a board. Kenji didn't notice that his "son's" tiny fists had balled themselves around the fabric of his gi in a death-grip. Kenji calmed himself down before speaking again.
"I'm not quite sure what I can give you or your brother, Kenichi-chan," Kenji said in a quiet, gentle voice, "But I can give you tell you this: I will be a better father to you than I was a son. I will be a better father to you and Sasuke than my tou-san was to me. I promise."
Kenichi buried his head deeper into Kenji's chest, feeling a pain that Kenji could never guess at. The pair stood motionless in the center of the dojo, a father and a son sharing a pain from the past but being unaware of it.
***
When dawn came the next day Kenji was surprised to find himself sitting against one of the dojo walls, rather than in his futon with Chizuru. Lying snuggled up in his arms was the red-haired form of a newborn baby; one tiny fist was still curled around his gi in desperation and sorrow, though Kenji did not understand that. The young man was pleased to see that the child was resting peacefully. Kenji laid a single finger on the child's cheek and stroked it, his finger going from temple to chin then lifting up to cross horizontally under the eye.
"Cross-shaped scars are always the most painful in this family," Kenji whispered quietly, "I hope you will never have to bear one."
***
Inside Kenshin's dream
Kenshin looked around at his surroundings. He knew he was dreaming; all the clues were too obvious. For one thing he wasn't in the dojo or even in Tokyo. Secondly, he was an adult. However, it decided it best not to worry about it too much. He did worry over the fact that he couldn't figure out where his dream had taken him. It looked so familiar, but he just couldn't…
"We're at Okami's inn, the Ishin Shishi headquarters, in Kyoto," a voice behind him said quietly, answering his unvoiced question. Kenshin turned around quickly only partially stunned that someone was able to get past his superb ki sensing abilities. In a dream the abilities and laws of the real world didn't always apply.
*Plunk* The sound of a small wooden top hitting the floor reached his ears before he even saw the toy. The wooden child's toy spun around in perfect rotation between Kenshin and the figure siting on the window bench before him.
"Sessha should have guessed it was you," Kenshin said without a trace of fear or surprise in his voice despite the fact that the other man was armed with a set of daisho while his trusty sakabatou was nowhere in sight. Kenshin didn't have to see the naked blades to know that neither the katana nor the wakazashi had a reverse blade. Both were perfect killing tools.
"Rurouni," the armed man greeted quietly, not bothering to look up. Instead, his eyes were riveted to the top on the floor.
"Battousai," the former wanderer replied with complete calm, acknowledging his darker side's presence. There had been many times over the years in similar dreams where the Rurouni side of Himura Kenshin's personality refused to address the hitokiri he once was. But things were different now, and his uneasiness towards Battousai had faded a bit, if not completely disappeared.
His mental projection of his dark side hadn't changed at all over the years. Battousai appeared to be in his teens, no more than fifteen or sixteen, dressed in the Choshu uniform of dark blue and gray, black arm guards peaking out from the wide sleeves of the loose gi. Battousai's long red hair was tied up neatly in a silky topknot, the long bangs framing a face that owned piercing golden eyes. The rurouni knew that the hitokiri was being polite by not looking at him directly with those golden eyes. Anyone who stared into them was bound to feel uneasy even someone as closely aquatinted with Battousai as the Rurouni. The rurouni noted that the cheek marred by the cross-shaped scar was bleeding as if it was freshly cut, something unusual.
"You're unarmed," Battousai murmured, his golden eyes flicking upwards to glance at his other self before looking back down at the top. Battousai's sudden statement awoke the rurouni from his musings.
"Sessha hasn't worn the sakabatou in thirteen years, de gozaru," Rurouni shrugged.
"And I haven't worn a katana in over twice that number of years," Battousai reminded him. Suddenly, the hitokiri threw something at the wanderer. The Rurouni caught the sheathed form of the sakabatou easily, not bothering to ask his other self where he had gotten the sword.
"This isn't necessary," Rurouni protested, looking down at his beloved weapon.
"But it isn't unwanted," the hitokiri retorted, looking up again briefly. Rurouni caught his other half's eyes with his own for only a brief moment. But he had seen what he was looking for.
"You're upset," the Rurouni commented calmly, "Is that why we are here?"
"And you are not?!" Battousai suddenly snarled, glaring up at his alter ego, "He hates us, Rurouni! Our son hates us! Or did you not hear him through that peace loving haze that clouds your mind?" Battousai's fiery golden orbs bore into the rurouni as if to tear apart his soul, emphasizing his anger. The rurouni was a bit surprised. Considering Battousai was more or less detached from the world, it was rare that his other side talked in any great lengths or with such emotion. So when he did, it was wise to listen. The gentler half closed his eyes against the hitokiri's accusations, despair coming off him in waves.
"You're wrong, de gozaru," Rurouni whispered, "He doesn't hate us, he hates sessha. Kenji only hates the wanderer. If I remember correctly, he worships you."
"Only because I am your opposite," Battousai muttered, "Kenji has no idea what I am. Besides, you know as well as I do, that if I did not exist Kenji would have never hated us in the first place. If we had never joined the war and created me, the hitokiri in our heart, we would have never killed. And if we never murdered, then we would have never need to wander and look for redemption."
"Batt—" Rurouni began, but Battousai stopped him with an amber glare.
"Don't lie to me and say you never thought about it," the hitokiri hissed, his eyes glowing eerily as if to stress his point, "If I had never existed then you would have been happy. We could have been Shinta, the peaceful farmer, instead of Kenshin, the conflicted swordsman. And we wouldn't be we. There would only be one of us. One mind, working in perfect harmony, instead of two."
"Does it matter now?" Rurouni asked, "We've been given a second chance, de gozaru. We better make it work."
"'A second chance'," Battousai murmured, looking back at the top on the floor. The old childhood toy had stopped spinning and was now lying limp on the ground, an inanimate object once more.
"Don't mess this up, Rurouni," Battousai demanded of his gentler side quietly, not looking up, "I'm counting on you. There is only so many times you can restart a top spinning."
"Sessha will try," Rurouni answered, flashing a wide smile. Battousai simply grunted in return. He didn't even bother to look up to know that the wanderer's smile was strained and tired. They were both very tired. After all, there is only so many times a top can restart spinning before it becomes too old to play with.
***
In the real world
"SHIMATTA!!!" The sound of a male voice cursing was the first thing that Kenshin heard when he was disturbed from his slumber. Opening his eyes and giving of a shriek of protest against the noise, the reincarnated swordsman found himself in, of all places, the laundry basket. Instantly, he was curious on how he got there. Even when he was an adult, he would never fall asleep in the laundry basket!
Kenshin's musings were cut short when suddenly the shoji slid open with a sharp snap. There, in the doorway, was Chizuru, looking disheveled with her hair uncombed and her white yukata all rumpled. Her blue eyes were wide on her face with surprise. In less than an instant, Chizuru's eyes landed on her newborn's wailing form in the basket.
"Kenichi-chan!" Chizuru gasped, rushing over to the laundry basket. The baby's wailing had subsided by the time Chizuru reached the basket to kneel by it. Making sure that her baby was safe, Chizuru turned her head towards the door, her eyes narrowed menacingly.
"HIMURA KENJI!!!" Chizuru shriek, in a voice that all but demanded that her husband haul his ass down to see her. Faster than it took to blink, Kenji was standing in the doorway, a worried expression stamped on his pale features. Within himself, Kenshin felt pride bloom. Hiko had taught Kenji well in the art of god-like speed.
"Chizuru, is there something wrong?" Kenji asked innocently. Kenshin noted that his son/father was currently wearing an old apron and that there was a heavy iron pan in one hand. Both indicated that Kenji had been in the kitchen cooking breakfast, and both indicated that it hadn't gone well. The once bright green apron had faded drastically. There were so many stains on it, most of them being soot and burn stains, that it was almost impossible to tell what color it had been. The only way Kenshin knew what color the apron was once was because it had been his originally. Silently, the former rurouni lamented over the loss of his once impeccably clean apron before he observed the iron pan. He was guessing that the pure black smoke and rancid smell coming from the pan were bad signs.
'He may look like sessha, but his cooking comes completely from Kaoru-dono, de gozaru yo,' Kenshin thought to himself, sweat dropping mentally. At times like these he could even tolerate being breast-fed.
"Anata," Chizuru gritted out, looking nothing more than a dragon about to strike, "Why is our son in the laundry basket?" At his wife's tone, Kenji had the brains to know he was in deep trouble.
"Ah, well you see, Zuru-chan," Kenji began, unconsciously backing away from his young wife, "I—"
"DON'T CALL ME 'ZURU-CHAN'!!!" Chizuru roared, glaring at her husband. In the basket, Kenshin felt like wailing again. What had happened to the quiet young lady that he and Kaoru had observed from time to time when they were both ghosts? Wasn't it that women got all hormonal during pregnancy, not after?
Kenji in the meantime had turned as pale as a sheet, his eyes wide, but not confused. It was obvious he had previous run-ins with his quiet wife's explosive temper. He knew it was always unwise to call her "Zuru-chan" even when she was calm. For some strange reason, the nickname had always bothered her, but for some strange reason (probably the same one) he would always accidentally call her that.
"Maa, maa, Zuru-chan! Please calm down!" Kenji blurted out. As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he was done for.
"Himura Kenji," Chizuru hissed icily, her eyes and stance giving off waves of anger that would have made even Saito flinch at, "You are so sleeping in the shed tonight."
"Oro?!" Kenji yelped, the familiar sound not going unnoticed by the baby in the basket, "What for?!"
"For calling me 'Zuru-chan'," Chizuru sniffed, "I will not stand for having my name butchered like that. And also for leaving our son in the laundry basket full of dirty clothes."
"Those are clean!" Kenji protested, "I washed them earlier."
"If you did it, then they are still dirty," Chizuru replied. Kenji cringed. He knew he was terrible at cleaning and cooking and just about any household chore. If there was one thing he wished he inherited from his father it was his ability to cook without burning anything or turning the food into a new type of poison. Yare, yare, at least he cooked better than Chizuru…
"Oi, what's going on?" a voice asked. The shoji slid open to reveal Yahiko wearing his training clothes with a bokken slung over his shoulder, indicating he was there to teach the morning students who would be arriving shortly. He was, after all, one of the instructors at the Kamiya dojo along with Kenji. The spiky-haired swordsman lifted an eyebrow at the sight before him.
"What is Kenichi-chan doing in the laundry basket?" Yahiko asked, walking over and plucking the red-haired baby out.
"I was just asking Kenji that," Chizuru growled, her eyes flashing at the direction of her husband.
"I was cooking in the kitchen, Chizuru!" Kenji told her with an exasperated sigh, "I didn't have any other place to put Kenichi down. I couldn't just place him on the cold hard floor! And I wasn't going to take him into the kitchen with me!"
"He's got a point, Chizuru," Yahiko agreed, "If he had taken Kenichi-chan to the kitchen you would be short a kid."
"Oro?!" Kenji protested.
"Come on, Kenji!" Yahiko laughed, "You're a more of a disaster in the kitchen than your mother was!"
"At least I'm better than Chizuru," Kenji grumbled. In this hand, the iron pan sent a rather large puff of smoke. Kenji glared at the traitorous pan. Yahiko sighed mournfully.
"How did you two survive so long with both of you being horrible cooks?" Yahiko asked.
"Because we have you to cook for us, Yahiko-san," Chizuru answered, smiling slightly.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the dark-haired man grumbled, "I know I'm your perfect little slave." With a sigh, he handed Kenichi to Chizuru and walked over to Kenji, holding out his hand.
"Take that apron off," Yahiko sighed, "I'll cook. You teach the students."
"Thank you, Yahiko," Kenji sighed in relief, tossing the once green apron at the other swordsman. Then he handed over the pan.
"What in the seven hells did you do to the pan?!" Yahiko yelped, looking at the mess.
"I tried warming up some milk for breakfast," Kenji replied, "It kind of, um, burned."
"I'll say," Yahiko growled, "Don't you know anything? If milk burns in a pan it will stick, and it will be impossible to get out! And it can't be just milk in there. What else did you put into the pan?"
"Well, originally, I was cooking fried rice," Kenji began in a rush, "But the pan was so big, and there was extra room, so I decided to fry a fish in there too in the extra space. Then I decided, what the heck, might as well make it all into an omelet, so I added eggs, and stirred everything up. I was going to put the milk in a separate pan, but I accidentally poured it into this one. I didn't think it would matter too much. I mean, if I tilted the pan, then the milk would be on one side and everything else would be on the other side. And if the milk did mix in, I didn't think it would taste too bad. And then I remembered those herbs you showed me yesterday and I added those in…"
"B-baka!" Yahiko yelled, turning pale at Kenji's description of breakfast and then turning green at the mention of the herbs, "Those herbs were for medicine! Healing cuts and stuff like that, you know!"
"Oh," Kenji blinked, "Is that bad?"
"YES!" Yahiko growled, "Even without the herbs, your 'breakfast' would have been horrible! You burned it all! And I bet you didn't use any oil, making everything stick, so now you destroyed the pan!"
"I guess I'll have to buy a new one," Kenji shrugged.
"At times like this I really miss Kenshin's food," Yahiko grumbled under his breath, so quietly no one else heard, "Even busu cooked better stuff than Kenji."
"Did you say something, Yahiko-san?" Chizuru asked.
"Nothing," Yahiko sighed as he trotted off to the kitchen. Chizuru and Kenji shrugged to themselves as Kenji went to prepare for class and Chizuru went to wake up Sasuke.
***
A few minutes later
The Himura family and Yahiko were all siting at the dinning table, eating a nontoxic breakfast, courtesy of Yahiko. Kenshin was just watching everyone else eating, already having been fed by Chizuru. Every time feeding time came, Kenshin would wonder if he could spontaneously combust from the embarrassment he felt. And then of course there was the teasing he had to endure from Shinigami and Kaoru…
"Ohayo, Kenshin-san!" a cheerful voice chirped. Ah, speak of the devil…
/Ohayo, Shinigami-dono, Kaoru-koishii, / Kenshin answered. The two spirits floated over towards the table.
"How are you, anata?" Kaoru asked, coming closer to her husband.
/Tired and embarrassed, / Kenshin answered truthfully.
"Kenshin-san got fed by Chizuru-san again," Shinigami snickered.
/Shinigami-dono! / Kenshin wailed mentally. Kaoru, in the meantime, pulled out a bokken out to thin air and whapped Shinigami over the head.
"ITAI!" the child-like kami yelped, rubbing his head, "What was that for, Kaoru-san?"
"For teasing my anata," Kaoru answered tartly, "Only I'm allowed to do that."
"That's unfair!" Shinigami protested, "I've known him longer!"
"So?" Kaoru shrugged.
/Oro, / Kenshin sighed, /Can we talk about something else, de gozaru? /
"No problem, Kenshin-san," Shinigami said cheerfully, "Let's talk about your dream, ne?"
/Let's not, / Kenshin said, a hint of ice in his mental voice, /And how do you know about that, Shinigami-dono? /
"I like keeping tabs on my assistants," Shinigami shrugged, "By the way, that one dream with the sakura blossoms, the laundry basket, and Kaoru's blue ribbon was quite fascinating, Kenshin-san."
/Oro! / Kenshin yelped mentally, /T-that's none of your business, de gozaru yo! /
"Though to be honest, I liked the one with the onigiri better," Shinigami mused, snickering slightly, "Shame on you, Kenshin-san, having such dreams before you were married…"
/Oro! / Kenshin yelped again.
"What are you two talking about?" Kaoru asked, confused.
/N-nothing, Kaoru-dono! / Kenshin squeaked, /Anou, look! Everyone is finished eating! /
"So?" Shinigami asked, "I still think we ought to discuss your dream from earlier."
/Shinigami-san, / Kenshin's voice hissed in the kami's mind. Shinigami smiled calmly at his former assistant. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Kenshin had directed his thoughts only towards Shinigami, carefully keeping Kaoru out of the conversation. The chibi kami had noticed the change in name suffixes as well as the faint swirl of gold in the reincarnated hitokiri's eyes. After all, he knew Kenshin the best.
"Well, Kenshin-san, it looks like Kenji-san's students are coming," Shinigami said, pointedly changing the subject, "I'm guessing Chizuru-san is going to take you and Sasuke-san outside to watch."
/Maybe she will, de gozaru, / Kenshin answered, the cold tone leaving his voice as well as the amber glint in his eyes.
"Kaoru-san?" Shinigami began, "Will you please go get the book we found a week ago? I know we already found a loophole for Kenshin-san in there already, but I want to look over it again."
"I thought you found everything you needed, but alright," Kaoru answered, fading from view as she passed into the Spirit World. Shinigami sighed.
"I suppose we can talk more freely now, ne, Battousai-san?" Shinigami said, a slight smile gracing his features.
/That is not my name anymore, Shinigami-dono, / Kenshin reminded him quietly.
"Are you sure about that, Battousai-san?" Shinigami asked, "You are a hitokiri. You can't just erase such a big part of your past. Your dream should have told you that."
/Sessha wa Rurouni, de gozaru, / Kenshin said gently.
"Of course you are," Shinigami shrugged, "But you are also a hitokiri. You want Kenji to love and understand you, right? To understand you, he has to understand the hitokiri inside of you. That's one of the big reasons why Kenji and you were never close. Even if you had stayed in Tokyo, Kenji would have never truly understood you. You kept things hidden from him. Kenji only has fragmented knowledge of Hitokiri Battousai, which caused him, at least a little bit, to want to be like the hitokiri. The purpose of that dream was to tell you that the hitokiri is going to have some impact on Kenji's life."
/I doubt that, / came the cool reply. Shinigami didn't even need to look twice to know that the pair of eyes that were boring into him was of an amber shade.
"Do you wish to bet on that, Battousai-san?" Shinigami asked, his eyes also glinting a heady gold.
/There is no need for Kenji to know me, / Battousai murmured, /Besides, I have confidence in my other self. /
"Should I take that as a yes?"
/Sessha wa Rurouni, / was the firm reply. Shinigami grinned. Kenshin's eyes were still golden…
Author-chan's notes: *bows to the readers* Gomen! I took too long in updating! I pray that everyone will forgive me!
Quick note to JML: You said that "koishii" is an adjective, not a noun. However, I've always seen it used as a noun, and I even looked it up in my Japanese to English dictionary and I'm pretty sure it's used as a noun. If you're able to prove me other wise and state your source, I would appreciate it. Also, thank you for your suggestion of nicknaming Chizuru "Zuru-chan". I hope you don't mind if I use it…
Also thanks to Kazen ne Tsuki for putting up my story on your website! You honor sessha so much! *sobs happily* And, a big thanks to my friend Glenn who reads over my chapters before I post them up. Thanks a lot! ^_^
And, if anyone out there is interested in a short drama/romance fic done completely in Kenshin's POV, I wrote one entitled, "Taste". This one-shot explores a strange mystery that has barely been explored in RK: "How the heck does Kenshin put up with Kaoru's cooking?!" Surprisingly, this was written in a completely serious tone. But I promise it's good, so please be nice and take a look!
And thanks to everyone to has reviewed my fic! You guys inspire me!
Please R+R!!!