Author-chan's notes: Hey everyone! I was so happy when I read the reviews for the previous chapter. I'm glad there weren't any complaints to how I portrayed Hiko or Enishi. (They're so hard to write!) And as for Shinigami…well of all my OCs he's the hardest to write as well. Look out for him. He's going to be wilier than Yukimura from Samurai Deeper Kyo, I think…

Oh, and in case there was any confusion, the person who passed out last chapter was Hiko. Sorry if that wasn't clear.

In case anyone is wondering, that challenge on my profile page that I mentioned in the last chapter is still going on. I've changed it so that even if you aren't the first person to e-mail me, you still get a prize. So go ahead and try your hand at guessing!

Also to those who sent in the contest replies via review, please e-mail me so I can give you your prize. I did specify to e-mail me for a reason…I can't e-mail you the prize unless I have your e-mail in the first place!

I might put up another new challenge later after this one is finished.

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/

writing in a letter

qpqpqpqp indicates scene/time change

Like Father Like Son

(Chapter Twenty-three: The Difference of Kyoto)

Hiko's mountain

Kenji fidgeted as he stood waiting outside Hiko's abode. Finally, unable to stand it anymore, the red-haired man entered the hut where Hiko lay, still asleep, being tended by Megumi.

"How is he doing?" Kenji asked as he walked into Hiko's small hut.

"Not good," came Megumi's reply, "His condition is worsening. But for the moment, he's still alive."

"I see," Kenji sighed as he looked down on the prone form of Hiko laying on his futon.

Kenji remembered just coming over to the group around Hiko and introducing his family when suddenly the sword master fell unconscious from pain in his abdomen, no doubt caused by his illness. Apparently, his condition was much worse than what they had all originally believed.

"Damn," Kenji growled, glaring at the ground, "I don't get it, he looked fine just a moment ago. What happened?"

"Who knows?" Megumi shrugged as she continued to tend to the kenjutsu master, "It's possible it could have been stress related. He doesn't normally have visitors. There's not much to be done though, other than wait for him to wake up. The best thing you can do right now is go and take the others down to Kyoto for lunch. We've all been here for a very long time."

"But what about Kenichi?" Kenji asked, "He doesn't feel easy around the city."

"Then leave him here," Megumi answered, "He and I will stay and take care of Hiko-san. You and the others go, eat, and bring us back food. If you can, bring some soup or broth for Hiko. His stomach is probably very delicate right around now."

"Hai, Megumi," Kenji nodded as he began to exit the establishment.

"Kenji," Megumi called out, halting him, "I know you're worried."

"How can I not be?" Kenji laughed bitterly as he left the hut without another word to join the others waiting for him outside to hear the prognosis.

"Megumi says we should all go down to Kyoto to eat," Kenji announced to the group assembled before him, "Kenichi-kun, can you stay here and help Megumi-san?"

"Hai," the other redhead nodded as he looked towards the hut. Kenshin was worried for his master and would have stayed behind even if Kenji hadn't told him to do so.

"I'll stay too," Sano volunteered, "Can't leave the kitsune and the kid here alone with just Hiko."

"Alright then," Kenji nodded as he and the rest of the group headed down the mountain.

qpqpqpqp

Kyoto

The streets teemed with energy. The sun seemed to smile upon the city, its golden rays hitting the pavement in just the right angle. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood. Shoppers at the market chatted amiably with the shopkeepers. Children laughed. Women gossiped. Men swapped stories. Everything was as it should be, nothing out of place.

That is, except for the shadows.

Leaning against the wall, Yukishiro Enishi blended easily within the crowd of people bustling about the city. Enishi was dressed in Western attire, which was common enough among the crowds; dark slacks and a crisp white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up covered his still lean form. A cap covered his shockingly white hair. The only thing that pointed him out as out of place was a long thin shape wrapped in dark cloth leaning against his leg.

"Did you get the information, Akimoto?" Enishi asked, addressing the shadow next to him.

"Hai, Yukishiro-sama," the shadow replied as a pale hand reached out to hand Enishi a folded up piece of paper.

"How many times have I told you not to call me that?" Enishi sighed as he plucked the paper from the shadow's hand.

"Many times, Yukishiro-sama," Akimoto, the mysterious shadow, replied.

"There is no need to be so formal, Akimoto."

"Hai, Yukishiro-sama."

"Hopeless," Enishi sighed with a slight shake to his head. Akimoto (Enishi had never found out his informant's given name) had been one of Enishi's spies for years, and in the past year alone was assigned solely to the Genji case. Akimoto was born the child of a prostitute and had grown up the streets, picking up various skills and information. Despite his poor background, Akimoto had learned very proper manners from his mother that could have belonged at the emperor's court, despite the tendency to clip sentences. Enishi never minded Akimoto's way of getting straight to the point, but he sometimes found the spy's formality trying at times.

"What's Genji been doing, Akimoto, besides the obvious?"

"The usual," Akimoto snorted softly, "Women."

"Shimabara?"

"His personal own," Akimoto answered with another disgusted snort, "Opening his own prostitution ring. Not hiring the girls either. Forces some of daughters of those who owe debts. Also the daughters of more troublesome lackeys to make them 'behave'. Many though he kidnaps off the streets. Condition worse than slavery."

"Chikuso…" Enishi hissed, his eyes narrowing, "How many of Genji's men do we have on our side?"

"Not enough," Akimoto replied, "Genji is very good at keeping his men. Intimidation, bribes, good pay…And there might be a spy among us."

"Shimatta!" Enishi cursed rubbing his forehead, "Any suggestions, Akimoto?"

"We do not have manpower, but we have strength," Akimoto began, "They once called Yukishiro-sama the White Tiger. They call you that still."

"I am nowhere near the level of skill I once was," Enishi sighed, "Too much wear and tear on my body. Not to mention the extent of my nerve damage. I can't take on legendary swordsmen anymore."

"Yukishiro-sama can still fight," Akimoto pointed out, "You carry a sword."

"Aa," Enishi agreed, putting his hand on the cloth covered bundle next to him, "But I am not as good as I once was."

"Good enough," Akimoto said firmly.

"So much faith," Enishi murmured, smiling slightly, "You get that from your mother."

"Hai," Akimoto whispered, "May she rest in peace."

"Akimoto," Enishi began, his voice deepening as a serious tone invaded his voice, "Find that spy you were worried about. Then, gather all of our forces together. We'll stomp out Hamano Genji right now."

"Hai, Yukishiro-sama!"

"Akimoto, one more thing," Yukishiro said, stopping the other from leaving, "Step into the light for a moment."

There was a moment of hesitation before a small figure slowly stepped away from the shadows and into the sunlit world, wincing at the sudden contact with the light before blinking and allowing eyes to adjust.

"You're underfed again," Enishi sighed, looking his contact over, "You'll never grow if you don't eat."

"Hai, Yukishiro-sama," the young boy who had emerged nodded.

Enishi smiled down at the youngster who had been acting as his informant on Genji for the past year. Akimoto was small and thin due to lack of a proper diet and incredibly pale since he had lived almost all of his fifteen years in shadowy alleyways of Kyoto's depths. Dressed in an old yukata, Akimoto could have passed for any of the hundreds of orphans and waifs one saw on the streets of Kyoto.

That is until you noticed his hair and eyes.

Akimoto was an albino. His longish white hair and reddish eyes made him stand out in a crowd. It was little wonder that he had attached himself to Enishi who also shared the strange hair color. Enishi was more than a boss to Akimoto; Enishi was his father figure and role model.

"I'll take you out to lunch," Enishi offered as he took off the cap on his head and picked up his wrapped up sword, "There's a restaurant nearby, so if you like…"

"I should not impose on Yukishiro-sama's hospitality," Akimoto protested as the young man tried to slink back into the shadows.

"Nonsense," Enishi scoffed, "Think of this as a bonus for getting me such excellent information."

"Hai, Yukishiro-sama," Akimoto murmured, blushing slightly at the praise.

qpqpqpqp

Elsewhere in Kyoto

Kenji sighed as he walked along the streets of Kyoto, his friends by his side. Aoshi had mentioned something about Kyoto having a strange feel to it to those who were sensitive to ki energies. But no matter how hard Kenji tried, he couldn't feel a thing.

'Yare, yare, I guess I'm not up to sensing ki,' Kenji sighed softly to himself.

"I see you took my suggestion and wore a hat, Himura-san."

"Michiyo!" Kenji gasped when the young woman suddenly appeared next to him, "You surprised me!"

"Gomen," Michiyo murmured, bowing her head a bit, "I'm glad you took my suggestion not only on the hat, but on the outfit as well."

"Aa," Kenji nodded, "Chizuru is always saying how I have terrible fashion sense so I though I ought to listen to someone else for once. And that hat is very practical. It keeps the sun out of my eyes. …You know, you're very good with clothing, Michiyo-san."

"Arigato," Michiyo smiled slightly, "I'm best with yukata. I like making them."

"Do you sell your creations?" Kenji asked casually, just trying to make conversation.

"No," Michiyo shook her head, "I already have a job. I don't need another."

"Still, you're very good," Kenji said, "You made your yukata and your parents' as well. You even made yukata for Kenichi and Sasuke, and you didn't even know their sizes!"

"I make many yukata, Himura-san," Michiyo shrugged, "It wasn't too hard to look through the things I already made to find something that fit your sons."

"You're very modest," Kenji remarked, with a small smile. Michiyo simply brushed him off. There was a moment of silence.

"Do you know where there's a good place to get soup or broth?" Kenji asked suddenly.

"Now?" Michiyo asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Aa," Kenji nodded, "Megumi said that Hiko-sensei probably couldn't stomach anything solid when he wakes up."

"There is one place which sells the best soup in Kyoto and they are one of the few that have take-out, but it's in a different direction from where we are going," Michiyo answered.

"Well, I can pick up the soup and come back to meet you later at the Aoiya, how is that?" Kenji suggested. Michiyo looked at him for a moment, before nodding.

"That should be alright," Michiyo agreed, "The restaurant is called 'Yuki'. It's been around for awhile, so it won't be hard to find someone who knows directions, but you'll know it when you see it. Head southwest, then take a turn west. It's in that direction. And I'll tell the others where you went."

"Thanks!" Kenji smiled, before heading to the direction Michiyo pointed out using his speed to get there even faster.

qpqpqpqp

Elsewhere in Kyoto

Enishi smiled at the waitress as she took his and Akimoto's orders. Akimoto fidgeted in his seat, not used to being out in the open and in the crowds like this. Enishi shook his head. The poor boy was so naïve about the world outside the dark streets that were his home. Akimoto kept on reddening as the waitress talked to him.

"You are going to spontaneously combust if you keep blushing like that," Enishi commented. Akimoto kept blushing harder.

"Gomen, Yukishiro-sama," the teenager whispered. Enishi rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry about it," Enishi sighed, "You know, your face reminds me of Battousai's hair…"

"'Battousai'?" Akimoto blinked, his coloring turning back to normal.

"Never mind," Enishi murmured waving aside what he had said, "It doesn't matter…"

"Who is Battousai, Yukishiro-sama?" Akimoto pressed, curious.

"A demon."

Enishi and Akimoto looked over to see who had interrupted their conversation. An old man, probably more than ten years older than Enishi, looked back at them.

"What was that?" Enishi hissed, his eyes narrowing.

"Battousai is a demon," the old man stated, "A sword-demon from Kyoto's past."

"Don't say such nonsense, Jii-chan," the waitress scolded before turning to the white-haired duo that she had been serving, "Don't mind him. He just likes to tell tales."

"It's no tale!" the old man protested, "Battousai did exist. I saw him!"

"Jii-chan," the waitress sighed at her grandfather.

"Wait," Enishi commanded, holding up a hand, "You saw him?"

"When I was a young man," the old man nodded, "I was part of the Choshu Ishin Shishi, I was. Stationed at the same base as Himura Battousai was for two years too."

"Jii-chan," the waitress sighed again, "Please stop pestering these men."

"Saw him kill too," the old man continued, ignoring the girl, "Frightening monster. Faster than lightning and deadlier too! To be in his presence was horrifying. He had this feel about him, like he was always tensed up to kill."

"Jii-chan," the waitress sighed for the third time.

"We want to hear," Akimoto said, shushing the waitress. The other patrons at nodded in agreement as they all gathered around the old man to listen. The waitress rolled her eyes but kept quiet.

"Where was I?" the old man mused, "Ah yes. Battousai. His name alone is frightening. It refers to –"

"His mastery of battoujutsu," Enishi finished for him, "The art of drawing a sword to attack your opponent quickly."

"Hai," the old man nodded, "No one ever lived after facing him. They would be dead before they could blink! Battousai could take down armies in minutes with his speed. Imagine! Piles of bodies and pools of blood where only moments before living men once stood. Frightening, frightening…"

"You embellish too much, sir," Enishi sighed at the sight of the pale face around him, "Battousai was a remarkable swordsman who killed many during the Bakumatsu, but he was hardly a demon."

"Then explain his looks!" the old man countered, "His hair was the color of the blood he shed! It was as if with every kill he would dye his hair in the blood of his victims! A cold blooded killer!"

"That's ridiculous!" Enishi snorted, "He was born with red hair. And he was hardly a cold blooded killer."

"And what do you know about Himura Battousai?" the old man asked quirking an eyebrow at Enishi.

"More than you think," Enishi laughed, before he became somber again, "More than you think…"

"Yukishiro-sama, tell us," Akimoto pleaded, looking at his employer. Enishi blinked a few times when he realized that most of the restaurant's patrons were gathered around him.

"I suppose Battousai is a popular subject in these parts," Enishi said, raising an eyebrow at the crowd.

"The Bakumatsu hasn't been forgotten," the old man shrugged, "And Hitokiri Battousai is one of the most legendary figures from that time."

"I see," Enishi murmured, "Let me guess, Battousai has become something of a ghost story in these parts, ne?"

"You might say that," one of the listeners agreed.

"Battousai is far from demon, or a ghost, or even a story," Enishi began, "He was a man. A boy, really. He was short and thin with feminine features on a face that looked younger than he really was. True, he did have red hair, but that only added to his delicateness. There is no doubt that with his fragile-looking build, the Ishin Shishi were probably reluctant to let him join. But then they witnessed his prowess with a sword. He was only fourteen when he joined the Ishin Shishi."

"Not even of age," Akimoto realized, "Younger than me…"

"Right," Enishi nodded, "He was very young and very naïve. However, he was cursed with a soft heart and the ability to kill."

"A soft heart?" another listener scoffed, "Battousai?"

"Hai," Enishi nodded, "He was very soft. It was very easy to use that soft heart against him…"

For a moment, Enishi thought back to the past, when he himself had used that soft heart to destroy the man he thought a monster…

In his mind's eye, he saw past a quarter of a century and pictured a lifeless lifelike doll pinned to the dojo and a feeling of satisfaction when he sensed a once strong ki shatter to pieces with despair…

Shaking his head to clear it, Enishi continued. He didn't notice when Akimoto stared at him, the youngster having had caught the strange expression on Enishi's face.

"From what I've heard," Enishi continued as his mind briefly thought of Tomoe's diary and what was written there, "Battousai had originally entered the war to help people. And due to his naïveté he ended up getting used as a tool for murder."

"Are you saying he was tricked?" one of the listeners asked.

"In a way," Enishi shrugged, "You know, sometimes people would do anything for justice. No matter how pure a person is, how innocent, or young, to obtain righteousness they would even sell their souls and become monsters without hesitation.

"So the young boy gave up his soul for the good of the country," Enishi continued, steering his mind away from more old memories, "With each assassination, with each murder, he was able to chip away at the shogunate's control and allow the Meiji Era to come to be. In his own way, he saved many more people than he killed."

"If he is such a hero, Yukishiro-sama, why is he thought of as a demon?" Akimoto asked, his pale eyebrows furled.

"Because he was very good at what he did," Enishi shrugged, "Very few survived after an encounter with him. It was not allowed for a hitokiri to leave witnesses. In his career as a hitokiri, Battousai only left a witness live once. In fact for the first half of his career, most had no idea who was the mysterious killer who left mountains of bodies in his wake until he stopped being a hitokiri and became a free sword and bodyguard."

"Battousai wasn't always a hitokiri?" one of Enishi's listener's questioned.

"Why did he stop?" Akimoto asked curiously, "Who was the witness he left alive?" There was a long pregnant pause.

"…That is none of your concern," Enishi replied, almost coldly.

In a quick movement, the former crime boss had stood up, his audience staring at him expectantly.

"I must leave," Enishi announced as he suddenly strode away from the group to exit the establishment.

"Y-Yukishiro-sama!" Akimoto called out, surprised at his employer's behavior, before running over to catch up with him.

Enishi had gotten about two blocks before Akimoto was able to catch up with him. For an old man, Enishi moved fast and was gifted to weave through crowds with ease.

"I apologize for storming out like that, Akimoto," Enishi said suddenly when he noticed his spy next to him, "Battousai is…an uncomfortable subject for me."

"I can see that," Akimoto murmured, raising an eyebrow, "You knew him."

Enishi knew it was a statement and not a question, so he didn't bother to answer.

"Where you the witness he let live, Yukishiro-sama?" Akimoto asked. Enishi snorted.

"Iie," the older man responded.

"You knew the person," Akimoto accused. Enishi gave a slight nod.

"May I meet this person?"

"I'll take you to her grave sometime," Enishi offered.

"Grave?" Akimoto asked, a curious expression on his face, "I thought she was –"

"All who witnessed Battousai kill during his hitokiri days died by his hands," Enishi said, a cold lilt to his tone, "However, only one was not killed on the spot."

"He let one live longer before he killed her," Akimoto clarified.

"Hai."

"Why?"

"The same reason he did anything really," Enishi replied, "He had a soft heart."

qpqpqpqp

Back at the restaurant

The patrons of the restaurant grumbled a bit when Enishi left. They had hoped for new stories on Hitokiri Battousai, but it appeared they would have to wait another time.

One by one, the large group dissipated about the restaurant. Some left all together. Slowly things went back to normal.

Then, suddenly, someone burst into the restaurant. The man was breathing a tad bit too deeply, as if he had been running. The various patrons of the restaurant turned to the stranger. Most of the patrons were regulars and it was rare to see a new face, so it was not surprising that they were curious.

"Welcome, sir!" the waitress chirped brightly, greeting the man at the doorway, "Would you like me to show you a table?"

The waitress knew that she sounded unnaturally cheerful, but she couldn't help it. Her Jii-chan's stories of Hitokiri Battousai always disturbed her, even though she always tried to convince herself that they were just stories. Then another man had come, only to tell more stories about Battousai. The way that white-haired man had talked so confidently about the hitokiri of old made the young waitress wonder if those fantasy stories were real.

The newcomer smiled gently at the waitress and told her that he was only going to pick something up and wouldn't stay long. The waitress couldn't see his smile very well, since he wore a broad-rimmed hat that obscured his face with shadows.

"And what would you like to take home with you?" the waitress asked pleasantly, not missing a beat.

"Soup or broth," the man replied, "Whatever type you think best would be nice."

The waitress blinked for a few seconds, not sure how to tell the man that soup was not one of the items they had for carry-out, since they did not have many containers for it.

But before she uttered a word, the man took off his hat.

"Kami-sama!" the girl gasped fearfully as she got a good look at his face.

A young man's face with delicate features and surrounded by blood red hair stared back at her.

As the waitress backed away in fear, the descriptions that both her Jii-chan and the white-haired man from earlier, flooded back to her, echoing in her skull.

He was short and thin with feminine features on a face that looked younger than he really was.

Red hair.

Strange eyes. Would turn blue or amber depending on his mood. Pray you never see his eyes when they are amber, granddaughter.

Red hair.

Faster than lightning and deadlier too! To be in his presence was horrifying.

Red hair.

Would always wear the uniform. Dark blue gi with gray hakama. I never saw him in anything else.

Red hair.

Swordsman.

Demon.

Killer.

Red hair.

"Are you alright, miss?" the red-haired swordsman asked as the girl's face became paler.

"Jii-chan!" the waitress hollered, bringing the old man to her side at once.

"Hai?" the old man replied before turning his eyes at their guest, "Oh my."

"Oro?" the redhead blinked, startled. All the other patrons stood stock-still and quiet, all of them afraid to move or even breathe.

"H-Himura-san?" the old man questioned fearfully, using a name that everyone in the restaurant knew from his tales and stories of a time past. And if the old man was addressing someone with red hair by that name, it could only be…

"Yes?" the man at the doorway answered, "You know me?"

"What do you want, Himura-san?" the old man asked, his voice filled to the brim with terror.

"Just some soup or broth…"

"Right away!" the waitress squeaked, as she headed towards the kitchens, immediately looking for one of their precious soup containers.

The patrons of the restaurant looked at the swordsman in the doorway with absolute fear in their eyes. Their eyes trailed downward, from his red hair to the sword sheathed at his waist. Swords were supposed to be illegal, but none of them dared to turn in the violator in fear that they might find that same illegal, yet legendary, sword plunged in their gut. Besides, the police couldn't arrest a demon or a ghost. The patrons had no doubt of whom was there; even though they knew it should have been impossible.

The assassin from their stories had come to life.

No one talked, moved, or breathed for several minutes, though it seemed more like hours or even days. The redhead at the door felt a bit uneasy at that, wondering at that lack of movement and the attention in the restaurant gave him. After a few minutes, the waitress came back, the soup container already sealed and wrapped in one hand and a wrapped bento in the other. Without a word, she shoved both into the red-haired swordsman's hands.

"I didn't order a bento," the perplexed swordsman said.

"It's on the house," the girl said quietly.

"How much do I owe —"

"It's on the house," the girl said again.

"A-alright," the swordsman blinked, still very confused at the fear that thickened the air in the room, "Um, miss, is there anything I can do for you? Is there something wrong?"

"Please leave, Himura-san," the old man said, his voice quivering, "We are honest folk. We have done no harm. There is no need for Tenchuu."

"Aa," the redhead replied, still very confused, "Arigato."

And with that, the swordsman put on his hat, and quickly left without question.

There was an audible sigh of relief in the restaurant when he did.

Outside of the restaurant, Himura Kenji stared at the two wrapped items in his hands, still curious about what had happened and why the people there seemed so afraid.

"Kyoto is different," Kenji muttered darkly under his breath.

qpqpqpqp

On Hiko's mountain

Kenshin stared hard at his shishou's sleeping face. Hiko was still knocked out cold, even though it had been hours. His breathing was slightly ragged; his forehead gleamed with sweat. Kenshin couldn't remember a time when he had seen Hiko so pale or ill. It worried him. It frightened him.

"How is he doing, Kenichi?" Megumi asked as she entered the hut, Sano right behind her.

"Still sleeping, Megumi-san," Kenshin replied without looking up.

"Alright, do you think you'll be alright alone while Sano and I go and pick herbs for medicine?" Megumi asked.

"Hai," Kenshin replied, "I'll be okay."

"Alright," Megumi nodded before she ducked out of the hut.

"Kid, you sure you'll be alright?" Sano asked, feeling worried. He had let this boy down when he was still a babe. Sano would be damned if he let anything happen to Kenichi again.

Kenshin looked up at his old friend, giving him his best Rurouni smile.

"I'll be fine," Kenshin laughed, "Hiko-san is with me."

Sano had to lick his dry lips with an equally dry tongue as (not for the first time) Kenichi's voice and face was overshadowed by another's.

"A-Aa," Sano nodded, a bit hesitantly, "Take care of yourself Kensh—I mean, Kenichi."

And with that, Sano left the hut leaving a blinking, yet smiling, redhead in his wake.

-

Author-chan's notes: And there you go. I'm sure a whole bunch of you are tearing out your hair for someone to figure out Kenshin/Kenichi's secret. But you are all going to have to wait. And wait. And wait some more. Yes, I know I'm evil. I have been told this fact many, many times. But hey, the chapters are getting longer than before!

Erg, the Kenji meeting Bakumatsu veterans and getting mistaken for his father scene went different than planned. It doesn't pack as much as a punch as it used to…

Oh, and a brief mention on Enishi's nerve damage. I know that one of his special abilities that helped him fight was his super nerves. (Don't know what else to call them.) I'm guessing that over time (plus all the fights he got into, plus the damage his body must have taken after Kenshin did that sheathing technique that messed up his sense of balance) Enishi must have extensive nerve damage. That means that Enishi is probably not in top fighting form anymore…