Chapter 5: A Price to Pay

Tokyo

The young boy had been watching the redhead for half an hour now, distancing himself as much as possible. So, this was the guy people had been speaking of for the past couple of weeks. The one who had taken down Battousai. Though he didn't want to admit it, he was fascinated. This man was so short. He looked so weak. It seemed impossible that he could have really done it.

He had tried not to let his interest show when he'd overheard some yakuza talking about this man. It hadn't been hard at first; fights were commonplace, after all... and even though it had been Battousai of all people who had been taken down, it really wasn't the fight itself that had drawn him. There were stronger and better fighters appearing all the time... and anyway, Battousai had to be an old man by now... No, what had fascinated the youth had been the description of the victor. "Young. Short. Kind of girly." If someone like that could take down Battousai, he might be worth some attention.

As though realizing he was being watched, the redhead carefully scanned the marketplace, his hand brushing his swords with an almost tender touch.

The youth watched in rapt fascination. This was a samurai. This was the sort of man his father would have known. Someone who even now wasn't afraid to show his swords. His heritage. Someone who had overcome what shortcomings nature had provided, and had still managed to grow strong.

Unconsciously, the boy stood a bit straighter. He really wasn't much shorter than this redhead. Not really. He just needed a little training (well, maybe a lot) and some swords. He was unable to dwell on this thought, once again forced to duck back down behind a small fish stand as the man turned in his general direction, his dark eyes scanning the crowd briefly.

Apparently satisfied, the samurai turned away and began walking, forcing the boy to push his way against the current of people on his side of the street to keep up. What business was he on? Why was he so wary? Someone like him had probably been sent by the government to deal with dangerous criminals like Battousai. The boy's eyes widened in excitement. Or maybe this guy was a criminal, himself. He was so lost in his imaginings, he almost plowed right into a pretty young girl sweeping in front of a building, only barely managing to dodge at the last possible moment.

Meanwhile, unhurriedly, the redhead slipped between stands and bodies. pausing here and there, but constantly moving along on his business. After what seemed like a long while, he stopped, causing the youth's heart to skip a beat. Finally.

To the boy's disappointment, he just picked up a basket from a vendor and began bargaining. Shopping. That's all? This can't be the guy... But he had to be. There was something different, even while making a simple purchase, that made him stand out from the rest of the crowd. Something other than his red hair, and the single, harsh scar that marred the left side of his face from cheek to chin. The boy watched his careful motions. The firm set of his shoulders. In fact, there was almost a tenseness in the air around him. Strong enough that people gave him room. The marketplace was crowded... but no one touched him.

The young samurai's eyes were on the basket and its owner, but his attention was clearly on everything else around him. He was aware of everything, and the boy knew it now. Knew that ducking behind people and stands hadn't hidden him at all. Knew that watching was over for today.

He turned away, catching from the corner of his eye, a glimpse of the redhead's heavy purse. In the end, the youth planned on relieving the him of that. But not until he'd gotten something far more valuable from this swordsman.

Until then, Yahiko planned on watching this one. Watching and learning from him.

Kenshin carried his load through the marketplace, acutely aware of the attention he was drawing. People were eyeing him, some openly. Others, like the boy who'd been following him, trying at least, to be more subtle. Either way, none of the attention seemed to be malevolent, and Kenshin suspected that more came from his appearance and conspicuous swords than anything else. Here and there he sensed some strong ki... ex-samurai he assumed, as he'd noticed a few men absently brush the hips of their hakama as he passed. Many of them were mere shopkeepers now, or slaves to other modest and "respectable" professions, however Kenshin couldn't help but notice several who seemed to do nothing but crouch near the entrances of dirty lean-tos drinking sake or, in a more ironic twist of fate, the frothy gold of a western beverage. These men... once some of the strongest in Japan... A small muscle worked in Kenshin's jaw as he passed some drunken brawl just outside a beef pot. It was difficult to see the state these men had fallen into. It was nearly as bad here as in Kyoto.

After coming to this realization, Kenshin mostly kept his head lowered to avoid eye contact. He didn't want to recognize anyone, whether they had once been comrade or foe. He'd been to Tokyo once or twice in the past when it had been called Edo. He knew there had been strong men fighting and defending the city. He had no wish to see what had happened to them.

And in some ways, he didn't want them to understand what had become of him either.

Carefully he pushed through the bustling streets, blinding his eyes to all but the dusty track that his feet mechanically traveled. Narrowing his focus to nothing more than his load of rice and tofu for the girl, some sake for himself, and, of course, a new basket for the laundry. He was hardly aware of the slanting rays of daylight, brightening the world around him. Barely took notice of the cacophony of shouting merchants and crying children, of animals and of wares being clanged around. He hardly even felt the warm sun on his skin. Nothing existed for him except those things he found couldn't ignore... The eyes that always followed him. Studied him. And the disorienting ki of so many people swaying between peaceful and desperate. It was stifling. Like a mass of children looking for a savior. Trying to understand how the peace they'd longed for had brought more control. More fear, even if it were a different breed. The emotions were strong, and frightening. He knew that if he allowed himself to concentrate on them, he'd drown in the confusion. So, in an act of self-preservation, he finally managed to stifle even this, hiding in the masses. Refusing to save them... to even wish for it. There was nothing for him here, but the heavy stench of fish and unwashed bodies... of sweat and dirt and work... Staggering, even to one used to a sweeter, cloying... and far more terrible scent.

The occasional fresh perfume of a passing girl was such a shock to his desperately focused senses that it was like a slap in the face, and he'd stop and look up unconsciously. The last elegant lady had actually made him look twice. She'd walked as a quiet, content shadow just behind her husband. In another lifetime he would perhaps have been drawn to her. To the simple quiet dignity she carried. To the warmth and strength radiating from her very being. He tried to force her from his thoughts, and began walking again, aware that he hadn't distanced his mind at all. She was there for much of his walk, and in the end he rationalized to himself that he simply had an affinity to the delicate scent of white plums. Nothing more.

He tried not to think about how this one woman had managed to erase the careful control of his mind. It was open again to the world. He couldn't hide here.

Kyoto

In a much different, more primitive setting, the sun filtered down through the trees illuminating a wolf and dragon. Two creatures both respected and feared, out of place in this warm, light glade.

Hiko stared silently at Saito for a long while, trying to find his voice. Knowing that when he did, the peace would be irreparably broken, and though the sun would still shine, darkness would follow silently in its footsteps. How was it that the destruction of an illusion could shatter his reality as well? And why... why, damn it, did his one solace, transient though it may have been, have to be stained in blood again?

Killing innocents? Destroying villages? Was it possible? He tried to picture his young deshi changing so much that he could not only taint the name of Hiten Mitsurugi, but absolutely destroy his own soul as well. Is it possible that Kenshin finally managed to do something that's truly worth being ashamed of?

"Hiko-san."

The tall swordsman shifted his glare away from Saito, his unfocused eyes staring angrily in the distance. "You're certain of this?" he asked, irritated by the small catch in his usually smooth voice. "You know for a fact that Kenshin has done these atrocities? Because if you're not..." He finally looked back, his dark eyes easily more deadly than the wolf's.

The tension in the air was tangible. Ki rolling off each of them so strongly that there was not a sound in the woods around them except for the gentle shifting of the leaves in the wind. The late sun's slanting rays were filtered somewhat into a soft green of light and shadow that danced lightly over the men.

The outside world was perfectly in balance with itself as Hiko's own crashed down around him, just as he'd known it one day would. Damn it, why?

His rage fought his sorrow, further paining him.

Has his soul devoured itself?

Saito was pacing now. He responded coolly, although Hiko could hardly understand the words, try though he might. "We have no proof. "

Can he be saved?

"But we have witnesses that place a scarred redhead at the location of three decimated villages within days of their destruction."

Must he be killed?

"In one village, there were survivors." Saito took a drag of the cigarette, "Most of the village made it out alive, but they attacked us upon entering. A makeshift gallows was set up in the center of the town. The bodies had been cut down, then left to rot below. When asked, the people would say nothing. When the name "Battousai" was mentioned, we were forced from the town."

Must I be the one to end his life? Hiko's eyes had closed, as his mind drifted in the echoing silence following Saito's words.

He'd entered the clearing, expecting the stench and gore of a week-old massacre. Instead he'd found a field of graves, and a child standing before three stones watching the sun set. He'd approached the child, unsure of how to respond. The boy hadn't acknowledged him with words, but he'd been open.

They'd stood in silent respect as the sun sank past the horizon.

Finally, Hiko had found his voice. "You buried these bandits along with your parents?"

"They were slavers, not my parents. My parents died a year ago."

As though that simple comment had answered anything. "And you buried them all?"

Such strong ki radiating from so small a form. "They were all people," the boy had whispered. "And now they are dead."

The only words that had run through Hiko's mind for that moment as they stood side by side had been, "He buried them all. He understands. This is why I saved him. He was meant to live..."

He forced his mind back to the present and downed a fair amount of sake. It's flavor was gone, replaced with the metallic taste of blood. He drank anyway. But I couldn't save him, could I? And now I have to kill him...

"I'm not going to wait here forever for your response," Saito said, finally stopping his pacing, and turning his unnerving eyes toward Hiko.

The swordsmaster ignored him, not really caring if Saito had to wait, chugging a bit more sake. He needed his brain to die, his memories to fade, before he'd even have a chance at agreeing to this.

"Hiko-san."

"Shut up and let me drink," Hiko snapped, viciously. "You've got your cigarettes, leave me to my vice."

Saito seemed unimpressed, his amber eyes narrowing darkly. "I need your answer."

"Would I be drinking myself to death if I planned on saying no?" Hiko finished his jug and tossed it down. "I need more alcohol... and I need Winter Moon."

Author's Note: Thanks for your patience. Most of my stuff is on a temporary hiatus right now, while I try to cope with yet another bout of real life. I do plan on getting my OC exchange fic done today or tomorrow. But other than that, updates aren't probably going to get any better for awhile. I have a lot going on and a hard time managing it. I know this isn't a place for personal issues, but I just want readers to understand. Updates will come, but only when I feel able to write them. For that I am sorry.

Thanks to lolo popoki, warg and FrostPhoenix for their beta work.

To readers: Thanks for reading. Thanks for your patience. Please review!

Dewa mata!

Sirius