Chapter 6. There can be only one

The next day was almost perfect for traveling; the sun was warm and the road was all the way downhill. It was really easy to walk like that, almost like they were running. What made it even better was that old man Asano was busy driving the wagon and Hiko-san walked ahead, leaving the boy alone to walk next to the wagon and practice his new way of talking with his spirit-friend.

It didn't take him long to realize that whatever the things the wall had been built of had been digging a hole had been a great idea. Talking with the spirit like this was almost like talking with a normal person. No longer did he have to keep figuring out what the spirit-friend was trying to say with the emotions, pictures and memories.

No, now it could explain things to him instead.

Not that the spirit understood things any better than him, but now the two of them could learn and compare their views. Their discussions, for instance, had made it clear that the spirit-friend found the living memory thing that had attacked the boy yesterday a really bad thing.

The boy hadn't liked it either, but they both had agreed that it was a good reminder of why they needed to get stronger. Neither of them wanted to be helpless anymore and if anything, yesterday — when they had been hiding under the carriage, shutting their eyes and hoping for the best — they had been useless to everyone.

Another thing they had in common was that the spirit didn't like the old man Asano, either. But its dislike went deeper and it wanted to do mean things to the old merchant to pay back for all the nasty looks, words and bossy commands, for treating them like they were still a slave. And while the boy agreed it would be pretty funny to see the old man Asano curse nettles and burs in his underclothes or to have him fish out mud from his socks, he wasn't sure they should do that.

He didn't want to be a bad boy.

And now that Hiko-san had finally called him by his name, talked to him like he would speak to another person worth respecting, he really couldn't do anything to disappoint the swordsman. Besides, if I am good enough, maybe Hiko-san will notice it and begin teaching us how to use the sword already?

The spirit, on the other hand, was of the opinion that he should ask the older man about the lessons, demand him to start teaching the two of them.

But it would be rude to question the way Hiko-san does things… And maybe he has a reason for not teaching us yet?


When they stopped for the night and made camp, old man Asano put the boy to fetching things again. Somehow though, it was even more annoying now as it seemed like the merchant wanted to convince Hiko-san of something. The boy frowned, noting the intent look of the merchant's eyes and the swordsman's oddly cautious ki.

Yes, they would talk about the important things tonight.

Hiko-san's coldness felt almost like it had been before the living memory when he had faced those bandits and listened their mocking. Itwas almost like it was telling them, 'State me your piece and I will make my decision by it'.

However, the merchant's behavior worried the boy more. Even the spirit-friend thought his manner odd, definitely something they should pay attention to. But the way old man Asano ordered them to do chores, kept them out of the way…

It seemed like a different approach would be needed.

So after the evening meal, instead of trying to join the older men's company by the fire, the boy took his blanket and made his bed next to the wagon, quite a distance away from them. Their murmur was barely audible, and he couldn't recognize any words, but it still should be close enough for what spirit-friend had suggested last night.

The boy laid on his back, clutching Kasumi's top tightly in his hands to calm his nerves, and then got down to business with the spirit. 'How can we hear better?'

'What the boy hears with?' a hesitant, faint whisper asked.

'The ears,' he answered, feeling a bit confused. Didn't everyone know this? But then again, the spirit had lived in a rock before…

'What does one feel like to the boy?'

'Cold.'

That was the best way he had of describing the slippery flow of the spirit living inside him, but still he was at loss as to why his friend wanted to know this now of all times. But then the spirit reached out to poke at one of his memories: the feeling of coldness flowing from the ugly stone to the boy, trickling through his hand like a stream of water

His eyes widening in surprise, he could only gasp as realization stuck. 'Oh! You mean I can push your coldness to my ears like that? And it will help us hear better?'

The petting comfort feeling.

That would be so great! Imagine the things I could learn like that. The boy grinned in this worked, old man Asano couldn't stop him from hearing important things ever again! And more importantly, he and spirit could learn more of Hiko-san, to understand him better and make sure they could actually trust him…

Yes, I definitely need to learn this trick!

These thoughts in mind, the boy searched for the feeling of coldness inside him again. He still couldn't touch the spirit's coldness on the other side of the wall, but whatever had streamed through the hole in the wall to his side should be fair game. It took no time at all to find the odd sensation in the form of a small floating droplet and he reached to touch it –

…Huh, it's almost like touching water.

But how should I move it? The boy frowned in concentration, and tried to push it. However, the droplet just gave way and flowed around his touch. A couple tries later, he realized he might have a problem. No matter from which direction he pushed, how little force he used, the coldness would break and flow around him like water before reforming back to a single drop.

But wait water! The coldness does look like water, and it feels like water, so maybe…

Back when he had had his family, he and his brothers had loved playing with water. During those summer days after harsh rains, the three of them had spent hours and hours drawing small ditches in the mud to guide the water downhill. It had been really interesting to see the water flowing quickly, gathering into large puddles and going where they directed it.

Oh, but that's it!

The petting agreement.

He couldn't draw ditches inside himself nor were his ears located downhill. But the coldness was not water and it didn't necessarily need to move downhill. No, because no matter how much force he had used, the droplet always became one. So if he led the coldness little by little…

Yes, it does follow me.

It took some trying, but after a while the boy learned to guide the coldness towards his ears. And finally it was near there, and he led just a trickle of coldness in…

AH! Every sound is so loud! It hurts!

The crackling of the fire was like thunderstorm in his ears, and old man Asano's voice boomed like giants. "…didn't know that you were the famous White Death –"

The clattering buzz of cicadas was like a banging iron pot around his head, the hoot of an owl seemed closer to a demon's shriek from fairytales. The boy shielded his ears with his hands, but of course it didn't help at all.

It hurt so badly! Everything was so loud, too loud to bear!

"…I am hardly a person of importance. No, nothing more than a wanderer…"

The spirit sent him a distressed feeling, but somehow it made everything feel even worse! Like the simple emotion put more coldness into his ears!

The fire crackled, and the crunch of someone's feet on gravel felt like it gnawed on the last of his endurance.

"…the foreigners are not good for…"

A small cry escaped the boy's lips, and he whimpered, trying desperately to keep breathing, to control the pain. He needed to guide the coldness away. Now!

The buzzing and crackling worsened, and tears stinging in his easy, he gasped for breath.

"…Hiten Mitsurugi style is a…"

The droplet gathering in his ears was slippery and kept escaping his frantic touches, but the pain was growing worse and he needed to draw it away! Away, right now, I gotta get it away…

Yes, it's almost there!

The moment the coldness left his ears, it was like someone had wrapped him inside muffling blankets and the overwhelming noises stopped immediately. His eyes wild with shock, he panted harshly as if he had been running for his life.

But slowly, as the pain turned into an ache and the muffling cocoon eased off to a sense of normalcy, a triumphant smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It worked! It really did work just like the spirit said!

Now, let's do it again!

The spirit sent a feeling of hesitation, of worry.

I got it to work and we did hear better! he insisted with a shake of his head. He smirked proudly. 'It doesn't matter that it hurt. No, I will do it better this time!'

A feeling of giving up, a fond warmth and then, finally, the petting comfort feeling.


The air smelt slightly of salt.

It was weird and it kept reminding the boy of something, like a distant memory tingling just out of reach, one that he really should remember. He didn't have any idea why it felt familiar, and after a while he tried to focus on other things. Now that they had reached the lowlands, the road had evened out and all around them the wind kept shaking the treetops. Worse, however, was that the dampness in the air made every gust feel like it was already winter even though it wasn't, not yet.

The road was wide and flat, and it was really easy to walk on it – and they weren't the only people traveling, either. Every now and then they would see passersby, men travelling alone, families traveling together and other merchant wagons pulled by horses or oxen.

Last night the boy had stayed up late to practice hearing better with the coldness. It was really tricky to get the trickle of slippery droplet to be small enough to be useful because he had come to notice that hearing too well made it just as impossible to make out words properly, just like as hearing badly did.

He had tried to continue practicing while walking, but it seemed to be even more complicated than talking with his friend with memories and feelings had been. And after he had stumbled in inattention, old man Asano had looked at him like he was something really nasty and smelly.

The boy hadn't continued trying after that.

However, looking at the people travelling the road and commenting on them with his friend became a new game to pass the time. Off course, the spirit still didn't like people, but it was willing to try to figure out things with him.

So the boy watched the people and showed the spirit the things he found interesting, like the man wearing a funny hat. He didn't know what it was made of, some reed like stuff, he guessed. But even though it looked weird, it would probably keep the sun out of his eyes and rain away from his hair. So after a moment's consideration, he decided that it would be a really nice hat to wear.

The spirit thought they should try to take it.

He disagreed, just as he had learned to do early on. The spirit usually had stupid ideas and it wanted to do a lot of things that the bad boys did. And no matter how he had tried to teach it to be better, every now and then the spirit would still suggest these weird thoughts to him.

Then he noticed a family was walking past them. There was a father, mother… and son. And a bundle strapped to the mother's back, so a small one there, too. But somehow, seeing them travelling together, just like his own family could have before everything had gone wrong, it hurt.

The boy looked aside, trying to ignore the painful reminder. Inhaling softly, he raised his gaze to look ahead at the wide back of Hiko-san walking ahead of them.

No, I'm not alone anymore.

And even if it hurts now… maybe sometime in the future, it won't hurt at all?

The spirit sent him the petting comfort feeling.

'Thanks,' he acknowledged his friend's effort. And strangely, just the knowledge that someone cared made him feel better.

Another merchant wagon passed them, this one pulled by a horse. He hadn't seen many of them and instantly he perked up in curiosity. The horse was very big, its dark long hair was slightly curly and brown coat looked fuzzy. In particular, its white marked nose seemed soft, just begging to be petted.

The boy smiled wishfully, admiring the animal from a distance. However, all of sudden he noted the man walking beside it with two swords on his hip.

A samurai guard?

The man's hair was pulled up and he seemed really serious. Maybe he is like Hiko-san and he is keeping an eye out for the bandits?

However, his curious ponderings came to a jerking halt when the man noted him in turn and paused to stare. The samurai's dark eyes narrowed, and he covered the hilt of his sword with his hand… but after a moment, he let go and grimaced in distaste, spitting on the ground and grumbled harshly, "Foreigner scum."

All the tiny hairs at the back of the boy's neck were standing up and the shivers of fear surged through his spine as he slipped away, circling to the old man Asano's wagon from behind to walk on the other side. But when he finally managed to calm his racing heart a bit, he frowned and asked his spirit-friend, 'What's with that foreigner thing?'

'Don't know,' it thought to him, and added a feeling of confusion.

'And that spitting…' The boy felt quite insulted, really.

'Rude,' the spirit agreed, and send him an image of tripping someone in the mud.

'Oh, I wish…' He smiled and countered the suggestion with a memory of how he had slipped a frog into second eldest brother's bedroll.

The spirit sent him a warm feeling, one that felt a bit like a smile and sent pictures of one prank after another and the boy really couldn't help laughing.

Soon, they were eagerly exchanging ideas of what to do to the rude samurai.

All of their suggestions were quite mean, but the little pranks wouldn't hurt anyone, not badly at least. And more importantly, it was really nice to play like this with the spirit.

It's almost like making up pranks with my older brothers. They, too, would have liked some of these trickier plans.


Old man Asano and Hiko-san decided to stop again when the sun was setting. The old merchant led the ox to eat the grass from the roadside and the boy was given the task of fetching water for the rice. Hiko-san made the fire and cooked dinner with a pointed scowl on his face, while old man Asano settled to enjoy the warmth of the fire.

And like yesterday night, the boy left again to his bed roll straight after the meal – he was on a mission.

Like usual, the men didn't care what he did, but started their conversation in the background.

So after he settled into a good position on his bedroll, the boy started to lead the coldness to his ears again. To prevent yesterday's mishaps from using too much, he had thought of an idea while traveling. What if he led the coldness to pool just at the edge of his ears, and then guided just a little bit inside to enhance his hearing?

Frowning in concentration, he carefully separated just a tiny drop and then…

The wind rustled in the treetops, the fire crackled loudly and suddenly old man Asano's voice boomed, alike he was shouting. "I cannot help but to tell you again, Seijuuro-san, how impressed I was with that Hiten-thing you performed to destroy the road blockade. A pile of solid tree trunks, and with one move all were blown into shingles."

The boy grinned in exhilaration. Yes, this is exactly what I wanted to hear!

"It was Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu: Doryusen. Yes, it is an impressive attack."

Huh, that's Hiko-san, but why does he sound bored? The boy frowned in thought. The swordsman's deep voice had an edge of annoyance to it, not exactly like he was about to lose his temper, but…

"So it is! And that foreigners' child you have… you say he is to be your student? Are you…"

And suddenly the muffling silence was back, and he nearly yelped in surprise. No! The coldness had run out too soon! And just when they were about to talk about him, too!

No!

So it didn't matter that the trick with the coldness had left his ears feeling sensitive, like hands scrubbed raw with sand. No, because he had to hear this!

Quickly!

And he drew another drop of coldness to his ears.

"…I thought at first that the boy was your servant. A new one, or… forgive me, but those rags, bad manners and his unruly behavior…"

"I know what you thought. The boy is a new to me, yes."

"But surely a fine sword master like you should have a better student? Perhaps someone taller, stronger… a proper Japanese boy? I happen to have a fourth son of suitable age…"

The silence that muffled the voices hit him again, and the boy panted frantically, his eyes wild with panic. Old man Asano has a son he wants Hiko-san to train, too?

What if Hiko-san would rather have Asano's son? Maybe the reason why he hasn't yet started training me is because he isn't happy with me? Maybe he is already thinking of taking an apprentice that is taller and stronger?

No! No, no, this can't be happening! The boy shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself in a desperate imitation of a hug. The spirit sent him the petting comfort feeling, but it didn't help him to calm down at all. No, this is too horrible!

We will get to Hiroshima in just a few days, and Hiko-san needs money! What if he decides to sell me and take Asano's son as his student instead?

No, Hiko-san wouldn't do that. He couldn't! the boy tried to tell himself, forcing himself to remember how the swordsman had accepted him, called him by his name, healed his hands – how he had even felt warm just a few days ago!

It simply can't be true! It can't! The boy shook his head, as if to keep away from the horrible thoughts. It didn't help, nothing could. So even though his ears were already aching from using coldness so much, so fast, he dragged the slippery coldness to his ears.

"…Hiten Mitsurugi style is a demanding style and only a few are even suitable candidates to practice it. What's more, the tradition and practicalities demand that it is only passed from Master to one student in the generation. The line has continued unbroken since the era of civil wars and I have no intention of breaking it."

"My son Hideyoshi is a dedicated student, a smart lad, truly. Reads and writes beautifully. He is polite, too, has impeccable manners and he knows his place – you wouldn't have to deal with any back talk. Choosing him as your apprentice wouldn't bring any disrespect to your honorable sword style's great legacy."

"The sword of Mitsurugi is too powerful to teach to just anyone."

The silence was like shutting him inside a muffled box and throwing away the key. There was something lodging in his throat and it was difficult to breathe. His ears ached badly, but it didn't matter. No, because his heart was racing like a rabbit's and he felt like he was dying.

Old man Asano's boy was that good? He knew his manners, knew how to read and write and on top of that he was even smart?

…How can I compete against that?

No one had ever praised him for being smart, not even his own family. And he didn't know any of the other things Asano-san had listed either! Why had Hiko-san decided to keep him? It didn't make any sense! Just what did Hiko-san want from his student?

Without even pausing to hesitate, he led the rest of the coldness to his ears.

"…I am willing to compensate you for teaching my Hideyoshi your craft. How about twenty Koku for every year of teaching? It would be a handsome pay truly – worth a true master of the craft."

"I think…"

Suddenly a sharp pain stabbed his ears and the boy cried out in panicked distress. There was something wet flowing down to his neck and he pressed his hands to his ears in desperate attempt to ease the pain and curled to his side.

It didn't work at all!

The pain kept stabbing him repeatedly, like someone was shoving chopsticks in his ears. Oh god, how it hurt! The boy cried out softly and curled up tightly, trying to keep breathing and ride out the waves of pain.

It took an eternity, but somehow the stabbing pain lessened and lessened, until it was almost bearable. His arms shaking, he pushed himself to sit up weakly and finally realized that there was something sticky on his hands. Holding out a hand, he sniffed at it… and then licked the odd wetness.

It was blood.

Huh. How can ears bleed? I have never seen anyone bleeding from their ears… Dazedly, he pressed the fabric of his wide sleeves to his ears and mopped away the blood. The trickle had nearly stopped, but his ears ached terribly. And now that his heart wasn't trying to jump out of his chest anymore in frenzied panic, he felt really, really tired.

It was difficult to keep his eyes open, and he yawned widely. Every movement hurt, but it didn't matter because he was too tired to think, to do anything, so he curled up on his side, felt the top hidden inside the pocked of his sleeves and then he knew no more.


It was perhaps no surprise that the boy woke up screaming. The memory of Ine-sama selling him had been so clear in the dream, just like it had happened right before his eyes and he sat up, panting heavily, feeling all slimy and wet.

Trying to calm down his racing heart, he glanced down and lifted the corner of his blanket, only to see wetness. Oh god, he had wet the bed! His eyes wide in shock and his shoulder shaking, he took a hiccupping inhale.

No, no, this can't be happening. Not now!

He didn't have other clothes, no other blanket. Hiko-san was already planning to get rid of him and old man Asano hated him.

He felt like crying.

Sniffling, he buried his face in his hands. The last time this had happened, it had been a long, long time ago, back when his mother had been alive. She had just hugged him close and together they had gone to wash his soiled bedding and clothes. But afterwards, his brothers had mocked him and called him "baby," when they had figured out why his bedroll was lain down to dry.

No, no… what should I do? Mother is dead!

He couldn't bother Hiko-san, not with this… Because his mother had been his mother and she had loved him no matter how stupid he had been or how much he had cried. But Hiko-san wouldn't ever want him as a student if he knew this.

No, no one can know this, but what –

The petting comfort feeling interrupted his fretting, followed by images of a lake, of washing cloth, the rising sun. Then, a sense of urgency.

Spirit-friend was right, the boy realized, and took a deep breath. Yes, that's what we should do.

There was water close to them, too. He had admired it yesterday evening when the road had taken them next to a big lake with more water than the eye could see. So he swallowed, gathered his bedroll into his arms and sneaked off to the shore.

The smell of salt was stronger there.

The morning was cold and clammy and the sky was filled with gray clouds so heavy that the sun couldn't be seen through them. And when he got to the waterfront and started washing his bedding, the water felt funny to his hands, and so very cold. It was colder than the well water back in the mountains had ever been!

But it didn't matter, because it was water and it had to work! Hurriedly, he scrubbed his bedding with sand, wrung it as dry as he could and laid it on the water beaten rocks on the shore. Then, even though he was already shivering and his skin become an odd blue shade, he stripped out of his damp hakama pants and washed them, too.

His shirt didn't feel wet, but his sleeves had red stains in them.

…Oh, the blood, he gulped in half-veiled panic.

No, Hiko-san shouldn't know that either. After all, what could he say if the swordsman asked where he had gotten the red stains? Nothing, not if he wanted to keep the spirit-friend a secret.

So he washed his face and mopped the side of his neck to be safe. The morning light's reflection on the water's surface mirrored enough for him to see that there wasn't that much blood.

Only very little. He frowned judiciously. It couldn't have been a bad wound, then.

His teeth clattered madly when he finally stepped out of the water. While the freezing water had been bad enough, somehow the slight gust of wind made it even worse. However, when he knelt to pick up the wet bundle in his arms, something lodged into his throat and he realized there was no way he could get his clothes to dry out here.

Suddenly, a sound of heavy steps crunched behind him.

Oh no. The boy turned to look around in panicked disbelief. No. This can't be happening. No –

"Odd time to wash your clothing," Hiko-san remarked dryly.

What can I do? Should I try to hide what happened?

'Lie,' the spirit whispered.

But mother told me to never lie! She said that only bad boys lied! What should I do? There are no good choices at all! And suddenly, a hiccup escaped from his lips and he just blurted it out. "I wet the bed!"

Immediately he dropped his gaze to his toes, feeling more ashamed than ever before. It hurt, because he knew he had just destroyed every chance of gaining Hiko-san's approval…

"I see."

The awkward silence echoed the swordsman's words.

The boy didn't dare look at him and it felt like the horrifying silence just stretched on and on. But then, finally, Hiko-san said in an odd voice, "I will start breakfast. We will move out when Asano wakes up."

The crunching of sand and stones ended the conversation, and swallowing the boy glanced up from between his lashes and saw the swordsman walking away, his white cape flapping in the wind.

Huh…

That's it? He didn't yell, didn't lash out… nothing. Just what does that mean? The boy frowned in though, returning once more to wringing his clothes a bit dryer. It didn't escape him that the swordsman's coldness hadn't budged a bit, feeling the same as it always had. Hiko-san hadn't called him by his name, either. He just left quickly, without really saying anything.

If anything, it's like he was embarrassed too… The boy swallowed dryly, trying not to remember how his brothers had reacted when they had been shamed. It was even worse!

'What if it means that Hiko-san hates us now?'

'Ask,' the spirit suggested.

But what if asking will make him even angrier? the boy thought helplessly, the weight of the unknown continuing to pile on his shoulders. However, the spirit had a point, because he needed to know and this was important.

So nodding just once, he conceded to the suggestion. After all, if Hiko-san was already angry with him, getting him angrier wouldn't matter much.

Yes, I'll ask him.

Besides, didn't he say that old man Asano is still sleeping? So really, now is the perfect chance to ask if I am Hiko-san's student or not.

…And what Hiko-san plans to do in Hiroshima. He gulped, but finally, with determination etched on his face, he gathered his wet clothing in his arms and headed back to camp. However, when he got there, Hiko-san didn't say a word to him, not even in greeting, just shoved a bowl of rice into his hands and took the wet bundle to hang out to dry near the fire.

The boy didn't even have a chance to do anything else than gape in befuddlement, because all of a sudden his stomach rumbled loudly, letting him know that he hadn't eaten in half a day. In a daze and badly out of balance, he settled to eat and tried to figure out how to ask the right things. After all, asking stupid things would only needlessly annoy Hiko-san. Swordsman didn't like talking with people, he knew, and so it made sense to ask only the most important questions.

Just as he was finally gathering courage to voice his questions, the blankets rustled at the side and a loud yawn came from Asano-san's direction.

"Ah! Breakfast is ready!"

No! Why didn't the old man sleep longer?! The boy bit his lip in disgruntlement. It wasn't like he could ask these things when Asano was there… To add salt to the wound, the merchant settled to sit next to Hiko-san as calm as he pleased, without even sparing the boy but his customary frown.

Uh, maybe there will be a better moment tonight?


Travelling that day wasn't any better than the miserable morning had been. Not only had his pants not had any time to dry properly and he had to walk with the damp cloth clinging to his legs, feeling all nasty, but even worse was that when old man Asano had seen his wet clothes and blankets, it was like he had known with one look what had happened and he had looked at him like he was something dirty.

The boy hadn't thought it was possible for him to feel any worse than he already did, but that poisonous look was thousand times worse than the heavy teasing his brothers had ever bestowed on him so long ago.

What struck the feeling even deeper, however, was the merchant's idle remark to Hiko-san. "A strong and capable lad, eh?"

Somehow, when he was so blatantly compared to Asano's son, of whom the merchant had so proudly boasted about to Hiko-san…

Just why did Hiko-san take me with him, again?

No matter how the boy had tried to figure out the answer to these troubles, to gain any understanding of the swordsman and his expectations, the less he understood.

Asano-san had a good and perfect boy, who was big and strong and smart and polite, and he was none of those things. After all, he didn't know much about anything; he was too small and weak to be useful. Even father had thought so before the sickness! And worse, he was different. People like that samurai spat at the sight of him.

The spirit-friend wasn't very helpful either. Maybe it was because it didn't see things like humans did, but it suggested that Asano had lied about his son. It kept saying that the boy shouldn't think so lowly of himself, that he would be a perfectly good student for Hiko-san.

It just showed that the spirit didn't understand anything, if it didn't even see how lacking he was!

Feeling sorry for himself, the boy didn't even bother watching the other travelers on the road. No, all his earlier excitement and curiosity was gone, buried under his worries. Every step he took felt harder to take. It really didn't help that just this morning at breakfast old man Asano had eagerly mentioned how happy he was to reach Hiroshima tomorrow.

No, he was running out of time.

And the longer he thought about it, the clearer it became that old Asano-san's perfect son would be a better student to Hiko-san. If he could realize it, so could Hiko-san and the swordsman had said it himself, there was only one master and one student of his sword style at one given time.

The fact was that Hiko-san didn't need him, and what did people do with the things they didn't need? It was like old Ine-sama, who had been given a child she didn't need… but she had needed money.

Just like Hiko-san.

There was something lodged in his throat, making it harder to breathe, and the boy hugged his arms around himself.

It didn't help, because his feet felt like lead and time was running out.


The morning had been embarrassing and bad, the day full of doubts and fears. But now that they were at the evening meal and it was the last chance the boy would get to ask Hiko-san what he intended to do at Hiroshima.

It was the question he needed to know more than anything else.

And even if it was rude, and he was nearly drowning in terror, he still felt like he owed something to Hiko-san. After all, the swordsman had taken him in, given him a name and cleaned his wounds. What was more, Hiko-san had given him his shirt to sleep in, even he didn't have a spare, and he had been something like a steady rock in the boy's life these past couple weeks when he had nothing and had been utterly lost.

So, for all those things the boy would trust Hiko-san once more and ask this one question, because he needed to know what was going to happen and even the spirit friend agreed with him.

It didn't matter that old man Asano was there and looked at him like he wasn't supposed to be there, bothering adults with his dirty presence.

No, it doesn't matter because I don't have time to wait anymore. The boy braced himself and asked hesitantly, "Hiko-san?"

"What is it, boy?" The swordsman raised his brow.

He said boy not Kenshin. A boy. A boy is not a person… He swallowed dryly, but didn't relent because this was important. "What are you going to do in Hiroshima?"

There.

I did it!

Old man Asano's face twisted into an ugly scowl for the bad manners of a child speaking to an adult so directly. Even Hiko-san frowned at him, his ki dropping a shade colder, before he replied, "I am going to buy and restock supplies."

I. Hiko-san said I, not we. His heart beat madly in his chest; it was becoming harder to breathe and his hands shook.

No. No, it isn't possible…

"Supplies?" he managed to stutter. Hiko-san is going to buy things. Buy. Buying needs money. Hiko-san doesn't have a lot of money.

"Food, clothing. The snowfall is coming."

The words were delivered coldly, dispassionately, and with them the boy's last hopes that it wasn't true just broke apart. That's it. It's really going to happen… Hiko-san is really going to do exactly as Ine-sama did.

No! I need to get away, now!

"What a disrespectful lad! A fine sword master such as you, should…" Asano drawled, but the boy couldn't focus on the words from his panic.

No, what he said to get away from the campfire, the boy didn't know, but the next thing he noticed were his shaking hands struggling to tie the bedroll into a neat bundle for carrying. Thankfully, he had done it so many times that he managed it with only a few missteps, even in his frenzied state. The last of his food, the despised dried fish he had hoarded so carefully these weeks got packed inside the bedroll, too, and then he stopped to make sure he had his precious top and water jug.

Yes, I have everything.

A final glance at the campfire where the men were murmuring felt like he lost his family again. But he needed to leave, quickly – before he would be sold again.

No, don't think, just go! Now! And with that, the boy slipped into the night.


Hiko scowled at Asano, barely tolerating the old merchant's constant yapping. Distantly, the boy's ki felt distressed.

Just what on earth is going on with that kid?

Thankfully, it wouldn't be long before they would be rid of the annoying old merchant. Hiko really didn't think he could stand to listen one night more about how perfect Asano's fourth son would be for sword training and how impressed the merchant was with him and his sword-style.

Honestly, Asano was like a salivating dog seeing a bone and trying to find a way to get it.

Of course, Hiko knew why the old man kept insisting; the strength of Hiten Mitsurugi swordsmanship was obvious to even a blind man and for a merchant family, such power would be useful beyond words. Especially as the boy offered for training was the fourth son, the one not needed for continuing family business and one too far in inheritance line to be of use for furthering the family unions.

Frankly, not only did he find such blatant opportunistic attitude disgusting, it also brought back memories best left forgotten. Still, there didn't seem to be a way to deter Asano tactfully and annoying or not, the old merchant was needed to pay for the completed job, so there wasn't much to be done about it.

During the travel time, Hiko had tried to stay as far away as possible from the old man, but at the mealtimes that hadn't been an option and he had been left with firm and polite refusals.

A hopeless task, truly.

It wouldn't have been such an issue but for the fact that dealing with Asano left the boy somewhat neglected. The lesser of two evils to be sure, but it was still detrimental to Hiko's plans for the boy.

Another such sour decision was allowing Asano to keep bossing his apprentice around to do chores. It would keep the boy lodged too deeply in his slavering obedience and wouldn't help him to develop independent thinking. But on the other hand, it worked well to keep the boy from listening to Asano's tedious and fairly insulting persuasions.

The old merchant's problem with the foreigners was a little bit over the top. However, it was a fairly common attitude, especially among the older folk, and at least Asano was tactful enough not to voice his issues in front of the boy. Gods only knew how the boy would take all that crap to heart, not being old enough yet to have learned to ignore such attitudes.

But what came to his apprentice, Hiko was becoming worried for his mental state.

The boy's trouble with sleeping was obvious, and even Asano couldn't snore uninterrupted through his nightmares. However, there was very little he could do about them but to let them pass on their own – it was how he dealt with his own nightly horrors, too.

But then there was that living memory after their encounter with the bandits, and now the boy was waking up screaming and wetting the bed… All this indicated clearly that the boy's issues were becoming a problem that needed to be resolved or at least dealt with.

However, Hiko was hopeful that the boy was becoming better. Today the boy had finally gathered the courage to initiate a conversation. A positive sign, one that he hadn't wanted to make a big deal of for fear of scaring the kid more, but it had been one of this miserable week's best developments. When the kid lost his courage halfway through, he hadn't been surprised and had let him retire early.

Staying behind, Hiko had been left to fight with the desire to strangle Asano because he couldn't see a polite way to excuse himself from the situation either. It was only sometime later that he calmed down and realized all of sudden that he couldn't feel the boy's familiar, softly flowing ki anywhere.

What on earth?

Asano was still yapping about training, his sons and swordsmanship.

"Quiet," Hiko ordered firmly. It was hard to focus through the constant noise, but even so he should be able to feel the boy's quiet spiritual aura from quite a distance…

Asano's mouth fell open in outrage, but he did fall silent.

Good.

However, even a triple check later the results were still the same. Either the boy had suddenly developed an ability to mask his presence, a feat that even the skilled users of spiritual manipulation would be hard pressed to copy, or… he simply wasn't there.

Neitherof the options made any sense.

"I need to go check on the boy. Please, forgive me this rudeness." Though his tone was curt, he bowed slightly. His feelings aside, it would be rather stupid to anger his meal ticket when a little politeness could ease the way.

Taking his time, Hiko started by checking the surroundings of the merchant's wagon where the boy had taken to sleeping. The results were predictable; the kid was nowhere to be found and even more worryingly, the boy's bedroll was missing from the spot he recalled Kenshin leaving it.

What had happened?

No one had been near the camp, of that Hiko was absolutely sure of. It didn't matter how distracted or annoyed he had been, because he would have noticed any foreign presences nearing them, or at least heard or seen something suspicious. There hadn't been any sense of a fright from the boy either, just that general feeling of distress the boy always seemed to radiate.

So no, he hadn't slipped up in his guard duties, thank you very much. But what did that leave him with?

Hmmm, but why would the boy leave out of his own volition? Hiko frowned, and searched his memories for the evening. No, there hadn't been a single thing worth mentioning. The boy had been somewhat jumpier, yes, but it could have just as well been from the harsh night before and the morning episode with the bedwetting.

Leaving now, especially now that we are nearly in Hiroshima – it makes no sense. No, damned if I am going let it to end like this.

I have to find the boy and get some answers!

While it hadn't been long since Hiko had seen the kid, the boy couldn't have gone far with those short to, though? The kid couldn't be stupid enough to go into the woods, not at night. So that left the road; which way though?

To or away from Hiroshima?

If I was distressed and running away, where would I go?

Away from the people, obviously. Hikoscoffed. But the kid was not him, so where would the boy go?

Dammit all to hell.

He couldn't even begin to guess, but there were only two choices. If could just figure out the kid's motives, picking the odds would be easy. But standing at the road, a grimace on his lips, he couldn't help thinking, Have I truly fallen so low? Playing guessing games without any facts?

The odds, the motives… none of it mattered. He was fast and checking both directions was well within his capabilities.


The boy was stumbling in the dark, his eyes wet with tears and he tried to keep breathing. And though he was a big boy and big boys didn't cry, it all felt so overwhelmingly bad.

My hopes, my dreams of not being alone…

The spirit tried to comfort him, but for some reason its attempts made the boy feel even worse. Right now, comfort was the last thing he wanted.

No, right now all he wanted was to be alone.

Alone.

Alone, so that no one could try to sell him. It couldn't hurt so much to be alone either, and he wouldn't have to see how people didn't like him.

Falling every now and then in the darkness, he trudged forward as fast as he could away from Hiroshima. The thick clouds didn't let much moonlight shine through, but it didn't matter. He hurt too much to be scared of the dark anymore.

How long he had been walking he couldn't say, but all of sudden he heard footsteps behind him and then a familiar sensation of coldness.

No! Thunderstruck, he stopped. Throat gone dry, he swallowed thickly. Then, not daring to turn around to look behind him, he said, "I won't be sold again."

A silence was his only answer.

"Never again. Even if…" he hiccupped, "even if you need money to buy things for winter, and you can get a better student in Asano's son."

"So that was it, huh," Hiko's deep voice remarked blandly. The boy didn't know what it meant, but then the swordsman continued. "Why do you think that I would take Asano's son as my student?"

Squeezing his eyes shut, the boy didn't turn around. For some reason, it felt easier to talk like this. "Because he is bigger and stronger and smarter. Polite. Obedient. He knows how to read and write –"

Pausing to draw a deep breath, he continued even more frantically, "I heard Asano-san! His son is so much better than me! And he is not ugly and weird like me! Asano's son is not a foreigner!" The last word he spat out just like he would say a bad word.

It felt good to say those things out loud and get them off his chest.

"Huh."

Just what does that mean? Why can't Hiko-san make any sense?! Surely he should do or say or yell something? This quietness is horrible! Gods, how badly the boy wanted to speak bad words, or to yell at the swordsman just to fill this silence. But still, even after everything, he simply couldn't be angry at Hiko-san.

I just don't know what to do!

However, it had felt good to speak his thoughts out loud, so he continued, "I understand why you would rather take Asano's son as your student. I won't think badly of you for it. But just… please, let me go. Don't sell me!"

"You are an idiot, Kenshin," Hiko-san finally said.

His mouth gaping wide open, the boy couldn't help but to stare ahead blankly, feeling numb all over. 'Idiot.' Idiot is a bad word. But, but Hiko-san said my name..?

"You think too much, but don't think enough to ask. You assume and let your fears guide you."

…What?

"I am not going to sell you. I am not going to take Asano's son as my student." Hiko-san scoffed, and his ki started to feel slightly warmer. "The Hiten Mitsurugi style is only used by two, the master and the student. The second time I met you, I told you that I will teach you."

And even if his heart was beating rabbit fast, every word Hiko-san spoke made it easier to breathe.

"I am Hiko Seijuuro the 13th. I will honor my word. I have no need to lie."

Suddenly, a step crunched behind him and he looked over his shoulder, only to see Hiko-san walking towards him. The moonlight shone brightly one the swordsman's white cloak and made him look like a spirit or a demon from the children's tales. "I claimed you, boy – gave you a name. You are Kenshin, my student and I won't let you go."

It was like the truth in those words broke something in the boy, and he sniffled. Taking a step, another, and then nothing mattered anymore and he ran to Hiko-san, and hugged the swordsman's legs with all his strength.

Hiko-san let him cry, patting his back a few times, before stroking his hair.

It felt good to cry.


When all of his tears had fallen, he let go of Hiko-san's legs and dried his eyes with his sleeve.

"You alright, boy?"

Swallowing, he bit his lip before coming to a resolution and hesitantly asked, "Kenshin. My name is Kenshin. You gave it to me. Could you use it, please?"

It was rather rude to demand something like that, and he didn't dare look up, just waited in silence. However, Hiko-san didn't feel cold or angry, and after a moment he risked a covert look up through his lashes. The swordsman's brow was raised in question, and the boy cringed, trying to explain. "People who are respected have names. Slaves don't. No one but mother and Kasumi has called me by my name. Old Ine-sama didn't."

He paused to take a deep breath, but because Hiko-san didn't feel angry yet, he felt a little bit surer and offered, "I will call you whatever you want me to call you, but I want to be called by my name in return."

Suddenly, a loud scoff echoed in the air.

"Traditionally, the student calls his teacher master," the swordsman rumbled. "Kenshin."

Looking up, a hopeful smile beginning to tug at his lips, he watched Hiko-san shake his head and turn around to walk away.

Hiko-san… No, master.

Then the boy, no… Kenshin, said it out loud, tasting the words. "Yes, master."

Yes, it feels right.


Edited first by Chie in 2013, then rewritten completely in June 2015 and edited 11.7.2015 by BelovedStranger