AN: And after a long downhill slope, Kenshin's routine takes a sharp turn …right.


Chapter 37 – No, thanks. I don't want any friends

Kenshin woke up late that afternoon. The night had been a long one, one job after another past sunrise, and he'd only snatched a scant few hours of sleep. His muscles ached with the familiar burn of ki overuse, but his headache had lessened to a fraction of what it had been: a mere steady throbbing between his eyes, like being constantly patted with a brush made of needles.

Quite honestly, he was exhausted.

So he scrounged up a cold meal: rice and breakfast leftovers from the kitchens. It wasn't a common dining time, but the maids had grown used to his unpredictable routines, seeing him constantly coming from and going to work, and they left him alone without comment. He was thankful for it. While his little aches and pains were the one constant in his life and reminded him that he could still feel something, he didn't think he could endure even well-meant curiosity right now.

It was odd, though. He'd swear that the amount of time he could use internal ki-enhancement before the headache struck and his muscles started burning had been growing shorter. His recovery seemed to be taking longer, too. He hadn't tried to measure it, hadn't put down numbers and compared them – he didn't have the time between jobs for such things – but it was puzzling. Shouldn't ki become easier to use the more accustomed he became to it? At least, that was how it had worked with all other forms of training: the more he practised, the easier it became.

Or could it be that he was just imagining it and jumping at shadows?

However, when it came to muscle aches, a while ago he had discovered a nice way to ease them. The inn he stayed at had a large, outdoor bathhouse, as was customary for such establishments. A good long soak in the warm water was the best for afternoons like these. At least, when he had time to spare for such frivolities.

Kenshin grabbed a change of clothing and headed to the backyard.

The large bathtub was kept warm throughout the day and it was free for use by all inn patrons. However, he never had to worry about having company. The rest of the men had noted his habits and left him alone. The few older comrades out of respect for his preferences, the newer men out of fear. Kenshin didn't like being feared, but considering how difficult it would be to go against Nakamura's rumor-mongering… perhaps it was better like this. More restful, if nothing else.

After a fast scrub in the washroom, Kenshin moved to the bath and slowly eased himself into the warm water.

Ah.

It truly felt nice.

It was autumn now, late in the eighth month. After a long, difficult year, the rebellion was finally gaining some momentum. Since Emperor Komei's death and the young crown-prince Mutsuhito's ascent to become Emperor Meiji half a year ago, the Ishin Shishi had worked tooth and nail to regain the influence they had lost, and now the power balance was becoming more evenly split. Katsura-san, Saigo-san and Okubo-san were working together, a trio of political powerhouses against the tide of resistance, though Sakamoto-san's presence was often needed to help keep their volatile tempers in check. The Choshuu and Satsuma alliance was gaining strength; in the number of fighters, Western weaponry, as well as the political influence they could garner.

Kenshin had been working hard, too. Sometimes he would accompany Katsura-san to meetings in a mostly decorative role, but sometimes Katsura-san's safety was threatened and his presence became paramount. When Katsura-san didn't need him, he worked with the rest of the men in his unit, defending them or covering weapons shipments that were smuggled to the town. Essentially, wherever Hitokiri Battousai's skills were needed, Kenshin went without complaint.

The harsh work had forced him to become more efficient with his swordsmanship. He only used the ki enhancement trick in short bursts, whenever he needed to cut through men in droves. Killing was easy, almost like a reflex. He didn't have to think about it anymore. Everyone in his path was just one target after another.

In a way, it was a good thing.

He could kill dispassionately, considering only the fastest methods. He still offered his opponents a chance to flee, but if they didn't take it… well, they died. He couldn't even remember the last time killing had been difficult, or required him to consider anything besides the armor or defenses of his target.

On some level, it was horrifying to be numb like this.

Yet it was the only way he could still serve. Kenshin had sworn he would see the revolution through, and without her strength to remind him of better days, her wisdom to question his methods and logic, it was better to be like this. Only when the madness of revolution was over could he leave this wretched way of living behind.

Sometimes, in his better moments, Kenshin wondered what he would do after the war, when he didn't need to kill people anymore. He had no idea how to ensure his livelihood, but it would be wonderful to be no one again. He wouldn't need to fear recognition from strangers on the street, or be constantly on the lookout for enemies. He could just be a man and help people, no questions asked.

An enthusiastic voice pulled Kenshin out of his musings. "But you cannot fathom her beauty! She was as delicate and elegant as the most regal Oiran, but she didn't need rich make-up or dress to stand out from the crowd! With mere flowers on her arms, her long hair pinned up with a simple ornament, bangs shading her face… she held mystery and allure, far more tempting than anyone I have ever seen. I was allowed only a glimpse of her fey face, but her eyes were like jewels and her lips just begged to be kissed. Ah, I must see her again!"

"Makoto, please…" a low, rumbling voice groaned. "Just allow me a moment's peace and quiet, will you? You have been blabbering about this mysterious beauty of yours for days now."

Somewhat dazed, Kenshin blinked in befuddlement. Had his ki sense become so frayed that he didn't notice people until they were close enough that he could hear their voices? Or was he simply too tired to pay attention? He rubbed his eyes tiredly, trying to shake off his sleepy relaxation and then, concentrated on the flickers of presence nearing him. Yes, there they were. Both were just fairly unremarkable and easy to ignore.

He sighed in relief… until an innocuous sound made him stiffen with shock, his eyes snapping wide open. In the room next to his, a door slid open. A pair of footsteps creaked on the floor. Clothes rustled, swords were put down, followed by splashing…

Oh gods, those two strangers were coming to bathe?

Now?

But why? Didn't they know that he was in here? This was his time to relax! He still hurt and if he left the hot water now, his jarring muscle aches would come back with ferocity, Kenshin knew they would.

But maybe, if they saw him, they would skip a soak and leave him alone?

Or should he call out to them and let them know he was here? Surely they would leave him alone if he did so?

However, before he could gather his wits enough to shout, the cheery voice declared. "Alright, Hideyoshi. Are you happy now? I was quiet for two whole minutes! Surely that's enough silence to satisfy you, huh?"

The lower voice laughed. "I'm amazed you lasted that long, Makoto."

"Hmmph! I only did it because you asked so nicely! But really, don't you think there's something fishy about us being assigned here? So many rebels, but all of them ronins from different provinces – that can't be a coincidence. And that Nakamura fellow, the weasel, he had such a sneaky look on his face when he introduced us."

"Nakamura has issues, that's as plain as day, and before you ask, no – I didn't much care for him either. The rest, well, the men seem nice enough. But, um… Older. More experienced." The voice paused. "I don't think we have much in common with them, you know?"

"I hear you." The cheery one agreed. "It has to be a conspiracy! All the guys are so ooold, like, over thirty, and we all come from different provinces… I mean, I guess there's some logic to sticking all the oddballs together, but one would assume there would be more Choshuu men. I talked a bit with that Fujiwara and he said that–"

The door between the washroom and bath slid open. Kenshin tensed and looked aside, slouching a bit more, so that he was chin deep in the tub. He really, really didn't want to face other people right now.

However, unlike the surprised gasps he was expecting, the cheery voice only fumbled for a second, before starting again, "Oh, hi! Sorry to disturb you! I didn't realize there was anyone else here this early! I don't think we have met. I'm Komatsu Makoto, a new recruit – nice to meet you! And please, just call me Makoto! I cannot handle stiff formality at all!"

There's no way to ignore these guys out of existence, is there? Kenshin groaned softly and opened his eyes, glancing at the newcomers.

The overly cheery, chirpy one was a slender, tall young man with long, sleek hair and an eager smile. Next to him stood a tall, broad-shouldered youth, who was build like a mountain. He resembled Master a bit, at least what Kenshin imagined Master had looked like at that age. Expression-wise, too. He was looking at Kenshin with a distinct frown.

The chirpy one didn't seem register the tenseness of the moment at all. Nor did he stop to wait for an introduction or an invitation before he climbed into the large, communal bathtub without a by your leave. He settled across Kenshin with a happy, contented smile on his face.

The other youth followed him.

Kenshin couldn't help but to stare at the pair in stunned silence. These guys, didn't they recognize him? How new were they? And where they were from, straight from the backwoods, that neither of them spared a single glance at his scar? His hair drew their gazes, but not long enough to be considered rude and neither seemed to be wary of his presence.

"Um…" The broad-shouldered youth cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm Asano Hideyoshi. Please, call me Hideyoshi. Nice to meet you...?" He smiled, and motioned towards Kenshin, clearly expecting a reply.

Kenshin avoided their gazes, but mumbled awkwardly, "O… er, Himura. Himura Kenshin, that I am." In half-veiled panic, he wondered if he should just abandon the nice, warm bath and escape from this mess.

"Nice to see there are others our age in this unit! I was already losing hope." The cheery one interrupted his fretting before he could make up his mind. "But I just gotta ask… Kenshin? Is it alright if I call you Kenshin? Anyways, do you have a sister? Because I swear you look exactly like my latest crush and if you know her, maybe you could introduce me to her? I'm not a stalker, believe me! She was just so beautiful the other day, wearing that purple kimono and carrying flowers on her arm…"

The clues connected and Kenshin nearly bit his tongue in surprise. Ack! Heat rushed to his face and he covered his face with his hands.

"Ah, so you know her!" Chirpy moved closer to him, like a dog after a bone. "But I guess I'm not the only one after her attention. Please, tell me about her! At least her name!"

Why was there never a deep hole in the earth nearby when he needed a place to hide? And why hadn't he left when he had the chance? Kenshin all but whimpered. "Er… this unworthy one doesn't have a sister, that he doesn't."

"Makoto, knock it off! Can't you see you are bothering Himura-san?"

"Awh, man… Hideyoshi!" Chirpy started to whine, but then gave up with an exaggerated, disappointed sigh. "But alright. I guess it's not polite."

"It isn't." Hideyoshi said decisively. "Though Himura-san, if you don't mind me asking – how come we haven't seen you before? I mean, we are new, but we have been here for a couple days already." His voice was low and pleasant to listen to. It was exactly the sort of masculine voice that as a boy, Kenshin had occasionally fantasized about having when he grew up. Not to be, of course.

Kenshin glanced up between his lashes, only to see a pair of curious gazes directed at him. So despite his wariness, he found himself answering the direct question. "Ah, well – that is to say, this one works often, that he does. Long nights and irregular schedules."

"That explains it," Hideyoshi nodded. "So, have you been with the rebels long?"

"O-er, it's been now, ah… four years?"

"Woah! That's a long time!" Makoto chirped. "And you can't be much older than we are! I mean, I turned twenty a while ago and it still wasn't easy for me to get recruited to the Ishin Shishi. Those stuck-up bastards back in my province didn't want to give me a chance to prove my worth. You must be really talented! And if I may say so… you have absolutely wicked scars. Where is that one from?"

Kenshin hadn't ever met anyone as talkative and outgoing as Chirpy was. Whenever Makoto opened his mouth, sentences just flowed out one after another and he had such energy that it was difficult to keep up with him. Confused, and off-balance, Kenshin glanced down at his chest where Makoto was pointing.

Oh, that scar…

It was a recent one, but not bad as far as wounds went. Just a tiny slash when Kenshin had gotten careless. "It was a retreat from a Shinsengumi raid, so it was."

"You've fought against the Mibu wolves? That's great!" Chirpy enthused, before hastily correcting himself, "Oh, right – four years, of course you have. How about that scar on your face? I mean, that's huge. And on your cheek, too! Eating while that one was healing must have been awful. Did it pierce fully through?" Makoto inquired, his honey brown eyes shining with glee and he leaned right into Kenshin's personal space.

Shivers raced down Kenshin's spine and suddenly, it felt like a thousand bugs were crawling on his skin. The feeling of revulsion was so strong that Kenshin shuddered, his back hitting the edge of the bathtub, trapping him. There was no escape. Unconsciously, he curled in a bit, trying to make himself smaller, but it didn't help. His breath grew harsher and it felt like there was a heavy, oppressive weight on his chest, blocking him from inhaling enough air. A bead of sweat trickled down his brow, and then – the memories poured forth.

The cross scar. Kiyosato's last, desperate attack… crossed with hers.

Eyes blown wide open, Kenshin gasped, his pulse racing in a wild, staccato beat as the dying gurgles of that young samurai filled his ears. The boy had so desperately wanted to live that he hadn't realize he was already dead. Kenshin's fingers tingled with the weight of his sword, reminding him of how he had stabbed through the boy's vertebrae and twisted the blade just so, severing his spine. The voices changed pitch, becoming softer. The dying gurgles became softer, but all the more heart-breaking. He knew this voice. It was the same voice that he had heard moaning in delight and letting out a little throaty gasp when she had gotten tired of his teasing… but now she couldn't get enough breath. She wheezed and hacked up gunk from her lungs, fighting for air. Oh gods. She was drowning in blood.

Her blood was all over, soaking his clothes, trickling down his hands and overpowering the white-plum scent she had so loved. And then, then her tanto cut into his cheek, so gently…

And then, only silence.

She was dead.

She was dead in his arms and it was all his fault.

Everything was his fault.

"Shit! Makoto, back off!" A voice commanded, and a large shape appeared in front of him, demanding his attention. Not touching, not hurting him – simply speaking. "Easy there." The voice told him. "Take a deep breath and calm down, Himura-san. Makoto didn't mean it badly."

But all Kenshin could see was a stranger in front of him, blocking his exit.

He had to get away.

NOW!


Unfortunately, Kenshin didn't get a chance to settle down after the disaster in the furo. He barely managed to put on dry clothes before a messenger came in, asking him to leave to guard Katsura-san. So he just grit his teeth and ignored his exhaustion the best he could, went back upstairs to change into his formal wear, grabbed a hat to cover his hair, and slipped out of the inn's backdoor. He sneaked through side-alleys to Katsura-san's current residence, picking a convoluted route just in case he was being followed.

And then, once more endured a couple hour's worth of pure, mind-numbing drudgery.

Katsura-san noticed his harried state at first glance, but didn't say anything about it... until after the meeting.

"Kenshin, is something wrong? Is Nakamura causing trouble?"

He just shook his head no, trying to pass it off. While he had his issues with Nakamura, he had them fairly well under control. It wasn't about that. It was just the amount of work, the odd hours, and everything piling up. The thing was, Kenshin was well aware that he had issues. He could hardly sleep anymore, he had trouble eating – he had lost weight again, which was becoming a constant nuisance. But really, he could handle this. He could. He had just been surprised and thrown off balance this morning, that's all.

Thankfully, Katsura-san left it at that.

However, if there had been one good thing about the meeting, it had been boring enough for Kenshin to just sit there and think through the events of the morning. But no matter how he looked at it, experiencing a memory as vividly as he had in the furo and then panicking because of it, had been decidedly odd. It hadn't been a living memory, not exactly. He'd had those, and though Kiyosato and her death had sprung up all of a sudden, it hadn't been about his memories alone. It hadn't been about the shame and guilt he felt, either. No, it had been something else, something stranger. He didn't know how to explain it, but it had been unsettling and odd. Even frightening.

Well, it wasn't likely to happen again.

No matter how new those two recruits were, they had seen his scar, his hair, and witnessed him behaving like a madman. They would ask around and find out that he was Hitokiri Battousai and then, they would join ranks with the other newcomers in their unit, staring at him, whispering behind his back and telling everyone how crazy he truly was.

Most likely that would only serve to fan the flames behind the rumors that Hitokiri were mad dogs.

Kenshin truly, truly didn't want to think about those rumors.

Just a few months ago, there had been an incident where a Shinsengumi manslayer, Udou Jineh, had lost it and in the heat of the moment, had tried to kill someone in his own unit. His own men had tried to hunt him down for weeks afterwards.

Shit like that was happening on both sides now, among both the rebel ranks and the Bakufu forces.

There had been nasty talk about Choshuu's hitokiri, Shishio, too, about how he was needlessly cruel and seemed to delight in drawing out his kills.

Kenshin knew he was protected by Katsura-san's regard and high position among the rebels, but it was possible that someone would try to undermine Katsura-san by attacking the people connected to him, and among those, Kenshin was a relatively easy target. As the shadow war spread, not all were looking favorably on the most influential of the Shishi. More and more people were looking for chances to advance that the revolution offered, no matter the consequences.

It was just before dinnertime when Kenshin got back to the inn. A rarity – it wasn't often that he was around to join to the common meal. Not that he particularly enjoyed being forced to endure the other men's presence. So he found his seat at the end of the long table, in his lonely corner, and tried to gag down the bland food the best he could. He had absolutely no appetite these days. He had gotten through maybe a third of his dinner, before his attempts to keep eating were reduced to idly pushing morsels around his bowl in distaste.

A pair of ki presences approached him, startling him out of his morose thoughts. It was the mountain of a youth, Hideyoshi, trailed by a notably awkward Makoto.

Setting down his chopsticks, Kenshin straightened his back and narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Himura-san, Makoto here wants to say something to you." Hideyoshi addressed him in a low, quiet tone. Yet despite his careful manner, many men in the dining room glanced in their direction, undoubtedly waiting for a spectacle.

Kenshin wanted to grit his teeth. Why was everything he did of such interest to everyone?

However, Makoto didn't seem to notice they had just grabbed every man in the room's attention. The lanky youth shuffled his feet, before bowing all of a sudden and declaring, "I'm sorry for earlier!"

…What?

Kenshin gaped, thoroughly surprised.

No one apologized to him. At least, not with such sincerity.

He could have understood them doing a stunt like this out of fear, wanting to deflate his non-existent ire. But this, this felt more like a person apologizing for behaving rudely, for offering an insult that wasn't intended…

As if for them, he was not just a legend to be wary of, but a person.

It was strange.

But somehow, it felt nice? A wave of warmth spread through Kenshin's chest and he looked down at his tray, trying to find something appropriate to say.

The situation in the furo had been odd, but it hadn't been Makoto's fault, not really. The youth had merely been enthusiastic in his curiosity and had gotten a bit too pushy, making Kenshin feel like he was trapped. The question about his scar had just set things off for him in the worst way possible, bringing bad memories to the surface and causing him to freak out.

"It wasn't Makoto-san's fault, that it wasn't. No apology is needed." Kenshin murmured. Giving a mournful glance at his half-eaten meal, he grabbed his katana and rose to leave. There was no chance in hell he could manage to finish eating, not now.

He'd barely walked twenty feet out of the dining room, when he realized the awkward pair was following him. Why? Hadn't they already gotten what they wanted? For god's sake, what else could they need from him? Stopping on his heels, Kenshin turned around and raised an eyebrow expectantly – inviting them to say their piece and be done with it.

"Himura-san…" Hideyoshi started.

Just a few step behind him, Makoto shuffled his feet, notably uncertain... and yes, there it was: a hint of fear.

Suddenly Kenshin felt unexplainably tired of it all. He was exhausted. The day had been awful from start to finish and it wouldn't be getting any better. Knowing Nakamura's habits, he only had a couple hours to catnap before the bastard would be calling him to work for the rest of the night. So he sighed tiredly and looked away. "Don't you two know that this unworthy one is the killer, the murderous Hitokiri Battousai?"

"Yes."

Kenshin glanced up in surprise.

Hideyoshi met his incredulous stare with a solemn nod, not a wisp of fear in his eyes.

Huh?

"I knew who you were the moment I saw you," Hideyoshi confessed ruefully and motioned to his friend. "This dolt here didn't figure it out until after you had dashed away."

"Don't put words in my mouth, Hideyoshi!" Makoto protested. "I noticed! I did! I just didn't have time to think about some boring rumors about hitokiri and whatnot because I was too busy thinking about…"

"Shut up, Makoto." Hideyoshi cut him off with an exasperated smile.

The teasing, the way these two talked to each other, the clear connection they shared, Kenshin almost envied it. For all their differences, Hideyoshi and Makoto seemed to be attached at the hip. But what business did they have with him? They had apologized, what else could they possibly want? "Ah, um, that's to say, if you two know… then why are you following this unworthy one?"

"Honestly?" Hideyoshi shrugged helplessly. "You look like you need a friend. Besides, it would be nice to have someone our age to spend time with. It gets old being the only one putting up with Makoto's antics, if you get what I mean." The mountain of a youth smiled and took a step forward. "Also you know the ropes around here, so there's plenty we could learn from you."

Kenshin took half a step backwards, stunned and almost intimidated. Hideyoshi and Makoto wanted to befriend him? Even knowing who he was? What the hell was wrong with these guys? He hadn't had a friend in… well, ever! Not except for a few short encounters and those hardly counted. He didn't know how to be friends with anyone! The last person who had gotten close to him was her, and look how that had ended!

No, no… "No!" Kenshin gasped.

He caused death and destruction to everyone around him. Everyone he had ever cared for had been hurt for being close to him, one way or another.

Hideyoshi looked concerned, but he didn't come any closer. He merely raised his hands in a placating gesture. "No because you don't want to spend time with us? Or no because of something else?"

"…uh. Um. This unworthy one – he just can't. That's all."

"You know, for someone who wants to be left alone, you don't seem very sure."

"O-er… Oh," Kenshin stammered, fighting to find the words, but failing miserably. He shook his head and looked up to meet Hideyoshi's knowing eyes and easy, inviting smile.

"You're so cute!" And then Makoto was right in front of Kenshin, leaning into his personal space. He was so close that Kenshin couldn't see anything but his honey brown eyes. All of sudden, they widened in recognition. "It was you!"

Makoto spun around. "Hideyoshi!" He pointed at Kenshin and shouted excitedly, "He didn't lie! He doesn't have a sister, it was him all along! Himura is the beauty I have been crushing on for the last few days! I cannot forget those eyes!

"Huh?" Hideyoshi blinked in disbelief.

Ugh, this can't be happening. It simply isn't possible. There's no way... Kenshin looked aside, a mortified blush rising to his cheeks.

"Himura-san… in a purple kimono, hair done high, carrying a bucket of irises?"

"Yes! It had to be him!" Makoto waved his hands, gesticulating with enthusiasm. "This is absolutely perfect!"

Kenshin froze. Perfect? In what way?

"Now I can admire him all day long and it will be much easier to convince him to accept my affections!"


Kenshin had no idea how it had happened, but somehow he had gotten a pair of persistent tagalongs. Whenever he was at the inn and had any free time, Hideyoshi and Makoto glued themselves to his side. They would sit close to him and just be there. Whenever Chirpy would get too enthusiastic, Hideyoshi would stop him and pull him out of Kenshin's personal space, but otherwise, the pair would be there, chattering non-stop.

The did nothing but talk, talk, talk.

It was bizarre.

No matter how rude he tried to be, Kenshin just couldn't get them to leave him alone.

And the worst part?

It hadn't taken them long to notice that Kenshin had a bad habit of answering direct questions. The duo took eager advantage of this fact and drew Kenshin into their conversations by asking him questions and then waiting for him to answer them.

And Makoto?

The honey eyed youth was scary. Enthusiastic, talkative, easy with his affections and for god knows what reason, he had developed a frightening admiration for Kenshin. Due to his antics, Kenshin was constantly off-balance, embarrassed, and at times, downright mortified. However, for some reason, Makoto's regard didn't feel disgusting to him.

Well, unless Chirpy went too far into his personal space.

Kenshin couldn't say why that was. Maybe it was because Makoto was so ridiculous? It was hard to feel threatened by a lanky youth who declared his feelings loudly, for anyone to hear, and after getting rejected, acted like his heart was broken, only to try again half an hour later. The whole thing was so over the top that Kenshin didn't have the faintest idea what to make of it.

Why didn't Makoto care at all if his crush was a man or a woman?

Why was he so insistent despite constant rejection?

Kenshin didn't understand it at all.

He didn't seek affection from anyone. He couldn't stand the very thought of becoming intimate with anyone and he made it obvious, but Makoto was – just as his name said – sincere.

It was just odd.

But even odder, he didn't feel quite as numb anymore.

His work was horrifying. Kenshin hated every minute of it. Eating was a chore. Sleeping was difficult even on the best night. He was constantly hurting, either from a headache or muscle pains or both at once. The only thing that had changed was that he wasn't as alone as he had been. He couldn't say he particularly enjoyed Hideyoshi and Makoto's company, or understood why they insisted on talking to him. Most of the time he felt like an awkward third wheel in their well-balanced, solid friendship.

And yet, they didn't give up.

A day after a day, they kept trying to draw him in.

"…What I don't get at all is how you are working every night, but the rest of us only work maybe four or five nights a week." Makoto was pattering on at rapid speed. "It's very unfair! I want to fight too! That's why I joined, you see? I want to fight the Wolves of Mibu and defeat their legendary swordsmen in duels and gain fame and all that. I trained in swordsmanship for years, struggled to gain approval from my family – not that they would ever give it to me. It was always: Makoto, shut up! Makoto, calm down! Makoto, can't you take life seriously and behave like a son of a well-to-do samurai household ought to? Blegh! No wonder I got fed up with it and left. And just for your information, I can behave perfectly well when I need to, it's just that most of the time there's simply no point in-"

"Yes, yes," Hideyoshi let out a long-suffering sigh. "You are a perfect angel when you want to be, I know. But you do have a point there." He paused and turned to Kenshin, a thoughtful frown on his brow. "Himura-san, why are you working all the time? I get that your skills are unique, but most of those jobs seem like something any one of us could do. If not alone, then as a group."

Kenshin pressed his face into the crook of his arm, avoiding their gazes. He was sitting against the wall, cradling his sword against his shoulder, just as he was used to doing. In the beginning it had been a way to stay alert for every danger, but nowadays, it was just comforting to have his sword in his arms. It was also the pose he used to take his catnaps, something that was practically impossible with Hideyoshi sitting on his right, Makoto on his left, and both of them far too curious and friendly for their own good.

Gods, he was so tired. But there was simply no peace to be found at the inn these days.

The silence stretched on.

Kenshin groaned tiredly, finally giving in and muttering a reply. "Nakamura-san has a slight grudge against this unworthy one, that he has."

"A grudge? What for?" Hideyoshi asked, befuddled. "The way I understand it, you are his best man."

"O-er… this one might have dropped Nakamura-san into a river once." That was only a small part of it, but it was something Kenshin could freely admit and it did explain the matter somewhat. He wasn't about to tell the rest, though. It was shameful for him and Nakamura-san both. Besides, Hideyoshi and Makoto were a talkative bunch and there was no guarantee that they wouldn't share the tidbits they fished out of him with the rebel's rumor mill.

"You really dunked the weasel face? Really?" Makoto perked up. "Oh man, I wish I could have seen that! That's practically perfect!"

Kenshin glanced up between his lashes, noting how Makoto's eyes shone with glee and a huge grin overtook his lips.

However, a moment later, Chirpy's expressive face descended into a frown. "I guess that's why the weasel targets you like that," Makoto muttered. "Anyways, enough of him. Say, Himura – what do our people do with their free time? I mean, it's the capital! There must be plenty of things to do. We've been here for a week now, but most of the time everyone stays here. I guess old people can be boring like that, but Himura, tell me that you go out and have fun sometimes?"

"…This one does visit the town whenever he has the chance, that he does." Kenshin admitted.

"Oh!" Makoto asked. "So what do you do? Where do you go? The famed Gion? The colorful Shimabara? Where are the best places for gambling, drinking, and finding delightful company for a night?"

Ack! Kenshin sputtered. Did he really want to explain to Makoto – of all people – that every time he went into town, he visited her? Not a chance, not in the eight great hells. So Kenshin thought fast, trying to come up with a suitable distraction on the spot. Distraction. Yes, something, anything that might work. "Um… gambling?"

"You gamble?" Hideyoshi asked in disbelief.

Kenshin hid his face again, feeling his cheeks starting to burn. "O-er… no. This one doesn't gamble, that he does not."

"Why not?" Makoto piped in. "It's fun!"

"…Fun?"

"Don't tell me you haven't ever tried it! You are so boring!" Makoto whined. "Oh, I know – Hideyoshi, we should take Himura gambling with us and teach him how to unwind! I bet he would be a hilarious drunk! Get this lightweight sloshed and he would smash into everything and slur in that fine archaic speech of his. Oh man, that would be so fun! And even better, his blush would be so cuuute and whenever he stumbles, I could help him up and he would be grateful and then he would realize that I'm not a bad guy at all. Oh, this is such a good idea! And it's been a while since I've had the chance to try my luck with dice."

...Seriously? What the hell is wrong with this guy?

And why can they just leave me alone? Kenshin groaned and closed his eyes. It was exhausting to listen to Makoto's never-ending prattle. But trying to escape would do him no good, either. Wherever he went on the premises, those two followed him.

He had tried.

It was all such nonsense too. It wasn't like he would go out with them. And even if wanted to go, it wasn't like he could. Heading into town like a normal youth and daring to drink in public… ugh, it would just invite trouble his way.

Thankfully, Hideyoshi seemed to realize the same thing. "Makoto, while it would be a good idea to encourage Himura-san to relax a little, I doubt we could take the famed Battousai into town and get him drunk. Not only is it stupid, it's also dangerous. Everyone has heard of Himura-san's hair and scar."

"But…" Makoto bit his lip and pouted. "I want to gamble. I miss the thrill of dice. It's a good idea."

"It is, but we just can't go out with Himura-san." Hideyoshi agreed.

"But there's no point in going if we can't take Pretty with us. I want to spend time with him." Makoto nodded and flashed a quick smile in Kenshin's direction.

Pretty?!

Where did that come from?

Kenshin blushed and looked away, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Besides, I don't know the town very well yet." Makoto continued. "Neither do you, or need I to remind you how you got us lost the first day here? The only cities you have any familiarity with are Hiroshima and Osaka."

"I wasn't saying that we should go without Himura-san!" Hideyoshi protested. "My point is that we cannot go out. But you do have dice, don't you? What if we played here? Besides, I doubt Himura even knows how to play, so we can get started by teaching him the basics."

"True!" Makoto enthused, and dashed off to his futon and the travel bundle he had stashed beside it.

Kenshin watched him dig through his belongings with a certain bemused resignation. "Doesn't this unworthy one get any say in this?"

"No." Hideyoshi shrugged apologetically. "If it were up to you, you would just brood alone in your corner and then work all night."

Well, it wasn't like Kenshin could deny that. But gambling? He had never played, but then again, what else was there to do this late in the evening? In a couple hours, there would be work for all of them: guard detail for a meeting, nothing fancy or particularly dangerous, but something they should take seriously.

Normally, he would have tried to relax and quiet himself. It wasn't "brooding" as Hideyoshi had put it. It was – well, he tried to think of her, to remember the good times they had shared.

Kenshin sighed.

Okay, fine. Maybe it was brooding.

Gambling turned out to involve a pair of dice, throwing them, and guessing if the combined number of pips they showed was an even "Cho" or odd "Han" and laying a wager on the guess. It seemed fairly simple. Kenshin watched Makoto and Hideyoshi play a few rounds against each other. But even though he sort of understood the logic, there was one thing he just couldn't understand…

"What is the point of the game?"

"To have fun! And of course, there is a certain monetary benefit to depriving Hideyoshi of his pay." Makoto declared happily, shaking the dice in his hands and throwing them.

"Odds," Hideyoshi called out.

Not a moment later the dice stopped spinning… and Hideyoshi sighed in a long suffering way.

"But why does Hideyoshi always call it wrong, that is?" Kenshin asked, genuinely baffled.

"He just doesn't have my luck!" Makoto smiled and held out his hand to Hideyoshi. The defeated youth groaned, but obediently dug into his money pouch for the sum he had just lost. "Say, Pretty – think you're ready to try your luck against mine? We can make it a three-way game. We all call out the number of the pips and whoever gets the closest wins?"

Kenshin frowned, but after a moment's consideration, dipped his chin slightly. He was still puzzled. The game didn't make much sense, but it wasn't like the bets were large; just three bronze mon per throw, enough for a snack but nothing to cry about. Makoto passed the dice to him eagerly, giving him the chance to throw them. They were simple cubes carved out of bone, unevenly worn and rounded slightly in the corners, the sides marked with ink pips.

Holding them awkwardly in his hand, Kenshin couldn't help but ask for confirmation, one more time. "So this unworthy one can throw and call out his wager while they are still in the air?"

"Sure," Makoto confirmed. "In most gambling dens, there would be a dealer making the throw and he would use a covered cup to shake them, but we are among friends here." He grinned and prompted with his hand. "Go ahead and shake them. I say it will be five and five, even."

Hideyoshi huffed fondly. "I'll say three and two, odds."

As he had seen the others do, Kenshin shook the dice in his cupped hands and then released them. "Three and five, evens."

The dice rolled on the tatami, slowed…

Turned…

"Three and five, evens." Hideyoshi said. "That's pretty amazing luck, Himura-san."

Makoto stared at the dice, pouting. "That was just beginner's luck!" He scooped the wagered sum out of his pocket with obvious annoyance and pressed the coins on the tatami mat beside Kenshin. "But let me throw this time!"

Kenshin passed the dice, more bewildered than anything.

"This time…" Makoto rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "This time it will definitely be five and two, odds."

Hideyoshi smiled. "I'll go for evens this time. Three and one."

Kenshin wasn't sure what he was missing here, but when Makoto got his fancy shaking rotation done and released the dice, he called out, "One and one, evens."

The dice rolled…

And stopped.

"One and one, evens. It's exact again." Hideyoshi frowned. "How do you do that?"

"O-er… oh," Kenshin hesitated, before tilting his head to the side in confusion. "Um, this unworthy one watches the dice and when he sees how they'll land, one then calls it out. There just doesn't seem to be much of a point to this game, that there doesn't."

"You see how they'll land?" Makoto gaped, pointing at Kenshin with his finger. His face went through tumultuous expressions: shock, disappointment, anger, and wonderment, before he finally settled on aggression. "That's it, Pretty! I might like you, but you are not going to beat me on my own turf! I want to do this again with a proper dealer and a cup to hide the dice! Then you'll have to guess like the rest of us!"

"Makoto…" Hideyoshi hissed, trying to calm down his friend.

A loud, raspy voice interrupted them. "Oh, you boys are playing dice?"

It was Fujiwara-san, one of the few men remaining from the old crew. He had sort of become known as the spokesperson for their unit during the past year, just because he had been there the longest. "That looks amusing! May I join the game?"

Makoto glanced up, his eyes zeroing in on the dice cup Fujiwara-san was holding in his hands. "Of course!" he enthused. "By all means, please – join us!"

And so, now they had three players and a dealer. Hideyoshi volunteered to play the dealer's role on the spot. Apparently he had lost most of his loose change and didn't wish to spend more. This suited them all just fine. Hideyoshi was known for his steady temper and most of the men seemed to like him already.

So they played.

In this version of the game, the dealer shook the dice inside the cup blindly, laid it on the ground, and then waited for everyone to make their bets. Then the cup would be removed, and the best guess would win all the money they had wagered on the round. With this method, the sheer unpredictability of the game finally dawned on Kenshin and not being able to see the dice, he was reduced to guessing, too.

And more often than not, he lost.

Time after time, Kenshin's had to dig into his money pouch. He wasn't particularly frustrated by that; it wasn't like the bets were big. However, he could have done without Makoto's smug pride at having collected the biggest pile of coins. Fujiwara was the steadiest player among them; he would win, only to lose in the next round, never gaining anything. It was a bit strange. Why would anyone play a game without intending to win big? It was like he wanted to play just for the sake of playing.

Kenshin couldn't quite understand it, but he wasn't about to give up either. He didn't find this game particularly fun, not really. Luck was just luck and there was no point relying on it, just wishing for the best. However, a spark of curiosity was rising inside him: was it possible to predict the dice, even when they were covered like that?

When the dice had been out in the open, it had been easy to see how they would land. When fighting, he followed faster movements and predicted them from even subtler cues. Swordsmanship was all about details, after all.

But if he tried, could he predict the dice again?

With this question in his mind, the game suddenly became far more interesting for Kenshin. He began to watch Hideyoshi's hands, taking note of how he shook them. The dice moving inside the cup made fairly distinct noise. Without thinking twice, Kenshin directed a drop of ki to his ears, just to enhance his hearing enough to follow the noise of the dice, and closed his eyes, trying to visualize their movements.

Large hands shook the bone dice in a steady rhythm, the cubes hit the ceramic walls of the cup, hitting one another, spinning and spinning…

There wasn't much difference to the dice and their sides, but when he had handled the dice, he had noticed that they were bit unevenly worn. If he remembered right, it was the three pip side that was slightly more rounded, which meant that if he could pin down the difference in sound, he should be able to figure this out.

Yes, that softer clang – it was a bit different, wasn't it?

The dice spun and spun and then, suddenly the dice hit the tatami mat with an almost ear splitting smash and the dice rolled to a stop.

The silence was deafening.

Kenshin rubbed his ear, letting go of his internal ki enhancement.

Just in time, because Makoto was eager to take his guess. "This time it will be two and two, even – and Pretty, you are going to lose all your money to me!"

Fujiwara rasped a laugh. "We will see, won't we? I say it's going to be three and six, odd."

"No." Kenshin said and acting on his suspicion, he took a guess. "It's three and one, even."

Hideyoshi lifted the cup and gasped in surprise. "Three and one, even. It's exact! Himura-san wins."

"No way! The first exact throw of the game and it goes to Pretty?" Makoto wailed. "My lady luck, why have you betrayed me?!"

A hint of a grin tugged at Kenshin's lips and he bowed politely, holding out his hand to collect his winnings. Fujiwara-san was an amiable loser, but Makoto pouted and grumbled about it like an unruly child and it made the whole thing feel far better than it should.

Kenshin covered his mouth with his hand, trying to keep from showing his amusement.

Now... could he do it again?

The answer was: yes and no. Even when he kept his ear out for a softer clang from the dice, even the slightest noise from the background was enough to make him lose track of it. However, the more he listened, the more he watched Hideyoshi's movements, the more accurate he was becoming in his predictions and suddenly, the one with a notable winning streak wasn't Makoto, but him. The constant ki use was making his ears throb, but it wasn't enough to make him stop. Not yet, at least.

And there was just something really fun about beating Makoto time after time. Chirpy was so dramatic. Every loss he suffered required loud cursing and gesticulation of his disappointment and the show had started to draw an audience. Practically every man in the common room was following their game, some from a modest distance, but some had come to sit close by them.

Without really noticing it, Kenshin had started to grin. Trying to predict the dice was challenging and it was a way of using ki that didn't hurt anyone. And Makoto… for days, Kenshin had been forced to listen to Makoto's nonstop prattle, ridiculous flirtation, and endless stream of selfish, unconsciously rude remarks. He'd been about to lose his patience with it, if he was entirely honest with himself.

"Oh lady luck, why? What have I done that you have cast me out of your favor?" Makoto wailed, waving his hands in theatrical despair. "This doesn't make any sense! I'm good at gambling. Dice have been my friends for years and those are my pair! Why would they favor Pretty? Hideyoshi, it's unfair! How can I impress Pretty if he beats me at gambling too?"

"Calm down, Makoto." Hideyoshi snorted dryly. "It's perfectly normal to lose every once in a while."

However, the men who had gathered around them to watch the game seemed to think something was off, too, and with traces of ki enhancement lingering in his ears, Kenshin couldn't help but overhear their whispered comments.

"An exact guess, twice in a row? Hmmph! That's demon's luck."

"Hardly luck at all. It must be witchery of some sort. Notice how Battousai closes his eyes before calling out the dice?"

"You think he cheats?" the first voice questioned, clearly disturbed.

Kenshin froze in surprise. He hadn't even considered it, but was he cheating?

The thought stirred guilt in the pit of his stomach and all traces of a smile disappeared from his lips. In a way, yes, using ki could be called cheating. After all, he was using a skill the other players didn't have to get an advantage over them in a game for money. Oh gods… was it stealing too? But he didn't want their money! He hadn't even wanted to play in the first place, but he hadn't even been given the option to say no. He had only started to use ki because it brought an interesting challenge to the game and because Makoto had been so goddamn annoying.

"What the hell are you saying, guys?" Makoto demanded. "Pretty cheats?"

And suddenly, Makoto crawled right over the game area to stare at Kenshin. He was close, way too close and all Kenshin could see was those honey brown eyes zeroing in on him. "Pretty, say that they are lying. You can't be using some crazy magic to cheat!"

The silence fell over the room.

"O… er…" Kenshin stammered, eyes wild. "Uh, that's to say, this unworthy one, well – um, he does try to predict the trajectories, that he does." He leaned back, pressing against the wall as he unconsciously tried to get some distance between him and Makoto.

"Ha! I knew it!" someone from the crowd declared.

Makoto leaned even closer, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"What the…" Fujiwara-san's voice rasped out. "Himura-san – how does that work, exactly?"

This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't. People didn't understand ki. Nobody who didn't use it would able to understand. That was the way it had always been. But right now, everyone in the room was looking at him, all but demanding an explanation, and he had to tell them something. Kenshin bit the inside of his cheek, trying to come up with something, anything that he could tell them that didn't make him sound like an insane madman.

But before he could find the words, Makoto jumped to his feet. "Shut up, all of you! Pretty doesn't cheat! He doesn't see the dice. He doesn't touch them. There's not a single thing he could do to cheat, is there? It doesn't matter if he tries to predict the dice – we all do. So what if he has gotten it right a few times? The rest of the time he fails miserably. Actually, speaking of cheating, the only one who has a real chance at it is me because those are my dice!"

People turned to Makoto, staring at him in stunned silence.

Then a man's raspy laughter filled the room. "Damnit, lad, you almost had me fooled with your theatrics earlier!" Fujiwara-san stood up and patted Makoto on the shoulder. "You're one showy guy, aren't you? For a second you got us all convinced there's some magic being used on dice and we all turned into little boys, afraid of our own shadows. Look at Himura-san – you got our best man shaken up, too."

And then all the tension in the room melted, just like that. People scoffed, laughed, and a few of them made an old-fashioned warding sign against evil, but none of them wanted to claim there was magic a person might use to influence or predict the dice. After all, the most respected man in the group had implied that it was cowardly to think so.

Fujiwara-san cleared his throat, commanding attention once more. "Alright people! It's getting late and we got a fair amount of travel ahead of us, to get to the estate we are guarding tonight. So let's get ready to go! Better to be early, that's what I always say!"

Kenshin stared at them in confusion. What had just happened? Why had Makoto defended him? And why had Fujiwara-san broken up the commotion like that? Why would they put themselves on the line for him? Why would they care?

He had screwed up, hadn't he?

"Hey, it's alright. Don't be so spooked," Hideyoshi said to him softly, kneeling beside him. "Makoto can get out of hand sometimes, but he doesn't mean it in a bad way. And that was quite cool how you managed to turn the game on him and beat him in the end. It was fun, wasn't it?"

…Fun? Kenshin frowned. True, at the end he had been having a good time, but…

"This unworthy one, um – he probably did cheat, that he did," he confessed, looking aside in shame.

"How so?" Hideyoshi asked curiously.

"O-er, o, that's to say, this one used ki to enhance his hearing and listened to the dice. And your hands, this one watched how you shook the dice and tried to predict the dice's movements, so he did."

"Ki? What's that?"

"It's energy. Inside people, that it is." Kenshin stammered awkwardly. "Some people can learn to use it to sense people, to enhance senses, movements and stuff."

"So let me get this right. You used something that everyone has, but only some people can use… and you are worried it's cheating?" Hideyoshi paused. "It didn't seem to be all that easy for you either."

"…No." Kenshin admitted.

"Then there you have it." Hideyoshi decided. "I'll admit that people will be hesitant to play against you if you win all the time. But when you are gambling with friends, it's not about winning or losing. It's about having a good time. Did you enjoy the game?"

Kenshin hesitated. "Um, it was… challenging to predict the dice, so it was. And Makoto-"

"Oh yes, beating Makoto must be pretty awesome." Hideyoshi laughed. "Sometimes I wish I could do it myself. He can be an annoying bastard when he is on a winning streak. He has no sense of moderation whatsoever. But alas, my friend has been clearing my pockets of spare change since we first met. Anyways, you thought it was fun to predict the dice? And you did it by watching my hands? Would it be harder if I changed the way I shake the cup?"

"...Yes?"

"I'll do that next time, then. Just to make it a bit more difficult for you," Hideyoshi decided and rose to his feet.

"O-er…" Kenshin gaped. "Next time?"

"Of course!" Hideyoshi smiled. "Now, let's get going – we've got a job to do!" He headed to pick up his swords, which made Kenshin notice that the room was empty. The rest of the men had packed up and left for downstairs.

Shakily, Kenshin climbed to his feet too.

However, as they headed out into the night, he couldn't help but note that for the first time in ages, he didn't feel heartsick, alone or numb, dreading what was to come.

No.

Tonight, he was a just soldier out to do his job, like the rest of the men.


A week later, just after midday, Kenshin was eating his leftover breakfast when Makoto approached him alone.

Understandably, Kenshin was wary.

So far the energetic young man had only sought him out to declare his intentions to "woo" him – ugh, the very thought! Or because he wanted to get his attention to – no, scratch that. The only things on Makoto's mind seemed to be either flirting or annoying him. Where was Hideyoshi? The steady-tempered youth could usually be trusted to keep his friend in line.

"Pretty! Could you-"

Uh oh…

Kenshin really, really didn't want to deal with Makoto's sad attempts at flirting. Not right now. He had just woken up! So rather rudely, he interrupted, "No. This one isn't interested, that he isn't."

Makoto's jaw dropped for the briefest of moments, before he shot back, "You don't even know what I was about to ask!" He leaned in closer, narrowing his eyes. "And why exactly aren't you interested? Am I unpleasant, or such a bad-looking guy? Huh? Shouldn't there be some solidarity and friendship between us? I mean, Fujiwara told me that you prefer men too and you even had a mentor before! I know I'm not old and distinguished like some bald wrinkle-face, but I can do absolutely wicked things with my…"

God dammit! Kenshin gritted his teeth and looked down, hiding his eyes behind his overlong bangs. No matter what he said, there seemed to be no way to get that idiot to believe him. What could he do to get the point across? Short of killing him or threatening him with bodily violence, he had already tried everything! And now Fujiwara-san had gone and told the idiot about the rumors concerning Ito-san and him?

Gaaaah!

Better make it simple and clear before he lost the last dregs of his patience. Voice filled with threat, Kenshin hissed, "Makoto-san, this unworthy one is not interested in receiving attention from anyone. At all."

"Huh? From anyone? At all? What the hell is wrong with you?" Makoto burst out in surprise. He took a deep breath, as if getting ready to rant, but before he could start, he swallowed and slapped his cheeks. "No! I'm not going to let you to distract me again! I actually had something important to ask you! Not that seeking your affection isn't important, but this is… Ah, this is about Hideyoshi."

Huh? Kenshin looked up, blinking like an owl.

Makoto, cheery, irreverent Makoto was standing straight as a ramrod, avoiding his gaze, his hands clenched into fists. He took a deep breath and then, started to babble at a furious pace, "Hideyoshi had his first kill last night and now he won't talk to me! He doesn't want to spend any time with me either! I have no idea what to do about it! I mean, I haven't gotten a chance to kill any Bakufu dogs, so how should I know what to say to him? But then I thought, out of all the people here, Hideyoshi likes you. And you know about killing. I mean, you are practically legendary for your kill count and ice cold temper on the job. So really, there is no one better to tell Hideyoshi to stuff his unnecessary drama and get over it. Besides, I wanted to go out into town today and I don't want to go alone, so really-"

Kneeling there in growing befuddlement, Kenshin tried to make sense of Makoto's tirade only to fail miserably.

Could the idiot be referring to the guard gig they'd had last night?

Last night… their unit and two others had been entrusted with guarding an important meeting held between Saigo-san, Katsura-san, and Sakamato-san at the Suzu-ya estate, but Aizu troops had ambushed them. Early on in the fight Kenshin had been drawn away to deal with the Aizu's manslayer, and it had taken a while to kill his target in the bamboo grove surrounding the estate. He hadn't gotten a chance to see how the others had managed in their fights, but by all appearances they had done well. The rebels had only suffered five casualties, two dead and three wounded – and not a single one came from his unit.

But still, Hideyoshi had killed someone and taken it badly?

Kenshin frowned, trying to think back. When had his first kill been? It had to have been a long time ago, back when he hadn't been so numb, when killing hadn't been easy at all.

The memory nagged at him: the samurai and the burning village, and protecting someone? Kenshin rubbed the heel of his palm between his brows, trying to remember. It had been so long ago. He had been, what – eleven?

About that, yes.

That was… young.

Just how disgusting was he? Even as a child, he had already been a killer!

A hand grabbed his shoulder. "Hey, Pretty! What did you daze out for? I was asking you to…"

Shivers shot down his spine and Kenshin's eyes snapped open. Makoto, Makoto was touching him! He scrambled backwards, hissing, "Don't touch me!"

"Alright, alright! Relax, jeez!" Makoto raised his hands in mock surrender. "I won't touch you." He grinned. "At least, not until you want me to."

Kenshin took a deep, steadying breath and swept his hands over his face, hiding his eyes and the embarrassed flush rising to his cheeks. Gods! Was he so broken that a simple touch or someone stepping a bit too close affected him so strongly?

He shook his head. It didn't matter. This was just another crazy thing that happened to him, nothing else.

"What do you want this unworthy one to do, that is?" he asked, sighing in defeat. He didn't want Makoto to pay attention to his freakish behavior. The chirpy youth didn't censor a thing and he talked with everyone. The last thing he needed was for his issues to become common knowledge among the rebels.

"I thought you could talk to Hideyoshi, help him get over his drama." Makoto informed him. "It's just killing. What's so special about it? We are fighting in a revolution, aren't we? Killing should be a given thing for everyone here."

Listening to that logic, Kenshin didn't wonder why Hideyoshi didn't feel like talking to Makoto at the moment, and without really intending to, he inclined his head slightly.

"Oh! That's great, thanks!" Makoto enthused. "I promise I'll forgive you for beating me at dice if you fix my best pal for me!" And then, without another thought, he cheerfully skipped away.

What the hell?

Who the hell can say something like that with a straight face? And how come that idiot always got under his skin, made him feel so awkward and ill at ease? Kenshin stared after him, completely flummoxed.

But then, the realization struck.

Oh, fuck no!

He buried his face in the crook of his arm. He wanted to shout, scream, cry, or, or – shit! He would do anything, anything at all if it just would undo the last two minutes of his life so he wouldn't have to do what he had apparently just promised.


Hideyoshi was in the backyard, sitting on the porch and staring out at a distance. He didn't look like he wanted company, nor did he seem particularly willing to talk. His ki felt faint, but turbulent, signaling that something dark was stewing in his mind.

Kenshin was familiar with such moods. He felt like that pretty often. But what did he know about talking to people or cheering them up?

Absolutely nothing.

Worse, he had met Hideyoshi less than two weeks ago. He hardly knew anything about him or his circumstances. So what should he say to him? However, even he could see something was wrong with Hideyoshi. That head-in-clouds, morose look… it sat wrong on Hideyoshi's strong, reliable shoulders.

Maybe there was someone more capable than him to take up this task, but no one knew the new recruits particularly well. The awkward duo had been spending time exclusively with him. Well, more like bothering him to the point of exasperation, but…

He had promised to do this.

And besides, even if Kenshin knew next to nothing about talking to people, he was sure that Makoto was the least capable person there was to help anyone out of this kind of funk. So, he stepped out of the doorway where he had been watching Hideyoshi and sat down about ten feet away from him.

Leaning his elbows on his knees, Kenshin stared at the grass, trying to think of something to say.

Hideyoshi beat him to it. "It's his expression that bothers me the most," he said idly, in a low, rumbling tone. "He was winning, you see. Grinning, so sure of victory, and then he looked down, only to see my sword sticking out of his chest. He dropped his katana and tried to grab my blade… I don't know why. And then, he realized he was dead. He knew there was no coming back. Fear overtook him, and his eyes, they were so hopeless."

Ah. Kenshin closed his eyes and exhaled softly. He knew exactly what Hideyoshi was talking about. He hated that look, too. But in his case, by now his opponents descended into that despair the second they saw his hair, his scar, and heard their comrades whisper the word "Battousai."

He had nothing to do with his hands. His fingers tingled with a need to channel his nervous energy somehow. His swords were on his sash, a bit too high for a comfortably reach, so he started to play with his wide sleeves instead.

"It doesn't get easier," he said at last. "If it does… there is something wrong with you."

It was the truth.

No one should be able to kill like he did, so cold and numb.

Like it was easy.

"Killing people, it's necessary. For the revolution to succeed, for us to create a new world, our enemies' lives are a sacrifice for the cause, so they are. But they too are human and we shouldn't ever forget that." Kenshin tried to put his jumbled thoughts into words. "Yet swordsmanship is the art of killing. So as long as one fights for one's beliefs, for a worthy reason… one can learn to bear the pain the sword brings, that one can."

"I don't think I can," Hideyoshi whispered, his voice roughened by anguish.

Curling his shoulders inward, making himself smaller, Kenshin gripped the cloth of his sleeves tighter. Some help he was! He was only making it worse.

Hideyoshi struggled to breathe: harsh, powerful inhales and exhales, followed by a broken hiccup.

The silence between them grew tense.

Kenshin felt heartsick just from listening to the other youth battle with his emotions. He shouldn't have said a thing!

"You know, I was always a failure," Hideyoshi said roughly. "The fourth son of a merchant, a good-for-nothing spare. My brothers were trained in business, but I didn't merit anything but basic tutoring. Then, one day, my old man came back from a purchasing trip with a samurai of some sort escorting him. Very distinguished and famous swordsman, he was. Father wanted me to become his apprentice, but just one look from that man and I knew I wouldn't do. Father never let me forget that. He said that I should have been able to convince him, that I should have easily snatched up that famous swordsman as my teacher and replaced the man's only student to the post."

Hideyoshi scoffed, half-angry, half amused. "You know, for years I was really jealous of that kid. I learned swordsmanship just out of spite, I think. I dreamed of hunting down that boy and showing to him that I was just as good as he was."

Kenshin didn't know what to say to that, so he shrugged and picked a loose thread from his sleeve. Stories like Hideyoshi's were common. Swordsmanship was learned either by apprenticing with a Master, or joining a dojo. Larger towns often had several competing sword schools, but in rural areas it was easier to find one-on-one teaching.

"I guess I fail even in that." Hideyoshi huffed in a self-deprecating manner. "I kill one man and become a wreck. Maybe my old man was right, saying I was good for nothing."

That was needlessly critical, Kenshin thought. "This one wouldn't say that you are a failure. But reasons for fighting… those are important, so they are," he said softly, for the first time feeling like he actually had something meaningful to say. "The reason why this one could get over his first kill was because no matter how much it hurt, this one knew that it was the right thing to do, that it was."

Back then, he had killed to protect.

It was a good reason. It had been the right thing to do. But looking back on it, if he hadn't interrupted those samurai…

He frowned.

"…Or so this one thought then," he added in afterthought.

"What about your first kill?" Hideyoshi asked. "I mean, I first heard rumors of Battousai a couple years ago, but you said you've been with Ishin Shishi for four years now."

"This unworthy one was just an ignorant student at the time, and got into a fight with two samurai, so one did. This one killed them both to protect a girl, but looking back on it… this one probably made her life really difficult with his actions."

"What was her name?"

Seeing no reason to hide it, Kenshin said softly, "Miya."

Hideyoshi's ki dropped from a faint, murky feeling to a freezing coldness. "So now you regret it," he stated, his voice tense and emotional, almost angry.

Kenshin didn't wonder why.

Failing like that, making such bad choices – he, too, was angry at himself. It was alright that Hideyoshi had realized what a failure he was. "Sometimes," he admitted. "Not protecting her, never that. But the stupidity and unfairness that caused the fight? This one does regret that, so he does."

The silence stretched between them for a long moment, before Hideyoshi finally broke it. "That boy I felt jealous of? I actually went looking for him. It was the first thing I did after I left Hiroshima. It wasn't easy to follow rumors of him, but I kept looking and finally found others who had seen him. But when I finally met with him, I couldn't feel angry or jealous anymore. The boy I had envied for so long had grown up, but he looked miserable. Having talent and such a great teacher hadn't brought him anything good in life and when I saw that, I realized that I could be a better man, and let go of my resentment toward him."

And then, for whatever reason, Hideyoshi's ki became warmer. "Thank you for reminding me, Himura-san."

Kenshin glanced up at Hideyoshi, perplexed by the complete turn in the other youth's mood.

"And thank you for your wisdom about finding a reason to fight as well. I had almost forgotten, but I had my reasons for joining the revolution as well. I had just gotten lost in my memories and old fears."

"O-er…" Kenshin gaped.

"You see, I lied about my name to the recruiter." Hideyoshi smiled. "I'm not a samurai, not adopted into a clan or anything. I'm just a merchant's son and these folks would look down on me if they knew that. But Makoto swindled me in here with him, insisting that I shouldn't let a little thing like unfortunate family relations stop me from fighting for a better future. This revolution is about giving equal rights to all of us, to end the nonsense of samurai hereditary rights. It's archaic, I tell you. Also, there's this girl I met back in Osaka hunting for rumors," Hideyoshi winked. "I'd love to go back there a hero and sweep her off her feet."

Climbing to his feet, Hideyoshi walked over and offered him a hand. "Come on. Let's get something to eat. I'm starving."

Kenshin glanced at the offered hand warily. He didn't know what sort of touch was enough to cause that unsettling feeling in him, and he didn't want to risk it – so he stood up on his own.

Hideyoshi's smiled faltered slightly.

Realizing his error, Kenshin made an after you motion with his hand, hoping to reassure the other youth.

It perked Hideyoshi right up. "Oh right, little steps. I can do that."

Why such a little thing could matter so much, Kenshin didn't understand. To be honest, he didn't know why Hideyoshi even cared. They weren't friends. At least, Kenshin didn't consider them to be friends – he didn't want to be friends with anyone. It was far easier to be alone than to worry about others.

But after that talk, he felt like he could respect Hideyoshi.

When it came to Makoto, though…

How in the hell could two such a different people be friends in the first place?

They got some food from the kitchen and Hideyoshi was halfway through his tray, when Kenshin finally dared to ask him about it.

"Oh, that idiot has been with me for years," Hideyoshi said fondly. "We studied swordsmanship at the same dojo back in Hiroshima and we've been together ever since, through thick and thin. Besides, if you think Makoto is bad now – imagine him at fifteen!"

Maybe that could explain it in part, but…

An eager shout interrupted his musings. "Pretty! You fixed my buddy! I knew I could trust in your superior knowledge about slashing people to pieces to figure out what was wrong with him! As promised, I'll forgive you for the dice game and all your general grumpiness!"

For god's sake! Kenshin promptly buried his face in the crook of his arm. There were no words for how annoying that chirpy idiot was! GaaAH! He wanted to scream, but only managed a faint, muffled, "Orooo."

And when later that night, Nakamura announced a weapons smuggling gig for three guards, and Makoto volunteered all of them for it…

Kenshin didn't protest.


Betaed by Animaniacal in 25.10.2016.