Of Wine and Water By: P.P.V.V.

Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim applies…


AN: Welcome to the new readers and welcome back to those who have been continually dropping in to read what I have to offer. I am positively thrilled to see that my work is being appreciated by others. I can't thank you enough. I know that the last couple of chapters were short, so this time around, it's a bit longer.

A note (warning?) for this chapter: corporal punishment is touched upon.

Enjoy.


Chapter 8

- Disciplinary Action -

Slash!

Slash!

He was angry.

He was seething.

How on earth had he gotten himself such a stupid pupil?!

Slash!

Slash!

His muscles flexed under the strain of repetitive strokes. He had lost count of how many he'd done already. A hundred? Two hundred?

It didn't matter.

Again, he sliced through the air, his blade whistling, his sweat falling, but most importantly, his temper ebbing. As long as he kept up this steady workout, he knew he would cool off. It was important because he was certain that if he faced his charge with the wrong temperament, he'd break the kid in two.

Slash!

Slash!

This was the reason why he'd never chosen to get married. This was the reason why he'd been hesitant to find a student to begin with.

Damn it…

He wasn't good with children!

And then Kenshin…

Kenshin had stared at him with those eyes

Never before had Hiko Seijuuro hated himself more than he had then.

Slash!

Slash!

The boy had tried playing with his kiln, burning himself and destroying the most recent masterpiece Hiko had been working on.

Now, Kenshin was in the cabin, suffering, not only from the pain of burns, but from being turned over his knee and walloped good for his idiocy. Afterwards, Hiko had stormed off to rid himself of any excess anger before he really lost it on the little fool.

Had he been that stupid when he'd been that young? Hiko wondered. No. He couldn't remember ever trying to piss his Master off on purpose.

Slash!

Slash!

Hiko commanded himself to do another hundred swings.

By the time he was done, he had put away the brunt of his anger and had planned out a whole lecture for the boy. He strode toward the site where the incident had taken place, just to double check that nothing out of the ordinary was happening. The last thing he wanted was for anything else to catch on fire.

The fire inside the kiln was still roaring, as it usually was when it was left on because it had to be at a certain temperature to be sure that the clay used in his pottery pieces would bake correctly. There was a scattering of mud, clay and broken pieces of work that littered the floor just around the area.

In the mess, something caught Hiko's eye.

A half formed, half baked, mutated form of what looked like…

A bird?

Realization dawned on the swordsman.

Had Kenshin been trying his hand at pottery?

The cabin seemed empty, but Hiko could sense Kenshin's presence within. His sharp hearing could pick out the sounds of muffled sobs and the occasional hiccup.

Was the brat still whinging?

Ugh.

Children.

He had to force down the spark of annoyance that rose up in him.

No matter what, the kid had deserved what he'd gotten.

In all truth and honesty, though, Hiko had been scared stiff. When Kenshin's wail brought him out of the cabin and he'd seen the child on fire, the most awful feeling of not being able to do anything had crashed over him.

He'd always prided himself with the fact that he could come to anyone's rescue. But at that moment in time, he'd never felt so helpless in his life.

His boy – because that was what Kenshin was to him now – was hurt and he could only watch as he cried out in pain.

After that, Hiko had jumped into action, propelling the child away from the furnace and stamping out the flames that had started to lick the boy's clothing. Then, he'd dragged the child into the cabin where he'd immediately dunked the already blistering skin into a bucket of water that he'd intended to use for their dinner's soup.

He could still remember Kenshin's yowls of pain and terror.

Hiko had already warned him not to go anywhere near his workplace.

Unfortunately for him, he had an insolent brat who apparently had a disregard for rules.

The crying came from the bedroom where Kenshin had fled after his punishment. When Hiko pushed open the door, he saw the boy sitting on the floor hunched over, his hands clutched to his chest. His amethyst eyes were wide, wet and pleading, filled with a swirl of emotions when he caught sight of him. "Oh, Master…" Kenshin whimpered, between rattling teeth. "Oh, Master, it hurts…! It hurts so much…!"

Compassion rose up to drag the annoyance down, the two emotions warring for control over Hiko. Eventually, compassion won out as it had that day when he'd first come to Kenshin's aid. Gruffly, Hiko said, "Of course it does, you idiot. You were burned." He couldn't help the blunt tone in his voice. "You could have been killed. And here I thought you were getting smarter."

Kenshin winced when Hiko rapped a knuckle sharply on his forehead.

"I won't…I won't do it…ever again!"

"I'm sure you won't."

Kenshin reached up to wipe away his tears but stopped short when his fingers, raw and blistered from the fire that had licked his skin, touched his face. He broke out into fresh tears. "I'm s-sorry for disobeying you, sir!" he said, bowing his head.

"For deliberately disobeying me," Hiko corrected, steely. "I have half the mind to let you suffer through your burns as a reminder."

"Oh…p-please, Master! Please don't!" Kenshin begged.

Hiko held up a hand and said, "But I won't because that will affect your training. It may permanently impair your hands to the point where you can't use the sword at all."

Kenshin let out a soft cry and Hiko turned to go back to the kitchen. "Come on," he called, "let's get some ointment on that, now."

The boy meekly waddled out after him, more than eager to find some sort of reprieve from the pain he was feeling. Hiko felt that stirring of compassion again as he knelt to apply said ointment before wrapping the small hands up. "If I ever see you go near that kiln again without my permission or my supervision, you'll have it worse," he said, hotly.

Kenshin said nothing, his small body trembling each time Hiko touched a burn.

"It is not a playground. And clay is not a toy. You've not only hurt yourself, but you've cost me a whole day's work. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"…I didn't mean to…"

"So what did you mean to do?"

"I wanted…I wanted to try," Kenshin sniffled. "I-I wanted to make a-art the w-way you did…." More tears streaked the boy's face. He winced again when Hiko started the other hand. "But then…"

"Idiot," Hiko breathed, gently dabbing on the paste with a practiced ease. He had had to administer this kind of treatment on himself for minor burns. "You're lucky you didn't injure yourself permanently, you stupid pupil."

Kenshin gave him a miserable frown.

"What did you do, climb into the oven?" Hiko asked. Somehow, he wouldn't be all that surprised.

Kenshin responded, "I…I was putting something in the f-fire and…and…"

The blubbering was getting on Hiko's nerves. "And what?"

"And I got scared," Kenshin finished, in a whisper. "I remembered my village b-burning down and…and I th-thought I heard voices…"

Great, now the kid was hallucinating.

He'd have to do something about that. "Listen, Kenshin. There's nothing to be ashamed of in being afraid. But you can't let your imagination get away from you. Focus is a swordsman's best weapon." As he spoke, he began to coil a bandage strip around the first hand, which was a little difficult to do because it kept shaking. "If you lose your head, you lose everything. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good. This just shows that you are still weak from the traumas of your past. You must face your fears and get over them."

Those wide eyes sought his and filled with tears again.

"One day, I'll teach you how to refine clay," Hiko allowed, chastising himself for the way he was getting so soft. But who wouldn't fold after a look like that? "You won't be alone by the fire."

He completed his task quickly and efficiently, with the most gentleness he could muster because Kenshin's shaking had not subsided. "Hush now," he said, awkwardly patting the child on the head. "You're okay. You're going to be just fine. It's over."

Kenshin smiled through his tears. "Th-thank you, Master."

Those three words warmed him to the core. Hiko felt pride swell in him to the point where he felt like he was going to burst. He covered it by gruffly shooing the boy back to the bedroom. "Get on with you, then. No dinner for you because of your behaviour."

"Yes, sir. I'm…I'm sorry, sir."

"I'll bet you are."

Flushing, Kenshin rose to his feet and shuffled off to serve the rest of his punishment without complaint.

In the morning, when he woke, the wounds throbbed in painful reminder of the incident the day before. But that wasn't what hurt the most. It was the memory of the Master's deep disapproval that struck him the hardest.

Just as he was about to curl into a dismal ball of blankets and bed clothes, Kenshin caught sight of something.

A perfectly shaped, beautifully painted clay bird that lay next to his pillow.


Word Count: 1,557

Moving forward…


AN: Again, I see Hiko as the strict, no-nonsense type of man who practices what he preaches. Punishing children when they've been disobedient is, as all parents will agree, inevitable. A parent who loses their cool with their child and beats him senseless will not garner respect from them. Writing Hiko's disciplinary side was tougher than I'd expected. Do let me know your thoughts on this snippet.

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.

Edited: August 25, 2016