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

Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim applies…


AN: I've been deliberately vague as to the timeline in this fanfic. I'll let your imaginations fill in that small detail. In any case, I'm not jumping a huge period this time around. At least, I don't think I am. Again, I'll let you be the judge of that.

A note/2nd Disclaimer: The characters Ushio, Kazuma and Neishi do not belong to me. They are borrowed characters from Scarred Sword Heart and come from her story Alone. They are used in this story with permission.

Warnings: Mentions/implications of sexual and physical abuse.


Chapter 9

- Confessions of a Child -

Kenshin shifted under his blanket, trying to find a comfortable spot.

He was exhausted.

Hour after endless hour, Hiko had him doing every sort of physical exercise imaginable. His legs hurt something awful from all that running and jumping. He tried to ignore the throbbing pains, but it was quite difficult to do so. There was even a stitch in his side and it radiated all the way to his back.

Miserably, he shifted into a fetal position as quietly as possible.

A few feet away lay Hiko, sleeping soundly, his breathing deep, his large chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Kenshin wondered what kinds of things Hiko's master had made him do; if he'd been a quick learner. If he'd been just as sore. He hoped so. It was times like these that Kenshin couldn't help resenting his Master's instructions.

The night wore on, wrapping both figures in its embrace.

As Kenshin's eyelids grew heavier and heavier, he felt an uneasiness creep over his body. He struggled to stay awake, but for some reason, he was continually sucked into a black, black void that he could not fight against.

Something was wrong.

He opened his mouth to call for help, but it was as if something…no, someone was holding his mouth shut.

As if that thought triggered something, Kenshin distinctly felt the press of flesh and fingers on his chin, forcing him to clamp his mouth shut, partially covering his nose so that it made it hard for him to breathe.

And then he felt it…

Another hand, pinning him down.

Hot breath on his cheek.

With a muffled cry, he tried to pull away.

No…

No!

The hands were now trying to remove his clothing and he felt his eyes prick with tears. With even more determination, he thrashed, trying to squirm free. Trying to throw that body off him.

The hands moved lower, over his chest, his stomach, down to…

Kenshin lashed out in abject terror, squeezing his eyes shut so that maybe – maybe - he could make the figure go away.

"Quit struggling!"

That voice…

Ushio?

"Listen, kid!" Ushio growled, pushing down harder, and Kenshin thought he might faint at the familiar, oily smell of the man's skin that seemed to permeate his surroundings. At the familiar, deep voice that was usually dead calm.

What was going on?

"Mmm….nnn…ooo…" Kenshin wailed, as he felt his legs being held down by other invisible hands so that he could not kick. His muscles, still so sore, screamed in protest to the rough restraints. He didn't care if he was crying or how pathetic he must seem to these men.

How had they found him again?

Where was…

His head jerked free from the hand covering his mouth. "M-Master! Master!" he shrieked, in desperation. "Master, help me!"

"I said, quit struggling, you idiot!"

He was being shaken then, so hard that his teeth began to rattle. "Kenshin, wake up!"

Abruptly, Ushio's voice turned to that of Hiko's and Kenshin's eyes snapped open to reveal a bedraggled image of his Master, his large hands gripping his shoulders, face hovering anxiously over his. His legs were tangled tightly in his blankets, which Hiko busily removed. "Master!" Kenshin gasped, feeling relief force its way down each and every one of his nerves.

It wasn't real.

It hadn't been real.

A nightmare.

Without thinking, he clutched onto Hiko's shirt and burst into tears.

Ushio…

Kazuma…

Neishi…

They weren't here.

He was safe.

Kenshin could hear Hiko murmuring to him, but he couldn't for the life of him understand what he was saying. He merely clung harder as if afraid the man would disappear completely.

He felt a hand on his back, rubbing in small circles. This hand was welcome, though, not one filled with any malicious intent. This one protected and came to his rescue.

As he cried out his frustrations and fear, that hand continually rubbed his back in a silent gesture of comfort. When he could not shed any more tears, Kenshin rested his head on his Master's knees.

"Gods…you wet the bed," Hiko grumbled, and the boy cringed in embarrassment. When he made no answer, the Master prodded, "Do you…want to talk about it?"

Face flaming, Kenshin's fist on Hiko's shirt tightened.

He let the silence stretch for quite a while as he tried to sort through what he was going to say. Finally, he whispered, "They…they used to come in the middle of the night…and…" he shivered at the mere memory. He forced himself to continue. "They would take me to a little room. They would…" he trailed off, too sickened by the memory of what they had done to him. "I couldn't fight them, sir. They were too strong. I…I couldn't fight them!"

"Who were they?"

"S-slave traders. They wanted me to learn how to…to become a…"

Hiko's hand stopped its motions.

"They hurt me. They hurt me!" Kenshin wept, unable to keep his frustration from showing. "Everyone was scared of them. They never came to stop them. And they always laughed." His round eyes rose to meet his Master's, shining with unrestrained loathing. "I hate them!"

Hiko's mind was racing, the familiar urge to go out there and find those bastards and bring them due retribution pounding through his veins. "But they didn't actually - "

Kenshin's response was a tearful sigh. "No..."

The Master let out his breath through his nostrils, slowly, trying to calm his rage. He had always expected that that had been the case. It was a small comfort to know that Kenshin hadn't been broken beyond repair.

Slowly, Hiko began to rub his back again. "Go back to sleep, Kenshin," he said, quietly. "You can sleep on my futon tonight."

But Kenshin did not relinquish his grip. "I d-don't want to…"

"You're tired," the Master told him. "If you don't get your rest, you will be cranky in the morning. I won't have it."

Kenshin wanted to cry some more, but the fatigue that Hiko had spoken of pressed in all around him. His very bones ached with it. As if to prove the Master right, he yawned.

Before he could protest, Hiko had him on his feet, stripping him of his soiled clothing and dragging him to the other bed.

"Master?"
Grunt.

"I'm sorry for waking you up."

Another grunt.

He was already starting to drift off into sleep. He felt something warm surround him and it smelled like cedar and sandalwood and a hint of smoke. It enveloped him in a warm, gentle hug. Soon, he was snoring, rolled up in his Master's cloak, fast asleep.


Word Count: 1,108

Moving Forward…


AN: Therapy for people who have been abused almost always starts with the patient admitting that the event(s) in question actually happened. After that, it usually proceeds to the patient talking about what took place (whether in detail or not). Denial, suppression, and fear are the hardest things to overcome. Keep in mind that trauma like Kenshin's can take years to come to terms with, if at all. Again, I hope I did the clinical trial – however vague it might have seemed – justice. And, I'll admit, having Hiko comfort his student was just too sweet to pass up writing. Please leave your comments in the form of a review.

Thanks for reading,

-P.P.V.V.

Edited: August 25, 2016