Of Wine and Water by: P.P.V.V.
Disclaimer: The Standard Disclaim applies…
AN: This, dear readers, was my gift to you on a very special day of mine – my birthday!
Enjoy!
Chapter 18
- Turning the Tables –
After a long day's training, the Master had acquiesced to letting him have some down time after dinner and Kenshin was soaking up every moment of it. Settling against the wall, he brought out his favorite toy – his only toy – and began to play. The top spun for a total of four seconds before it seemed to snag on something. Then it wobbled, tilted and finally rolled to a stop, gently nudging his knee.
He picked it up and absently began to wind the string around it again, his eyes travelling upward toward his Master who had frozen by the window. The man did not move a muscle for the longest time and Kenshin paused, hand midway to the floor to place his toy back for another spin.
A faraway look was on the elder's face and it worried him.
It was not like Hiko Seijuro to…daydream.
"Master?"
Kenshin knew something was really wrong when the man visibly jumped. Kenshin dropped his toy and copied the movement because it was so unexpected.
The swordsman turned, his eyes reflecting the fact that he was not all together present despite the way he was looking straight at him. He raised an eyebrow expectantly and the boy had to wonder at the contrasting behaviors.
Meekly, Kenshin asked, "A-are you all right?"
He expected a tart reply, not a few seconds of hesitation. Hiko actually paused at the question and he put out a hand to brace himself against the window sill. It caused Kenshin to unconsciously get to his feet, the wooden top forgotten.
"Master?"
The answer came at last, gruff but strained. "I'm fine."
Not entirely convinced but knowing better than to press the issue, Kenshin slowly lowered himself back down onto the mat. For the first time ever, he could tell that Hiko's defenses and aura seemed to be wavering.
The feeling of concern draped itself around the boy's shoulders as he watched his beloved mentor make up his mind and shuffle toward the kitchen area. Purple eyes observed the way the man's cheeks were flushed; the way sweat beaded his brow.
Kenshin deduced that his Master must be ill.
The conclusion was uncertain, though, because Hiko went about his business with the precision he was accustomed to seeing. He proceeded to wash down all the dinner dishes and set the tea pot over the fire.
Reluctantly, the boy went back to winding up his toy once again. He had just managed to get it to spin for more than six seconds when Hiko commanded his attention.
"Kenshin."
Snapping up, Kenshin asked, "Sir?"
"Prepare some tea using one of the packets in the first shelf to the right," Hiko instructed and he nodded his head in the direction of the cabinets that lined the wall. "Make sure to put the whole packet in and let it steep for a few minutes before draining it." He waited for Kenshin to acknowledge the command before continuing. "I will be going out to gather some firewood. We're a little low."
"Yes, sir," Kenshin murmured, eyes not missing the way his Master had moved over to the counter to prop himself up against it. Perhaps the man was trying to correct his balance. If he wasn't so accustomed to his ways, Kenshin would not have thought twice about it, but it was unusual to see the Master using any sort of crutch. He was even standing hunched.
It would not be such a good idea to let him go outside in the cool, evening temperature, Kenshin told himself, his concern elevating.
When Hiko pushed himself away from the counter and made to move to the door, Kenshin caught the man's hand and almost pulled away with a gasp.
He was burning hot.
Hiko turned his head toward him sharply.
"M-Master, wait," Kenshin rushed to say, "Let me go gather the firewood."
When Hiko opened his mouth to object, Kenshin insisted, "I know how. I'll only find the pieces that are dry and sturdy, I promise. And I'll strip them of the leaves and dirt like you taught me." He tried to squash down his blush – he never volunteered to do chores! "You should rest. And besides, I…I want to go for a walk," he finished, quite lamely, not knowing how to make it sound like he wasn't worried. He knew, however, that if he poked the man's pride over something as simple as a cold, he'd get a tongue-lashing.
For the longest moment, Hiko seemed to assess the boy's intentions before finally letting out an annoyed breath. "You'd best go now before the rain starts, then." There was a detached sound to his voice that he was not able to fully mask. His brow furrowed and he lifted one hand to rub at the spot between his eyes, which confirmed Kenshin's earlier observation that his Master really wasn't feeling well. "And don't forget the kettle."
"I'll be back before it whistles," Kenshin promised. He would have to be fast but he knew he could do it. If there was one thing Hiko had taken pains to do, it was to drill him into moving quickly and accurately. Lately, Kenshin had been testing himself and the boundaries of his speed, making a game of it whenever he could.
By the time he'd done the things asked of him, Hiko was in the bedroom, trying in vain to stifle great hacking coughs that shook his very frame. It reminded Kenshin of trees that moved when the earth trembled beneath them. The man was sitting up in his futon, his sword at his side and his legs crossed. His long dark hair spilled over his shoulders like a curtain. Even sick, the Master struck an intimidating figure. He coughed again, and it propelled Kenshin to move forward.
Carefully, the boy put the tea down before him.
Hiko lifted the cup to his lips and narrowed his eyes at the smell coming from the pottery that he had forged with his own hands. "Kenshin, I specifically told you to brew - "
"-I did, Master," Kenshin said. "But I added some ginger. I read that it helps reduce fever, aches and pains and congestion." He proudly listed the benefits that he had learned by heart from the books that Hiko had forced him to study from.
His Master looked torn between looking pleased and exasperated. At first, Kenshin thought that he would refuse to drink it, but then Hiko proceeded to drain the cup of its contents. Afterwards, he turned away from the set, succumbing to another miserable round of coughs and shifting so that he lay down, bundled tightly in his blanket.
He choked the last of it away, glancing up in surprise when Kenshin dropped another blanket around him. "It's cold," his apprentice thought to explain, keeping his tone neutral and nonchalant. "It's storming outside." As if to complete his statement, a gust of wind swept over the cabin, making the windows rattle in protest. Spring rains on the mountain always came with a bite.
Dryly, Hiko asked, "What's this? Are you nursing me?"
Kenshin knelt next to his futon, his hand coming out to feel the man's forehead and forgoing all pretense at skirting the issue. The fever was in full swing. He would have to sweat it out. "Yes," he answered, solemnly. He met Hiko's heavy-lidded incredulous look. He leaned forward a bit to rearrange the blankets to make the man more comfortable.
Maybe he'd get an earful later. Maybe he would even get punished for taking the liberty of mollycoddling him, but Kenshin didn't care.
Hiko snorted softly, his fatigue getting the best of him. "Idiot, I'll be better in the morning."
"Of course you will," came Kenshin's placating reply. In the darkness, Hiko could make out the fact that the boy was giving him a brilliant smile. He didn't even have the strength to growl in disgust as his body swiftly tried to embrace sleep.
As he dropped off at last, Kenshin gently placed a cool cloth that he had come prepared with on the man's forehead. "Tonight, it's my turn to take care of you," he whispered.
Underneath the warm covers, Hiko relaxed slightly.
Kenshin sat vigil at his Master's side until morning.
Word Count: 1,381
Moving Forward…
AN: I thought it would be a nice switch-up with Kenshin showing a bit of tenderness toward his Mentor this time around. I wanted to also show Kenshin's perceptiveness - I wouldn't put it past Hiko to stay silent about feeling ill. Alas, even grown men can't keep the symptoms of sickness a secret no matter how big their egos are.
Even Hiko Seijuro needs a helping hand.
A realistic thought (or so I hope). Thanks for reading,
-P.P.V.V.
Edited: August 25, 2016
