Disclaimer: I do not presently, never have, and most likely never will own Rurouni Kenshin.

When Sakura Blossoms Fall

Chapter 5: Like Father Like Son

Kenji rubbed groggily with a fisted hand at his heavy eyelids, opening one dreary eye in curiosity. A few long moments of silence passed, and he collapsed again into the mass of tangled blankets on the floor, his flaming hair fanning out wildly across his pillow.

There it was again.

He sat up completely this time, groaning as he realized that the knocks he had heard hadn't been a dream after all. He languidly pulled himself up and ran a hand through his disheveled locks, mumbling something imperceptible.

But an exhausted, disgruntled young man wasn't what met the eyes of the police officer at the gate. As the huge wooden doors squeaked open a crack, the thin, mustachioed lawman saw instead a sharp-eyed and alert young figure, with hair pulled neatly back and fully dressed in martial art clothing typical of the dojo. He arched an eyebrow.

"Oh, excuse me, but is your father at home?"

A scowl rippled under Kenji's current expression, but didn't surface. He managed to remain neutral in appearance.

"No, sir. He's dead."

The officer pushed a pair of small, circular glasses up the ridge of his nose. "No, that can't be right. This is the Kamiya dojo, correct?"

"Yes."

"And your father, he's—"

"Himura Kenshin, yes. And he's dead."

Kenji really wasn't surprised at this man's sudden arrival. His parents had attempted to keep most of their past adventures secret, but that hadn't kept Yahiko and Misao's mouths shut. He was perfectly aware of the various instances in which his father had assisted the local police force. But apparently they weren't done asking for favors.

"And your mother—"

"She's dead as well, sir."

The man scratched his temple and glanced down the road, as if assuring himself that he really was in the right place.

"Then, you live here alone?"

"That's right."

The man sighed. "Well then, thank you for your time, I guess . . ."

The gate shut in the officer's face.

"But that's too much!"

"Sorry kid, that's how much it costs."

Kenji looked down to fish through his wallet for any hiding coins, but the cloth folds failed to appease his hunger. The watermelon remained in its place, and Kenji wandered forlornly away.

He tossed his near-empty coin purse into the air, sighing as it landed back in his open palm. He had exhausted nearly all of the funds at his fingertips; he couldn't even afford a stupid melon. He already relied on Yahiko and Tsubame for a few regular meals, and he didn't want to become any more of a burden. Life here was growing boring, anyway. He needed a job.

Kenji glanced up after several more minutes of aimless wandering, and was slightly surprised to realize that his feet had carried him to the cemetery. He prepared to turn quickly away, but paused as a blue speck caught his eye.

A police officer was standing at his parents' graves, the same officer from before. He held one fisted hand over his heart, and Kenji noticed fresh white flowers beside each headstone. Kenji stood pensively for a few unsure moments, but promptly made up his mind and stepped over a few graves and toward the man.

"Hello."

The officer jumped and whirled, but chuckled as his eyes met the unmistakable steely glare of the young redhead from the dojo.

"Just like your father."

Kenji ignored the comment and decided to cut to the chase.

"I want the job you were going to offer my father."

"What?"

"I know you were coming to find him so he could take care of some local menace—"

"You're mistaken, young man. I was just checking up on an old friend."

"Liar."

The officer smiled at his youthful companion's adamance.

"I'm sorry, but you know you're just a kid."

"I'm seventeen."

"Exactly."

"My father fought in the revolution when he was fifteen."

"You're not your father, young man."

For the briefest second Kenji felt a strong urge to leap forward and hug the man. This was probably the first instance in his life in which someone that had actually been acquainted with his father had said something that didn't make him feel like Kenshin's clone. But instead he just smiled wryly, recalling the officer's comment just moments before, when Kenji had surprised him from behind. Apparently the only time he didn't resemble his father was when it was convenient for the opposing party.

"So? I've been trained by the same man my father was. I can easily take care of your problem, whatever it is."

"What do you want, boy? Money? Is that it?"

Kenji chuckled guiltily. "Well actually—"

The man arched an eyebrow again. "Are you serious? You just want money? No desire to assist the weak, no duty to your country . . ."

"I'm not my father," Kenji replied, echoing the officer's words.

The officer grinned and shook his head. "All right. I suppose I can't deny the son of Hitokiri Battousai. Come on, I'll give you the details at the station."

At that moment, Kenji couldn't have hoped to conceive the consequences this itching, boredom-induced desire to fight would have on the rest of his life.

Kenji licked his lips and smirked at the task that lay behind him. A simple local thief. That was it. Tracking him down had proven to be child's play, and defeating him had been easier than even the earliest of Hiko's training sessions. This job had been a joke.

But he wasn't complaining. He had his money, and a new idea had begun to mill around in his head, thanks to the grateful police officer. The man had been considerably surprised by Kenji's speedy fulfillment of the assignment, and a last, offhand suggestion he had made was igniting curious sparks in Kenji's bored mind.

"You know kid, you would do well in the army."

And so it began.

A mere matter of days later, the salty air from the nearby ocean blew stiffly at Kenji, making his long red hair flap violently in his face. He heaved the bag at his feet onto his back, then absentmindedly fingered the hilt of his sword, making sure it was still present at his side.

A particularly strong, cold gust of wind stirred the dirt on the docks, and as it passed, Kenji turned to face those that had come to bid him farewell, smiling as a high-pitched cry came from one in particular. He stepped towards them, smiling as best as he could despite their forlorn faces. Tsubame quickly shushed the noisy bundle in her arms, pulling blankets more securely around the infant's tiny red face. Kenji walked to her, smiling as Shinya grabbed helplessly at one of his much larger fingers.

"See you, Shinya," he whispered to the child, "keep your father in line for me, all right?" Yahiko blanched at that, giving Kenji a good-natured punch on the arm. Kenji laughed, shaking the older man's hand to say goodbye, then turned back to Tsubame, who quickly stood on her tip-toes and gave him a quick farewell kiss on the cheek.

The trio turned in surprise as a large ruckus a few feet from them caught their ears, and all three smirked as Shinomori Misao burst through the crowds, dragging her reluctant husband and the rest of the Oniwabanshu with her.

"We just got here!" she wailed, throwing herself at Kenji and pulling him into a strong bear hug, "I thought we had missed you!" The redhead smiled, then pried the small ninja off of him. He nodded in acknowledgment of Aoshi, who answered with a similar, emotionless gesture. Kenji quickly said his goodbyes to the rest of the small group of ninjas from Kyoto, including Soichiro. Then he turned to Chizuru, who brushed furiously at her eyes in a futile attempt to hide the fact that they were red and slightly puffy.

The meeting was awkward to say the least, especially considering the relatively cold response Kenji had given her the last time he had left her behind. He took a deep breath. It was still just Chizuru. They were still friends, and he would make this departure as easy as possible for both of them.

"Are you really leaving?" she whispered. Kenji glanced pensively at the towering ship behind him.

"Yeah," he answered, the reality of it all finally setting in, "I guess I am." He looked back down at the distressed girl, flashing her a bright smile to try to cheer her up.

"Oh come on," he said when she failed to return the expression, "we've known each other for almost two whole years now. Don't tell me you're really not sick of me yet."

That got the smile out, though it failed to completely hide her anxiety.

"I'm going to miss you," she whispered, "be back soon." Kenji nodded affirmatively.

"Don't worry. I'll be back before you even realize I'm gone."

A call resounded from the deck of the nearest ship, signaling all that boarding time had come. Kenji glanced at the vessel, then back at his comrades, smiling and waving at them all one last time. He then steadily made his way for his ship, only pausing as Soichiro called to him and jogged to his side.

"Are you sure about this?" he pressed. "I mean, you are only seventeen, and you have no idea what you're getting yourself into—"

"Sorry Soichiro, but I really feel that I need to do this in order to become stronger."

"Still searching for true strength, huh?"

"Always."

A call was heard again, and knowing he could no longer delay, Kenji turned his back on his friends and the closest thing he had to family to make his way up onto the ship. Due to the color of his hair, he was easily visible to those on the docks among the mass of people onboard. Chizuru watched him for as long as she could, her heart jumping as he turned towards them, her specifically, and began to wave. He cupped one hand to his mouth.

"Goodbye, Chizuru-chan!"

For the first time since they had met, Chizuru didn't protest at hearing the dreaded addition at the end of her name. Instead, she suddenly realized that she was really going to miss his voice, even if that was the only word she ever heard pass his lips again.

Acting on a sudden impulse, she ran forward, getting as close to the ship as she could without plunging into the dark waves below.

"Kenji-kun, goodbye!" But he had turned his head away, and in the noise of all the other people she couldn't be heard.

"Kenji-kun! Kenji!" she called desperately, each time louder, hoping he might catch her voice.

In reality, Kenji heard every call she made. He could have picked her voice out of a crowd of a million people with little effort. But he couldn't bear to look at her again, when he knew exactly the sight that would greet him. He couldn't stand seeing her suffer because of him.

Yahiko watched the sight forlornly, the sight of Chizuru having Kenji ripped away reminding him of another very similar situation.

"Kaoru . . ." he whispered to himself.

"What?" Tsubame questioned, noticing his lips move but not hearing his voice.

"Nothing," he replied quietly, turning away from the scene of the crying girl.

"Kenji! KENJI!"

"Kenji! Hey Himura, get up already!"

Kenji rolled onto his side, moaning at the interruption of his sleep. He opened his blue eyes halfway to see one of his comrades, his head peeking through the front of Kenji's tent. The man snickered.

I was dreaming . . .

"What?" Kenji muttered groggily.

"Chizuru-chan?" the man asked, barely restraining laughter. Kenji rolled his eyes and turned away from the man.

Great. I was talking in my sleep again.

"Shut up, Noda." The man chuckled.

"You've got five minutes before our first day of training begins. I'd hurry up if I was you."

Kenji sighed deeply, the scenes from his dream running through his thoughts again. It had been awhile since he had dreamt about that farewell. In fact, he had been attempting to repress those memories.

"How am I supposed to use this thing?"

"Tell me you're joking, Himura."

"No, I'm used to swords."

Kenji's companion chuckled and took the rifle from Kenji's hands and loaded it.

"Like this, see? You've seriously never used a gun?"

"No."

"Wow. You really are the exception in this regiment."

Kenji laughed outwardly, but sighed on the inside and began pulling absentmindedly at his abnormal red locks. This form of fighting would take some getting used to.