A/N: Merry X'mas minna! With my exams over, I finally feel like rejoicing with everyone else!When I reckoned that my last update was somewhere in October, I feel guilty about that! This is a school year meant for my public exam (sigh). Anyway, who cares? I get to update a new chapter, and I feel genki right now. But I wish I didn't have to type out the glossary…oh well…
One can never be free from them, the past's shadows. At least, not me. Am I running from the past? Can I, ever? What am I to do, when remembrance presents itself in a person I have long been fleeing away from?
Ch3 Reversion
Truly, Himura consoled himself with a little sigh; things could have gone much, much worse.
The little trio encounter with Saitou hadn't ended pleasantly, so to say; one might even say that things had ended…disastrously. But Kenshin was already grateful that it hadn't concluded with a war cry of "Aku Soku Zan" and two bleeding corpses lying spread-eagled on the classroom floor, waiting for the janitor to clean them up the next morning.
Shortly afterwards, Kenshin came upon a conclusion.
Seta Soujiro had the worst timing in the whole universe. And, if left unattended, his excellent timing was going to get both of them killed – if Saitou didn't kill him today.
The ex-hitokiri repeated his sigh, brows scrunching up in a mild gesture of discomfort. He wasn't sure if Soujiro was really trying to reveal what Kenshin thought he was going to…that Saitou was in fact more of a Miburo than a PE teacher, and that he already knew…but the younger boy sure got himself into terrible shit this time. Which wasn't at all encouraging, considering what Saitou could and might do to someone who had, potentially, known the greatest secret of his whole life. Violence and potential murder aside, at least Soujiro now had to look out for a zero in his sports if he was not careful enough.
"Sou ka? Then what do you think I am, Seta?"
Saitou had been smiling, then - if that sadistic twitch at the corner of his mouth could be slackly defined as a smile. It wasn't a smirk, for it carried no hint of any dark humor – but rather a penetrating, calculating smile, as if he'd recognized a long-hidden enemy and was excited over the fact.
A cold current had abruptly decided to offer its company among the three, at that cursed moment. It had taken all Kenshin had not to jump between his friend and his nemesis and shield the unfortunate boy behind him from a quick Lishiki.
He was silent, however, as a faint blush of awkwardness rose to Seta's normally colorless cheeks. The gloomy seriousness from before evaporated to nothingness, and the boy fidgeted in a way that literally radiated youthful innocence. The ex-Battousai had spent a second marveling at the speed Soujiro could change his whole demeanor altogether. He knew of only one person that could do that with such efficiency – and that was himself.
Kenshin had never meant to be deceiving. But he himself had not much of a control on his own character, anyway. Circumstances had gradually shaped his two-sided character, making him mild, polite, constantly caring on one hand; cold, calculating, and ever suspicious on the other. Some time ago, he'd have been sure that his milder self - his less dominant self – was merely a pretense, a mask that enabled him to live among the ordinary. Now, he was no longer sure about that. The former was a mask that granted him security and ease in the cover of humanity, giving him access to all the activities that normal schoolchildren did. The latter was a mask that enabled him to sniff out most mortal dangers before they actually happened, and locate hidden fiends with the accuracy of a radar. He had long since come to terms that the "mask" theory actually worked both ways – trying to define which character was his true self seemed no longer important.
Maybe having a double character was all his true self was about.
It hadn't mattered to him that moment; all he could see was Soujiro hesitating slightly at the Miburo's intense gaze. He'd stopped breathing at the moment, the line of his shoulder cramping with built-up tension.
"Well?" The Miburo had prompted, and the kid finally shrugged in an apologetic, self-conscious way.
"Anou…well, Fujita-san…it wasn't me," Soujiro had stuttered, looking up at his sensei with cobalt eyes that deflected penetration, "but rumours sort of said that you're…erm… interested-in-Okita-sensei-behind-Tokio-san's-back…and so…um, you have an attraction to the same sex…which is not a bad thing…" Soujiro finished in a rush, taking the more and more stormy expression on Saitou's face as a bad omen and a necessity to stop.
He was damned right, too.
Looking from Seta to Saitou, all Kenshin could think of was a choked uh-oh.
That, was two hours ago.
Two hours later, Kenshin stole another brief look at his unlikely companion; maintaining the semblance of meditation while observing the wolf under half-lidded eyes. Saitou appeared to be meditating as well, though – to hell with it – Kenshin knew that the man was actually trying to overwhelm him with his flaring, fear-inducing ki. And, if he'd tried to retaliate with his own battle ki, his pretended excuse of not knowing kenjutsu would immediately be blown apart. After all, it was simple psychology - how would someone, who claimed that he had no knowledge whatsoever on kenjutsu, possess so strong a ken-ki as he did?
Saitou had led the way to the gymnasium, silent as always, with an obviously feral aura about him that spoke of a whole lot of venom. It must have been Soujiro's cheery response to his latest question that irked him – for Himura was sure that he'd done pretty much nothing to provoke his sensei today. What he did forget was that Saitou's eternal grudge was always there for him, and whether he'd done anything out of line was out of the question.
And when Saitou announced what they were going to do in this make-up lesson, he'd nearly blinked in astonishment.
Nearly.
"Himura, since your kenjutsu is so hopeless beyond teaching, you shall learn to read ki this lesson." Saitou took a drag on his cigarette, not giving a damn that Tsutoki High was meant to be a non-smoking property; meanwhile watching his student's reaction with close attention. As much as he avoided admitting it, getting on the minute redhead's nerve had become his major amusement. Of course, he had more serious reasons to go after Himura; but that didn't change the fact that he derived enjoyment from doing it.
Kenshin had not known what to think about it. Ki reading? Now? Okay, he was rather sure that ki reading wasn't supposed to be something in the high school PE syllabus. What would a student need ki-reading ability for, anyway? Self defense? He blinked in ridicule at that notion, then at his teacher with renewed curiosity.
What was it that Saitou wanted, this time?
The sensitive, calculating part of him had started analyzing the whole thing without his consent. He shunned it upon discovery, unconcerned that it might bring about later disadvantage on his own part. He was getting really, really tired to play the Miburo's game, now. Maybe it was some silly little prank that Saitou had cooked up, that was all.
"Fujita-sensei, what is a ki?" was his automatic, self-protective response.
He'd been more or less stupid, as it turned out.
Stupid as to believe that someone such as Saitou would give up on his preys so easily. Past experiences had told him one invariable truth – Miburo never, ever let go. They'd never let past feuds go unreprimanded. He'd been stupid enough to forget this.
Now he suffered the consequences.
He'd had to grab at a nearby lamppost to stop himself from falling off the curb, narrowing missing a careening vehicle that threatened to run him over had he been foolish enough to invade the road area. Kenshin obviously did not have a death wish at the moment; but being ki-assaulted for two consecutive hours had led to acute dizziness and the total loss of judgmental power, even for the famed Battousai who had been known for his incredible will power. Commencing a weak attempt at cursing the former Shinsengumi's name, Kenshin leant a fatigued shoulder against the said lamppost. Once…twice…he willed his breathing to stabilize, ignoring the occasional strands of pain that flared across his temple.
Good, so he had an oncoming headache to add to the list. Talk about bad luck and a demon of a teacher.
The boy pushed off against his temporary support, renewing his effort at moving on. The last thing he needed was a stray policeman asking why he was strolling along the street on eight-thirty at night for practically no reason.
So when a limousine skidded to a halt beside him and a dozen men stepped out from it, the first word that came into his mind was, ridiculously, police. But then, narrowing his eyes, he realized that patrolling policemen simply did not approach a common civilian like this. They were fanning out around him, black-grey shadows in the dark, their forms tensed slightly in readiness of a fight. They were no ordinary triad thugs ganging up on a lone schoolboy either, Kenshin mused. Aside from the fact that triad thugs probably wouldn't ride in limos, those men were holding themselves in a way that suggested they had undergone massive kenjutsu training.
Kenshin planted his feet slightly apart, anxious to regain his equilibrium with steady breaths before the chitchat ended and the fighting started in earnest. Yet as his hand dropped instinctively to his side, he was distinctly startled to feel the smooth fabric of his school jacket instead of a cool metal hilt. He smiled humorlessly.
Where is a katana when you need it?
Of course, he knew, that it was he who personally forced himself out of the habit of wearing his daishou around. A teenage boy with a pair of swords at his hip didn't blend into the crowd well, he reckoned. But it didn't keep him from feeling uneasy about losing the comforting weight that was once secured on his person. The absence of his swords signified one important thing – that he was now literally defenseless, and any amateur with any type of weapon might as well rend him asunder should his true identity be uncovered. He'd accepted that as well, having long realized that his way of salvation and atonement didn't lie with the sword - didn't lie with the vicious cycle of murder and revenge. If being killed for his former deeds was his destiny, so be it. It wasn't as if he wanted that much to live anyway. It would even be a sense of justice, considering what he had done in days gone by.
But then again, Hiko would probably smack him senseless if he found out that his ahou of a deishi, screw the fact that he was the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu's one and only successor, was actually trying to commit indirect suicide.
"Himura Battousai-san, I presume." The circle of men drew closer to the lamppost, and Kenshin beheld a couple of faces that held no more life than those lying in the graveyard. Bleak, plain and entirely emotionless, the ex-Battousai was rather sure that describing their features to anyone afterwards was near to impossible. He knew it, then. What it meant.
He knew the expression – the bleakness, the lack of emotions. It belonged to him, once; the mask he'd worn to give others the impression that he cared naught about taking human lives, that he was totally capable in his job. He'd tried to convince himself of that, too, save that it never really worked as effectively. Granted, his own features could never be plain, but that didn't stop him from drawing a strong resemblance between what they are, and what he once was…
Hitokiri. Assassins.
Finally, someone had sent a dozen assassins in attempt to end his miserable existence…that thought sent a sardonic smile to his lips. It was just as well; he didn't bother with denying the title as he replied.
"What do you want?" It was said in a flat, almost bored monotone.
The former speaker seemed to hesitate for a mere second – there was no telling with his expression – before he continued, the complete flatness of his tone mirroring the ex-hitokiri's.
"Katsura-sama desires to meet you."
Sou da na…Katsura. Katsura Kogoro of the Choshu han. Katsura, always his commander from the back. He'd almost forgotten, willing himself to believe that he had left the man behind. It displeased him a little, having to recall someone that was the bridge to his past.
"I do not know anyone by the name of Katsura." That was a lie, and he knew it. Still noting the slight nausea in his system, the boy continued ahead, knowing it wasn't over, and not caring in the slightest. He'd sworn to himself that he would have nothing to do with Katsura again, and he intended to keep his vow intact.
Himura would have continued on his way if a figure hadn't been there to stop him.
"Come on now, Battousai-san. You know exactly who Katsura-sama is."
He halted, tilting his face upward to reveal hard amethyst eyes and the delicate, angered face of a young schoolboy. The gravity in his voice, however, greatly belied the almost lovely features.
"Then tell him this: he shall not see me!" The statement, Kenshin mused inwardly, was blatantly challenging for the fact that he had no weapon whatsoever. Very possibly, these henchmen of Katsura's had taken note of that, too.
"This is as Katsura-sama thought. Excuse us, Battousai-san."
Before Kenshin could ask what he should excuse them for, he felt the few ki energies behind him spike suddenly. Without thinking, he leapt off from harm, pushing against the length of the lamppost to reposition himself out of the envelopment circle.
Hefting the backpack that had slid off during the leap back onto his shoulder, the ex-assassin coolly regarded the metallic weapons that his assailants now had in hand. He was pretty sure that he would have been stabbed in the back by those things had he not evaded quickly enough – it seemed that these guys cared precisely about nothing for fair play, and much less for back-stabbing someone.
For a moment, it appeared to him that they were swords of some sort, but then he realized that for swords, their blades were much too blunt…and tubular, for that matter. Frowning a little, he altered his assessment to clubs. But if they were clubs, they were curiously light…Kenshin didn't let his confusion distract him, and proceeded to mentally search for possible weapons that could enable him to retaliate. When he found none, the teenager resolved to flee at quick notice. After all, there was absolutely no point, and nothing to gain, in fighting with them.
As if reading his thoughts, the men came flying at him once they realized that he wasn't intending to stay. The ex-Battousai shifted insignificantly as he saw one of those unidentifiable blades thrust at him, allowing it to brush across his clothes instead of running him through. That done, he elbowed another offending assassin in the ribs, forcing him to drop the weird-looking contraption. As for a third that was sneaking up behind him, he promptly executed a back-kick that sent the man flying into a dustbin nearby. The almost simultaneous moves had lasted for only two seconds; albeit the ex-manslayer could feel a blast of nausea threatening to glaze his vision already. Saitou…I'm so gonna get you for that one, you know.
Three down,nine remaining. He wondered if his attackers were thinking that ganging up on him wasn't a good idea after all. It was plain clear that there was a huge gap between his skills and theirs', even without a katana.
It wasn't until a sharp jolt of pain on his left arm that Kenshin realized that he didn't exactly have the upper hand. He snapped his head around, kneeing the offender in the guts. The schoolboy inspected his arm for a moment, surprised that it hadn't been pierced through or anything. Then, where did that pain come from?
What was it, the blue spark of energy that flickered around the club in that instance? Kenshin watched, bemused, before it struck him.
Electricity.
The club-things were electrified, that much was sure. Katsura had probably meditated on that issue, he pondered, scowling mentally. As much as the Choshu commander wanted to "meet" him, he wanted him alive and breathing. The clubs were for the sole purpose of knocking him out cold, and not cutting him into pieces. Also, Katsura wouldn't want any sort of katana to be presented anywhere within Kenshin's reach, for certain.
The sixteen-year-old boy could feel his arm going from real painful to total numbness. He tried lifting it. It didn't reply in the minimum, as if the limb was never there and he was moving something that didn't exist. If Katsura was aiming to capture him by paralyzing his attacks,he was doing one hell of a good job.
He was lucky this wasn't his sword arm, too. But he highly doubted if he would be that lucky next time. Sensing another prick of pain, he placed his right hand against one cheek, once again wondering where that had originated.
And here was another thing that disturbed him greatly –
- It seemed, strangely, that his left cheek was tearing open in two crossing lines and a gush of blood…
Glossary:
Hitokiri: Manslayer. In case you don't know that, it's in my name too…
Lishiki: the first form of (Saitou's) Gatotsu, which, as I believe, is a ground-to-ground thrust that stabs the opponent right in the front
Ken-ki: literally, aura of the sword. It's an offensive form of ki that swordsman possess
Daishou: the pair of swords that a Japanese samurai wears, the longer one being the katana and the shorter one being the wakizashi
Ahou: moron, idiot
-sama: a honorific meaning Lord, lady, etc.
Sou da na: loosely meaning "that's right"
Choushu han: han means clan. The Choushu clan is one of the clans that initiates opposition against the Bakufu government and eventually overthrows it, along with Satsuma and others. (dunno…I'm no History student) anyway, Kenshin once served the Choushu han as Himura Battousai in the manga timeline, and will remain the same in this story.
Lucrecia LeVrai: Kenshin's slightly OOC? Uh-oh…I have to do something about that. I've had a hard time characterizing Kenshin, since here he hasn't really taken a non-killing vow but isn't Battousai either. As for Kaoru and Tomoe, I'm not sure about that…but both will probably not play major roles in the story! And I agree with you, I hate putting Author's note in the middle of a story…
Rain angst: I see you have a cool name! Angst makes the world go! Thanks for the compliment, I hope to see you this chapter.
BakaBokken: (smirks) Saitou's an $$hole? I guess you can say that for Kenshin…and Soujiro. The boy is so gonna get it from the wolf. At least Kenshin gets another martyr to suffer for him. Heh, I am just handicapped when it comes to romance. Not that I don't like well written, in-depth romance, but still…that's why having to study Wuthering Heights in Literature gets on my nerve.
Lilmatchgirl007: rest assured, I'm NOT going to make this story into any type of romance. Action and ass-kicking rules! With a bit of mystery, yes…as much as I like to see K/T pairings, seeing Kenshin beat someone up suits me better – or I'm just a psychopath. Whatever.
Innocence8: I love ending with cliffies! I know it's cruel and all that but hey! That's where the fun comes from!! Ouch, and I cliffhanged (or should I say cliffhung?) this time too…thanks for reading!
Yaoi Bunny: hey, thanks for that! I'll be working on the plot, please excuse my extremely irregular and slow updating! I'll squeeze some free time out, you see…
Hyper-health-critic: Yeah, those lines describing Aoshi is just another way of me saying "readers, Aoshi is an uncommunicative iceman who possibly has a fear of crowds and likes to brood over evil plans and craves for the title of "the Strongest"." Hehe. I like Aoshi quite much, only next to Saitou. Thanks for all that support! You really make my day.
Dragonheart2: I excel in everthing required for a good fic? (widens eyes) wow! That's a really big compliememt! I'm glad I didn't screw up in major plots or something. Cliffhanging you is my major amusement! I like to torture readers as much as Saitou loves to torture Kenshin…kimi wa watashi no tomodachi! (smiles)
Gojaru: gojaru? Does that comes from Lori's version of Kenshin's "gozaru"? I think it is! (smiles) I watched that only today. Thanks for making me one of your favs, I feel really honored and stuff, ne?