Disclaimer: I do not own Battousai, Iizuka, RK or a Rubik's cube. I wouldn't mind getting one of them (any of them, really… except for Iizuka. -stabs-) for Christmas, though. -ninja-

Puzzle Perils
by Jupe-san

"Hey, Battousai! Someone sent you a package!"

Himura turned towards the intruder slightly, eyes narrowed imperceptibly in suspicion.

The hitokiri Battousai did not get packages.

Iizuka, oblivious to the assassin's customary glare, plopped the small brown paper-wrapped box into his hands. "Maybe it's from a lady friend, eh? Eh?"

That glare Iizuka noticed.

Once he was alone, Himura turned his attention to the innocent-looking box in his palm. It was rather small, tied with a bland piece of string, with a plain card attached to it. He turned the slip of paper over to read the inscription.

Merry Christmas, baka deshi. Maybe this will improve your weak mind enough that you'll have the sense to come back to me.

- Your Shishou

Himura glared at the card as a substitute for the sender. It spontaneously burst into flames.

'…Wish that'd work on Shishou, too.'

He returned his gaze to the package. Curiosity warred with suspicion, and, hesitantly, he untied the string, freeing the paper.

As the brown crinkly paper fell to the floor, a brightly multi-colored cube was revealed.

'What on earth…'

There was an instruction booklet. It wasn't very large, just a folded piece of slick paper, but after reading it he knew better what the object in his hand was.

"A Rubik's cube, hn?"

He turned the cube over a few times, observing the different colors and placements.

So, his Shishou had another training exercise for him?

His grin glinted in the darkness of his room.

"Oi, Battousai, I've got something for you," Iizuka said cheerily, waving a black envelope above his head. When no reply was forthcoming, he slid open the shoji. "Battousai, you in here?"

The scene he interrupted wasn't what he'd been expecting. Cleaning his swords, meditating, taking a nap, hell, even having a lady friend over he might have expected.

Battousai sitting in the middle of the room, fully concentrating on a brightly-colored box he had not anticipated.

The assassin's head snapped up the moment Iizuka set foot into the room, his amber eyes slits.

Was he growling?

"Got some missions for you, Batts," he said hesitantly, envelopes held loosely in his hand. Himura glared at him silently.

"Er, right. Well, here they are, then! I'll just go, um, visit the red light district in the middle of the day. Yeah. Toodles!" He dropped the envelopes and beat a hasty retreat.

'My glare must be extra-frigid today,' Himura mused, pocketing the envelopes.

'Now, if I turn the middle row this way…'

He heard the whispers and the quiet conversation before he saw what it was about.

"Your cheek's been-"

"It's nothing."

Himura's voice was strangely faint, as though he wasn't really paying attention to the world.

'Odd…'

And then he saw the slice on the hitokiri's cheek, still oozing blood.

'Even odder. Nobody's ever even touched him before!'

"But...this man must have been quite a swordsman to injure the great Himura..."

"No. His skill was nothing. But his desperation to live was terrible... Please take care of the rest. Please achieve happiness in your next life."

"Hm? Did you say something?"

"No. nothing," Himura replied, absently, as he straightened himself and disappeared. 'Thank the kami for small favors. The pattern of blood and flowers against the ground has enlightened me. So, if I twist the outside left row backwards, and then the middle one crosswise and to the right…'

Iizuka watched him go, curiosity etched into his features.

'What the hell is up with Battousai?'

Himura's condition was worsening every day. He no longer came down to meals, and even if food was left for him in his room, it was ignored more often than not. His assassinations were getting sloppier, his mood was getting fouler, and he had bags under his eyes to rival a tanuki.

Iizuka, frankly, was getting worried.

Not that he cared or anything. He would just miss being able to pick on the guy if he up and died on him.

Really.

Resolved, he rose from his seat at the table and prepared to make his way to the lion's den.

His hand was on the shoji, when the most cruel, evil and maniacal laugh he had ever heard erupted from the room.

"You were a difficult case to crack, Rubik, but you were no match for the hitokiri Battousai! Ha-ha! Hahaha! Mwahahahahahaa!!"

It scared him shitless.

Sleep eluded the Ishin-shishi for days.

Somewhere, on a mountain top, a man drank sake and smiled.

"Baka deshi."

Owari.

Glossary:

hitokiri Battousai – assassin + master of battoujutsu

baka deshi – stupid pupil

Shishou – honorable title for a master

kami – god, spirit, deity

Ishin-Shishi – the rebel faction that Kenshin was an assassin for

tanuki -- raccoon dog. (A canine that resembles a raccoon. No, really.) Often used in reference to Kaoru, though not in this crackfic.

shoji -- rice paper doors

AN: And Jupe delves, once again, into the world of crack.

I do not like the ending for this piece. At all.

…Oh well.