A/N: My mind will not stop working...there's just too much in my mind. Well....here we go.

3.

"I liked the kid a lot. Even from the first time I met him. He was that kind of person that you met and automatically started to bond with and get in touch with. He was like a son of mine from the first time I started talking to him in the kitchen. His Dad I didn't like too much, he was too skeptical of everything, from the way I looked to the things that I did. But his son was different; his son was trustworthy, not that I would ever tell him that but...strange things happen all the time. The stuff you can't understand, things you can't expect. I mean, I should know most of all, things like that happened to me all the time. But Kenshin...he wasn't--isn't the kind of person unexpected things should happen to. He was too young, too naive, too---simple! For God's sake he was still a child.

"Many ask if I regret my decision. I couldn't see the future so why would I have regretted it? I don't regret it now certainly. He was a child; just a child; he needed somebody right? Role model or not."

-Hiko Seijuuro

After a while I found that working at the restaurant really began to pay off for me. Especially since I was now working as a waiter. Somehow it became like a privilage for me to go there everyday after school. The staff would greet me warmly as I pulled on my tie and walked into the kitchen, watching intently for anyone to come in. I knew everyone in the kitchen, including the part timers and the temporaries who Mr. Seijuuro may or may not keep depending on their performance. After that one incident there really wasn't anything that came up as awkward or strange, which was what motivated me to keep working there. That and the money.

Of course, even back then, I wasn't one to like money too much. I was a fifteen year old kid growing up in the late sixties. There really wasn't much that I was into that required money other than food. And being a waiter, I got a lot of both. My palate was pleased every night because one of the privileges of being a waiter was you were allowed to sample the food so long as it wasn't on the plate and so long as Mr. Seijuuro wasn't in the kitchen. There were some foods that I had never tasted but were so exotic that I found myself craving them every now and then. Then came the money.

When I became a waiter I was aware that the pay was going to be kind of messed up. It wasn't dirt low, especially since this place was so classy, but for what the wages lacked the tips sure made up for it. People who came there were good tippers, especially when you kept drinks filled and weren't in their way as they ate. Some nights I had upwards of two hundred dollars, and nothing to do with it. When I brought that home one night and showed it to Dad I was surprised that he didn't have a heart attack; in fact, when I counted what I had, I was surprised I didn't give myself a heart attack. That kind of money was something I thought I would never see. I won't lie either, it felt reassuring in it's own sense. I knew that if me and Dad were ever in a tight spot, the bills under my mattress could probably deal with it.

However, amidst all this, there was the pressure that was school. Don't get me wrong--as a tenth grader I was doing rather well. I wasn't in the top of my class with the Poindexters and the know-it-alls, but I wasn't in the bottom with the slackers and the students who had truancy officers following them around all the time. I was learning the things that I needed to learn like reading, writing and arithmetic. But then there was the day I brought home a D in science, and a letter had arrived in the mail that I had been skipping my last few periods here and there. Dad could have dealt with the D. He was just happy that I had made it farther than him in high school. The class skipping didn't make him happy in the least.

I walked into the resturant a week short of my sixteenth birthday. There was a buzz around the resturant, just like there was with any employee birthday. Though there was an air of surprise that hung about, when I walked in with a baseball sized bruise on my left cheek, the whispering became halted to all those that were standing on the floor.

Mr. Seijuuro was checking the room for anything that the cleaning crew might have missed. When he lifted from a table and looked toward me, his inital reaction was almost frightening. I'd never seen him concerned before. The look in his widened eyes was enough for me to look away, ashamed of myself. He stalked over to me casually. He had this way of masking his emotions around people. He brushed my cheek and asked:

"What happened?"

There was only so much that I wanted to tell him. He was an intimidating individual, and from previous conversations I learned that he wasn't exactly a fan of my father for whatever reason he held.

"Nothing," I dryly responded, trying my hardest to move away from him.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

He grabbed my shoulder, squeezing ever so gently. "What happened?" he pressed.

"Really," I twirled to look him in the eye. "It's nothing that you need to worry about. An accident is all."

Mr. Seijuuro let out a puff of air. His contemplation had began. When he stared you down as he thought, there was something hypnotic that didn't allow you to move. I waited patiently for his response to my horrid attempt to keep from telling him.

"Was it about those times you came in early?" he finally asked. I bit my lip and nodded. "School huh?"

"It's nothing. I was stupid."

"I'm not about to be preaching to you about the goodness of getting an education," he explained. "Your life is none of my business, and what you do with it is not my choice."

"Mr. Seijuuro..."I didn't know what to say though. He had basically ended the conversation. I wanted to tell him real badly, but something in the pit of my gut was beginning to stop me. I stared at the floor for the longest time, admiring his shoes where they were neatly shined. "Shut up and get to work right?"

He rolled his eyes. "You'll start talking," he said as he walked to inspect another table.

After the bruise faded away, I forgave my Dad. It wasn't any sort of insult that had happened. He was still my Dad, he had just lost his temper, and if I was in his place I would have been mad too. It took me time to come up to Dad and tell him the kind of opportunity I felt I was getting with Mr. Seijuuro. He wanted to yell, I could see it in him, but he didn't have the heart. Somewhere inside he knew it was true. He knew there weren't any kids my age who made the kind of money I made. He knew that I was a good worker, and as long as business was booming I wouldn't have to worry about being laid off or fired. He told me the importance of school, like he always did, and how he wished he had finished himself, then we hugged and that was that.

My sixteenth birthday came, but not without an extravagant party. Mr. Seijuuro himself, as tight as he was on money, decided to close the resturant to the public as we celebrated. The kind of food that I took small bites of was served as we sat an talked, gabbing about absolutely nothing. I sat near Mr. Seijuuro, looking at all the fellow employees. I didn't think anything was wrong, even when he offered me a drink. It was a nice wine; not the kind that he drank, but it was nice. I willingly gulped down a few glasses of it. I started getting dizzy by about eight thirty. My head was like a bottle being shaken until I was ready to burst, but I wasn't willing to admit to everyone that I wanted to go home. I knew Dad was waiting for me. If there was one thing that I enjoyed, it was coming home to Dad who would be sitting at the table with one of the few thigns we used the oven for. Even though the cake was slightly charred, it was made with love and that was all that mattered.

At ten o'clock, things died down. I wasn't really in this plain of reality anymore. I hadn't called Dad to come pick me up either. I knew I would have him worried sick. I was about to call him when Mr. Seijuuro grabbed my shoulder and ushered me into his car. He gave me a napkin in case the wine didn't want to agree with me while in motion. He drove me all the way home. The porch light was even on. I got out of the car, and Mr. Seijuuro walked with me so I wouldn't trip going up the driveway. I opened the door; it was really dark inside.

"Dad!" I called out. "Dad! Are you here?" I could hear myself slurring. I stumbled toward the kitchen since that was where he normally sat on these days. He was slumped at the dining room chair, looking asleep. I came to him, touching his arm. There was the cake, laying on the table with the candles burnt out and the wax seeping over the frosting. I touched Dad's face which was when I registered that he was cold. "Dad?" I asked yet again, out of fear. It didn't really hit me that there was anything wrong with my father.

Mr. Seijuuro clomped into the kitchen, turning on the light. I blinked, reaching out and grabbing my Dad's jacket for support. He cascaded from the chair onto the floor in one fluid motion, his head upturned to the ceiling, eyes glazed over. I shook Dad again, convinced that this was all a joke an he was going to tell me the importance of calling him if I was staying out late, or something to that effect.

Mr. Seijuuro shoved me out of the way.

I stood back, a creature on the sidelines watching as Mr. Seijuuro pressed his ear against my Dad's chest. His fingers prodded at my father's neck roughly.

"Get the phone," he ordered softly, still prodding. I stumbled to the phone in the living room.

"Who-who do you want me to-to call?" My hands began shaking in reaction to everything.

"An ambulance," he told me, laying my Dad flat on the ground. "Do you know the number?" he asked.

Nodding my head I called, the phone pressed hard on my ear. I could feel tears forming at my cheeks, and I was getting really dizzy as I told the woman who answered what was going on. I could hardly understand myself, so I could only imagine what she was hearing on the other end. Eventually she told me someone would be out shortly and I should just wait. So I sat on the couch with my hands pressed between my thighs and my head bowed in some form of disgrace. Was it my fault all of this happened?

A hand rubbed my shoulder calmly. "Are they coming?" I nodded. "I'll keep an eye on him," Mr. Seijuuro said in a reassuring way. I glance up to him, wiping away the tears so I didn't look weak.

He'd known all along that my Dad was dead, but he was doing all that he could to make it seem otherwise. I was drunk after all, so my reality could have distorted things so wildly that I wouldn't have known if he were dead or alive. At the hospital, as they explained that my Dad died of of sudden heart attack, I lurched forward, puking on the nurses' shoes. She took it as my scared reaction, which it was in combination with my being drunk. She took me to the bathroom, staying silent all the way. I leaned over the toilet waiting for more to come up, and she dabbed my cheeks and lips.

"Is there anyway that you can leave us alone?" I heard Mr. Seijuuro asked curtly. The nurse lifted up and handed Mr. Seijuuro the washcloth.

The bathroom was small, so I was surprised that Mr. Seijuuro was able to fit in there with me. He rinsed off some of the puke and wrung out the rag, kneeling down toward me and wiping off my face like the nurse did. I was dry heaving at this point, and all my emotions were flooding out of me as if an atomic bomb had gone off in my head. I'd never felt so vulnerable, and in front of my boss too.

"It's all right," said Mr. Seijuuro slowly. He wasn't good at sensitive situations. "Uncle Hiko will take care of everything." He pulled me away from the toilet and ushered my head into his shoulder. Somehow he was able to coax me out of the bathroom once the waterworks turned off. After that I was like a corpse; tired, lonely and scared. It was as if there was nothing out there for me anymore. Like my soul had been pulled from my body as soon as they told me that Dad had died.

"What do you want to do?" Mr. Seijuuro asked me.

"Huh?"

"With your living conditions. What do you want to do?"

"I have...a few aunts somewhere."

He sighed. "You don't really like them?"

"I...I don't really know them. They never come around. Mom's sisters."

"So what do you want to do?" he too was confused, said the uncertainty in his voice. "Is there anyone here that can take care of you?"

"Not really." I cupped my hands over my face to hide the anguish that it was contorted into. "What do I do?"

"You're sixteen years old; you do have the mental capacity to decide where you want to go," he was being rational and logical, which was all he was capable of doing.

"You said Uncle..."I remembered from a few moments ago. "Uncle Hiko?"

He flashed this wily smile. "Well, I wasn't meaning that in any specific way," he shrugged, "I suppose that it could work if you wanted it to. An adoption form could put you in my custody, or we could just pretend that you are my nephew," he wanted to do that. He wanted me to be his. The way he spoke was way too optimistic for his normal standard. He was being the business man that he was bred to be, conning me and persuading me into his world. I took the bait in such a desperate situation. Uncle Hiko did have a nice ring to it. It assured that I had a home and that I wouldn't have to live outside of where I already lived.

Hiko put a hand on the nape of my neck, rubbing it in a sort of endearing, fatherly way. "There isn't much more to do right now. You'll have to get in contact with family and set up the funeral arrangements. For now, why don't I take you home?"

I nodded, rubbing my sleep deprived eyes.

Uncle Hiko. It happened too fast for my own good.

I grew up slowly when I was with my Mom and Dad. They babied me. They basically controlled everything in my life, like a good parent should. Like a good parent would. So even though I was sixteen years old, I was mentally about ten from all the babying. I knew it was going to be like that, it honestly didn't surprise me too much when Hiko pointed it out. The day I moved in with him he made it clear that I was the one in charge of my life, and that he would be too busy to deal with all my petty problems. Of course, with the way he spoke it sounded quite nice.

Hiko didn't live in a real extravagant place, but for the time it was uppity. It had several bedrooms, two baths. I was in a room that was down the hall from my new guardian, probably so he could keep an eye on me as I adjusted to the strange surroundings.

Living in Hiko's home made me grow up rather quickly. I was in charge of everything that had to do with school, like my lunch money and my fees; I was in charge of getting myself to an from work. The one thing that Hiko did for me was get me a driver's license and a car as quickly as he could. I would have to admit, I wasn't the safest driver on the road but I could deal. For a while I worked after school, still as a waiter, still making tips. Those tips didn't go under my bed completely though. Hiko was showing me different ways to invest, and showing me the ropes of his resturant which I learned was more than what it seemed.

That man that he had yelled, that he berated about money hadn't stolen anything owned by the restaurant specifically. As Katsu had told me, Hiko didn't care about those things. But out of the back of the restaurant, a separate business was running. A sort of black market of arms and whatnot. I was petrified when Hiko first told me everything. I just nodded my head and kept my eyes in front of me.

Talk about growing up.

For the first sixteen years of my life, I moved a snail's pace in comparison to everyone else when it came to life. Living with Hiko for a few months turned me into an adult all too quickly. At the time, I thought it was a small price to pay. Especially when Hiko offered me something that I couldn't pass up.

He came into my room one evening where I sat on the bed reading. I used the old photo, the one with Kaoru in it, as my book mark. I was lost in dreamland, half staring at the picture and half reading the printed words. I hardly noticed when Hiko sat on my bed. He took the book from me, looking at the pages, then stealing the picture before handing the book back to me.

"What the..?"

I had a bit of a late reaction.

Hiko stared at the picture pensively. I had it folded in a way that Kaoru was nearly the only one visible. He smirked at the picture, leaving me to imagine the kind of thoughts that were going through his head.

"You like her?" he asked immediately.

"I uh..."

"Yes or no?"

"Yes but--"

"Her family comes pretty regularly," he told me, which was something I had gathered from her family's visits. "In fact, her father and I have a mutual respect for one another. He has a bit of...investment in the business." Hiko's head upturned in an arrogant sort of way. "I didn't know you like her though," a pause, "interesting."

"It'sjustalittlecrushisall," I said as fast as I could, and attempted to steal the picture back from him. He was too quick for me.

"A little one you say?" he shrugged. "You really like her?"

"Um...yeah I...guess."

"Do you? Honestly?"

"Yes..."I began blushing very harshly. Hiko rolled his shoulders and sighed. His head cocked to the side and he began pacing around the room.

"Well I could always...no...then again--" I could see the wheels in his head turning.

"What! What!"

"I'll have a talk with Mr. Kamiya," Hiko said, flicking the piece of paper back to me. He walked out of my room, humming delightfully.

I laid there the rest of the night, coveting the picture and wondering what Hiko meant exactly. But then, why should I have wondered anything? Hiko tended to get anything he wanted. Anything.

A/N: Well, that's all for now. Hope you enjoyed. tell me what you think. And sorry if anything sounds off or strange but...I am a litle sick right now so...bare with me. Til next time, KenSan out!