Kenshin reached out to take the cup in his hands, blowing on the tea delicately before sipping. He knew the tale he most wanted to tell; brief flashes of memory tugged at him while he watched Kaoru carefully turning her burned skin away from the warm cup. Burns were excruciating when the tender flesh was exposed to heat so soon after being burned, he knew this from experience.
He glanced down to the burn on his wrist, debating whether to tell her the story just to have it over and done with. No. He wasn't ready for that tale just yet, wasn't sure he would ever truly be ready, but he would tell it in time.
For now his eyes slide down to the knotted seam along the knuckles of his right hand. That was a fairly harmless memory, just a bit of youthful hubris and unfortunate coincidence. He would tell this tale and then test his mettle with the next.
Kenshin spread his hands neatly on his lap to study the scar- at last he began to speak.
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Kaoru watched his eyes grow unfocused once more, abandoning himself to his memories while his low, pleasant voice began the had seen him glance at the shining scar along his wrist, the one that looked suspiciously like a burn, but then his gaze turned to the cut along his knuckles and locked there stubbornly. She wondered if he would ever tell her the memory behind that burn, wondered if she even wanted to know the secret to something that could make the bravest man she knew pale with agony.
Shaking her head to clear away the idle musings, Kaoru struggled to rid her face of its curious expression and simply listen.
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Kenshin rushed down the path from his master's hut, a skip in his step that he knew he couldn't hide and so didn't even bother to try. Eight years old today, Hiko said he had earned this small concession and Kenshin couldn't be more delighted.
Normally his age went unremarked; he had no way of knowing the day or even the season his mother had given him birth and it hardly seemed to matter. Hiko said there were some men who would never be more than foolish children whether they lived to be fifteen or a hundred, and there were some who would be a hundred by the time they reached fifteen. Kenshin was skilled enough in the reading of his master to recognize the assessing gaze that said clearly Hiko thought he would be the latter, and wasn't entirely certain that was a good thing.
When Master Hiko had announced that they would celebrate his naming day instead of his long forgotten birth, Kenshin had been delighted. No one had ever marked his age before that he could recall, and in all the time he had stayed with Hiko he had never learned his age. Kenshin didn't want to remind him of this fact lest he decide that his apprentice had no need of any special considerations on this day.
Kenshin stumbled when Hiko caught up to him, catching his shirt in a firm grip lest he slip in the dirt. "Keep your balance, center your weight over your hips when running, it will make it more difficult for your foes to trip you.
Kenshin grinned up at him, one tooth conspicuously missing. Hiko shook his head, but Kenshin could hear the fondness in his voice when he spoke. "Calm yourself. We are in no hurry, the village is not far now."
"What is it like? Are there many people?"
"No. Not many; there are children your age though." A worried look flickered across his face and Kenshin bobbed ahead of him, turning to address him again.
"Is there something wrong, master?"
"Nothing. It's only… children are unpredictable, Kenshin." Hiko seemed to remember that he was speaking to a child himself and smiled wryly at his young pupil, "Not all of them are so disciplined as you. Most of the children here have learned nothing of combat save what little they've gleaned from petty fights with other children. Don't be drawn into their silly arguments. It wouldn't be a fair fight and I'm sure a clever boy like you could think of better ways for handling trouble than resorting to street-tough logic."
Hiko had been hesitant when Kenshin had first asked if he might accompany him to this little hamlet today, but seeing the hope and loneliness in his apprentice's eyes had softened him. It wasn't good for a child to be kept always in the company of his elders, even and especially not a child as sensitive as Kenshin. It would be just another aspect of his training, teaching him to relate to children his own age.
Kenshin wasn't paying him any heed, having just caught sight of the clearing ahead and the scattering of buildings nestled there. In truth, it was hardly worthy of being called a village, little more than a scattering of huts and a small way-station where a traveler might rest for a few hours.
Nothing could have convinced him that it was anything less than the grandest little village in all of Japan. Hiko had kept him isolated on the mountaintop for so very long, he hardly remembered what it was like to have anyone other than his master to speak with or to play any games that were meant to be shared.
Kenshin pulled his top from the inner pocket of his shirt and studied it curiously, perhaps he could find someone here that had another. They could duel to see whose would spin the longest; Kenshin knew his would be the very best.
"What are you waiting for, scamp? Run, go. We don't have more than an hour before we must go back; don't waste it."
Kenshin needed no further urging, tripping over his sandals in his eagerness to be off. Hiko watched him go worriedly; he couldn't keep the child free of worldly influence forever. Better he should have the time to acclimate now while there was still someone to look out for him. What troubled him most though was the idea of Kenshin meeting the other children, seeing their lives and perhaps regretting his choice. Worse yet, children could be cruel little monsters; he didn't much care for the idea of his too- gentle apprentice being bullied for his obvious otherness.
It was too late for second thoughts, he had to let the boy go sometime.
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Kenshin raced ahead, oblivious to his mentor's turmoil as his wide eyes took in everything there was to see. Catching the puzzled stare of an older woman with graying hair pulled back from her face, Kenshin waved timidly. She was bent over a basket filled with all manner of plants, some of which he recognized from his mountain home and others foreign to his eyes. He glanced at her curiously, blushing slightly when she spoke to him.
"Whose little one are you?" Her creaky voice just barely reached him over the sound of his own excited panted.
Kenshin made his way carefully over to the lady, crouching down to bring himself face-to-face with her. "I am here with master Hiko."
The woman drew away, something like frustration sparking in her eyes. "Is that right? Have you been with him long?"
"Two summers gone." Kenshin chirped, how much was he supposed to tell her? Would Hiko mind if he stayed to talk? He wanted to see the herbs in the basket; Hiko probably knew them all by name. He taught Kenshin their uses every now and again, but perhaps this woman knew something even his wise mentor did not.
"Two summers and he has only brought you down now." Kenshin recognized anger beneath her words, but he could not divine the cause. He stood, preparing to run off, but she caught his hand gently, "Will you help me with this basket…?"
"Kenshin." He supplied.
"Kenshin." She smiled warmly and his fear evaporated. Whatever the cause of her anger, she seemed happy enough now and it was enough to tell him he was not the cause.
He rolled up his sleeves and grabbed the basket, surprised at its weight but bearing it easily. Master Hiko said his strength grew daily, but now he knew it for truth.
She reached down to take the other side of the basket and Kenshin stepped away, "I have it."
"Come then, it's not much farther." She set off along the path, walking easily by his side.
"I don't know your name."
She raised her brows and Kenshin wondered if he might have said something rude. Names were important things though, Hiko frequently reminded him of it.
"I am Mizuho."
"Mizuho." Kenshin repeated softly, it rolled trippingly off the tongue. It fit her, he decided, and nodded approvingly.
To his surprise they came to the small way-station where Hiko sat, sipping at a cup of sake while he looked out over the dirt path. He seemed surprised to see his apprentice again so soon, and a little defensive when he noted the old woman walking at his side.
"Kenshin was kind enough to help me with the basket. He is a good boy, I am left wondering why I have only just met him. He tells me you have kept him in your company nearly two summers now."
Their eyes clashed and Kenshin wilted slightly.
"You know I do not invite speculation or commentary on my affairs. This is the first time I have seen fit to bring him here."
"Why? The boy should be here with something more than one man for company. Where is his family?"
Hiko's eyes flickered, features tensing almost imperceptibly.
"Kenshin, why don't you leave the basket here? I will collect you when we must go."
Kenshin put the basket down carefully, backing out of the area; despite their terse attitudes he thought Mizuho might be a friend, Hiko's language was respectful at least and he could not imagine anyone save a friend daring to take that tone with his mentor. He was a little jealous to find that the notoriously private man might have someone other than his apprentice to confide in.
He ducked out of sight, listening for a few moments more, hearing the soft rumble of Hiko's voice and a slightly louder reply.
"You should have brought him here directly. The life you live is not one for a child."
"I am not accustomed to accounting for my actions to meddlesome old women." There was no real heat in the reply, but Kenshin could hear his frustration plainly.
"I think that is exactly the problem."
He couldn't hear Hiko's reply, but he knew if he were caught eavesdropping like this it would mean extra chores in the days to come. Kenshin hurried away to find another companion before Hiko called him back again.
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Just ahead he caught sight of a small group of other children, most of them clearly his juniors but he thought he could see one or two that were his age, maybe even a little older. Kenshin approached them cautiously, hands slipping beneath his shirt to grip his top for luck. Master Hiko said a good warrior made his own luck, not counting on any outside objects. Kenshin knew he was no kind of warrior yet, and he wasn't fully convinced that Master Hiko might not be wrong. Even thinking it felt vaguely disrespectful; Hiko was a true master, and Kenshin only his apprentice. It was not the apprentice's place to question the wisdom offered by his betters. Not yet, anyway.
The other children ceased their play as he approached, watching him warily with slitted eyes. Kenshin tried for a bright smile, hoping to put them at their ease.
"Hello." He bowed slightly, not too deep, hands held loosely at his side.
"What's the matter with your hair?" One of the younger ones spoke, pulling his fingers from his mouth. Kenshin blinked, didn't he know that was dirty? It wasn't his place to say anything.
"I don't understand." Kenshin tugged at a red lock, running it through his fingers to look for any kind of debris.
"Looks funny." Another chimed in. "Are you a demon?"
"No." Kenshin wrinkled his nose indignantly. "Demons don't exist."
"My mama says they do. She says they have hair like flame and death in their eyes."
As a group the children leaned forward to catch his eyes, studying the peculiar violet carefully.
"What's death look like?" It seemed the obvious question to ask, but the children drew away from him quickly.
"Like that. Your eyes are too bright." One of the older ones gestured to him.
"Go away." Chirped a younger.
Rallying, Kenshin pulled the top from his clothing and offered it up on an open palm. They flinched back as though he had proffered a weapon instead.
"I only want to play. I'm not any kind of demon. Master Hiko says they're just false tales to frighten sheep."
The tallest stepped forward and knocked the toy from his hand, kicking dirt over it disparagingly. He stepped forward as though to crush it beneath his feet and in that moment Kenshin moved more quickly and gracefully than his master could have ever taught.
He had only meant to push the boy away, but somehow he found that his hand had clenched into a fist and it landed with a stunning impact on the boy's soft stomach. The other child doubled up as his breath left him in a rush and Kenshin's second fist took him in the teeth, laying open his knuckles so that blood poured from the split skin.
Kenshin's eyes stung with tears as he gathered up the top, whether it was from the ache in his hands or the way the other boy recoiled from him or simply the relief of holding his most precious possession in his hands again Kenshin would never know.
The other children gazed at him with wide eyes, one of the smaller ones began to weep; it seemed to be some sort of signal, they all turned and ran from him, leaving him alone with the strange child.
Kenshin wiped his eyes on his sleeve, "I'm sorry." He whispered, offering a bruised hand to the other child. The boy scrambled to his feet and ran like the others, leaving Kenshin alone once more. He didn't want to be here, he never wanted to come back.
Kenshin turned and ran, rushing back to the place where he had left Master Hiko with his drink. He and the older woman sat together now; Master Hiko was on his second cup of sake, and the grandmother seemed to be enjoying her first. Both turned with similar expressions of alarm when Kenshin barreled in, making straight for Hiko's side.
"I'm sorry." He whimpered into his master's shirt, rubbing his face on the material to clear his face of tears again.
"Kenshin, what happened?"
"The other children… I…"
Hiko sucked in a breath when he caught sight of Kenshin's abused hand. "You fought."
"I'm sorry." He hiccuped.
Mizuho pushed back from the table, patting his hair- his awful hair- soothingly.
"I'll check on the others. I think you'd best see to him."
He heard her leave and slowly pulled away from Master Hiko. "I want to go home." He sniffed.
Hiko sighed deeply, "Give me your hand."
Warily, Kenshin offered it, not sure if Hiko would punish him or not.
Hiko tipped a little sake into the wound and new tears flooded down Kenshin's cheeks at the sting. "Never aim for your enemy's face when you use your fist. It's a hard target and you're likely to get cut up on their teeth."
Hiko dabbed at the wound with his sleeve, patting Kenshin's back awkwardly.
"Are you angry?" Kenshin whispered fearfully. He couldn't read his master's face; resignation was the closest thing he could think of to define it.
"Not angry. Disappointed. A man shouldn't fight unless he can see no other course. Did they attack you?"
"No." Kenshin mumbled shamefacedly, wiping the last few tears from his eyes.
"Then you did not have to fight. I think you are correct; we should go home."
"What about Mizuho?"
"That old biddy will figure out we've left soon enough. She knows everything, or at least thinks she does."
"Shouldn't we say good-bye?"
Hiko ruffled his hair softly, "There will be other days, Kenshin. You can speak with her next time."
There would be no next time, Kenshin knew. He didn't want to come here again, he didn't want to see the now justified fear in their eyes and he never wanted to hear that regretful tone in Hiko's voice again.
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It was a long walk back that night, somehow it had seemed so much shorter when they came down in the afternoon. Kenshin was exhausted by the time they returned and wanted nothing more than to fall into the sweet escape of sleep. He forced himself to stay awake, venturing outside to gather the herbs he would need; he knew this plant at least, and its uses.
When Hiko woke him in the morning it was with a considerable degree of surprise and no small amount of confusion. "Kenshin, what happened to your hair?"
Hiko held the dyed strands to the the light, murky and brown and clumped together. It looked rather like his apprentice had spent the night rolling in mud.
"I don't want it to be strange anymore."
Hiko snorted, tugging at the strands in his hand roughly, "What sort of nonsense is this? Go and wash it out, Kenshin. Heat the water, it will dissipate faster."
"I like it better this way."
"I don't. I think it is the most foolish thing you have ever done. Now go and wash it clean. There are chores that need doing before practice."
For the first time, Kenshin voiced a denial, and he could see the open shock painted on Hiko's face, "I won't."
Hiko cuffed him smartly and Kenshin scowled, pulling away from Hiko's fingers as his hair tangled in knots.
"Why not?" Hiko's tone was sharp and suggested he didn't much care about the reason; children could be little fools he was quickly learning. Best to find out what had spawned this idiocy and nip it in the bud.
"I'm not a demon."
Hiko snorted incredulously. "Of course not, silly boy. Demons don't-"
"The others said they do. They said demons have hair like flame and eyes with death in them."
Hiko froze, comprehension dawning at last. Uncertainly he pulled Kenshin into his lap, feeling the ripple of shock that ran through the child's body, such affection was rare indeed.
"And how would they know? Have they seen a demon before?"
"I don't know."
"If they had they would know that you aren't. The only demons that exist are men, Kenshin. Men with strength but no honor. Men with weapons and no discipline. They can have red hair or black or golden, and eyes filled with light or darkness. The only thing they have in common is their twisted, withered souls. The children were half right, they do carry death in their eyes and a smile on their face and you will know them. They make no apology for their actions when it achieves their object."
Hiko fixed him with a pointed stare and Kenshin nodded his understanding.
"If ever the day comes that you cannot bear to look into your own eyes, yet you feel no shame for your actions. Then you will be a demon, Kenshin. And dying your hair will not change it."
Kenshin pressed his face trustingly into Hiko's shirt and they lay there peaceably for a few moments until Hiko finally pulled away, all business again.
"Now, wash that muck from your hair and see to your chores."
Kenshin hopped to his feet and bolted out, eager now to wash the foulness away.
Hiko released the breath he had been holding for so long. He had the uncomfortable premonition that Kenshin would meet more than his fair share of demons in his day. He had seen enough of them for his short years already. Hiko resolved to make an offering at the shrine when next he passed by it, suspicion or not maybe it would ease his darkening thoughts.
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Kenshin drew another deep breath, slowly looking up to catch Kaoru's eyes again. He winced to see the unshed tears shining there.
"It was not so very terrible, Miss Kaoru." He dare not tell her the story of the others, not if even so much as this upset her.
He started with surprise when hand reached out to brush at his hair absentmindedly, "Oh, Kenshin."
The whispered word held enough heartbreak that Kenshin felt his throat closing tightly, not permitting any words to escape.
"Not your pretty hair." She twisted a strand around her burned finger, and froze, pulling back suddenly while her face blushed a color deep enough to match his hair.
"It was a silly thing, Miss Kaoru-"
"Not silly! That was wicked. Did you ever see them again, Kenshin? What of the old woman, did you meet her again?"
Kenshin swallowed thickly, "I did not return for many years. By then she was long since gone and the children had become men. Superstitious and frightened as ever."
"I'm sorry." Kaoru shook her head slowly.
"It was many years ago and all that needs to be said has been."
It was true, he felt just a little lighter for the telling of it. Could almost smile at the memory of the black in the water and his muddy red locks as he washed the dye away.
Kaoru folded her knees under her once again, watching him expectantly.
He was ready for the next tale, and the one after that, as many as she could bear until the burden became too much. He must be careful not to weigh her down too heavily, but even with her reddening eyes she still seemed as open and unburdened as ever...
The burns, then.