: Disclaimer :
Sessha does not own Rurouni Kenshin, that he most certainly does not. :)
Justice - *eyes an egg roll* Food!
Kenshin - O_O Wait! Those are for Miss Kaoru, they are!
Justice - She won't miss one...
Kenshin - You'll put that back, you will! *draws reverse-blade sword*
Justice - *holds out egg roll in defense* Will not!
Kenshin - Will too!
Justice - Not!
Kenshin - Too!
Justice - Hey, thanks! *grabs another one*
Kenshin - @_@x Orooooooo...
Hiko - ~_~ Idiots...
Director - CUT! Hiko, you're not in this one! Out! OUT!
Hiko - *grumbles* *sneaks egg roll*
Director - Okay, places, everyone! Take two!
Hiko - I will. *nabs another*
Justice - *mouth full* Anuther tuu? ^_^
Kenshin - @_@x ARGH!
...I have a question. Since the 'u' is usually silent unless doubled up, is it pronounced
'Ka-ow-rew' or 'Ka-owr'...? Is the 'u' silent? Did the CN version goof? @_@ Must know...
AUTHOR'S NOTES - Seijuro Hiko has killed before, indeed, he was a man-slayer in his own right
before he had found Shinta, but Hiko, bowing to no living man, has never known the stress and toil
of delivering 'Heaven's Justice'. In his haste to reach Kyoto and slay his student, he has perhaps ignored
the possibility that his deshi is as unhappy with the situation as Hiko is. Now, with uncertainty in his mind
regarding the path he has chosen, the evils of the world facing him again, and the memories of life
before the master-student conflict began, Hiko is left to a very unfamiliar feeling... hesitation.
: REVIEW THANKS :
Oro! Eleven reviews! ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ Orooooooooo... This is so kewl, de gozaru yo...
By the way, having read all of your stories, I would like to recommend to all my reviewers to read
the other reviewer's stories. There is a great cache of talent here, and it would be wise to indulge yourselves
and read it... ^_^
the sacred night - Arigatou! I, too, think Hiko is underappreciated. But then, so is Enishi.
*gasp* Maybe Enishi will appear in this story? O.O Would that be a good idea, or would it be forcing it?
Input, please...
Master of Time and Space - Arigatou! Yes, I know very little about the Bakumatsu era, but I think,
at this point, that it's only helped my writing - knowing little about the era, I've had to work harder to establish
my view of Hiko and his perception of the times, as well as keeping the date iffy so as to provoke myself into thinking harder about what I write... ^_^ It all worked out, I think.
Hitokiri-san - Arigatou! Inner conflict is somethin I love. o.O It is the engine by which the character changes
and by which we authors (and authoresses) can express not only our views of that character, but perhaps our own
feelings and uncertainties through that character. (Although that is not the case here - this is purely Hiko. o.O)
O_O Please don't set me up as Kenshin - Hiko might kill me before I finish the next few chappies...
And unlike Kenshin, I am no Hiten master... I'll last about one second...
Maeve Riannon - Arigatou! True, Kenshin was a shadow assassin, but I have set up a device by which this has been reconciled. o_O It will be a while before this plot device is seen, but it is there.
As for the Shinsengumi... o_O Those cats can't beat Hiko. Why do they even try? ^_^
For Hiko's destination, well... that is a secret. ^_^
sam - Calm down, calm down! Kenshin is my absolute favorite character of all time and I have no intentions of
killing him off. That seems... criminal. o.O
Thanks for the reviews, everyone! Please keep reading and responding!
The Sword of Seijuro Hiko
Chapter 05 - Tired Souls
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ORO
----- ----- -----
Rather than get started moving that night, Hiko had decided to let the former captives sleep for a while and recover
their strength. After consulting with the woman he had found along the road, it had been decided that they
would be taken to a small village about thirty miles from their current location. This put Hiko considerably
out of his way, but he did not mind it at the moment, having much to consider about his decisions in recent days
and where they were leading him.
Night had long since fallen, and the children were soundly asleep amidst the women, who were also fast asleep,
safe and secure in the presence of their unknown benefactor. It had only been a matter of a few sentences
between them before the women had completely trusted Hiko, and had grown as friendly and kind to him
as if he had been an old family friend dropping in for tea.
This disturbed Hiko on a fundamental level.
Such naiveté. They have known me for all of an hour now, and yet they sleep so deeply, with no thoughts
to possible deceit or betrayal. In this day and age, more than any, it is the time for mistrust and suspicion.
To simply - trust; without any reservations or misgivings; is this even possible anymore?
Glancing sidelong at the huddled group, he observed the youngest of the adults, a pretty young woman
with dark eyes and a magnificent spirit. She had been the first to speak to him, and she had not spoken shyly or
uncertainly, but with confidence and power. Hiko had fairly beamed at her courage and grit; she had placed herself between Hiko and the other captives, picking up a katana dropped by one of the slavers.
Hiko flinched imperceptibly, his eyes narrowing to almond-shaped slits of pure fury - they slowly traced along the deep slash left across her pretty face; a memento from the whip-bearing bandit and his friends.
Hiko recalled that he had always wished a happier afterlife to those who fell by his sword in years past -
it had been years since he had been required to kill a man, though that didn't mean much.
The memories stuck with you, no matter how strong your constitution or will, and Hiko could remember the face
of the first man to die by his sword as well as the ones that had just died.
He found, however, that his mentality towards them had changed drastically. Instead of wishing them happiness,
he now cursed them to whatever fate God saw fit to give them. His blood ran hot in his veins, though the 'battle'
(if it could be called such) had been over for more than two hours.
Such wickedness... I could feel their lust for the woman, and beyond that.... No, I won't even think it.
Let them burn forever for thinking such things. The deepest, hottest fires of Hell are reserved for men
such as they, and that is as it should be, for they deserve their fates.
His eyes scanned the small group. The children were fast asleep, their minds somehow detaching themselves
from the horrors they had seen and heard, (such abilities lived only in the minds of children) and returning them
to a place where they were safe and happy. A giggle came from one of the girls, and a wistful smile came to Hiko's lips as she wrapped her small arms around a makeshift pillow, evidently thinking it was a stuffed animal friend
of hers. Hiko allowed himself a small chuckle.
His eyes, slowly returning to black, smiled as well, amused and heartened by the sweet innocence
of children. He'd put up a front as best he could, but he had a very soft spot for children in his heart of hearts.
Hiko's eyes stopped smiling, and he frowned.
He closed his eyes, remembering...
It had been a long while since he'd visited that place. He kept his sensitive side well hidden, buried under the machismo and the arrogance, so others would not see the real power behind his Hiten Mitsurugi. Other sword styles
depended on the calm, the lack of emotion, the peace inside one's heart, but such things would only hinder Hiko.
His was the sword that felt, that was driven upon the pent-up anger and sorrows that the age brought upon him.
A sword driven by emotions, yet a well-ordered, driven sword; such was the reason that Hiten masters served no one.
The sword driven by the heart was rendered both meaningless and impotent when it was not driven by the user's heart, but by the heart of others. To blindly follow orders, to not fight because you feel you must, but instead because
you were made to do it, was to bring the sword that soared to the heavens, above the mountains and even the clouds,
that flew even unto the stars, down from the skies and stars and chain it to the ground.
Yet even when chained, the Hiten Mitsurugi still brought unearthly, unbridled power to the user, and unbridled power in the hands of one who is bridled led to one thing.
Chaos.
Hiko, opening his eyelids, leaned his head back to look at the stars.
God only knew it had been a long time since he had done that, too.
That damnable philosophy continues to haunt this world even in this age. "The needs of the many..."
Hiko had a man named Marx to thank for that, if memory served. He made a note to kill that man
if he met him in Heaven, or to pursue him to Hell, if neccessary.
But then, it was not that fool's fault, really. Many people thought like that. Example - the man who
recruited Kenshin to be a hitokiri in the first place.
Scowling, Hiko made a note to kill that man as well.
No different than placing the boy on some pagan altar and offering him as a blood sacrifice.
No, it's worse. At least there the sacrifice keeps his soul, if not his earthly life.
The formation of a new government, dedicated to the people, to serving and protecting them...
Nice ideal, if only they'd pay attention to their own goals.
A part of Hiko's mind quietly wondered how many innocents had died in the attempt to reach this
better, more equal goverment, which was supposed to protect the very people it was slaying.
They could not bring the people happiness, because they obviously did not know what it was,
else they would not deprive Japan's children of their parents, and continually damage and destroy
Japan's future citizens, soldiers, and leaders. Blind fools.
The other part of his mind continued thinking of his deshi and the choices he had made.
Ignorant child. He brings death and terror wherever he goes now. All of Japan fears his Hiten blade,
something out of legends and wives' tales; people of these days never considered that such power could
exist in the world anymore. I wonder if there are any men in Japan besides myself that are capable of challenging
him, as he is now.
The Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu was created with the intent to protect and serve the people of Japan.
The techniques had been developed, as well as the methods for increasing speed and power,
solely for that purpose. And yet, the Battousai existed. Such contradiction was rare.
As a hitokiri, Kenshin would have no say in who was targeted and marked for death, or why,
or when. His sword would destroy those determined to be 'evil' by those above him,
and surely even Kenshin would have to see that not all of the people he went after
were wicked and corrupt to the degree he imagined.
Hiko scowled, wondering how many people Kenshin had slain that had nothing to do
with the murders and rapes and enslavement that infuriated him so much.
He also wondered how many individuals had been slain in their own homes.
How many children had awoken and rushed into their father's office or bedroom, having
come to say good-night again, or perhaps having awakened from a nightmare, to another one.
How would they react upon seeing their father's...
Every muscle in Hiko's body went rigid, bristling with fury, and it was only force of will
that kept him from dashing into the night and running all the way to Kyoto to kill that idiot apprentice.
He gritted his teeth and tried to ease his fury by degrees, watching the stars overhead, listening to the wind
in the grass, anything to keep from thinking about it...
He tried watching the children again, but that only made him more furious.
As the minutes passed, Hiko felt himself calm down a little, and he began to think again,
more carefully this time.
A hitokiri, unlike a Hiten Mitsurugi user, placed no value on life, not the target's, nor his own.
The hitokiri's blade, not like the Hiten blade, had no positive emotions to guide and control it.
Without placing any value on life, anyone would be fair game to the evil blade Kenshin now wielded.
After all, nothing was sacred to a hitokiri.
There would only be fury behind that sword, a cold kind of fury, colder than any other.
An anger directed not at the enemy, not truly, but at oneself, a terrible kind of anger that stripped
the heart of emotions instead of using them.
The lack of heart would then feed the irrational fury, since it was the lack of feeling that allowed the hateful
rage to nest in a man's heart, and that would tear away at the heart even more, the cycle continuing until the heart was no more and the Hiten user could no longer distinguish between ally, enemy, and self.
Hiko shuddered at the thought. To lose oneself wholly in mindless rage, to know nothing except the field of battle
and the blood of men; this was what would happen to Kenshin.
Heart of sword...
The boy's stubborn will and just heart would stay the fury for a long while - he was more dedicated to life and protecting it than any Hiten master before him, more so even than Hiko himself. It would protect him for a time,
although it would be a tragic time; the boy's mind would be reeling from the incongruencies of his new existence,
trying to make sense of it and reconcile the ideal he fought for with the method it was 'gained' by.
The life of a Hiten Mitsurugi-wielding hitokiri. How infuriatingly ironic.
No two terms, except righteousness and wickedness, could possibly be more opposite from each other.
And like good and evil, the two would war inside of Kenshin, The Hiten and the Hitokiri.
In any normal circumstances, the Hiten would win. In any normal circumstances, the comflict
would not even exist.
But willingly subjecting himself to the 'cause' of the Ishin Shishi would strip the Hiten sensibilites and principles of the power they needed to protect Kenshin's heart, mind, and soul, and of the power needed to slay the Hitokiri in Kenshin's heart.
Hiko shut his eyes tightly, and suppressed a need to scream at the idiocy of his pupil, and at the unfairness
of the world, and to express his venom to the man who had brought Kenshin to this abomination of an existence,
this crossroads of life and death, where Hiko would be required to slay his pupil, rather than let him die from
his own madness. Either way, he would die, but the Hitokiri would kill Kenshin more surely.
His soul, anyways. Which was worse than dying physically, in Hiko's mind. The utter destruction of his life
and consciousness.
Nonexistence.
Hiko hung his head and contemplated the strength of the Hiten Mitsurugi, the emotion that made it
strong, that drove the blade into conflict with evil.
It wasn't a simple answer, but after thinking it over for a while, he believed he had found it.
Anger.
Pure, unadulterated rage towards the unregenerate evils of Japan.
Yet even though it was the sword that was driven by anger, it was also driven by love. Yes, the true power
of the Hiten lay in that particular emotion - protectiveness, the need to defend others, to defend life, love,
and innocence...
Innocence.
Opening his eyes, watching the children again, Hiko felt a kind of calm come over himself.
Not a lack of emotion, but rather, a sureness of emotion, a certainty of feeling that flowed through his
soul and restored his resolve and strength.
This was the strength and the hallmark of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu, and Hiko knew it well.
The long-forgotten smirk flashed over his face for a moment, replacing the ever-present scowl that had creased his handsome features for more than a week now, and it was gone just as quickly, but the effect lingered.
He knew who he was and what he was doing, where he was going.
The world could be burning itself to ashes all around himself, but he was still Seijuro Hiko.
And nothing was ever going to change that.
Not even the death of his deshi.
...funny how I end up lying to myself, after all those lessons on honesty.
His gaze turning from the children, his eyes settled again on the whip-mark across the young woman's face.
He stared at the wound for a moment, then turned away, cursing again.
His resolved, strengthened by his internal monologue, began to waver again, as reality crashed back
into his mind.
And yet, for all my power, I was not able to prevent her injury, nor the death of her townspeople, nor the emotional
wound that I know will haunt those children unto the end of days. All my training, my strength, the very sword
I carry with me...
His fists clenched, unbidden, and Hiko, frustrated, folded his arms to keep them from shaking in rage.
...it is all for nothing. Nearly so, anyways. And yet one would think I would be numb to these truths by now.
But to become numb was to lose feeling, and that would lead Hiko down a path very similar to that
his deshi now walked. The path of the man-slayer.
No, he would never grow accustomed to these horrors. His mind could not accept that train of thought.
Refused it outright.
This thing Hiko and Kenshin shared - their fury at the evils of the age. And yet, it had led them to such differing paths - Hiko could only blame himself for failing to properly teach the boy...
Shishou... What would you have done? What did I do wrong? Where did I fail in teaching him?
Lost in his inner thoughts, Hiko did not notice himself dropping off, nor did he notice the peculiar
feeling that had overcome his senses...
Where am I?
Startled, he quickly surveyed the area, taking note of the breed of tree, the grass, the cool, crisp mountain air...
...the very familiar lands scars that spoke of a titanic clash between master swordsmen...
Hiko was now thoroughly disquieted.
My mountain... I'm back on my mountain. I must be dreaming.
He snorted.
Baka, baka, baka.
He could not remember the last time he had actually slept. That is, fully slept. Over the years, he had made a conscious note to never fall so deeply asleep that he would have trouble identifying threats around himself;
being a Hiten Mitsurugi master brought a certain paranoia to an individual, and Hiko was no exception.
If anything, he was the rule that disproved the exception. Kenshin had found this out the hard way, having snuck
up on Hiko one day to suprise him for his birthday... the kid would have beet cut in twain had not Hiko recognized him at the last possible second.
That said, he was indeed suprised.
Sighing in his dream-state, Hiko attempted to wake himself up.
(A/N - How did he do this? I've no clue. :) Hypothesize.)
Nothing.
Again, he tried to awaken from his sleep, to force his eyes to open...
Nothing.
His dream-eyes opened, at any rate, and Hiko quirked a brow.
What's going on? Why am I unable to awaken?
He stewed for a moment.
Hold on a second...
A terrible (and utterly valid) thought crossed his mind.
Am I dead?
He mused at this notion for a moment, then snorted.
Feh. As if anything could kill me.
How ridiculous for him to even consider that notion. Well, that was what happened to people when they dreamed.
Although, Hiko's subconscious seemed to think up some strange notions.
Evil notions, at that.
Kill the thought, kill the thought, evil thought, bad thought, Aku, Soku, Zan...
Chuckling, Hiko decided to walk around the mountain a bit and clear his mind.
Let's see... This is the clearing where I taught him the Dou Ryuu Sen... So I'll head west a bit.
Back to the hut he called home. Hiko sighed, and shook himself, shedding the heavy thoughts he carried
for a while, and resolved to just relax a little and reminisce.
Taking a deep breath, he started walking back to the cabin, perhaps to a closet full of sake.
Dream-sake, but sake nonetheless.
Strange how dreams had a way of making you do exactly what you wanted to avoid at all costs.
Hiko scowled more deeply than he had since learning of the Battousai's existence.
Heaven must have something against me. Even here, I cannot escape reality.
Still about a thousand feet from his home, he could sense a presence, and a most powerful one at that.
Hiko had always described ki as a manifestation of colors to Kenshin, and had tried to portray how certain
emotions could be 'seen' by someone trained in such things. Physical manifestations aside, with this skill,
Hiko could read his opponent's soul simply by gazing at them, not even into their eyes,
although the eyes usually told the story behind the ki.
This ki was both powerful and dangerous - Hiko could feel an unidentifiable hint of deadly fury in the line
and flow of the individual's spirit. It was full of rage and sorrow, but they were blanketed under a mask
of serenity and calm that Hiko found quite familiar. It felt strangely like his own ki.
It he hadn't known he was standing where he was, he might have thought he was sensing himself.
Confusion and uncertainty bound and chained by a devotion to duty and to the people around him.
It lacked the arrogant air that Hiko possessed (obviously a character fault of the man he was dream-sensing)
but other than that, the two kis he were disturbingly similar.
Right down to the boundless love hidden deep inside the heart.
Yet even though the darker emotions were masked and covered, Hiko could almost taste the turmoil in the
person's heart. A chaotic heart it was, one that struggled for clarity and order, for an orderly, sensible life,
for the past that was so much simpler...
Oh, no...
Kenshin.
Kami-sama, anyone but him, anyone at all...
What would he say to such a manifestation? He desired to avoid speaking to his deshi above all things,
fearing that the conversation would only make the end harder, for both of them.
If he had to slay his deshi, he would do it quickly and cleanly; Kenshin would have no clue what was going on,
and there would be no pain... A fat lot of good it would do Hiko, though, to have to look into his deshi's eyes
one more time before the end came.
No matter if it was a dream, it wasn't going to make things any easier on him.
Eyes narrowing, he tried to take a step back...
...but his foot went forward.
He tensed, not moving an inch. A single bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, the air around him thick
with his rapidly destabilizing ken-ki.. He wanted to turn and run, to run far away from it all...
But he had to talk to him. If only in a dream, he desired one last talk with his deshi.
It was taking the coward's way out, to speak to a dream instead of the boy himself, and Hiko knew it,
yet it was all he was capable of doing at this point.
And it was, most possibly, the most he would ever be capable of.
Quietly, he gathered what courage he could, and strode into the small clearing where he had last seen his deshi.
Perhaps he would not even be speaking to Kenshin, but his mind's conception of the Battousai.
The man-slayer he knew his deshi had become.
A distinct possibility, but he did not care at the moment.
He would gain nothing by hesitating forever.
A small figure sat outside a familiar hut, his katana in hand, the wakizashi he carried laid in the grass
at his feet. The person was slim, scrawny even, but held an unmistakable aura of power about him,
a dangerous power, so forbidding and dark that none could gaze at him and remain the same thereafter.
Seijuro Hiko was no exception.
Standing three feet behind his deshi, Hiko tried to make sense of all that he was feeling.
A mild breeze picked up across the clearing, rustling the grass and leaves, yet Hiko could hear no sound.
A songbird alighted upon his hut, bursting forth in a blissfully lighthearted series of tweets and chirps,
yet he could hear it not.
The thunderous pumping of the blood in his veins was all that he knew.
Amidst the silence and the sounds, Hiko heard something that nearly broke his emotional control.
"Gomen, shishou."
His heart stopped for a moment, started again, and Hiko hung his head in sorrow. Stepping forward,
he bent down and sat next to his deshi-turned-man-slayer.
The grief and horror hit home, and the two sat in a despairing silence. Neither spoke for a long while,
but instead watched the birds of the mountains in their carefree flight, and simply drifted for a while.
It was Hiko who broke it first.
"How goes the Revolution, deshi?"
Kenshin, for his part, bowed his head, his long bangs shrouding his eyes from view. He smiled an empty smile.
"It has been as you said it would, Shishou." the boy replied after a time. "Everything has been as you said it would."
Hiko bowed his head as well.
"I should have listened to you. I should never have joined the war. All that has come of it has been sadness and anger and hate." Kenshin's right hand tightly gripped his katana, and Hiko had to force himself to not reach for his own blade. The boy was very different now... "Since I left the mountain - I -" his voice faltered for a moment, and his eyes,
hidden from view, briefly shifted to a deep gold. "I have killed at least three hundred men, some Shogunate, some guards, some I don't know. All died at my hands. All died in the name of 'Heaven's Justice'. " At this, Hiko scowled,
as did Kenshin. "So much blood has been spilled that the rivers are sometimes red at night, and the soil seems to be stained with it. To me, even the moon seems drenched in blood. Yet they say I fight for the sake of the new era. Kenshin looked up at the sky for a moment, bathing in the bright, golden light, then turned his head and
glancing at Hiko sideways. Hiko could not keep himself from flinching at the horror and sadness in his deshi's eyes.
"So many have died, shishou. Not even all by my hand. When I first came to Kyoto, I thought that I could fight for a month or two, I thought that the job I had been given would be an infrequent one, that I would only be pursuing a small group of men who stood in the way of peace." Kenshin's eyes hardened at this, and Hiko watched him more closely. "Do you want to know how many men stand in the way of peace? How many men there are that, by their
very existence, keep this bloody madness from ending?" Kenshin snorted. "Too many. Far too many. I can remember each of their faces before they died. There are simply too many to count. So much death..."
Kenshin's countenance dropped, and he made a slight choking sound. To Hiko, it sounded like nothing so much
as a man trying to hold back a lifetime of tears, yet the boy was barely fifteen now.
Damn that monster who brought him to this. If ever I find him...
Kenshin covered his face with his hands, and he began to quiver before Hiko, something that Hiko had never seen
before. His suprise was muted by bald-faced shock, however, as his deshi suddenly threw his head back and began screaming at the sky.
Hiko made no move to stop him - he felt like screaming himself. What hope did this world have if this boy, this child, was forced to take up this wicked blade in the name of Heaven's Justice...
I should have went to Kyoto long ago. I should have slain every one of them, the Shogunate, the rebels, the Emperor himself. I could have prevented this. I could have ended this madness so long ago. But no - I would be doing that which I have condemned from the start...
He could not do that. He would not become the man-slayer of thousands more to...
To save my deshi's soul? I would. I would do it.
Minutes passed, and Kenshin's screams, wrought of grief and undirected, (and undirectable, in Hiko's mind) anger,
became more and more pain-filled and choked as the moments went by. It was a haze to Hiko, he had never seen the boy cry like he was now.
Cry is not the correct word. Sobbing, more like it. I despise this bloody war.
Gradually, Kenshin stopped his screaming, his cries becoming softer and more like a whimper. Hiko felt like nothing so much as heading straight to Kyoto and destroying the Shogunate himself, to prevent this from ever happening.
But then, he had given up on his dreams long ago.
Moments went by, and Kenshin slowly regained his focus. Shaking his head slowly, he began to speak in a whisper so low that even Hiko had trouble hearing.
"My dreams are nothing, my sword is purposeless, and I have no idea what to do now.
I would have returned long ago, but for the people I would have left behind, and that I gave my word..."
His eyes, having shifted from Hiko to the ground again, came back to Hiko. Hiko flinched again at the swollen, red-rimmed eyes the boy showed. Such senselessness... "How goes your life, shishou?"
Hiko was silent. Kenshin's eyes lingered for a moment, then turned back to the sky, watching a bluebird bring
food to it's egg-warming mate. The sight brought a genuine smile to his lips, and Hiko watched him out of the corner
of his eye as he spoke.
"I knew that one side or the other would take advantage of you, in desire of your Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu. Even before you left, I knew that it would be less than a fortnight before you were discovered and recruited by some silk-tongued politician..." Hiko's eyes drifted to the grass now, and, folding his arms, he leaned against the log behind himself
and hung his head in quiet rememberance. "It had occured to me many times that the path of the hitokiri would be the one you would be recruited to. And why not? As a frontline fighter, you would reign supreme, unmatched by all who
deemed themselves your equal or superior - they would be as nothing before your soaring blade. You would become a legend amongst the people, a figurehead of great stature amongst the troops, a hero of the cause; yet this they chose not to do. Why?" Hiko tilted his head slightly and gazed at Kenshin expectantly.
With a ruthless lack of self-pity Hiko had grown to respect, Kenshin met his master's eyes and responded without so much as blinking.
"As a frontline fighter, I would have been indispensable for dealing with armed confrontations and leading raids.
I could defeat entire squadrons of enemy soldiers by myself in the amount of time it took one normal man to defeat a single opponent. I would have been so far above the others; I would be the legend of the people, the ultimate soldier.
And yet, I would be known - I stand out so much already..." Kenshin smiled grimly at this, and Hiko said nothing.
"I would be remarkably easy to trace and those around me would be jeopardized by my very presensce. But that is not the reason I was chosen to be a hitokiri, was it, shishou?" Kenshin stared at Hiko inquisitively.
Hiko merely shook his head.
"It is because, then," Kenshin resumed, "that my superior swordsmanship, while instilling fear and dread amongst the enemy as a fighter, would be doubled if I was unseen, unknown, unidentifiable, untraceable. The legendary hitokiri
that disappeared into the shadows and seemed to pass through walls and building, so fast and unreadable and strong.
They would think I was a demon, not a man." Kenshin averted his eyes and hung his own head in shame. "No one I have fought yet has been anywhere near as fast as me, and their techniques seem so slow and their movements choppy. By virtue of my superior sword technique, training, and senses, I can move without being seen and strike faster than the sound of my sword being drawn can be heard. Such would demoralize the enemy and make them fearful and more hesitant than to face me out in the open." Kenshin stopped for a moment, leaning against the log as well and folding his own arms. He gazed up at the sky, deep in thought. "My true purpose has not been to slay the men that were marked for death - to be sure, it was my duty, but my real purpose - my true mission - was to be an instrument of terror and a herald of Death, the unspoken fear of the Shogunate. I am, truly, a psychological weapon." Kenshin closed his eyes, and a single tear fell from his cheek.
"Katsura knew this. That's why he chose me. He knew all of this - and I was too blind... too stupid..."
Kenshin watched the skies again, and Hiko lapsed into silence again.
I'm taking the coward's way out of it all, speaking to a dream. But I can't do otherwise. I can't let the real him
ever know what I plan to do. Hiko watched his dream-pupil as he scoured the skies, looking for the answer he sought. I don't know what to do other than speak my mind and ask forgiveness for failing him. But then,
what does it mean, if not asked of the real boy himself?
"Kenshin."
The boy looked back at Hiko, almost desperately, searching for some way out, for a purpose to live...
"You cannot undo what you have done thus far." Hiko hated hearing those words come from his own throat,
yet he spoke them anyways. They were true to a fault. "What blood has been shed will not be restored. What you can do, deshi..."
Hiko turned his head fully to face his deshi, and Kenshin looked at him with that look he had seen so often -
uncertain, hesitant, but determined; he had seen it every day for the past eight years, whether in waking hours or in his dreams, since his deshi had left...
"...what you can do is try to live differently henceforth." Hiko could feel the power of his thoughts behind his words, and he spoke with a passion that took the boy aback. "The path of the Hitokiri must end, whether or not the killing ends with it. The killing will indeed end eventually, but until that time, you must restrain your blade to do only the justice you know is true." Hiko narrowed his eyes, and spoke harder now. He had to get through to the boy...
"Never again let those men tell you who is evil and must die. Make the truth the judge for your actions, then move on from there. And if it becomes too much, then you can return to the mountain. Together, we will put an end to the real evils, and we will pursue True Justice, not that which the rebellion claims."
Kenshin nodded in silence, Hiko nodded as well; his words had been well chosen and well spoken. He had not spoken with such fire for years now; his throat ached from the strength of his own voice. He felt that his deshi had gotten the point, that he had done his duty, but there was one thing more unsaid.
And it could not be left unsaid.
"Kenshin."
The boy straightened at the return of his shishou's voice, and Hiko kept himself from grinning. It felt good to speak like this again. He liked having that effect on people.
"I forgive you."
Kenshin started, eyes wide, and the two regarded each other for a while, master and student. The wind rustled in the trees, the grass fanned out in the gusts, but Kenshin remained completely immobile. Hiko was beginning to think he had said something amiss when the boy finally smiled and hung his head.
"Arigatou, shishou."
Hiko bowed his own head as well. "And I ask you to forgive me."
Kenshin started again, his eyes even wider than before, and Hiko felt it was time for a little arrogance.
"What? Even I make mistakes, deshi. None too often, but it does happen, despite my apparent perfection in all that I do..." Hiko snorted and returned his eyes to the sky, hoping that the words would have the desired effect.
They did.
Kenshin broke out into a smile the likes of which Hiko had never seen in all his life. The boy's confidence and spirits had returned, and Hiko knew he would be all right now.
"Shshou?"
Hiko glanced at his student from the corner of his eye.
"Would you mind sparring with me?"
It was Hiko's turn to start, but it did not last long.
Together, they nodded, stood up, and started across the field.
One final sparring match.
To Hiko, it was the best gift he had ever recieved.
"So, deshi, all this time and you still seek to discover the limits of the human mind against pain."
Kenshin just smiled.
"All talk, shishou. I'm a lot better now."
Hiko grinned for his part.
"I never stopped being better."
Kenshin returned the decidedly Hiko-ish grin with a flair that told any who saw it exactly who had raised him.
Lowering his head, his bangs again shrouded his eyes from view.
"All I will say..."
Hiko quirked a brow.
"All you will say...?"
Kenshin's head tilted slightly, and the shining amethyst eyes revealed the heiritage of the Hiten Mitsurugi clearly.
"You'd better bring it, de gozaru yo."
His eyes slowly opened; dark as the void between stars, they told the story of a life full of disappointment and sorrow, of shattered dreams and fruitless endeavors. His heart shone behind his eyes, a dispirited heart, pained and angry, but they glinted with a strange happiness, or rather, contentedness, that set itself decidedly apart from the other emotions inside the man's heart.
He stared out into the stars, watching them shimmer in the night sky, a very different sky than the one he had just
been under.
His eyes widened for a moment, confused and displaced, until it came back to him.
The tale of the past few hours was told in the pre-dawn light - he had come back to reality.
Back to the hopeless fate he had resigned himself too.
All those words, all those feelings, everything that had been said and done...
A dream.
Seijuro Hiko closed his eyes, and a single tear flowed down his right cheek.
"Damn."
A broken whisper in the morning, a silent cry of despair.
Destiny had returned Hiko from his sleep, from his wished-for dreams, back into his living nightmare.
Back to Hell itself.
And there would be no joy in the ending.
His eyes slowly opened, revealing their startling, crystalline amethyst color. Wide and expressive, the eyes
told the story of his soul in detail and in earnest, more effectively than any words could ever do.
The eyes spoke of a once-immeasurable fury and dark, endless sorrow, emotions so deep and pervading
that the soul of the man the eyes spoke of had teetered upon the edge of self-sentenced damnation,
a dark, empty void created for him by his own violence, misguided actions, and shattered dreams.
But the fury was a thing of the past, and the sorrow, while still existant, had been largely replaced by two other
emotions that the man had never before experienced.
Hope. A shining ray of hope, a returned belief in a better way, a better world, a more sensible and peaceable place
where all people lived free and happy. He had lost it not so long after his first kill, indeed, perhaps only a few
weeks following it. The memory of the first kill was as fresh as that of his last; the bright red blood, the look of horror in the eyes of his victim, the sickness that welled up from inside his heart and nearly rent him asunder.
All the time hence had been spent slipping further and further into a treacherous despair,
as he battled for his soul's very survival amidst a mad and senseless war.
Senseless in the thought that it had come to all of this.
The darkness had enveloped him, wrenching the very life from his heart, and had twisted him in a fell way,
so that he had been reduced to that which all had said he was since he had taken up the hitokiri's sword.
A man-slayer.
He knew nothing save the battlefield, the clash of swords, the blood of men. Insanity was all he could remember,
his purpose and drive forgotten; destruction and violence reigned supreme, and the cold, unfeeling mindset that
he was locked in - every moment outside battle was a haze, a series of disconnected images and sounds, the concern
and kind words of a few true friends all but forgotten and brushed aside, the fearful whispers and glances of his comrades, and the uncertain, nameless fears of the people he had desired to protect; all he had wanted was to help,
to end the madness, and this was the end result.
All this buried and nearly gone now. Thank God for every mercy ever shown to him, despite all the crimes he had committed in a scant year.
And the other emotion, the one that preoccupied his mind at every waking moment, and even more so in his dreams.
Love.
He could not remember ever feeling love - his parents had died so long ago. And while his master had taken him in,
a seven-year-old boy who could not read, write, or fight, with no marketable skills, with nothing to offer,
(in the boy's mind), and given him a home, skills, and the ability to act on his emotions, regarding him somewhat as a son, somewhat as a younger brother, the man did not think the term 'love' could be associated to such an
arrogant, egocentric swordsman, in a familial sense. A grudging, friendly respect, perhaps. The man chuckled lightly.
Indeed, if his shishou ever caught wind of that particular train of thought, he'd never, EVER hear the end of the the bigger man's incessant laughter.
No, this love was something divine, something so pure and potent that it was beyond the man's ability to describe,
even in the realm of his own mind, beyond anything he had ever felt.
Like the dawn of a new morning, as the sun rose over the mountains of Kyoto, a new life had come to him,
and the darkened, bloodstained moon of the night had set.
His past threatened to return, but it would not be the same. It could not be - he had been changed so.
Born out of anger, blossoming into pity, blooming into friendship, maturing into love.
How perfectly wonderful.
As he lay on the futon beneath him, the object of this new emotion walked through the open shoji,
a suprised, awed expression over her lovely face.
"Kenshin?"
The Hitokiri Battousai, the most feared warrior in all of Japan, the man who could kill thirty master swordsmen
in one minute flat, lifted his eyes to the love of his life and gazed at her adoringly. She blushed under his
serene gaze, a shy smile creeping across her face.
She is so beautiful when she smiles...
"Kenshin? Was that you laughing, Kenshin?" she asked quietly, still smiling.
Kenshin's wide smile grew even wider, and he leapt up and hugged his wife, whose smile widened as well;
her young husband was usually less expressive than this, but that did not mean she disliked his sudden
forwardness. She hugged him back.
Kenshin whispered in he ear, "I had the most wonderful dream, koishii."
Tomoe gave a little gasp, hearing him speak so softly, so gently.
So different from the cold hitokiri she had met that night.
So different.
So happy.
A single tear rolled down her right cheek; she felt all the repressed emotion in her heart surfacing,
screaming to be released, to remain with him forever and forget all those things she had ever thought of
doing to him, to forget it all and stay here with him until the end of days.
She wanted to tell him of her original plans, but could not bring herself to destroy the pure, innocent trust
he placed in her now.
She could not.
She hugged him more tightly, crying into his gi, his arms wrapped around her protectively, and she knew
that she would have to tell him eventually, but for now...
Let him have this peace.
And let her have hers.
They continued to embrace, their hearts knowing only the other's presence, the other's warmth, and the love
that they shared, and they stayed that way for a long, long time.
END CHAPTER FIVE
*sniff* It's beautiful. *sniffle* Simply beautiful...
Good ol' Kenshin. We all know the guy deserves to be happy; he's fought too hard and sacrificed
to much to deserve the fate laid out for him in the final OAV. Darn those conglomerates, darn
those script writers, and darn me for darning them. But I really don't like that ending.
Anyways...
I have to say, I think this is my best chappy yet. ^_^ I enjoyed writing it to an extent that only
authors and authoresses could understand. There is just something about getting an idea down on paper
(or a WP) that is just so... so... kewl.
I love the ending, it came to me right about the point where Hiko recognized Kenshin's ki.
So I skipped the middle and wrote the ending first. o_O I knew exactly where I wanted to go,
just had to get there, de gozaru yo.
^_^ No replies yet on the mini-comics. I don't know whether or not they're even humorous.
Input, please. Need. More. INPUT!
After all, comedy may not be my thing...
And as for reaching Kyoto...
Ah, no more predictions on next chapters. I seem to be bad at fulfilling those, that I do.
Nobody yell, please.. _ I really tried - this suddenly popped up, and I HAD to squeeze it in before
things began to come to a point. It would be out of place elsewhere...
Anyhow, read and respond please! I simply live for reviews...
The final line is always the same. After all, who am I to break tradition?
Thanks for reading! ^_^