RuroKen Week 2015
Day 3: Vengeance/Atonement
Author: Kenkaya
Series: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: Angst/Drama
Type: Oneshot, character study
Rating: General, PG
Pairing: Himura Kenshin/Yukishirou Tomoe
Summary: Oibore finally understood…this was his atonement: for being a coward, for abandoning his family.
Disclaimer: The characters and story of Rurouni Kenshin are copyright to Nobuhirou Watsuki, Sony, and other corporate someones who aren't me.
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He first saw the redhead swordsman in Kyoto, shortly after discovering his daughter's death.
The graveyard had been quiet, peaceful: an ironic contrast to the war still being fought outside its boundaries. Wind blew gently, rustling flowers and carrying the sweet musk of incense across every grave. Even the forgotten ones. The old man stood in front of a bare marker, suddenly guilty that he brought no offering for her except his filthy presence. A presence that probably would have done far more good in life than death. But he felt grateful that, at the very least, his eldest child (no longer a child, he had to remind himself) could rest undisturbed here.
Crunching footsteps alerted him to the entrance of another. The old man hastily ducked behind a large family memorial nearby. His clothing was tattered and dirty, his silver beard long and unkempt- clear marks of a vagabond. He was painfully aware of how his appearance unsettled others outside the slums he frequented. Not wishing to bother whoever had come to pay their respects, the man decided to take the high-road. He would wait for them to pass, then slink away.
That was his plan, until they stopped in front of his daughter's grave. Curious as to who would visit her (perhaps his estranged son? No… if he recalled correctly, Enishi should still be too young for those heavy steps), the man peered around the stone, and saw red.
The visitor was short, petite in a way that belied his skill as a hitokiri. But the man knew who he was; had heard the half-conjured whispers of an inhuman man with fire red hair and a crossed scar cut across his left cheek. He also knew from those whispers that this man was the one who defeated the Yaminobu. The same group his daughter had been affiliated with before she died.
For a brief moment, rage overcame the man. How dare this murderer come to his girl's grave! He had no right! A vision of poetic vengeance: of startling the interloper and squeezing his breath away atop the final resting place of one whose life he took, danced behind the lens of his battered glasses. Reality set in soon enough, a weak man like him could never hope to match the fearsome Hitokiri Battousai, but his initial ire didn't fade.
"Tomoe."
The gentle baritone, jarringly at odds with the owner's violent reputation, spoke his daughter's name, each syllable released with a wavering lilt bordering on reverence. The anger drained out of him as incense was lit, cloying trails of smoke twining together above them as the other knelt and raised his bloodstained hands in prayer.
The hitokiri- this young man loved his daughter.
He sat down in awe of the revelation, all thoughts of vengeance and hatred vanishing in an instant. Years of living in back alleys among undesirables had taught him that their were often many sides to a story. Clearly, this was one such instance.
He watched pensively as the young man communed. He told himself Battousai had no right to visit her, but, truly, what right did he have? Unlike this man, he hadn't actually known his daughter; he didn't even think to bring incense to her grave. His last memory of the girl had been shortly after his wife's funeral, staring down at dark young eyes. The ten-year old had been holding her baby brother, both looking to him expectantly, and the man panicked. He ran. Old fool that he was, he had almost forgotten that he was really no father at all.
Battousai rose then, glancing furtively in his direction (did he know… ?), but made no move towards him. Instead, the swordsman clapped his hands once, inclined his head slightly, and murmured a shaky "thank you." The man sat still, barely daring to breath, while the other departed. Wisps of smoke sputtered and died as the incense burned out.
Yes, he thought, Battousai had far more right to visit Tomoe than he did. Wishing harm on a boy who cherished her so would only disgrace his daughter's memory.
The second time he saw the swordsman ten years had passed.
He was passing through Tokyo's Rakuninmura, where the residents had affectionately dubbed him 'Oibore.' Even through his poor eyesight and the passage of time, he recognised the head of red hair slumped against a crumbling wall. By now, he was aware of his daughter's marriage, and her true relationship with the despondent man wasting away in front of him. Oibore would never be presumptuous enough to claim Himura Kenshin as a son (he was no father), but guilt and a desire to honor what he had of Tomoe's memory pushed him to help. He spoke, and, when that earned him no response, he uncorked his precious bottle of white plum perfume. His wife had worn the scent. Oibore vividly remembered catching his young daughter sneaking into her mother's chest before the funeral, dabbing the fragrance on herself. He heard later, from old family connections, that she had continued to do so into womanhood.
Eventually, Himura Kenshin broke his chains. Oibore smiled when he left, glad, for his daughter's sake, that her husband had found reason to live. He had finally been able to make his amends in her spirit's name. Still, the old man felt his penance was far from over. He returned, lingering in Rakuninmura, unable to pin the niggling sensation that inclined him to stay.
Oibore finally understood when he spotted the white-haired man hunched in Himura's former position, a bent and tattered journal clutched lovingly in his hand. This was his atonement: for being a coward, for abandoning his family. His second chance to be the father he never was. Carefully, he lowered himself beside a grown Enishi.
"Rest easy here."
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A/N: My first instinct with this prompt was to write something from Enishi's POV… but, when I was rereading Jinchuu in preparation for this week, I was suddenly sucked in by Oibore's untold story as an absentee and (to be blunt) shitty father. He seems to carry major regrets considering his vagabond lifestyle, not to mention his familiar presence in Rakuninmura. On this read-through, I was really hit by how the final scene between him and Enishi felt like a possible atonement for him as well.