So, I've decided that until I go back at home (which is in a week) and I have access to the manga and privacy, I'm sticking with pre-series. Considering how fast I can write this and how in-depth with in detail I can get, this might start getting more AU in terms of background.
There are a ridiculous amounts of mistakes because the Internet hates me and having it actually save is something of a miracle.
Disclaimer: don't own anything you recognize.
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"A Child Such as This"
Even before he reaches his house on the mountain, Hiko begins to grow unsure of his decision.
It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, as blown away as he was to return to the sight and find marked graves and a child no older than six standing there alone, whole body scrapped up and bruised and bleeding. Such conviction, he'd thought and while the belief is still there, the knowledge now that this boy has lived the past year as a slave to others who presumably were not kind men at such a young age makes him hesitate. Hiko has seen a lot in his life and the effects of servitude on such a small child looking the way he does is rare for him, but not new. And he promised himself that he wouldn't accept an apprentice with any sort of trauma, but seeing Shinta - Kenshin - standing there like that, believing so strong that after a man is dead that he loses who he is and what he does and how they are just bodies was too tempting to pass up.
At one point the boy wakes up, making a sleepy sound and raises his head a tad off Hiko's should before wincing. There's a fading mark across his lower neck like someone help him against a wall several days earlier along with a dark bruise on his temple. Even through the fabric of his shirt, Hiko can feel raw, raised welts and the injuries on his arms that don't come from a six-year-old are incredibly recent; someone's been grabbing him hard and often. He lowers his head again, eyes half closed, and his breathing is coming out rough and ragged. He'll need to check for chest injuries the moment he can because depending on the severity, he might not be able to train the boy at all without it killing him.
How long it will take to clean the child up physically and mentally is a mystery, but hopefully it won't exceed more than a month. If it does...well, there must be a family in the nearby town willing help him in a way Hiko is unable. A couple where the husband isn't around much because he has a horrible suspicious of what happened to the boy during his year as a slave and it wouldn't be surprising if he ends up afraid of people getting too close. And if he doesn't break this soon, then he is unfit to be an apprentice. To fight in the school of Hiten Mitsurugi-ryū, one must be healthy in mind, soul, and body. All of those are up in the air at the moment, locked in a terrible feeling of uncertainty, but something tells Hiko that this is worth the risk.
This child will go on to great things if he makes it and with that conviction he might. Hiko may be unsure of his decision, but a part of him knows that Kenshin will not accept personal failure. As long as he can bring him back to life, he will become a gifted fighter.
Within two hours they reach the mountain and as they enter the house, Kenshin stirs. More gently than he normally would, Hiko places him on a pillow near the table and he looks around, dazed. So quietly he can barely hear him, the child says, "Where am - Sorry, please excuse -"
"Ask as many question as you'd like," Hiko says to him, figuring that he should begin the healing process soon. "You're in my home. You agreed to be my apprentice. Do you remember?"
Still not fully functional, he nods and looks around. When he lights a candle and sees the boy in better lighting, he reexamines the bruises. They're worse than he expected. He tells the child, "I'm going to go get cloth and wet it. The dirt needs to be wiped out of the scrapes."
Despite the bright lighting, the color of Kenshin's eyes are almost completely hidden by black; the head injury must have left him concussed. "Will it hurt?" he asks and his voice is still raspy and quiet - much more so than when they first met. During this short amount of time, he's grown afraid and even though he's young, the emotion is strong enough that someone less skilled than Hiko would be able to see it. If he was the slave of a samurai, this fear would be evident.
"Yes," he says, wetting the cloth. It was going to sting. "Less so than your bruises or the cuts you have, of course."
There is something wrong about the way Kenshin is looking at him, all wide-eyed and impassive and if it weren't for the ki, Hiko wouldn't even know he was even more scared than before. Pain is a difficult thing to get used to. He kneels in front of the boy who holds out his arms obediently and flinches horribly at the first touch of cloth of the skin. His strangely wide eyes have narrowed front the pain and Hiko tries to he quick, touching the child as little as possible. Eventually he'll have to lose this level of kindness, but for now the safest way to assist Kenshin in mental recovery is to not harsh about anything.
Though it's an unfamiliar thing for him to do, he tells the boy, "I need to check your chest," as soothingly as possible. "If your ribs are broken, I need to wrap them." How hesitantly but easily Kenshin (he's getting better at using the child's name already) pulls off his top is enough to prove his suspicion. As was also suspected, there are whip marks on his back and bruises all over his chest and sides. Even from simply looking he can see that at worse the bones are cracked so it won't take long to heal. He turns around, grabs the bandages from the box of medical supplies he rarely touches him, and the boy is silent and docile as he wraps his chest. "It will be uncomfortable," he adds, "but you'll be healed quickly."
Those eyes go back to being wide but with his pupils that dilated, it's difficult to say what his eye color is. Something light, that much is certain. Red hair, light, rounded eyes - if he's one hundred percent Japanese, it would greatly surprise Hiko. In all his twenty-eight years of life, he has never seen a person of his country who looks quite like this.
"Thank you, Seijuro-san," says the boy, bowing and wincing. His legs should be checked too, but that can wait until tomorrow. Bombarding Kenshin with anything he relates to his life prior to this would never have the outcome he needs.
He answers, "Call me Shishou. You are my apprentice now, so start acting like it."
Kenshin blinks. "Yes, Shishou," he says. "What are my -"
"We'll discuss this in the morning. For not you sleep."
Fear melts may into gratitude. Without needed to ask, Hiko knows that the boy hasn't slipped into a natural sleep too often lately and wasn't allowed to do anything necessary to function. Whoever "owned" him was not kind, that much is sure.
Obviously not expecting to get an area of his own, the boy curls up on the pillow he lies on, unsurprisingly fitting it perfectly. Once he's drifted off, Hiko brings him to the mat already set out for him.
And he prays that this will work.
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A week passes and Kenshin won't stop throwing up his food. It's quickly become a point of concern.
"Is it too heavy?" Hiko asks him after fifteen minutes where, by the end, nothing was coming up but stomach acid. As he is far from an affectionate person, it makes him uncomfortable that Kenshin is leaning against his side. Normally he would never allow this but with how badly the boy is shaking, there is no way that he will be able to support himself to even sit.
For a moment there's nothing because a week has passed and he working on getting his apprentice to understand that he won't hurt him if he says anything negative. Then, hesitantly, he answers, "Maybe."
This is a problem he's never dealt with before since he tends to avoid people and especially those who have suffered great trauma, so how to fix and emaciated nine-year-old is uncharted territory. "You're getting a strict diet of rice for the next few days," he says and the kid nods. Right now he's tackling to more immediately crises - the physical ones - but soon he'll need to deal with mental health such as the nightmares and the flinching and teaching the stupid boy how to feel anything other than anxiety and fear. Truthfully, it's getting painful just to be around him. "Do you understand?"
"Yes, Shishou."
Having a rebellious apprentice is not a good thing, but at the same time Hiko needs to work on teaching Kenshin how to, on occasion, say that no, he can't or no, he won't. Not to him, of course, but to others. The purity of his conviction and determination is admirable, but also dangerous; if someone learns to manipulate him, it'll be hard for him to leave until he's finished even if kills him. Men like this he's seen before.
"We'll give it an hour," he says. "Then I'll try the rice again. I need to leave you here as I get firewood. Is that understood?" He nods and mumbles something that is presumably a repeat of before. Then Hiko gets him fully supported against a wall and stands, grabbing his katana off the wall.
He feels Kenshin's eyes on him until he's gone.
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Another week goes by, and now Hiko can at least begin helping the kid's mental state. Physically, the cuts and scrapes have scabbed over and the bruises have disappeared; his ribs, though, are another matter altogether.
Throwing up has changed to exclusively spitting and coughing blood, an issue that doesn't show any particular promise. It comes rarely and spaced out (reserved mainly for waking up from nightmares and too much physical exertion) and after the third time he begins to see Kenshin's determination come back and detects a vein of something that can either be great or horrible. "I'm fine," the child says every time, when his voice goes hoarse and on any other occasion, Hiko would be relieved just to hear him speak. His overall silence is worrying.
"At least one of your lungs is permanently damaged," Hiko tells him, wrapping his chest again. The ribs, thankfully, will be healed soon. "But if this is true, I don't think it has to be much of a handicap if we watch out for it." The child nods and Hiko almost growls in frustration. "You can speak, you know, kid."
The boy asks, "What's wrong with it?" all hesitantly and scared and while he is being exceptionally nice for himself, he doesn't realize that Kenshin probably needs someone a little more patient.
"Most likely you scraped it on a broken rib a while back," he answers. "Now that they've been cracked, the lung's been irritated again. Once your ribs heal, you should be fine."
The small child nods and his gaze shifts even further downwards, focusing on the floor. With a sigh, Hiko stands, moving away from him. He doesn't know what to do with Kenshin, as he's offered up no clues and besides the boy telling him that his parents died of cholera, he's had to figure everything else out from reactions. Moving too suddenly causes a flinch, too gentle of a touch will make him to go completely still if his nightmares have been had enough, when the floorboards creak he jumps. Afterwards he relaxes, but the reactions are there long enough for the kid's whole past to be laid bare before him.
So he touches him as little as possible. He doesn't raise his voice in irritation when the boy annoys him too much. He is as patient and kind as he knows how to be, even if it's rough around the edges. Though he promised himself a month with Kenshin or he'd send him off to the town, he knows that he'll keep him on for another one if he has to. It's been three weeks and everyone ounce of his intuition tells Hiko that this child is a once in the life find, as sick as it sounds, and if he can manage, he'll fix Kenshin up and keep him healthy because after slavery, beatings, and rape he deserves to learn something, to concentrate on something.
And Hiko never thought this would cross his mind, but he suddenly knows that it is the curse of a man existing in solitude to wish happiness upon the one who comes barrelling into his life.
As quietly as usual, Kenshin says, "I'm scared." He freezes where he stands, the raw truth in his voice is too unexpected. "And I don't know why."
This is the last admittance Hiko will ever receive.
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Week four. It's been two days since he's thrown or coughed up blood. Hiko has stopped bandaging his chest.
Now that the physical clean up is over and done with, he can begin to pay more attention to the mental trauma. Before he was paying attention but not to the full extent that he needs to actually help. He needs to teach the boy how to look a person in the eye rather than look away - it will always be perceived as a sign of servitude, of submissiveness. To be an apprentice of kenjutsu you need to be strong rather than weak. To respect elders, but to learn how to spot a manipulator ready to use him. And unfortunately for Kenshin, this is a fear that most likely will never go away. Though at the moment it's buried below a mountain of cowering and nightmares, the boy has it in him to at least control that fear, to learn how to conquer it.
Though Kenshin is quiet in everything he does, Hiko still wakes up every time the kid as a nightmare. The boy's in a different room because neither of them would feel comfortable in the same one, and he lumbers out of his futon late at night, grumbling to himself about how Kenshin's more work than he should have to deal with, and goes to him. Sometimes his eyes are clear and starts stuttering out apologies before Hiko can stop him, but other nights - well, it's those other nights that are the problem.
Half asleep and delirious from mental and physical strain, he panics to bad that breathing ends. Doesn't speak, barely seems to perceive, looks up at Hiko with large purple eyes that seem lighter than they should. Those are the nights that he has to back out of the room to avoid making the boy worse and pass out from lack of oxygen like he already had twice and Hiko is stuck up in his own bed, ki in tuned with his apprentice, and can't fall back to sleep until feels the kid calm. He knows without needing to be told that this is one of the many things he does terribly, terribly wrong, but any other way to help repeatedly eludes him.
So he does the only thing he can think of, and tries not to give up.
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After six weeks, he decides that he can start multitasking again. Kenshin's beginning to learn to remember to eat three times a day at regular intervals and though his sleeping still isn't great, he's improving. His eyes look a little clearer now and he can say more than five words all day. He starts doing chores again too, though Hiko makes sure to give the impression that if he really doesn't want to, he doesn't have to (even though he does). And what he feels is a mix between relief and pride.
He did, after all, just turn this lost cause into the apprentice of the most complex kenjutsu school in history.
"Like this, Shishou?" Kenshin asks him as he grips his fake sword two hours after cleaning the dishes, voice louder and at a more normal volume than it used to be.
"It's sloppy," he says because while he still feels hesitant in being harsh to the boy, he feels comfortable enough telling him everything straight. "Move your hand up a little - yeah, that's closer."
When he was learning how to do this himself twenty-six years ago, his own Shishou bent down and physically moved his fingers into position which hurt like hell but got the point across. Still, he's reluctant to touch the boy more than necessary. By this point Kenshin doesn't flinch but there's that shadow of fear lurking somewhere behind his eyes.
Two hours later and the kid's got it down perfectly but he doesn't want to say it and keeps him practicing for a while longer. Normally he would spend another day working on it, but Kenshin figured it out faster than anyone he'd ever seen and he knows he can start on swings. This is a small tidbit of information that will never leave his lips because it could be a fluke, or natural talent, or anything that can go straight to the boy's head.
At the end, he says, "We're eating. Bring your sword."
If the kid keeps this up, it'll take way less than ten years to teach him.
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Normally I'd make this longer (it was meant to be) but the internet connection here is horrible and I don't want to risk losing it. Review, please!