Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or events taking place in "Rurouni Kenshin" by Nobuhiro Watsuki. Please don't sue me. I receive no money from this fanwork, only a writer's creative satisfaction. Also, reviews are always welcomed, read and cherished, but never necessary.

Title: Kaerigake: On the Way Home

Chapter 2: These maladies affect all; love, hate, curiosity and death.

Word Count: 2,176

[Total Word Count: 3,346]

Fandom: Rurouni Kenshin

Character(s): Those souls who were once Himura Kenshin, Kamiya Kaoru, Takani Megumi, Sagara Sanosuke, Myoujin Yahiko, Shinomori Aoshi, Makimachi Misao and Saitou Hajime.

Warning(s): Character death and reincarnation, bloody memories, nightmares, melancholy, violence

Author: Kita Kitsune (Call me Fox!)

Post date: Sunday, August 24, 2014 ・平成二十六年八月二十四日・日曜日

: : : : : : :

It was still 2014, and Kennan was still working in the small supermarket in the heart of a small, unknown town. He didn't know how long he had been here (years, of course), but he always stocked the fresh fruits and vegetables when they came in, and always felt satisfied doing it. Sometimes a customer would ask him where they could find something, and he would go out of his way to lead them there.

He didn't have many friends, but those he might call as such could be found in the store where he worked. Sancho, the butcher, always went on about tenderizing the meat before selling it. (Kennan really just thought he liked to punch the carcasses hanging in the back freezer when no one was looking.) It was a small store, and there were a few cashiers, but his favorite by far was Kama. She was always bright-eyed and spirited, always giving a smile as people checked out. She didn't get along well with Tani, the pharmacist, who always seemed to want to flirt with Kennan; sometimes it seemed she did so just to rile Kama up. The two women vied for his attentions almost daily in petty little squabbles, and it made him appreciate the manager all the more. Morey was quiet and kept to himself, and his little sister Makena had endless energy. Thankfully, she had no interest in Kennan, and so he was spared ending up in a love rectangle rather than a triangle. Sancho just laughed at him whenever the girls started at it and said Kennan got this look on his face like he just didn't know what to do to calm them down. Makena and Jinn were stockers, like him. By contrast, while Makena left him largely alone (in favor of bothering Morey), Jinn seemed to follow in Kennan's footsteps everywhere. Early on, he had saved the boy from some falling cans – good reflexes, who knew? – and Jinn had seemed to latch onto him like a mentor. Kennan patiently bore it and did his best, but he really didn't know what a twenty-something shelf-stocker could teach a young adolescent about life. (Surely, if he'd figured it out, he wouldn't be stocking shelves at this point in his life!)

Still, Kennan couldn't be bitter about it. It was nice, this life; comfortable. The people around him were warm and familiar, and every now and then the local doctor came in to buy groceries, always showing pictures and talking about his two young daughters – twins – as though they were the light of the earth. It was a small store, in a small town, and everyone knew each other. It was very different from the big city he had come from. He hadn't talked to his uncle in years. Kennan wondered how he was doing, and if he was still selling 'modern art' to 'pay the bills' (not that any of it sold, but his uncle was rich and it was really more of a whimsical pastime than a livelihood).

His attention was brought back to the present by the telltale smell of smoke behind him. Kennan blinked, and turned in alarm, only to relax slightly when he saw it was only a patron perusing the shelves, cigarette in his hand. Upon closer inspection, it was definitely not an e-cigarette, so Kennan felt it his duty to approach the man politely, and address him.

"Excuse me, sir, but we do not allow smoking in the store." Grey eyes fell on him from a higher height, scrutinizing, but Kennan kept his smile. "Please extinguish it or I am afraid I will have to ask you to leave." There were a number of tones those words could have taken, but from Kennan they always and only sounded like friendly advice. The man narrowed his eyes at him, but Kennan held steady, his smile firm.

Then the man smirked, eying him up and down.

"To think, I would have found you like this." He sounded amused, but condescending, and didn't seem at all inclined to put out his cigarette. Kennan's expression started to feel strained.

"Sir – " The man waved him off, turning away.

"That's all, for now." Belatedly, Kennan realized the man hadn't actually picked out anything to buy. He watched him go, but something in the back of his mind stirred.

Your life's been spared, for now.

And so has, yours.

He stumbled at the sudden sensory memory –

Hard steel, sharp blades, running keep moving dodge the next thrust read his movements attack from above re-sheathe the sword I need my best to beat him why didn't it cut it should have drawn blood –

… And Kennan caught himself against the shelves, breathing hard –

Too much strength concentrate on breathing the next strike I'll get him –

He shook his head against the influx of input, putting a hand to his forehead but in the next instant it was gone. Kennan's knees felt shaky, and he heard his name and turned slightly, trying to compose himself. It was Sancho, butcher's apron tied around his waist, eyes full of concern –

Our voices can't reach them, anymore. They're not fighting in Tokyo, in the Meiji Era –

Unable to take the strain, Kennan's vision faded as Sancho's arms caught him, the last glimpse of light before darkness swallowed it, words echoing in his ears –

They're fighting in Kyoto, during the Revolution.

: : :

Kennan awoke to the sounds of whispering. He kept his eyes closed for another moment, not wanting to move. His head ached. The images were already fading, but one wouldn't go away –

A man. A Japanese man, tall, with a Japanese sword held in his left hand – how odd a way to fight – and coming at him with unbridled power, seeking his life. The thought alone made him shiver, and he shook his head. He had always had dreams about men fighting him with swords, but this one was new. Kennan couldn't ever remember confronting someone who used a left-handed attack like the Shinsengumi.

As soon as the Japanese word formed – flawlessly foreign – in his mind, Kennan felt his head split in two, and clutched at it, eyes clenching shut as he tried to deal with the pain. Luckily, none of his friends came to check on him in this moment of intense agony, and it had mostly ebbed away a few minutes later when Makena poked her head in, smiling brightly.

"Hey, Ken! Feeling any better? You've got Kama and Jinn worried sick, you know, collapsing like that. What was up with that, anyway? Not get enough sleep last night?" Each question was fired in rapid succession, and it took Kennan's addled mind a moment to catch up. When it did, he offered her a weak smile.

"Ah, yes." He wasn't about to admit the real reason he'd fainted; it sounded strange even to himself, and no doubt the others wouldn't take it well. It wouldn't do to worry them. Makena eyeballed him for a moment, clearly suspicious, and Kennan just blinked at her. She sighed, dramatically, turning around to walk out.

"Well, Morey says you should get back to work. There're still four hours left in your shift, and Jinn's been doing stocking for the both of you until now, but he's too short to reach the taller shelves." She snickered meanly to herself and Kennan smiled, shaking his head as she left.

He dealt with Kama's fussing, and waved off Sancho's concerned glances as he passed the butchery while stocking the shelves Jinn couldn't reach. Tani gave him an assessing look, but he just gave her a reassuring smile in return. Really, it was nothing. His body felt fine, it was his mind that was a mess. Kennan went home when his shift was over, and slept badly. He dreamed he was being chased by wolves in a red-walled city, with only a single sword to defend himself. Normally Kennan wasn't afraid, in these dreams, if he had a sword in his hand, but one wolf in particular with glittering grey eyes lunged at him with no regard for the sword, gaping maw open wide with sharp fangs ready to tear him to shreds.

He woke up, abruptly, and couldn't relax enough to lie back down, again. Kennan tried numerous positions to get comfortable, but in the end the only one that worked was on the floor. He was leaning back against the bed, fingers clutching tightly to the covers half-dragged off it and balled into his left hand, right foot on the floor, knee bent, left knee resting on its side on the floor, his head dropped forward, when he finally fell asleep.

In the morning, Kennan woke to a crick in his neck and a cold sweat. A hot shower got rid of both, and he pushed the dreams to the back of his mind, losing himself in the preparation to head out for work.

The smoker didn't return that day, or the day after. It stretched into a week, and Kennan had nearly forgotten the whole affair – although his new dreams about bloodthirsty wolves hadn't let up – until after he came back from his lunch break. Kama was waiting impatiently for him, hands on her hips, and Kennan blinked at her as she frowned at him, holding out a piece of paper.

"A man was asking around about you. Mentioned your birthmark, and everything." Kennan resisted the urge to bring his hand to his left cheek. Inexplicably, he had a near-perfect 'x' mark there. It had been with him in the mirror as far back as he could remember. It was hardly large – maybe the size of a silver dollar – and right in the center of his cheek, still noticeable as a dark brown mark on his face despite the way he wore his hair. Still, it was a feature that most people stared at when first meeting him, and set him apart.

Realizing he had been musing and that Kama was staring at him, Kennan smiled, reaching a hand for the note.

"Thank you, Miss Kama." She was hesitant to let go of the note, though, and he looked up at her, curious. She was biting her lip, face concerned, eyes earnest.

"Kennan, you know you can rely on us for anything, right?" He blinked at her, and, noticeably flustered, she continued on. "I just! Don't get into anything weird, OK? This guy gave me a bad vibe." She was watching him worriedly, and when it clicked in his mind Kennan smiled warmly at her, finally succeeding in taking the note and tucking it in his back pocket.

"Don't worry, I won't. Thank you for your concern." She smiled shyly at him, and he nodded his head politely at her before striding off to go stock the shelves. The note in his back pocket burned at his curiosity throughout his entire shift, but Kennan resisted the urge to look at it. If it was from the man who had provoked that fainting spell a week ago, he couldn't afford to have another episode and miss more work. Morey was a good supervisor, but naturally unable to pay him for time he wasn't working. The last episode had had to count as his lunch break, although Morey let him take one later, anyway, without clocking out. Fair was fair, but he couldn't do that to him again.

Once he was off, Kennan still waited until he was safely at home, lying down in bed (just in case it provoked another hallucination) to unfold it. It was half the size of a regular piece of paper, folded like a fan and then folded in half. His eyes slid over what looked to be a sentence full of unfamiliar characters – not English – he didn't understand, and then there was something else beneath them in a neat scrawl.

If you've forgotten your Japanese, come to the Sekiguchi Martial Arts Academy once your shift is over. It's mine; let yourself in, but don't disturb the class.

Japanese? He had never known Japanese, not even understanding the jibberish that was spoken Japanese in his dreams, only getting a flash of meaning from context, now and then. There was an address listed, and Kennan almost wrote the letter off as a mistake, but more characters caught his eye at the bottom of the page. This specific combination brought a pronunciation to mind before Kennan could quite realize he was essentially remembering a Japanese word he had never read in his entire life.

抜刀斎

Battousai.

He felt the usual chill run up his spine at the name. He'd never told anyone about that name.

However, it was too late to go, tonight. Kennan would think about it before making any real decisions over accepting the invitation.

In the end, the chance to get some answers about his dreams made him curious enough to go.

In retrospect, it was probably the worst thing he could have done to his quiet life.