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I do not own Rurouni Kenshin. Or Hiko Seijuro XIII.
Degage
-adjective
Without emotional involvement; detached.
It is a cold, clear night on the mountainside, the stars shining down with crystalline clarity; they look down for the most part on empty countryside, broken only by a small, neatly-kept cabin. A light wavers in the windowsill, as of a fire inside.
A tall man, broad and strong, sits against the wall of the cabin, a warmed cup of alcohol in hand against the chill. A child, his opposite in nearly every feature, sleeps on a futon to his left, downy red head a few inches from his hip.
Kenshin sleeps, lips parted and a thin snore issuing; he has caught a head cold from their training in the chilly river water. The master acknowledges that he has been hard on his apprentice lately, but what he does is necessity, not cruelty. The boy must be strong if he is to survive the inheritance of their style.
The boy probably thinks he doesn't care, Hiko thinks with a sardonic grin. And best Kenshin continues thinking that; it will ease the guilt when Hiko dies at his hand.
Stirring, the child whimpers near to waking, perhaps because of the nightmares to which he is prone. With a gentle, practiced hand, the master smooths a hand over the apprentice's hair until he settles back into sleep.