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The Most Formidable Adversary

Kenshin winced up at him. He hesitated a moment, gathering the energy to drag himself over a few inches. His movements were heavy. Tired. Hiko plopped his back on the wall, and slid down to join him. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the rain patter, an awkward gap between the rurouni's head and the swordsman's shoulders. Hiko looked straight ahead, too afraid to see the extent to which the war had hurt him. But it ended four years ago. His keen senses were dulled in the thicket of fog, but he was so close to Kenshin—he could practically smell the blood leaking from his cheek. And he couldn't bear to feel his ki again.

It felt so…stripped bare.

There was nothing to it but a grieving. And a loathing.

What the hell did they do to you, boy?

Kenshin didn't move, afraid to think too loud, afraid to breathe too hard.

Years had gone passed, and Hiko Seijuro didn't look a moment older than the day the bright-eyed boy left home. Hiko was still that righteous, menacing master that imparted him divinity—Hiten Mitsurugi ryu. But him? Kenshin scoffed to himself. The blood on his cheek streaked down, staining his gi. Nothing made him different to the bandits' Hiko murdered. Kenshin stared on at nothing, not a change in his aura. The image of those men resurfaced, the ones he buried alone in the night. But now, there was no 'them' and no 'he.' Hiko Seijuro had ripped them apart: was he after Hitokiri Battousai's life, too? He wasn't the first. Second. Or third.

Hundreds of men would celebrate his death. It hardly seemed like good manners, breathing.

Fine. He gifted me life, now he can take it—he'd be doing the world a favour.

The rain didn't let up, but Kenshin did. "You were right. You…are right."

"I know, Kenshin. But you're going to have to be more precise."

Kenshin breathed out forcefully, the hint of a smile on his lips. Ever the narcissist, shishou.

"About everything, back then. I thought I was ready. I thought it was right to murder under orders. My commander was much like you, after all—I was loyal to him. You guided me. He guided me. " The runaway hitokiri knit his fingers together, making a tremor run through his hands.

"I guess I just didn't understand the difference between a spiritual guide and a political one. Shi—" He gulped, questioning whether he still had the right to call him that. Master. He'd told Kenshin to forget him at their parting, forbid him to mention his name.

"Baka-deshi?"

"…Shi..shou. Everything you warned me about came true.

"I am Hitokiri Battousai."

Kenshin braced for his reaction. He would not pull away if the master of Hiten Mitsurugi struck him right then and there.

"I know."

"You—you know?! You know and? Why haven't you killed me yet?"

"You didn't think I'd really let my baka-deshi run free with that bunch? I kept tabs on you all throughout the Bakumatsu. You were Hitokiri Battousai. All right."

Kenshin shifted restlessly.

"Look, I've never agreed with your 14-year-old delusions, Kenshin, but—what do you think made me oppose them so much? You literally saw me cut down 10 men the day you met me. What did you think I was like in my rebellious phase?"

He grunted. "You're still so naive, you don't know you're naive. If you want to boast a body count, then nothing's changed since you fell in the dust after our spars."

Kenshin looked to some drowning weeds a little way away. He wasn't seeing them. But Hiko could see the cogs in his head turning. Good. Maybe he could talk him out of whatever stupor he's in. The baka is going to live through tonight, tomorrow, and down the rest of this petty era he made.

"What I don't understand is—why are you so delirious? It's been four years since the war ended. Don't tell me you've been sulking here for four years straight?"

Kenshin lingered there a little, weary. His eyes traced slowly from the floor to his shishou, and for the first time, he truly, honestly, looked at him.

"It's this place, Shishou….it's this city." The rain in his eyes welled out like tears.

"There are too many things here that I wish I could forget….Too many things here that bring back memories—and I can remember them as if they happened yesterday…There's just…too many…too many."

He strained his eyes shut, the 'too many' things of the city caving in around him. Kenshin lurched forward, retching into the sleeves of his gi. And he held himself there, overwhelmed. Hiko had instinctively reached a hand over to rest on his back: something he did when the 9 year-old boy woke up panting from a nightmare. It was easier before.

"Sshhh, shh, it's alright, Kenshin, it's ok. Nothing but a dream. You're here, you're with me. Kiddo, I'll stab anything that tries to hurt you. Now calm, calm yourself. C'mon, boy, you'll be alright."

But he didn't touch him. He froze, mid-reflex, not sure what to do, whether he was supposed to do that. Kenshin wept silently into his gi. Nothing was like back then. The nightmare that tormented him couldn't be woken up from, the 'too many' things that were hurting him now—Hiko couldn't stab. Hiko pulled back his arm and stared straight ahead again, hearing Kenshin weep under the cover of the rain. He did nothing, pretending not to notice.

Kenshin lifted a finger, pointing vacantly away to the open road. "….There. Right there. I murdered five men there. It was an assassination job. Heh. Hehe, heh. When I close my eyes, I can still see their names and faces. There was this one man, a young one….he could hardly hold his sword. Kiyosato Akira."

Killing didn't faze Hiko. Kenwa kioki. Kenjutsu was the art of killing. But there was such a weight behind Kenshin's words, a great melancholy, that Hiko followed his deshi's arm drift back to touch his bloody cheek with a reverence.

"He gave me this scar."

"…Then he was skilled. That young samurai was strong. He did well."

"No." Kenshin was almost breathless. "Just—convicted. Such a will." His hand pressed into his cheek. "Both of them."

"Oh?"

Hiko berated himself inwardly. He shouldn't be impressed by the second man who managed to scar his prodigy.

"Who is this other formidable adversary?"

"His fiancé."

Shock flashed through Hiko's eyes, and he mulled over the words. If it weren't so serious, Hiko could have laughed out loud. Oh, the irony. Kenshin, your life is dramatic enough to be a kabuki play. But no matter the odds, there was nothing Hiko could do to brace himself for the pieces falling into place.

"Yukishiro Tomoe. She became my wife. And I killed her."

Hiko Seijuro drew a breath. His insides heaved. A sickly realisation dawned from his chest, and a memory came sweeping back to the forefront of his mind. Hiko was wading through a field of graves, stopping before a shrine of three crosses. His eyes fell on a lavender scarf, and he remembered the faint, sweet smell of white plum.

'This belonged to a lady. She was important to you, Kenshin. But now she's just another death to pay tribute to. '

Hiko exhaled, facing Kenshin.

"Tell me about Yukishiro Tomoe. That scarf on the cross—lavender-coloured— it belonged to her, didn't it?"

Kenshin looked up in surprise. There was still the faint trace of blisters on his hands from putting up crosses.

"She was the most formidable adversary I've ever met."

Glossary

(For NytAhwuhl, and everyone)

Gi- article of clothing, the shirt Kenshin is wearing

Ki- 'aura' or 'energy,' has a supernatural element to it

Shishou- master/ teacher

Baka deshi- idiot apprentice

Hitokiri Battousai- assassin who has mastered all forms of Battou-jutsu sword moves

Bakumatsu- era of war that ended feudalism

narcissist- someone who is very vain/ self-absorbed

Notes:

Hey readers! Erm, I may need to elaborate on this last part. You see, I this all stemmed from a short piece I wrote in Chapter 7 of a one-shot series, called 'Kyoto No More' and the flashback thingy was a link to that. The 'This belonged to a lady' line was directly out of that. Thus, 'the pieces falling into place.'

Though this story stands alone fine- it's directly from Trust and Betrayal- where it is revealed that Kenshin put up all those crosses, and left behind Tomoe's scarf on the graves of the three women. We see this through Hiko's point of view at the very end.

Also, I wrote this story to explain why Hiko knew of Tomoe in the first place. In the manga and anime, it clearly shows that Hiko knew of Tomoe and her final resting place. He visits it with Kenshin at the end of the Kyoto arc. So, between the end of the bakumatsu and the events of the kyoto arc, it's totally implied Hiko had a heart-to-heart with kenshin for him to know about Tomoe.

Yeah!

Thanks ever so much for reading, I'd love loVE a review - let me know what you think!