Again, I give my eternal thanks to Sueb262 for her fab beta job. Try out her stories too!

Important! Please beware suicidal themes and swear words in this one ._.

Pathetic Like You

The rain droned on, draping Kyoto under one grey veneer of mist; and it veiled Hiko, as it had always veiled Kenshin, until he too, was back amid the great turmoil. But he left Kyoto behind.

Summer and Autumn had passed him by, and he imagined his baka-deshi hand in hand with the girl that owned the lavender scarf. He left out no detail. The rasp of her voice. The swish of her hair. The curl of her handwriting. She wore the smell of white plum, and Oh God, the boy can't even bear to smell it now. Even the way she looked death in eye was so obviously described by someone who was so deeply, blatantly, damn-near hopelessly, in love. Hiko was saddened. He wished he could have met her once, glimpsed her, even. Every time he ambled down his hill to barter for sake—all the people he had passed—which one was her? He wondered.

There was a rush in his baka-deshi's voice, a hint of that little boy he took into the mountain. He watched him blush stupidly though the rain: the lacklustre expression, the fatigue that had repressed him before gone. His eyes brightened, his voice enlivened. He'd come alive to do justice for her mere memory. And as the story drew to its end, the snows of Otsu gleamed in his mind. Hiko was staring now, blatantly, taking in everything miserable that created that cross-shaped scar. Kiyosato Akira. And Yukishiro Tomoe. Their names engraved in Hiko's mind. And on that cheek.

Kenshin was quiet again, breathless like the last time he killed a man. All these years and he'd never even breathed a word about his first love to a soul. Save the sentence he owed Katsura. The only time he ever said her name, was when he thrashed in his sleep. "Tomoe changed everything. I loved her…I loved her. And I killed her. "

Hiko sighed, looking up at the rain before speaking."She was brave. A warrior in her own right. She is a name I will always remember. " He inhaled the cold. "So why are you sulking here? Sullying her sacrifice?"

Kenshin stared up at him, wide-eyed. "I sullied her the moment I split a man's spine before her. There was blood on her face. That I spilled. Ehe… I thought I could come back here now. I wanted to—I only came back to this place to see her. She's buried here….But it's this city, Shishou…It's her and everyone, everything…Battousai is welcomed here, but I don't want to be Battousai. "

He grimaced, smiling wryly. "Perhaps I didn't come to see her this way. Kyoto. Perhaps I came here to die. I'm ready to, you know. I was ready four years ago."

"But you didn't. Because of her."

"Yes."

"Boy. You court death better than you court the lady."

Kenshin withered. "I've courted hundreds of deaths, Shishou. But only one lady."

Hiko's chest heaved with his words.

What the hell? What in the name of this goddamned era he created made the boy so…deranged? There was a simple answer to that. But he refused to believe it.

"You think you deserve death, because you killed under orders?"

"So…many…"

"Fine. You can't quell a 14-year-old temper tantrum. That is your fault. Your burden to bear."

He watched Kenshin shrivel up a bit more, a solemn smile playing on his lips.

"But what about all the lives you saved?"

Kenshin's eyes remained vacant, but his smile disappeared. Finally, he shifted in Hiko's direction, not really confused, but questioning. The movement disturbed the water hanging in his bangs, and it streamed down his face.

"Alright. You've killed. So have I, coincidentally. Even if you hadn't wagged your tail to those Ishin Shishi, you'd still have killed. That's what I taught you to do." No pretty words can change that, Kenshin thought, wondering what his Shishou was about to say. But Hiko sat back, leaning casually against the wall. He flicked his fingers, gathering a handful of cloak to wring water from the cloth.

"My sake-seller has two daughters." He said airily. "Every time I come for alcohol, he hassles me to purchase one of his daughter's drawings. They're utterly terrible, and I have to tastefully decline. One day I'll have to less than tastefully decline." He raised his brow in a kind of jeering. "They're only alive because of Toba Fushimi. Have you ever read any of the prayers hung on the tree at the temple? I brought you there once? Twice? When you were a runt. Many praise the Shishi and the Meiji for their fortunes. The man that sells me my writing ink—he rambles on about how his son came home after a good ol' one month of conscription. Forced into it. Joined too late, luckily for him."

"Shishou, what are you—"

"—You ended the war. Kenshin. You—ended—the Bakumatsu. Or in the very least, you cut a few years off of it."

Kenshin was jolted upright, thrown off by the sudden edge in his Shishou's words. It struck him hard, without even Hiko having so much as to raise his voice. The air of delicacy from before had crashed to the floor with the rain—harshly replaced without a single warning. Hiko looked at him, looking past the ugly scar into his eyes, and even then, going further. Looking for something.

For a strange moment, Kenshin was almost scared of his master—and it was like he was back at the beginning: looking into the face of the man that had both saved him, and avenged him—all in a grand seventy two seconds. The master's ki was spilling from him in waves; and Kenshin realised just how reserved his shishou had been this entire time, how well he had suppressed his own feelings. In a single, unadulterated moment, he let go.

"From the time you were born, all you've ever known was war." His voice was sandpaper against stone. "And now you've ended it, so that that sake-seller's two daughters—the ink-maker's son, won't ever have to experience what you did. These snot-nosed brats these days—war can be a game to them. A game. Heh. Hehe. They'll never know how ugly this world once was, and that's some achievement, isn't it? "

Hiko Seijuro paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. Staring at Kenshin as if somehow, his words would bore through that thick skull of his. Wishful thinking or no?

"Despite your stupidity, you've never done it for politics. Well, sure, you did. You were a fool for abandoning me. But you draped a banner over your sword for people." Now Hiko scrunched up his nose, disdain rolling off his tongue, "Not for the damned government, not for your damned commander. That's what you left my mountain to do. Isn't it? "

Hiko arched his neck, the drenched pony-tail weighing down the flaunty-collar. Mist furled from his lips. They crinkled as he spoke again, but this time, his voice was low, barely above the patter of the rain. "Just out of this god-forsaken city…how many thousands owe their lives to you? In this country, how many millions of lives have you changed?

"—So many."

A genuine smile streaked across Hiko's face. "I say you are a baka, Kenshin, because you are one. You're a baka because you're so engrossed in your past deeds, you can't even see the beauty you've bought back into this world. No, the Shishi is far from perfect, the Meiji has its flaws—but you damn-well dragged it out of the Bakumatsu, at least."

All of a sudden, he rolled back his eyes, an animated annoyance seeping into his voice. "I probably have you to thank to be saying this: I haven't needed to kill for years. I doubt your petty assassinations could even add up to half of mine, and yet you changed the era."

Kenshin clenched his jaw, doing what he could to avoid biting into his cheek. A frenzy of thoughts were milling around his head now, overwhelming and undermining him from all corners. Each one scrambled to make sense of things that couldn't be made sense of: incredible things like Hiko Seijuro giving pep-talks to beggars on the side of the street. Hiko Seijuro admitting his own limitations. Hiko Seijuro being his Shishou again. Kenshin wanted to believe it; but he had been wrong too many times. And people had died for his wrongs. The doubts in his mind were louder, and they writhed forward, shrill. His new hope was stomped out. In the end, a demon could not walk amongst men. Kenshin dropped his eyes again, hiding behind the red of his bangs.

"…Perhaps. But all I can do is kill. Yes, I've changed the era. But did…did I…really save all those people? How could I, when…when I don't.." His voice broke. "I don't even know the feeling. Only death. I only remember how to kill."

"Bullshit. What are you feeling now? Because that's how it is. Listen to me, baka—baka-deshi. When I was in my younger years, I killed so many evil men without counting—I lost hope in humanity. You know this, don't you? Why is it that you think I hole myself up in that wooden shack like a hermit? For the view? Peh. Heh, heheheheh. I killed without blinking so much that nothing mattered to me anymore. Death meant nothing to me. And I was like you for the longest time. Drifting around. Lost."

This time, Hiko buckled a bit, his shoulders falling forward slightly. He turned away.

"I was ready to die."

"…"

"I never meant to pass down the Hiten Misurugi ryu, Kenshin. A brutal style like this—I was going to die, and have it die with me. I grew so, so, tired. And it was all enough for me one day. I would drink myself silly, like I always did, heheh. And then, and then,"

He drew a breath, realising what exactly he was about to say to his deshi. "—and then, I would end myself. You know, leave this pathetic earth to tear itself apart."

Hiko cocked his head, a familiar smirk mocking Kenshin in a usual, matter-of-fact lampoon. But there was nothing, funny.

The night he found Shinta flashed through his mind again.

"The moon peers down on a diseased world. There is no cure for the disease. An entire race vaults mindlessly into destruction. Not even a man with colossal power could prevent the inevitable."

In the following day, the grave man would proceed to pluck a little boy from the roadside, preventing him from sticking winter moon in himself.

"You wish to punish yourself for the past—fair—go ahead! But know you are not living it—and no one else is living in it, because some imbecile kid couldn't take his Shishou's advice and cared too much about the world!"

A silence fell between them, and the ground between the swordsmen that was gained was stolen again by the rain. They could be miles apart. But in their ki, they were the same person.

If a stranger had walked past in the downpour, if a person happened by, they'd have seen two figures sitting by in a storm: a kid and a giant too close to be strangers, yet too far to be friends. They'd keep their distance, jarred by their complacency in the rain—like they were so soaked, they were resigned to whatever hell the gods pleased. Come what may. They'd see a boy with confusion in his eyes, unspeakable things lost in his parted mouth. In his face, there was a dawning, like he'd just discovered the most incredulous thing, and beyond. Was he angered, or frightened by whatever he had just found? No one could tell, but they all flickered through his face as the realisation bore deeper, and disbelief became belief.

If a passerby happened, they'd have seen the burly man's maniacal grin twist under his locks of wet hair. And they'd hurry to pass him, trying to not stare, but all the while baffled by his ridiculous smirk in a time like this. Hilarity. He wasn't happy, even a stranger could tell—rather, he was at some kind of a loss. There was a stillness that had befallen the two: as if the world had a fragility to it that could be broken by so little as a wrong breath of air.

But no one passed by. The pair were still alone.

Hiko Seijuro spoke again.

"I would be the last life that the Hiten Mitsurugi ryu would ever claim. Perfect, right? Number thirteen. It's a quaint number."

He nodded his head to the right, not turning to face him but addressing him through the corner of his eye. This time, his mismatched smirk faltered, and a real smile graced his face.

"But then, I met you."

"…"

"I met a stupid, little boy, who stupidly buried his enemies." And I've never felt so proud. " My life was ready to end after a last bout of killing and a good jug of sake. For the next ten years, I lived for you, Kenshin."

Hiko shook his head, amused.

"So how does it feel to have saved so many lives? I know you have, and I know you can, because you've been saving my life since the day I first met you."

Glossary

Katsura- Kenshin's commander and leader of the Choshu Ishin Shishi (revolutionaries)

Otsu- rural place where Kenshin lived with Tomoe

baka/ baka-deshi- idiot/ idiot apprentice

Hiko Seijuro saved Kenshin in seventy two seconds. Ten-ish years on, Kenshin is still returning the favour. Whether he knows it or not.