Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ —¤: Boy meets dad :¤— ❯ Peddling ( Chapter 21 )

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 21

 

 

Kenji was walking along a familiar path. He recognized it as the forest near their humble home and he breathed in the fresh mountain air as snow began to fall upon the magnificent landscape.

 

He turned his face toward the sky to bask in its rays and catch a few snowflakes as well. He had always loved snow. It was like a blanket of beauty, promising whoever comes across it untold fun and limitless adventure. The snow was cold, but it gave him a warm feeling of contentment.

 

He gathered up a bit of snow into his hand and squeezed them together, forming a compact ball. A patented evil grin graced his face as he thought about sending the snowball flying into his father's face. His father needed to loosen up once in a while, and he was pleased that the stoic hitokiri would actually crack a joke or two once in a blue moon.

 

He ignored the cold that penetrated his skin as he doubled and redoubled the size of the snowball on his palm until it was three times the size of his fist. Deciding that his father was probably in his usual spot at the front porch of their hut, he made his way back quietly, snowball in hand.

 

From the distance, he could see a small silhouette of a man. Creeping up silently behind him, Kenji took him off-guard and sent his huge snowball right smack into his father's head.

 

The Battoussai didn't even move an inch. He just continued to sit there, unfazed by his encounter with the snowball. He didn't look back either. Kenji wondered if Kenshin even felt his collision with the snowball and frowned. He picked up more snow from the ground and formed another ball of snow before he tentatively made his way to the front porch to face Kenshin. He sucked in his breath when he came face to face with the hitokiri.

 

The young assassin was openly crying. Tears flowed freely from his eyes to his cheeks and soaked the front part of his gi. He also seemed to be in a daze, therefore explaining why he didn't show any reaction when Kenji hit him with the snowball.

 

The half-formed ball of snow fell into the ground as Kenji rushed to his father's side. “Kenshin?” He asked uncertainly. He felt like he was intruding on a private moment, but at the same time, he wanted to know why his father was so sad. He wanted to help. “Daijoubu ka, Kenshin?”

 

The Battoussai remained silent as he continued to openly cry.

 

Kenji's frown deepened and he became determined to find out what the cause of Kenshin's sorrow was. He fixed worried purple eyes on his father's face and noticed belatedly that the man's cheek was bleeding. He gasped. “Kenshin! Your wound! Does it hurt?” As he walked towards Kenshin, he fumbled around his clothes for something to stop the bleeding of his father's cheek, chastising the man all the while. “You should have told me. Does it hurt? Does your wound hurt? Is that why…” he trailed off, not sure whether mentioning Kenshin's tears was going to be a good idea. He felt guilty, for he was the one who had given his father that wound. He only had good intentions at the time - he also had no choice since the hitokiri attacked him first. It was in self-defense, he never meant for his father to feel any lingering hurt because of their previous encounter. And besides, he reasoned with himself - Kenshin just wasn't Kenshin unless he had scars on his cheek. He didn't mean to cause his father any pain at all. “Gomen nasai, Kenshin. Here, let me clean that up for you.”

 

When his father continued to ignore him, he started to get a little annoyed. He was only trying to help. How can he help if he was being brushed off? He sighed and stepped forward to wipe the blood away from his father's cheek. With his hand on a piece of cloth that seemed to materialize from nowhere, he reached up and made to swipe at his father's bloodstained cheeks.

 

His hand went right through his father's face, as if he was made out of air.

 

What the hell? He reached to wipe the blood away once more and got the same results. As he was lifting his arm for a third try, Kenshin suddenly seemed to snap out of his daze and looked right at him with violet eyes filled with sorrow.

 

His father was trying to talk to him, Kenji realized. Kenshin's mouth was opening and closing, as if he was talking, but no words were coming out of his mouth. He couldn't hear a single sound either.

 

“What?” Kenji asked, feeling more frustrated than ever. “I can't hear you.” What the heck is going on?!

 

Kenshin continued to cry as he talked to Kenji, but he couldn't hear a word of what his father was saying. “Speak louder,” he urged his father as someone shook him.

 

“Kenji-chan, wake up.”

 

Kenji abruptly opened his eyes and was met with the familiar sight of the ceiling of their hut. He bolted upright and blinked twice. Looking a bit dazed, he yawned as he rubbed his right hand over his eyes.

 

“Good, you're awake. We have a visitor.”

 

He continued to rub his eyes and looked as his father quizzically as he sat on his futon curiously. “What happened to your cheek?”

 

The Battoussai absentmindedly touched his cheek. “What do you mean what happened to my cheek?”

 

“It was bleeding and you were crying when I hit you with that snowball, remember?”

 

Kenshin furrowed his brow at Kenji. “Anou… Kenji-chan, it's not even winter yet and my cheek hasn't bled for several weeks now.” He touched his palm against the kid's forehead. “Are you coming down with a fever? You don't feel hot.” He said thoughtfully. He was worried that he might have pushed the kid into training hard and then he got sick. He was acting a bit delusional with his questions. That or… “You were dreaming.” It was said as a statement, not a question.

 

Kenji flushed in embarrassment, realizing that his father was right. “I guess I was. I forgot, it seemed so real.” He grinned to cover up his mortification. Of course he can tell between the difference of dreams and reality! His excuse was that he just woke up, that's all.

 

“We have a visitor,” the Battoussai repeated once more for Kenji's sake. He paused and looked Kenji in the eye. “Are you sure you're alright?”

 

He waved his father's concern away and nodded his head. “I'm alright, I'm just not a morning person is all. Who would visit us so early in the morning?” he half-complained and yawned once more. Getting up from his futon, he rolled it up and leisurely stretched. “I'm alright, Kenshin. Go on, I'll be right there.” He nodded and almost had to push his father out of the little screen they had which separated the bedroom from the rest of the hut.

 

Making good use of the basin at the corner of the room, he washed the sleepiness away from his eyes and changed his clothes. Stepping out from behind the screen, he saw their friend Iizuka in what looked like a serious discussion with his father at the table. He didn't know if they were talking about confidential things, ones that he wasn't supposed to know since their voices were hushed, so he hesitated behind the thin screen. He debated with the little voices in his head if he should interrupt their discussion or not.

 

“You can come join us, Kenji-chan.” His father's voice made him jump in surprise, he didn't know that Kenshin knew he was there. “No need to be eavesdropping in your own home.” There was a hint of teasing in the Battoussai's voice that Kenji couldn't help but feel more than a bit embarrassed, especially after being called out in front of their friend.

 

He stepped out of the screen easily and joined the two men who were drinking some tea. “I wasn't dropping any eaves, Kenshin.” He scowled at his father and gave Iizuka a friendly smile. “Ohayou, Iizuka-san. What brings you to our mountains so early?”

 

“Ohayou gozaimasu, Kamiya-san.” Iizuka returned the greeting affably. “I just came to give you and Himura-san your usual update on what's going on in Kyoto. I also brought you some medicine you can mix and sell.”

 

He met the Ishin Shishi's statement with a puzzled look.

 

“Katsura-san thought that two teenagers living by themselves with no visible means of supporting themselves would look suspicious so he thought you could sell some medicine as a front for your source of income,” the spy explained.

 

“Ah,” he said as understanding dawned upon him. Kogoro Katsura was a wise man for sure. He always had all the bases covered. No wonder he was such a prominent, powerful figure. He had a valid point. Neither of them had any jobs and prying eyes or nosy neighbors would eventually wonder how they supported themselves. Even if they grew most of their own vegetables, it still didn't explain the fact that they had cash to buy other supplies like rice and meat. Or shop for clothes like they did just recently. Their neighbors were friendly, especially to two `orphaned' boys living by themselves, but it was human nature to pry and sooner or later, they were going to start to wonder how these two seemingly innocent boys supported themselves. It was a good plan indeed.

 

Iizuka explained that the directions on how to make medicine were included in the bag that he brought, all the ingredients needed and materials required were there as well. He also didn't stay for long; He left as soon as he finished his tea, explaining that he had more errands to run for Katsura and he needed to finish by nightfall.

 

After the two redheads bid him goodbye and finished their morning chores, they gathered around the medicine supplies and started unpacking it. Kenji looked at the instructions and figured it wasn't going to be hard to follow at all. Just to be on the safe side though, he let Kenshin handle all the mixing as he watched from the sidelines.

 

In the few months that he spent with his father, Kenji came to one definite conclusion. His father could do almost anything perfectly. `Almost' being the keyword since from what he gathered and noted himself, Kenshin was as inept as most men were when it came to dealing with females. Still, he had to admit that when it came to everything else but women, Kenshin had mad skills.

 

“Mad skills?” The young hitokiri didn't know what that meant, if it actually meant anything. It took them - or rather him the whole day yesterday and the day before that after Iizuka-san left, while Kenji-chan watched and offered comments here and there - but he finally finished mixing, labeling and packing their medicinal goods by nightfall the previous day. Kenji was brimming with excitement of being a medicine salesman as they prepared to make a trip to town and complimented his father earlier. His father didn't know how having `mad skills' had to do with anything though.

 

And that had been hours ago.

 

Here they were under the hot sun, past lunchtime and they still haven't sold a single thing. Not one! `Kenji-chan' wasn't having a good day. He was wrong about his father's mad skills and told him so. “More like no skills,” Kenji added and the Battoussai could've sworn he heard the words `baka deshi' come out of his son's mouth as well.

 

Kenshin wondered why he received the blame regarding their lack of customers. He was an assassin, not a salesman. His shishou never trained him in the art of selling medicine. He thought that walking around town carrying the bag was enough to gain people's attention. If someone needed medicine surely they were going to stop them and buy it, right?

 

Wrong.

 

No one stopped to chat with them or inquire about their goods. No one even paid them much attention except for that old man who asked for directions. Kenji sighed; He was frustrated beyond belief. They were going to have to do something, fast.

 

“Are you sure this is going to work, Kenji-chan?” Apprehension laced his voice and his forehead wrinkled. He wasn't too keen on the idea but…

 

“Sure I'm sure, Kenshin! It's the only way,” he bobbed his head up and down to show his father how sure he was.

 

Kenshin looked at his son uncertainly, doubtful if it was really going to work or not. The other redhead seemed to be so sure though so he sighed in defeat and lowered his head. “I'll try not to disappoint you Kenji-chan,” he told the boy from beneath the hair that fell forward to cover his face; Famous last words and all.

 

The boy just smiled at him. “Just don't disappoint yourself, Kenshin. Ganbatte!”

 

“You're going to be the death of me, Kenji-chan,” he murmured as he mentally braced himself. He inhaled and exhaled, looking like a man who had just been sentenced to receive the death penalty.

 

 

He failed. He has never experienced failure before, so the concept was new to him. He couldn't identify the emotion that came with it as well; it was foreign to him. He didn't understand how he could possibly be the one to blame for their poor sales. He did what he could, yet he got stuck with the blame. Kenji kept saying things like “you should have done this, you should have done that” and Kenshin couldn't help but wonder what the boy should have done himself instead of placing the blame squarely on his shoulders. Another bout of “you should have dones” and he was going to reach out and choke the kid. The boy seriously needed a lesson in respect; He was the father, he was the hitokiri. It wasn't his fault sales on their first day didn't reach Kenji's expectations.

 

He thought that he had just about made a fool of himself, acting like a circus barker, yet his son didn't seem to appreciate it. For their first time, it actually wasn't that bad, but they were both perfectionists and nothing was just good enough.

 

“Next time we should start earlier so we can cover more ground,” Kenji was saying. The duo was on their way back to their little hut as the sun began its descent upon the horizon. Both of them were tired, and both of them were still a little sore at each other, each blaming the other for the not-so-good sales performance. As they passed by one of the establishments in the small town, a slight commotion gathered their attention.

 

“Please sir, we don't want any trouble. Just kindly take your business elsewhere and let's all forget that this ever happened.” Said a balding middle-aged man. He was wringing his hands in agitation as he spoke to three portly men who seemed drunk and belligerent.

 

“You don't want any trouble? Well, trouble doesn't want you either! You and your stinking food! I want a refund and I want it now!” The most robust of the trio hiccuped and glared through bleary eyes at the quivering man. A crowd was starting to gather to witness the spectacle, and Kenji couldn't help but hover his hand on the hilt of his katana as the men pulled their swords out and started to threaten the bald man. “We want our money back!”

 

“But sir!” The proprietor protested, “You—you haven't paid your bill yet!”

 

“Are you calling my friend a liar?!” Demanded one of the men.

 

“N-no! Of course not!” Replied the owner nervously. His Adam's apple was bobbing up and down; He looked really nervous.

 

Kenji decided it was time he stepped in and put an end to the nonsense. He took a step forward and started to push through the crowd that had gathered around the scene, but a hand stopped him. He turned and saw his father who was looking at him with those intense golden eyes of his. “What? Why did you stop me?” He inquired.

 

“It's best if we leave them to their own devices,” Came the stoic reply.

 

His eyes bugged out incredulously. “What!?” He whirled around and faced his father unbelievingly. Had he gone deaf from being out in the sun too long? “You want us to just stand by and do nothing?!” He hissed.

 

Kenshin merely stared back at him with unreadable amber eyes. “What I want is for us to go home.”

 

“Go. Home?” Was he serious? “You want us to just ignore this?” he waved an irritated hand at the ongoing drama, one which seemed like it was going to escalate into violence any minute now. He couldn't believe he was standing here arguing about whether to help or not with his father. He couldn't help but wonder where Kenshin's legendary hero-complex was today. Or if it even existed today. He frowned at the thought.

 

“It is best if we do not draw attention to ourselves and just mind our own business.”

 

He scowled at the redhead. “All that evil needs to take over the world Kenshin, is for good men to stand by and do nothing.” He turned his back and elbowed his way to the front, where the action was.

 

“Excuse me,” He asked politely, “would you please leave that poor man alone, onegai? I don't think he enjoys being threatened and tossed around like a rag doll very much.” The smile that he had on his face would have made his rurouni father proud.

 

“Nani? Who the hell are you?” Said thug number one.

 

“Oy kozou, mind your own business, why don't you.” Added thug number two.

 

“You want a piece of this, gaki?” Said the leader thug.

 

Kenji mentally sighed, not letting the insults and name-calling get to him. He was too busy trying not to gag at the smell of the trio. They not only reeked of alcohol; they smelled like they were in dire need of a bath or five as well. “I'm merely a concerned citizen, that's all.” He replied benignly.

 

“Leave us alone if you don't want to get hurt.” Thug number two sniggered.

 

Shyeah, like that's going to happen, thought Kenji. “I don't wish for anyone to get hurt. Let's just all settle this calmly, alright?” He asked nicely. He really did. It wasn't his fault these three seemed to be the biggest bakas he has ever had the chance to encounter in this town. Three big bakas who were sleeping like babies at the cold, hard earth one point two seconds after they decided to attack him.

 

The owner thanked him profusely, offering him free saké, which he graciously accepted. His father didn't look happy with what he did though, if the frown directed at him and cold silence that reigned as they went back to their home was any indication. What was he so mad about? Kenshin didn't lift a single finger to help anyone; he was the one who had to do something. His frown deepened and he clutched the saké jug closer to his chest.

 

 

Three hours later…

 

“Are you just going to ignore me forever?”

 

No response.

 

It has been hours since they came back home and his father continued to ignore him. “Fine, be that way.” He took out a cup and proceeded to celebrate happy hour. He was upset at his father for not wanting to help those poor people. Where did the Kenshin Himura he knew go? Where were the irritating hero urges that his father was so known for? Wasn't he the same person who abandoned his family to their own devices so he can help people in need?

 

He poured himself another cup as silence reigned.

 

A sudden thought occurred to him. Did Kenshin not posses the need to butt his nose into other people's business to help them because Kenji accidentally altered his life somehow? Once again, he found himself concerned and disturbed at the same time. How was this going to affect the rurouni that was his father?

 

Or maybe… the reason why Kenshin did not want to interfere earlier was because he didn't have those urges yet? He mentally nodded to himself. Yes, that must be it. Maybe it takes time before Kenshin developed an urge to go traipsing all over Japan, helping people. He was still young, he needed time to mature, that's all. And besides, he was just a teenager, so he wasn't really concerned about stuff like settling fights or helping people that aren't directly connected to his job in the Ishin Shishi… yes, that's it, he convinced himself as he swallowed another mouthful of saké.

 

If Kenshin was going to be stubborn about this, then so would he. He didn't do anything wrong, he didn't have anything to apologize for, therefore he did not owe anybody an apology. If his father was going to ignore him, then he couldn't have any of the delicious, warm, sweet-tasting rice wine.

 

 

Kenshin was still tightlipped and fuming over Kenji's actions. He realized for the first time how his shishou must have felt when he told him that he wanted to help people and stepped off that mountain. When Kenji had turned his back on him and decided to help those people instead, his protective instincts went sky-high and all he wanted to do was drag the kid back home and put him somewhere safe. Lately, he didn't feel very comfortable in the fact that if Katsura called for them, they would have to go back to war anytime now. Each visit from Iizuka-san filled Kenshin's heart with dread, and each time the messenger told them that they weren't needed yet, his heart rejoiced. He was being selfish, he knew that, but he couldn't help it. If he had a choice, he would live out the rest of the war with his son here in the countryside peacefully. He no longer wanted to put Kenji in harm's way.

 

It wasn't as if the boy lacked skills to protect himself, because he was very skilled. Call it hypocrisy, but he did not want any kin of his to be involved in anything dangerous. It was okay for him to be the one to put himself in danger, but it was another for his son to risk his life for others. On one hand he knew what he had to do and accepted it, but on the other… he just wanted it all to end. For his son's sake. Maybe, just maybe… when the time came and peace had finally settled in Japan, they could go back to that quaint little dojo in Tokyo.

 

Why wasn't he talking to the boy? Maybe it's because he realized that even if he forbid it, Kenji's need to help other people will override everything else. His father's opinion will not matter; his own safety will not matter. The last thought sent chills all over his body. He really did not want to see his son harmed, more than anything.

 

One more reason why he would have preferred it if Kenji didn't interfere with the earlier fight was because he did not want to draw attention to them. It was bad enough that their identical looks drew attention - red hair wasn't a common occurrence in Japan you know - but to top it all off, no one was going to miss how fast Kenji had reacted to the situation. It was bound to raise some eyebrows or at least perk curiosity about the duo. And they definitely did not need any kind of attention right now. They were supposed to be laying low.

 

Thunder rolled at a distance, signaling that it was going to rain. It matched the current moods of the occupants of the small hut. Neither one was really mad at the other, just overtly concerned.