Samurai X Fan Fiction / Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction / Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ History Lessons ❯ Part I ( Chapter 1 )

History Lessons

- by Julie (whirleeQ) & Rose (BuffyBot76)

- Part 1 of 4

Disclaimer: We don't own YYH or Rurouni Kenshin. We are merely 'borrowing' the characters for our amusement, and hopefully, yours. Please don't sue.

Keiko Yukimura wandered down the stone path, lost in thought. The warm sun was shining brightly overhead, casting its golden rays down on the nicely kept greenery that surrounded the park she walked in. Her school books were held loosely in her arms as she enjoyed the evening breeze that ruffled her medium length auburn hair. With a sigh, the young woman deviated from the path, taking a seat at the base of a giant oak standing just a few feet from the trail. 

Once she’d settled herself comfortably, Keiko sifted through her pile of books, withdrawing her history text and opening it to a specific page in her lap. 

History was not her most favorite subject, but the story that had been told today in class had really struck a chord with her, and she found herself eager to read more.  Her large, cinnamon eyes scanned the text until she came across the name of the samurai whose story had held her attention and kept her from zoning out from the professor’s dry tone.

Himura Kenshin.

Her fingers briefly brushed over the name as she began to read the text.

“Himura Kenshin was one of the greatest assassins of the Ishin Shisi.  At only fifteen years old, his prowess with a sword was unparalleled.  During the Meiji Restoration, he earned the name ‘Hitokiri Battousai’ which directly translates to ‘The Sword Drawing Man Slayer.’  The meaning is appropriate, since several hundred political activists and noblemen were rumored to have met their death on the Hitokiri’s blade.”

“The Battousai was said to have employed one of the fastest sword techniques ever known, ‘The Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu’, or, ‘Sword of the Flying Heavens’.  This style of   swordsmanship was developed during the Sengoku period, and has since been lost to time.  It was said to have been the fiercest—”

Keiko turned the page.  There was an artists rendering of what he may have looked like, and she had to stifle a gasp.

Were it not for the scar on his face, and the eyes, she could have been looking at Kurama.  She took a deep breath, and continued reading. 

“It is said that he could be mistaken for a girl at first glance, but his nature was the complete opposite of his appearance.  During the Meiji Restoration, he was a cold, calculating man, and it was said that to see him meant death.”

Keiko looked again at the picture.  Could this man really have been such a killer?  He was beautiful… but then again, so was Kurama, and Keiko well knew what he was capable of. 

“There is some evidence that suggests the Hitokiri may have taken a wife at one point during the war, but she died before the Meiji Restoration was complete. There is little information of the Hitokiri Battousai after that, but there are several rumors regarding his possible fate.”

“One of the more preposterous rumors suggests that the murderous Battousai became a wandering samurai.  As the wanderer, the former Battousai supposedly traded his katana for a sakabatou (a reverse blade sword:  see swords of the Meiji, page 456 for additional information), and fought only in defense of others.  It is also thought that he became quite gentle in his mannerisms, and spent the rest of his life seeking redemption for his sins.”

“Those rumors are considered by most historians to be rather fanciful and unlikely, considering the Battousai’s character.  One is far more inclined to believe that the Battousai met his death on the blade of an opponent.”

Keiko scanned a bit more, looking for any further mention of Himura the Battousai, but couldn’t find anything else.  The book spent entirely too much page space, she thought after while, on describing the Restoration’s strategies, and even more on the weaponry – but not enough on the cuties of the Meiji Restoration themselves.

She flipped the page.

“--was a weapon of then foreseen circumstance, which assured the loss of the Bakufu—“

Keiko yawned, and closed the book. 

Silently, she mused on what type of man he must have been.  Would he have been remorseful for his actions?  Proud?  Indifferent?

Insane?

Keiko leaned her head back against the tree, and enjoyed the nice warm breeze that passed over her face.  Her eyelids were starting to feel heavy, probably from a combination of the warm sun and the dreary textbook she had just read from.  But she knew she needed to read more, even though there was nothing left of interest to her.  After all, she had a report to do on the Meiji Restoration.  She sighed, and picked up the book again and laid it across her lap.

As the words on the pages started to bleed together, Keiko felt her eyes slowly starting to close. She pinched herself a couple of times, but she still was not able to fight off the overwhelming fatigue that seemed to be spurned on by the monotony of the text she was reading.

‘I’ll just close my eyes for a minute,’ she thought, once again closing the book and placing it by her side as she allowed her eyes to flutter closed.

“Just a minute,” she said aloud with a yawn.

Five minutes later, she was fast asleep.

“Woman.  Wake UP!”

The firm voice was accompanied by a painful nudge in her side as Keiko was roused from her peaceful slumber. 

“Five more minutes, mom.” She mumbled, shoving the nuisance away with her hand, not wanting to awaken just yet. 

“Kurama?” She spoke, her eyes becoming focused again. The sight that she actually saw though had her sitting up with a startled gasp, blinking in utter bafflement.

“Wh-who are you?”  Her words came out in a stammer as she stared at the stranger who stood over her, sheathed sword (the object in which he'd been poking her with, Keiko surmised) in hand.

The petite swordsman glared at her.  His violet eyes were tinted with amber, and mostly hidden behind a long curtain of red hair that hung low on his forehead.  The rest of his hair was pulled into a queue on the top of his head, the end of which gracefully fell over his shoulder and brushed the dark blue fabric of his gi.  A closer look at his face revealed well defined cheek bones, a long, refined nose and a delicate, almost feminine mouth.

‘Wow,’ was Keiko’s fuzzy thought, until she saw the distinguishing cross shaped scar on his left cheek.

He started to remove his sword from his sheath.

”I am not in the habit of giving my name to people who are going to die soon, that I am not.”

"W-w-wait!" Keiko stuttered, “I-I’m sorry. I mean, I don’t even know where I am or—a quick cursory glance around had her eyes growing wider in shocked dismay-- how I got here, to be honest. Please, I mean you no harm. Don’t kill me. Please.” Knowing she had no other option, Keiko was reduced to pleading for her life, her eyes clenched closed as she awaited the killing stroke she knew would come.

For his part, the Hitokiri Battousai didn’t know what to think.  He was in hiding, and had been staying in a ramshackle hut deep within the woods west of Kyoto.  It was completely isolated and entirely cut off from society - and more importantly, the many enemies he had made during the war. 

He wasn’t in the habit of hiding, per say, but the war had just recently ended and now he was purposeless, penniless, and a known mass murderer.  Ironically, there was no place for him now in the new, peaceful Japan that he had helped make a reality. 

At twenty years old, he had no purpose and no goals, except to survive. 

And Battousai had been doing just that – surviving.  He had lived in these woods for the better part of four months now, living off the game that he hunted and the fish that he caught in the nearby lake, and staying away from civilization as a whole.  Because for all of his sins, he no longer felt like he was a part of it.

Now, so deep in the woods that he doubted if even he’d be able to find this place once again if he left, a woman in strange and indecent clothes appeared from seemingly nowhere, asleep against a tree very near his hut.

Naturally, his first thought had been that she was sent to kill him.  But what kind of assassin falls asleep against a tree, and doesn’t even wake when prodded with a sword?  So he threatened her to see her reaction. 

She reacted like a terrified little girl.

Well, just great.  Apparently she really was lost.  He sighed, and pulled her to her feet, albeit a bit roughly. 

“What is your name?” He asked, a trace of exasperation apparent in his voice.

His question reached her ears, and the rough handling prompted Keiko to open her eyes and look at him in surprise. “I… ah, Yukimura. Yukimura Keiko.” She replied, not entirely sure it was wise to do so, but seeing she had no other choice if she wished to remain alive.

It was then that the sky overhead began to rumble, and they felt the first cold, misty drops of rain against their skin.

Battousai sighed again.

“Well, come on then, Keiko-dono,” he said, grabbing the handful of kindling that he had been collecting when he found her. 

“You need not fear death from me anymore, but if you stay out here, the storm is another matter entirely, that it is.” He said, as he turned and walked towards his hut, not even bothering to check and see if she was following him.

Keiko’s eyes strayed to the heavens above, totally perplexed at what she saw. The sky hadn’t been so… dreary looking when she’d gone to sleep, had it? Surely not. It had been nice and clear with the warm sun shining down. So where had the storm clouds come from? Shaking her head, Keiko came to the only rational conclusion she could at this point. She had to be dreaming. That was the only way to explain falling asleep beneath a tree in a park with the sun shining overhead and then waking up to the prodding of someone she had never laid eyes on and the sun nowhere to be seen in the clouded sky. 

To prove the theory to herself, Keiko brought her arm up and using her opposite hand, caught a small amount of skin between the thumb and forefinger and squeezed. 

“Ouch!”

‘Okay, that hurt, so… not a dream. This is too weird.’ She mused, looking over at the stranger who was even now moving toward a small hut a few yards away. ‘Who is he? Why is he dressed so strangely? He looks like he stepped right out of my history book or something.’

Another deep rumble of thunder rented the air just then, the tell tale drops of rain hitting her arms as the cold precipitation soaked into her skin, stirring her from her mental debate and into action as she hastened to catch up.

Battousai threw a couple logs into the hearth, as well as some kindling as soon as he entered the small hut.  The hut was cold and drafty, and with the storm coming, things could get uncomfortable if he didn’t have a strong fire going by the time the winds picked up. 

It took him a few minutes, but eventually he had a nice fire going, and he turned to look at the woman who had followed him inside.  She was pretty, he thought, as his eyes trailed the expanse of skin her not very modest clothing did little to cover.   She was well formed, and her skin looked to be as smooth as silk, and not covered in pock marks like so many women he had known.  Her eyes were large and cinnamon colored, and set in an attractive face with a petite nose and full, rosy lips.  Her hair was lighter than most – not quite the same color as his, but there were definitely hints of red amongst the auburns and browns, and it fell loosely too her shoulders.

The young woman was nervous, though.  That, he could see all too well.  For one, her posture was stiff and uncomfortable, and for two, she kept clenching and unclenching her hands.

He decided to take some pity on the girl.  For if nothing else, she was definitely out of her element.

“Would you like some water or tea, Keiko-dono?”

Keiko was standing, feeling quite awkward in the middle of the room. She could feel his gaze as the red headed stranger looked her over and felt herself flush at the blatant appraisal behind the intense scrutiny. She was almost tempted to say ‘See anything you like?’ but held her tongue. This was, after all, not Yusuke or even anyone she was familiar with. Plus, he had a sword, which was added incentive to keep her mouth shut.

His question took her off guard, as it sounded sincere and was politely worded.

“Ah… Tea would be nice, Mr…?” She asked, hoping he would give her his name this go round and not threaten to take her head as he had earlier.

Battousai narrowed his amber tinted eyes at the girl for a moment.  Suddenly, he was suspicious again.  Could she have been playing the ‘damsel in distress’ act to lure him into trusting her, when she really intended to try to make a play for his life? 

How could she not know who he is?  He wasn’t far enough away from Kyoto for his scar and physical characteristics not to be well known.  Still… if she really didn’t know who he was, what name did he want to give her? 

A quick examination of her ki showed that she was being honest with him and was not a threat.  Did he want her to know he was the Battousai? 

She offered him a small, tentative smile that made her whole face light up and he suddenly felt like his gi was a little too warm and restrictive.

“Himura. Himura Kenshin,” he eventually said in somewhat of a strained voice, as he put a small pot of water over the fire to boil.

With his back to her, he totally missed her shocked look at his revealed identity. Kenshin… Himura? As in… the Hitokiri Battousai? An image of the illustrated photo in her text book flashed before her eyes, giving her the answer to her question. He looked almost exactly like the image had portrayed him. The thought of whether or not his ruthless actions were true as well made itself known, giving Keiko caution in what she chose to say next. 

“It’s nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Himura. Thank you for allowing me to come into your home, out of the rain.”

Kenshin snorted.

“My home… not exactly, Keiko-dono.  This is just a place that I stay at, that it is,” he said somewhat wistfully.  A home was a warm place, with friends and people who love you.  How could the bloody and deadly Hitokiri Battousai ever have… a home?

Keiko caught the sense of longing behind his words as well as the look in his eyes. It was similar to the one she had glimpsed a time or two in a certain fire demon’s eyes. It was a wanting expression. A hunger for something more, but what it was, she had never been able to discern and knew it wasn’t her place to ask. Still, it had made her attitude soften toward the surly fire demon. Thus, Keiko could feel the same thing happening in the presence of the man before her. He just seemed so… desolate, that she wanted to comfort him. Though she doubted he would be any more receptive to those actions then Hiei would have been.

She was brought from her musings when a cup of steaming tea was placed before her. Blinking, Keiko finally cleared her throat and accepted the drink with a softly murmured, “Thank you.”

Kenshin kneeled across from her, enjoying the warmth of his own cup of tea, as the winds outside started to pick up and whistle.  It was starting to get fairly cold outside, but with the fire and the warm tea, the inside of the hut was comfortable.

He looked again at Keiko, and wondered about her.  There was something very different about her, something not quite right and he couldn’t exactly put his finger on what it was.  The clothes were a part of it, but it was also in her mannerisms.  Who was she and where did she come from?

“Keiko-dono?  Perhaps you could tell me how you came to be in the forest?” He asked, genuinely curious about her origins.

‘Oh great, Keiko, what should you tell him?’ Keiko worried her bottom lip with her teeth as her mind sought desperately for a rational explanation. ‘It’s not like I can tell him the truth… or, at least what I assume is the truth. I can just see it now. Oh, it’s quite simple, Mr. Himura, you see I fell asleep in a park in modern day Tokyo, but woke up outside your hut, over 100 years in the past... Right…He'd lop my head off for sure!'

Knowing she had to tread lightly on this subject, Keiko finally did the only thing she felt she could do in this situation.

She lied.

Kenshin’s eyes narrowed as the girl shifted nervously from foot to foot as she began to tell some ludicrous tale about how she got into the woods.  He could tell by the way that her voice lilted that she was lying.  Badly. 

She wouldn’t even make eye contact with him.  What’s more, he could tell that she wasn’t telling him the truth because she feared him.  And if she feared him, then she knew perfectly well who he was -- which meant that his earlier suspicions may have been correct.

His eyes hardened and turned amber, and the cheerful, friendly expression on his face was replaced with a cold, calculating one.

Lying to an assassin was a dangerous thing.

“Is that so, Keiko-dono?”

Keiko faltered, though truthfully she hadn't been doing a very good job in weaving her deceptive tale in the first place. She could practically see the friendly expression melt away, replaced by the same expression he'd worn when she first woke up and saw him standing over her. Her heart picked up its pace as her fear rose to new heights. He didn't believe her. 'Now what?' She wondered to herself. 'I can't tell the truth, and I'm not a good enough liar to get away with telling him a story... Oh, Yusuke, where are you when I need you?' 

"I, ah... well, the truth is... you wouldn't believe me if I told you how I really got here." 

'There. Maybe he'll just leave it at that.' She thought. 

Wishful thinking.

“You must understand that I have to be careful about who I acquaint myself with, Keiko-dono.  It would be best for both of us if you would tell me the truth,” he responded in a level tone, the underlying threat apparent in his gaze.

“Ah...” Keiko groaned. ‘Oh, boy… here goes.’ "Well, you see, I had just left school for the day and went for a walk in the park. It was pleasant out, not a cloud in the sky, so I said to myself what a nice idea it would be to sit outside while I studied and well, I found a nice tree and sat down but then I fell asleep and the next thing I knew, you were waking me up and I wasn’t where I’d fallen asleep and apparently over 100 years in the past to boot. So you see, I’m really no threat to you whatsoever, so you don’t have to worry about whether or not you should kill me because I really think it’s a good idea that I live. Eheh.” Throughout her entire babble-fest, Keiko could feel her cheeks growing warmer and warmer. She imagined they were fire red by now and it didn’t help that the red haired man was looking at her in an entirely different way now. 

‘Does she WANT to die?’ Was Kenshin’s first thought.  But, during her whole diatribe, her ki remained consistent, and there was no indication in her body language that she was lying to him. 

That left three possibilities.

One.  She was completely insane, and he was entertaining a madwoman.

Two.  He had finally gone completely insane – that wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, after all – and had conjured her up from deep within the recesses of his mind because of some subconscious need for company.  But if that were the case, wouldn’t he have thought up someone whom he already knew?  Tomoe, perhaps?

Or three:  she was telling the truth, as highly improbable as that might be.  It would certainly explain her strange attire – the likes of which he had never seen before.

At any rate, he was firmly convinced now that she was absolutely no threat to him.  Did  it really matter where she came from?  She was a nice, attractive girl, and even though he hated to admit it to himself, it was comforting to have someone to talk to for a change. 

Someone who didn’t want him dead.

“So Keiko-dono… tell me about the future.”

End Part I