Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ A Giant and the Lion Cub ❯ Chapter 5 ( Chapter 5 )

Chapter 5

The morning sun was steadily burning away the last of the spring dew and bathing the streets of Kyoto in a pleasant, warm light. It was a perfect day, in all its splendor, for a festival. People already moved through the streets, bustling here and there, the excitement adding a merry spring to their steps as they made their way to some destination.

The Aoiya was alive as well, the excited chatter of the upcoming events filled the restaurant as the last of the breakfast dishes were swept away to the kitchen. The inhabitants moved here and there, gathering garments, counting spending money, and discussing what they would do during the afternoon festivities.

The continuous and infectious laughter was slowly drown out by a heated argument coming from one of the back rooms, near the bath house. Misao held her kuni in a fist, trembling in rage at an equally angry Yahiko. Both squared off, towels in one hand, weapons in the other, as an irritated Kaoru tried to still her naked son.

"Ladies should go first," Misao shouted, shaking her kuni-laden fist at the boy.

"Show me a lady and I'll let her go first weasel face," Yahiko retorted, a wicked smirk on his face.

Misao roared in outrage, her face indignant and murderous, causing a little Kenji to leap into his mother's arms. Kuni flew through the air, piercing the wall behind the young samurai. Yahiko yelped in pain, cowering on the floor, his hands clasping the sides of his head.

"You got some of my HAIR," he shouted, rubbing a sore spot on his scalp.

"Lucky you," Misao retorted, "I was aiming for an EYE!"

Once again the two stood before each other, black gazes foretelling their intentions, both seething with anger. Only one of them would make it to the bath alive, but the winner would go on badly brutalized, that was apparent.

Kaoru cleared her throat, hoping to clear the air a little bit. "Umm, Misao chan," she asked quietly, jerking her head in the direction of the doorway.

Misao turned slightly, flames leaping in her eyes, ready to unleash an unmatched rancor on the person who had interrupted her battle. Like a wave crashing against a lone ember, the fires died as she found herself looking at the indifferent face of Aoshi. Her heart did a couple somersaults, before falling flat into her stomach. Her face paled in embarrassment, caught once again acting like a little child. "Aoshi sama," she whispered.

Strikingly dressed in a white kimono, his ninja attire and trench coat discarded for the day, the man was a sight to behold, even causing Kaoru's breath to catch a little. Piercing eyes gazed out at his young charge from beneath still wet hair that clumped together in disarray in an appealing fashion. His bare feet made no noise as he walked into the room, studying the source of the ruckus, his face betraying nothing. In one hand he held a damp towel, folded neatly against long, slender fingers.

Kenji squirmed away from his mother, his body draped in nothing but a bath towel, his own hair wild and knotted, demanding a combing. He darted over to his new playmate and tugged on the hem of the kimono, pale eyes looking at the tall man questioningly, a wide grin plastered on his face. "Up," he directed, holding out his small arms to illustrate his point.

Kaoru made a sound of protest and moved to grab her boy before he could assault the former okashira any further. Men such as he had no patients for children, and she did not want him to feel uncomfortable in his own home. "Kenji chan, do not bother Shinomori san," she scolded.

With out looking down at the boy, Aoshi scooped him up and held him into the crook of his arm. His motions were nonchalant, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do. His expression was impassive, even though he could see the startled look of the three people before him, but he ignored their bewilderment, and greeted the boy with an almost friendly "good morning".

Kenji just laughed, oblivious to the stunned stares, and squished Aoshi's cheeks together in fishlike like fashion with small hands.

"The bawf ish weady," Aoshi informed them, ever stoic, between pinched lips.

Misao and Kaoru glanced at each other, eyes wide with question and concern. Both women fought the urge to run over and feel the man's forehead for fever as Yahiko dropped his boken on the floor, his jaw going slack at the sight before him.

Kaoru managed to overcome her stupor, moving quickly to wrench Kenji's prying hands from the man's mashed face, relieving him of the child. "Ummm, thank you Shinomori san," she stuttered, "I, uh, uh…" . She tried to find the words to apologize for her son's boldness, but found herself at a loss.

Aoshi nodded, knowing what she meant to say, and patted the boy on the head slightly before turning to fix his gaze upon the skinny ninja girl. "Misao," he said, his voice commanding and dominating. The lanky girl leapt to attention, ready to comply to his every order, no questions asked.

"Y-Yes Aoshi sama!"

The tall man hesitated slightly, his brow furrowing in some thought, as if words were trying to elude him. Mentally, he braced himself and sighed inwardly at his cowardice, "I'll be leaving soon for the festival. I expect you'll be appropriately dressed and ready to depart when I come for you." His voice maintained it's authoritative edge, but there was a hint of question laced into the words.

Misao's eyes grew wide and she felt her knees go weak, "H-hai," she replied shakily, watching him nod slightly at her agreement before departing the room.

Kaoru's hand flew to her mouth in absolute wonder. The invitation was gruff, but she expected nothing less from the pensive young man. Her heart soared for Misao, and she prayed that this would be a stepping stone for a wondrous relationship for the pair.

"Did that just really happen," Yahiko muttered from the corner of the room, bending down to pick up the wooden sword he dropped earlier.

"I don't know," Misao breathed, her face still pale, dark eyes wide and fixated upon the doorway.

Yahiko grunted in disgust at the feminine display and slung his towel around his neck, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that iceberg just asked you out."

Her knees finally giving out, Misao slumped to the floor in a heap. Her heart pounded in her ears, unable to believe that the day had finally come when Aoshi had actually requested her company. It was hardly a declaration of love, but his offer somehow chipped away some of her doubt and fears about his true feelings.

"What am I going to wear," she muttered, remembering how he asked she be dressed appropriately for the festival. The ninja attire she normally wore would not do, it was to be set aside and replaced with clothing that was socially acceptable. She did not own a kimono, at least not one that would fit her anymore, having cast aside much of her femininity as she advanced in the ninja arts. She covered her face with her hands, hoping to ward away the tears that threatened to fall.

Kaoru smiled at her friend and put a comforting arm around her shoulder. "Oh Misao, I'm so happy for you," she gushed, "I brought an extra kimono with me in case my new one got dirty! It will look fantastic on you!" She urged the girl to stand up, giving her a quick hug, "This is going to be such a wonderful day!"

"Oh brother," Yahiko muttered, "Quit with the girlie talk already, I may get sick! Don't you have a bath to take?" He pointed the end of his sword at Misao before turning on his heel, exiting the room with Kenji in tow.

************

Kenshin slumped against the wall of his family's room, his face flushed and sweaty, but set in definite satisfaction. An hour had gone by since he tackled the task of dressing his son, such a simple feat for any parent with a normal child.

It started out innocently enough, Kenshin approaching his son with the new, forest green kimono hidden behind his back, hoping the child would succumb to the dressing with out too much fuss. Kenji would not be easily fooled though, he took note of his fathers insanely pleasant tone and the wide, too friendly and forced, rurouni grin that plastered itself across his face, instantly knowing something was definitely not right. His eyes narrowed as his father approached and Kenshin immediately knew the game was up, even before it started.

At the sight of the new kimono Kenji bolted for the door, but Kenshin used his lightening speed to catch the boy before he reached the exit, wrestling him to the floor. Kenji squealed in anger at his father, kicking and scratching as he was pinned to the floor, his yukata stripped away and the wicked green kimono looming above him. Kenji twisted against his father's arms, eyes dark violet now, and his small voice screeching like a wounded animal.

Kenshin grit his teeth, his hold slipping from the young boy's naked body, which was worked up into a slick sweat from his ferocious fighting. "Kenji chan, what is the matter with you," he hissed, trying to shove an arm into the clothing. He hated this task, the outraged cries of his child nearly breaking his spirit, knowing he was the source of such anger and discomfort. The boy was not in any pain, Kenshin would never allow himself to be so rough to actually harm the child, he'd rather let to go boy naked than inflict any injury on him.

Kenji took advantage of his father's disheartened spirit, "No father! No! No!" he cried pathetically, hoping it would be enough to make the red haired man retreat. A small lip began to quiver and large eyes of dark purple welled with tears.

Kenshin blanched, the dagger hitting its mark with deadly accuracy. His expression was pained and he lessened the grip on his son's tiny form, feeling his heart twist inside his chest. "Why couldn't you do this, Kaoru," he thought bitterly, knowing Kenji would not give his wife half the trouble he gave him. She often told him he needed to toughen up or the boy would run all over him when he was older. There was no getting older about it though. The minute the boy was born, his tiny fingers already had his father twined tightly into their small, but solid grasp.

As Kenshin's grasp lessened Kenji took the opportunity to wrench himself free, grabbing the horrid kimono out of the surprised man's hand and flinging it away from him like a venomous snake. He darted to the other side of the room, little chest heaving, and prepared himself for his father's next advance.

Kenshin sat back on his haunches, eyeing his son. "Cunning little devil," he thought to himself. He would have praised the boy for using such quick wits if the situation had not put himself at such a disadvantage. In any other match, thinking like that would be useful, but Kenshin did not want to draw this out any longer than he had too, nor did he want to be out witted by a three year old. The kimono now lay in the opposite corner of the room, if he left his current position, the door would be left free and clear. Kenji knew how to open doors, moving would surely let the boy escape. Kenshin's eyes scanned the room for an answer.

Kenji cried out in dismay as his father moved a heavy table in front of the door.

Kenshin turned around to face his son, wiping his brow slowly. "Okay Kenji chan, you can't get away, so let's end this," he pleaded, hoping his son see his loss and comply.

There was no escaping his room, his father, or the new kimono. Kenji was aware of this, and the knowledge only made him angrier. He glared at his father, hands balled into tiny fists at his sides. He couldn't flee, but he would go down fighting before he succumbed to that horrid thing lying in the corner, that he was sure of.

Kenshin sighed, feeling the flare in his son's ki, and made his move. Kenji could not match his speed, but he could match his intensity. Once caught, the boy continued to howl and cry, the echo of his voice causing by passers to stop in the street and stare worriedly at the Aoiya. He kicked hard, his small foot connecting with his father's chest, stomach, shoulder, whatever happened to get into the way of the flailing legs and arms. Several times he managed to get a hold of the kimono and toss it away, but Kenshin only drug him along the floor to retrieve it, refusing to let the boy free of his grasp.

As the ruckus insued, Okina and even Aoshi came to stand outside the door, both worried about what was going on inside. "Himura san," Okina yelled from the door, glancing at Aoshi, "Is everything alright in there?" A mighty yell and muffled curse was their reply.

Kenji bit down on his father's arm, grinding small teeth into soft flesh. Kenshin cried out in pain, wrenching his wounded arm away from the boy, but catching him by the nape of his neck with the other hand. Kenji gasped, startled at what he'd done. His bites were reserved for Yahiko and Sano, never his father or mother. With frightened eyes he met his fathers stern gaze, knowing he'd gone too far this time. Violet eyes flecked with amber stared back at him, not threatening, but disapproving and slightly angry. Kenji lowered his gaze in defeat, something inside him telling him to subdue himself to his father, that the fight was lost.

He allowed himself to be dressed in the crisp new fabric with out a hassle. No words were uttered, not even a scolding, which part of him wished for. He was forced to stand in the stony silence of his fathers hardened gaze, his arms out stretched as this clothing was righted around his small frame and the obi tied into place. He watched the violet eyes dance with yellow light, sensing it was best to remain seen and not heard.

Now, an hour since the beginning of the ordeal, Kenji sat huddled across from his father, his face drawn into a dark gaze at the wood of the floor. An eternity of silence passed between them, father and son regarding each other carefully, not certain how to proceed. Kenshin's anger at his son's biting attack was fleeting, dying as soon as he saw the horror on Kenji's face. The boy did not mean to bite him, it was a fighting reaction, nothing more, not deliberate like those Sano and Yahiko received. He chose not to scold, burying the half of him that was capable of delivering a decent tongue lashing if necessary, slightly frustrated he'd even shown that side of him to the boy at all. Kenji would deal himself his own punishment, the hint of it already evident on his face.

Kenji met his fathers gaze, he uttered a sigh of defeat, and stood up slowly from his place on the floor. He looked down at the new kimono, disgust etching itself into his small features. "No good," he muttered, holding up an arm, the fabric swishing as he waved the limb slightly.

Kenshin arched a brow at his son, "What Kenji chan? You don't approve of the color?" He smiled slightly, extending a hand to the boy, an offering of peace and forgiveness. He felt his smile widen as the boy folded himself into his fathers lap, clinging the fabric of his gi and burying his face deep in the cloth. It was all over, done and forgotten. Kenshin hugged him close, pressing his cheek to the boy's soft hair and inhaling its sweet scent.

"Still no good," Kenji sniffed, wiping his nose on his father's gi.

Kenshin released his son from his embrace and held him out at an arms length. "What," he asked, looking puzzled. He noticed Kenji looking down at the kimono he now wore, picking at the hem. It was obvious he detested the thing, though it made no sense to Kenshin. The boy was far to young to be sensitive about the clothing he wore, but what went on inside his son's little mind sometimes was beyond him. "You look nice Kenji," he smiled, " Green suits you, that it does."

Kenji huffed at his father. He didn't care what color the kimono was, it was the newness that irritated him. Playing wasn't permitted while wearing new clothing. His mother would scold him greatly if he got one stitch of the deep green fabric dirty. Once the new kimono was set into place, he knew his day would be full of nothing but boredom, forced to behave like a proper boy should while people ogled over his neatness. New kimono's came with restraints, and Kenji hated to be held down. He sighed heavily and fingered the obi, glancing at his father.

"Don't even think about it," Kenshin warned, his eyes flashing amber briefly.

Kenji wrinkled his nose at his father, dropping his hands into his lap.

**********

"Why are girls always so slow," Yahiko whined, shifting impatiently from one foot to the other, "A fancy kimono and new hair-do isn't going to do either of them much good anyway." He heaved an exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes.

Kenshin smiled softly to himself, knowing that someday Yahiko would come to appreciate the time and effort a woman spent on herself. He'd think his Kaoru was beautiful if she dressed herself in a gunnysack, and he frankly didn't care if she chose to wear something ordinary and plain to the festival. He had to admit though, when she did dress herself up, it made his blood boil with intense heat. A wicked grin crept across his face, and he found himself trying devise a plan to allow himself and wife some time alone.

"Himura, stop grinning like that."

Aoshi's voice brought him crashing out his provocative dream and he felt his cheeks redden. Kenshin glanced at the two young boys sitting on the porch, both totally mesmerized that they witnessed the red haired samurai with out the polite and innocent rurouni mask. For a brief moment, he actually looked completely sinful.

Kenshin looked to Aoshi, who only gave him a knowing, but disapproving look.

The door slid open, rescuing the rurouni from any further embarrassment, and the two young women stepped out into the afternoon sun. Kaoru smiled brightly, adjusting the sleeve of her radiant, crimson kimono. The fabric caught the light perfectly, adding almost and iridescent shine to the light cloth. Golden butterflies and dragonflies dancing along the hemlines and trailed up her back, sparkling in the sunshine. Her dark hair was pulled back into a roll on her head, held in place by several beautiful, golden pins.

Picturing himself removing those pins from his wife's long hair, and watching it fall about her shoulders, Kenshin could feel his evil smile return. He moved to his wife's side, his gaze almost smoky with want, "You look stunning koishii," he whispered in her ear. He took her hand in his, allowing his thumb to caress her silky skin in a private, needy touch. Kaoru blushed at her husband's obvious desires and cleared her throat nervously, "Thank you," she whispered, a small smile playing on her lips.

"I can't do this," said Misao's frustrated voice from her retreat just inside the doorway. "I can't walk in this thing," she cried, her voice cracking slightly, giving away her distress.

Kaoru turned away from Kenshin, and pulled the skinny girl from the room, "You'll get use to it Misao chan, don't worry!"

Misao stood on the porch, her head bowed to her chest in embarrassment, hands clasped white knuckled in front of her. The white kimono with a navy trim hindered her movement greatly, and the obi was uncomfortably tight. Never had she felt so helpless and weak, but at the same time, she felt more like a woman now than she ever had in her life. She could feel Aoshi's eyes wander up her slight frame in approval. Her cheeks flushed slightly, wishing he wouldn't stare at her so. "I feel so dumb," she muttered.

Aoshi raised a brow and the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. He nodded his approval and extended a hand to the discomforted girl, "Shall we go," he asked to the group.

Karou giggled like a little girl, her excitement bubbling out, "Today is going to be such a great day!" She picked up Kenji and leaned against her husband slightly as the group proceeded into town.