Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Out of Time ❯ Realization ( Chapter 2 )

1865

Kenshin broke the surface of the water, coughing. He quickly looked around for Sanosuke, and when he saw that his friend wasn't above water, immediately began to worry. This was cold even for him, and Sano had been freezing just in the open air. Kenshin dived under and tried to look for his friend, but there was nothing. It was too black to see. He came up for air again, and looked around. This time he saw what appeared to be someone floating in the water.

“Sano,” he whispered. He began swimming toward the figure. Even when he was only halfway there, he could tell this wasn't his friend. It was a young boy. Kenshin shivered, more from the coincidence than the cold. Wasn't that the reason they'd wound up down here in the first place? Because he'd flashed back to that boy drowning? Was he hallucinating now?

Hallucination or not, Kenshin had no way to find Sano, and this boy needed help. Quickly, he finished swimming over, put an arm around the boy's waist, and swam to the shoreline. To Kenshin's relief the boy was alive, already starting to cough and sputter as soon as there was land under him. He tried to sit up.

Kenshin gently held him down. “You should stay still for a moment and catch your breath,” he said. “That you should.”

The boy's eyes opened and he looked at Kenshin. “You're that swordsman,” he murmured. Then he blinked a couple of times before shaking his head. “But you look different.” The boy was starting to shiver badly, and his teeth were chattering.

Kenshin just stared at him for a moment before asking, “Are you alright? You should get home to your family. Get warm.”

The boy wouldn't make eye contact with him. “I don't have anyone left here. You know that. That's why I was gonna…” He trailed off and looked away.

Kenshin just stared at the boy, worry starting to eat away at him. Something wasn't right here.

The boy stood, and this time Kenshin didn't try to stop him. This was the same boy from his memory. The same bridge. Kenshin looked up at the moon and paled. “What is happening to me?” he wondered. The moon had been full when Sano had pointed it out. Now it was suddenly a crescent? He closed his eyes and held his head. This had never happened to him before. Even when he'd faced Saito and his mind had drawn him into a battle from the revolution, he'd never started seeing the world change around him. Had the strain of trying to control his darker side finally caused him to snap?

Kenshin squeezed his eyes shut and willed it away. This wasn't possible. When he opened his eyes, nothing had changed. Same bridge, same moon. But now the boy was gone. And Sanosuke was still missing. He sat for several minutes, unsure of what to do. For the first time in ages, Kenshin was truly afraid, but not for the ordinary reasons. He knew the dangers of the streets of Revolutionary Kyoto. But, also, although it had been over a decade, he still knew how to disappear into the night. No, it wasn't death he was afraid of. It was Kyoto itself. It was the hitokiri inside of him that would relish at this turn of events if given even the slightest chance. It was the fact that he very well may have finally gone crazy. Because how else did one fall into a river, and then come out over a decade earlier? Had suppressing the killer finally pushed him over the edge? If that were the case, then let the Shinsengumi come. It was better to die here than live and be a danger to everyone…

He looked back up at the moon for a long moment before standing. No. It was this thinking that had almost forced his shishou to destroy him. There was always a reason to live. As long as he could remember that, the killer would sleep. Kaoru, Yahiko, Sano and Megumi. They were his reasons. As was his oath to Sakura, Akane and Kasumi… and to Tomoe.

Then another wave of fear washed over Kenshin, as realization struck. How far back had he gone? Was she… could he stop himself…? Kenshin sprang to his feet. He had to figure out what exactly was going on. Because if he really had somehow gone back in time, maybe there was a reason… He began to run, taking only a moment to be sure that his sakabatou was still at his side. Now, more than ever, it was vital that he carried that sword. He'd need to be able to defend himself for a change. And with a regular katana, here of all places, it would be too easy to kill.

Back up near the bridge, he paused, trying to decide where to go. If he entered the city, he risked meeting up with the Shinsengumi, or even some of the Ishinshishi, which would lead him back to Katsura-san, and possibly his younger self. Kenshin shivered. He wasn't sure if he could face the young Battousai. He had a hard enough time facing himself now. He looked around. Of course, if he stayed here much longer, he was risking the same results. That left only one option… and it really didn't please him any better. Kenshin sighed, and began running toward the woods. A worried smile played at the rurouni's lips. “I'm sorry, Shishou, that I am. It looks like I will once again be bringing my troubles to you instead of your souvenir…”

 

1879

Sano trailed behind the hitokiri as closely as he dared. He remembered firsthand Kenshin's ability to read distant ki, and he wasn't sure where Battousai's skills lay. According to revolutionaries like Saito and Okubo, his skills had been stronger… more impressive. According to Kenshin, they were simply more deadly. Sano had never known his friend to lie. He kept his distance.

Battousai was becoming agitated. That much Sano could tell. It was late, and the streets were deserted, but even in this lonely dark, it was obvious that this wasn't the Kyoto Battousai had expected. At first, the young man had kept to the shadows completely, making it almost impossible for Sano to keep track of him, but as things looked more and more unfamiliar, Battousai's actions had become irregular. Finally, he stopped in front of an old, run-down inn. Clearly it was deserted, and for the first time since Sano had pulled him out of the water, the young man seemed uncertain, hesitating just outside of the door as though afraid of what he may or may not see inside. After another moment's hesitation, he finally went in.

Sano waited a minute before following.

He should have waited longer. Battousai stood in the center of the room staring around in horror. Old newspapers and dead leaves littered the inside of the inn. It didn't seem to have been abandoned too long, maybe a year at most, but for someone who had probably just seen this place bustling with activity a few hours earlier, it had to be terrifying, and Sano couldn't help but feel bad for the young man. The sudden shift in Sano's ki managed to break through Battousai's confused thoughts and he spun on Sano.

Before Sanosuke could even move, the katana was drawn, and Battousai was bearing down on him. He recognized the ryu tsui sen immediately, and the only thing that saved him was his familiarity with Kenshin's moves. Sano managed to dodge the attack at the last moment and roll into the shadows, not that he really believed that darkness could hide him from a hitokiri.

Oddly, Battousai didn't strike a second time, but his narrowed eyes held a dangerous, almost desperate glint as he stared through the darkness directly into Sano's own eyes. “You're a spy, then,” he said, his voice as hard and cold as his blade. “Where are the Ishin shishi? Where is Katsura-san?”

It took Sano a moment to realize that Battousai was talking to him and not killing him. His breathing regulated a bit, but his heart was still racing. Normally a good fight brought adrenaline. But this was suicide. “Kenshin…” he started. “I'm not a spy!”

Battousai slowly sheathed his sword, and Sano breathed a sigh of relief. Until he realized that the hitokiri had only changed stances. “The hell you aren't,” Battousai said softly, readying himself for a Battou-jutsu attack. “I will ask you one final time, and then I'm afraid I will have to kill you. Where is Katsura-san?”

Sano winced. “He's dead, Kenshin. He's been dead for almost six months now.”

“You're lying!” Battousai's attack was even faster this time, and Sano barely managed to get out with a shoulder wound.

“Kenshin, listen to me!” he yelled, trying to get through to him. “It isn't the revolution anymore. I don't know when you came out of, or how you got here, but it's 1878 and the fighting is over.”

Battousai didn't answer, but his attack was slower, and Sano managed to dodge it. “He hesitated,” Sano realized. He hadn't expected it, but Battousai actually seemed to be considering his words.

Sano took advantage of that fact. “The revolution ended over a decade ago.”

Kenshin didn't strike again, but was clearly preparing to do so. Only an intense internal struggle seemed to be keeping the attack at bay.

“I know it sounds crazy. Hell, I thought I'd gone crazy when I realized who you are, but it's true. If you don't believe me, look down. The newspaper at your feet. Read the date.” For a moment, Sano was afraid Battousai would refuse and just kill him as a spy, but finally the young man bent, and picked up the paper, his sword hand still ready to draw his blade if the need be. Sano didn't move a muscle. He hardly breathed, just watching the young man. So, this was hitokiri Battousai. This was what Kenshin had been. The gentle man he knew had been terrifying once. And so far, Sano had only faced him when the boy was confused and hesitant. Sano shuddered to think what he would have been like otherwise. For once he had to agree with Saito Hajime. The Rurouni wasn't what he once had been. But unlike Saito, Sanosuke found that realization to be a great comfort.

The paper slipped from Battousai's hands and gracefully spilled onto the floor. His face was still in shadow, and Sano couldn't read his expression, but he understood. Everything seemed to have gone out of the hitokiri. His shoulders fell and he released the sheathed katana, allowing his hand to drop to his side. He looked around again, really seeing the inside of the inn for the first time. No one had been there for ages. He walked slowly around the room, staring at it, running his hand across the wall, finally taking in the changes. He stopped near Sano, pressing his fingers onto a faded scar in the wood. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “I did this last night. A spy entered the inn, and I had to kill him. The blood was everywhere. Okami couldn't get it out.” He touched a rust colored spot near the gash. “The blood is still here, but it's faded so much. I guess time can wash some of the blood away…” He trailed off.

There was a long pause before Kenshin continued. “Katsura-san is dead?” For the first time, he looked up at Sano. His face was still unreadable, but his voice was finally betraying emotion.

Sano nodded. “I'm sorry, Kenshin. I know he was your commander. Was he also your friend?” A hard question for Sano to ask. It had never occurred to him that Kenshin had to deal with Katsura's death just as Sano had grieved for Captain Sagara.

“He understands… understood,” Battousai replied, shortly. He paused. “Ten years? Then Battousai must be gone as well. I don't belong in this era.” He leaned with his back against the wall, his hand still touching the faded cut in the wood.

“Kenshin…”

“Why do you call me that?”

Sano blinked at him. “It's your name, right?”

“It is the name I was given. But no one calls me that. I am Battousai. Hitokiri Battousai. Himura Battousai. No one calls me Kenshin. No one has in a long time.”

Sano didn't respond right away. It had been easier understanding this man when they'd been fighting. “I know you as Himura Kenshin. You asked me not to call you Battousai.”

“I asked you…” The youth sounded as though he were trying the words out. He couldn't seem to comprehend this. “I'm still alive? And I asked you… And… you agreed. You don't call me Battousai… in this era…”

Sano looked at the boy next to him. They were the same age, but this Kenshin suddenly looked so young. Like a child who had just woken from a nightmare, and still didn't trust that he was truly awake.

“Meiji,” Sano said. “The Meiji era.”

“Meiji.”

“Kenshin?”

Battousai looked at him. “And you use a familiar tone with me? Have I known you long?” He sounded so confused.

Sano stared at him. “We're friends. That's all.”

“Friends.”

Sano didn't like the way he had repeated that word as though it were as foreign as “Meiji.”

“You shouldn't call me `Kenshin,'” Battousai said. “Kenshin is the name given to a swordsman. A murderer shouldn't bear that name. I am Battousai. Himura Battousai. I'm sorry, Sagara Sanosuke, but I don't know you.”

“I won't call you Battousai,” Sano growled. “We're friends because you aren't Battousai anymore. I can't call you that.”

“You have a grudge against me.” Oddly, Battousai seemed more comfortable with that than the idea of friendship.

Sano shook his head. “I have a grudge against the Meiji government. I have a grudge against the Ishin shishi. I have a grudge against the people who betrayed us and killed Captain—” He broke off, realizing that Battousai didn't need more baggage to deal with. “It isn't you. It's the name Battousai. What it stands for. That's all.”

Battousai was watching him critically. “I see. Now it makes sense,” he said softly.

Sano looked at him, unsure if he liked Battousai's tone. “What makes sense?”

“The brand on your back. The name Sagara. You're part of the Sekihou-tai.”

Sano tensed, knowing full well the lies people had told of the captain and his army. “I didn't realize that even the hitokiri knew—”

“Everyone knows now,” Battousai cut in. “I've heard Katsura-san talk. When you don't say much, you hear more. He wasn't happy with the way the Sekihou-tai was treated. I know little about it, but I know enough.” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Your army was used by the Ishin shihi. I know what it feels like to be used by them.” If possible, his eyes grew even colder in his stony mask. “Another reason I can't believe I will live to see Meiji.”

“Of course you live. They wouldn't dare try to get rid of you. You're not like—” He broke off again, realizing how close he'd come to saying Shishio Makoto's name. Sanosuke may not have always been credited with having the most brains, but even he realized that some things should remain unsaid. “Like us…” he finished feebly. “They wouldn't kill you like they killed us.”

Something closed behind Battousai's eyes, and the few minutes of talking were over. The hitokiri had taken control again, and the confused boy had been suppressed. “I must find a way back. I can't stay here.”

“Doesn't look like you have much of a choice right now. You can't just go wandering around Kyoto with that katana. Not with the sword banning law.”

“Sword banning?” Automatically, Battousai clutched his weapon. “I don't belong here. I have to go.” He looked confused again, although this time, Sano noticed that there was something unsteady about him as well.

“Kenshin?” he asked. “Are you alright?”

Battousai didn't answer, but he was pale. He backed away. Between the damage the river had done to him, and now his confused mental state, Battousai's body finally gave out on him, and the young man collapsed.