Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Out of Time ❯ Encounters ( Chapter 3 )

1865

Kenshin burst into the clearing and stopped. It was just as he'd remembered it. He hadn't realized how little his shishou had changed things until now. The only difference was that the kiln was missing, and there was a small garden to the side. He slowly walked to the edge of the shadows, mesmerized by the sight. He could remember training here. Learning to garden over there. Listening to Shishou recount the past right there. Many of the memories weren't so comforting. Shishou was a hard and demanding man. But he was the closest thing Kenshin had to memories of a father. Hiko had taught him how to live. Not just survive, although he'd learnt that as well, but to actually live and appreciate life. Kenshin winced, realizing now how his acts as an assassin must have looked to his shishou.

Out of nowhere, a quiet voice spoke. “Have I finally made myself worthy enough to be Hitokiri Battousai's target?” The ever-present sarcasm and arrogance were clear, but for the first time Kenshin noticed how harsh the cynicism sounded in such a young voice.

Kenshin turned to see his Shishou sitting on a log, not far from the small shack. As usual, there was a jug of sake in his hand. That, however, wasn't what drew Kenshin's eyes. Hiko Seijuro, like Kenshin, had always appeared younger than his years. But it was still was strange for the rurouni to see his shishou this young again. This Hiko was hardly older than Kenshin.

At Kenshin's lack of response, the tall man stood and sent him a dark look, hanging the sake at his hip. “I take it that's why you've graced me with your presence.”

Kenshin bowed his head. Somehow, no matter how old he was, Hiko could make him feel like a child. He bowed humbly, and spoke in a soft voice, “I have no intention of fighting you, Shishou, that I do not. I already know how that battle would end. I have need of your assistance.”

Hiko narrowed his eyes at the man standing in the shadows before him. “I have no interest in assisting a killer. I should never have taught you the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. Leave.” Hiko walked to the shack, his white and red cloak snapping behind him as he brushed by Kenshin.

That, Kenshin had expected. He'd already had to deal with Hiko's anger when returning to finish his training. Not that this fact made the words hurt any less. “Shishou, I do not wish to trouble you, but I have no one else I can turn to.” He followed.

Hiko froze in the door, and, without turning, said in a hard voice. “I do not deal with Battousai.”

“I am no longer Battousai,” Kenshin burst out, just before Hiko could close the door on him. “Let me explain, please. I have not killed in over ten years, that I have not. I am a rurouni now.”

“Impossible,” Hiko snorted, spinning on Kenshin to finally face the boy who had left him. “Ten years ago, you began training with—” The words died in his throat as he finally looked at flame haired man before him. For the first time in years, his baka deshi managed to take Hiko Seijuro by surprise. This was no seventeen-year-old boy. And those weren't the eyes of an assassin. They were the eyes of a grown man who had seen too much in his short life. It was like looking into a mirror at his own soul. “Ten years…” The words slipped out without him meaning to say them, but what could he say? Hiko closed his eyes, and furrowed his brow. “Impossible,” he whispered again. He hadn't even been drinking that much sake…

“Shishou?”

Hiko didn't open his eyes, but his hand went up to his head, and he looked very much like he had a headache. He motioned sharply with his other hand. “Go in.”

Kenshin entered and knelt on the floor.

Hiko closed the door and, exchanging his empty sake jug for a fresh one, sat in front of this stranger whom he'd decided must be a sake-induced hallucination. There was no other way to explain it. At least no other way he wished to contemplate. He'd had a hard enough time dealing with the boy. Especially when Hiko had allowed him to be fed to the wolves. He didn't wasn't sure if he could handle seeing what they'd done to him. Kenshin was alive. Would be alive, even in ten years. But had he survived? That, Hiko didn't know. He pulled out two cups and poured each of them some sake. He had a feeling they were going to need it.

 

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1878

Voices were fading in and out of his hearing. He didn't recognize any of them. No, that wasn't true. The man sounded familiar, but even that wasn't certain. He was lying down. Why? He never slept that way. And his body felt heavy. He didn't move right away, trying to make sense of this. A strange dream he'd been having tugged at the back of his mind. Something about the Sekihou-tai… and a river… and a boy. Everything was swirling together in his mind.

He finally tried to move, but that only hurt. His muscles ached. And the wounds he'd received when he'd killed her… Those wounds weren't fully healed yet, and they added to his discomfort. But pain was nothing new to him. At least he could move. He stirred again. The voices came into focus all at once, startling him.

“Megumi-san! Is he alright?” It was a girl's voice. She sounded about his age.

A gentle hand rested on his forehead, and a woman's voice replied. “I told you he'll be fine. Why don't you listen, Kaoru? He has a high fever, and that can be dangerous if we don't watch him. But he should be alright soon.” The woman's voice was soothing somehow. Her hand gently brushed damp hair off of his forehead.

“And you, why didn't you help him?” The girl was railing on someone else now. “He falls in the river and winds up with a fever all because you were involved in some stupid fight again!”

“Hey, Jou-chan, did you miss the fact that I'm sick, too. Not to mention that I'm wounded?” a man responded.

Sagara. The name came easily. This was the man from the Sekihou-tai. So, the dream wasn't over.

“You don't have a fever, and Megumi-san said that Kenshin's got a lot more injuries!”

“What?” There was a sound of someone moving closer. He felt his gi gently pulled back by the woman's hands, and heard the sharp intake of air before Sagara whispered. “What happened to him?”

“You mean, you really don't know?” the girl said, sounding uncertain now.

“Of course he doesn't, Kaoru,” the woman said. “These wounds are months old. They've just never healed properly, and now he's reopened them. Maybe by saving a certain someone who shouldn't have been fighting by the river?”

Sagara began defending himself, again. By now Battousai was sure the situation was not a dream, and he forced his eyes open. His vision was blurry and he had to blink a few times to see what was going on around him. No one was looking at him. The girl, Kaoru, was hitting Sagara over the head with a bokken, while the woman called Megumi-san yelled at her for attacking her patient.

Battousai sat up, holding his head as a wave of dizziness swept over him. If Sagara was real, then the rest must be, too. This was still 1878. Meiji.

Suddenly a bright young voice from behind him cried out, “Hey, Himura's awake!”

He turned immediately to see another, even younger looking girl with a long braid beaming at him. “Ha!” she said brightly. “I told them you wouldn't be out long! Not you!”

The others froze and four sets of eyes were suddenly focused on him. Battousai tensed. Who were these people? More of Sagara's friends? Am I supposed to know them?

“Kenshin!” Kaoru cried, tears in her eyes.

Tears for what?

She stood up, dropping the bokken and hurried over to him, brushing off Sagara's frantic attempt to stop her. Before he knew what was happening, this girl had dropped to her knees, and thrown her arms around him. She sounded like she was still crying.

Battousai stiffened, using all of his willpower to force back his automatic wish to shove her away. She kept whispering his name. “Kenshin, I was worried. You were so sick…”

His eyes had grown wide, and still he hadn't loosened up. He looked toward Sagara for some help. If she held on like this much longer, he was going to have to push her off and leave. He couldn't take contact like this.

“Kaoru,” Sagara was saying. “Maybe you should get off of him and let him breathe.”

“Kenshin?” She finally seemed to realize that something was wrong. Her tearful blue eyes stared up at him. “What is it?”

He looked away and didn't answer. Maybe she'd just leave if he ignored her. At least maybe she'd let go. The last one who had held him like that had been… he'd killed… He glanced back at her, without meaning to.

He heard the startled cries before he even realized that he'd pushed the girl to the floor and had leapt to his feet, reaching for his sword. It was gone. What had they done with it? He backed against the wall, trying to get some distance, knowing that he'd reacted poorly. But he'd seen Tomoe in that girl's face for a moment, and it had terrified him. He didn't ever want anyone to look at him like that again. With that look of trust and… He blocked the thoughts, feeling like a cornered animal, trying not to lash out like one. He knew he was overreacting, but he couldn't think straight. His head hurt, and he felt weak, which only made him more tense.

Sagara slowly advanced. “Kenshin,” he said softly. “It's okay, Kaoru shouldn't have jumped on you like that when you're sick, but she was worried. She's your friend, Kenshin. Just like the rest of us. We're your friends. You don't have to be afraid.”

Battousai scowled, his eyes narrowing into a glare that stopped Sagara in his tracks. “I'm not afraid, Sagara.” The hell he wasn't, but they didn't need to know that. “Just don't let her touch me. I don't want to hurt her. Not again.” He shook his head. What was Tomoe doing with these people anyway? Were they all dead? Maybe. Hadn't the entire Sekihou-tai been slaughtered last week? Maybe that's why he felt so lightheaded. And so hot. Was this hell? Then why was Tomoe there? Just to torture him?

The wall was no longer lending him enough support to remain standing. He felt too heavy, and it was hard to focus on anything. The last thing he was aware of was Sagara catching him as he slumped forward.

And the sound of Tomoe crying.