Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Those Left Behind ❯ The Price of Peace ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Rurouni Kenshin or Samurai X (although I must say, I wish I had Hiko!) - - blush - - Did I say that out loud?

 

The Price of Peace

(Takes place sometime after end of the series)

Hiko Seijuro couldn't say what was different that day. He awoke early enough to watch the sun rise. He made his breakfast. But something didn't feel right. He knew it the moment he woke up. He would be going through the motions yet again. He'd done it for decades, but for the first time he wondered what was the point? Why was he doing it? What was his purpose? For awhile after he'd changed his identity, it was merely a matter of principal. He had to survive, because he just couldn't be selfish enough to die. Even if there was no one waiting for him. He was too stubborn to die. And that was enough to keep him going.

Then his baka deshi came back for more training. Going through the motions had taken on a new meaning. There was someone out there. Who cared if it was the stupid boy he'd trained ten years ago? Hiko Seijuro discovered that if he died, it would still matter to someone. Hiko couldn't even convince himself he was being used by the little fool. Kenshin came back. Now for information. Now for help. And, the times that had surprised Hiko the most, now and then with a jug of sake to simply talk.

And because of this, Hiko had always woken up with some purpose. He had to go through the motions of that day in case someone should come. His skill or wisdom might be needed. Or Kenshin might just need someone to talk to. Someone who understood the weight that murder puts on the body, and the weight of responsibility. Someone who could occasionally remind Kenshin that his own life mattered as much as anyone else's.

But that morning, the purpose seemed to be missing. It had become nothing more than going through the motions once again. And he didn't know what had made that day feel so different.

Hiko ate breakfast and had a drink of sake. Sitting in his hut amidst the pottery, he looked up at the sword on the wall. It was the katana he'd first taught Kenshin with. The stupid boy had never seemed to realize it was still up there. A tribute to his baka.

Hiko closed his eyes and drank more sake. And then he knew. What was wrong. What didn't fit. The strain he'd been feeling all morning.

The connection he'd felt since he'd first met the boy, Shinta, severed at the same moment the support holding the katana on the wall also cracked. Hiko's eyes snapped open in time to see the blade clatter uselessly to the floor.

And he knew.

“No.” It was a whisper. That was all he could muster.

His hand went to his face. He'd have been ashamed of its tremble, if he'd have been able to care.

“No.”

Hiko Seijuro, in that moment, knew that Himura Kenshin, the one time hitokiri Battousai, his baka deshi, had finally died.

“NOOO!” The roar exploded out of him. Hiko, who had not shown true anger since before he'd ever even met Kenshin, was on his feet in the small potter's hut. His already large, muscular frame seeming to grow. He grabbed a small pot and smashed it against the wall. It shattered pleasantly. He ripped a shelf covered in pottery right off of the wall and threw it at the door. Shards of pottery exploded in all directions. Hiko didn't even bother blocking the bits that came back and cut him. The pain just fueled his anger.

What right did Kenshin have to die? What stupid fight had he been talked into? Kenshin should know better. He certainly wasn't old, but the boy was no longer young. They had actually discussed this over their last cup of sake. Kenshin had admitted that faced with the modern era, and with his gradually diminishing strength, he was grateful to be able to live a peaceful life. What bastard had taken that from him?

Another shelf of pottery shattered against the wall. Followed by another. And another.

Why?

Why now?

Why his baka deshi?

 

It was late afternoon, four days later before Yahiko managed to get to Kyoto. In all of the confusion, with Sanoske trying to comfort Megumi, and himself trying to help Kaoru, it was amazing that any of them had thought of it at all. It was actually Misao, who had come for Kenshin's funeral who had mentioned him and brought them to their senses. Yes, they had all loved Kenshin. Yes, they all missed him dearly, but hadn't any of them managed to stop being selfish long enough to contact Hiko Seijuro, Kenshin's master? It had been amazing how that woman's words had brought silence. Amazing how she'd managed to still look outraged while sobbing for her lost friend, Himura.

And of course Misao was right. If they had even told her that Hiko didn't know, she could have passed along a message. But it was late, and nothing short of a personal message from someone who had been there would really have done anyway. Kenshin had said it many times, if not to his master's face, Seijuro Hiko was like a father to him.

So, here Yahiko was, entering a clearing in the forest where the modest potter's hut was located. Yahiko didn't want to be the one to break the news to the older man.

As he neared the hut, something seemed wrong. There was no fire in the kiln. And there were shards of broken pottery scattered everywhere.

Yahiko's eyes widened. No. Not him, too. The young man burst through the door, breathing hard. What he saw made him skid to a stop. Inside, among the scattered shards of broken shelves and shattered pottery, Hiko sat, calmly drinking from a jug of sake. Yahiko was dumbfounded. Then he saw the katana, and met Hiko's eyes.

“You already know.”

Hiko took another swig of the sake and nodded.

“How?”

The older man's eyes darkened. “It doesn't matter. I've known for four days.”

“What?” Yahiko didn't know how to react. This was impossible. “Kenshin... it—it happened four days ago. How could you have...”

Hiko's eyes flashed and he rose to his full height. “How could I know? How could I not know when my baka deshi died?”

They stood, staring at each other for a full minute before Hiko finally continued. “Who did it?”

Yahiko shook his head. None of this was making any sense. “Who did what?”

Hiko's eyes narrowed. “Who killed him? What idiot tried to use him again? What possessed him to do this?”

Yahiko paled. So, Hiko didn't know everything. “No one,” the young man replied softly.

“What?”

Yahiko met his eyes. For once there was none of his defiance. Only sadness. “No one defeated him. No one used him. No one killed him.” He took a steadying breath, refusing to cry in front of this man whom Kenshin had held in such respect. “Kenshin just didn't wake up.” He looked at Hiko, his eyes begging the older man to understand.

But Hiko didn't. Or wouldn't. “He... what?”

“He died in his sleep.”

“He was hardly fifty...” Hiko took a step back, wanting to deny it.

This was the hard part. Yahiko swallowed. Why had he taken this job? At the time this had seemed easier than Kaoru, Megumi and Misao. But now he was thinking that Sanosuke had gotten the better job. Yahiko hated this. He didn't want to see Kenshin's master break down. The devastation in the hut and the child's katana were bad enough.

He took a deep breath. “Megumi looked him over. He died of heart failure.” He rushed on before Hiko could speak. “I guess Megumi saw it coming and tried to warn Kenshin, but he wouldn't let her tell us anything. Nothing could stop it, and he didn't want us to worry. She said he'd pushed his body so hard for so long that it finally just gave up.” Yahiko closed his eyes. “He died in his sleep. He was... he looked... peaceful.”

Hiko's eyes were on the floor. “I see.”

There was an awkward silence as neither man could look at the other, each lost in his own thoughts about their missing friend.

Finally, Yahiko turned to leave. “I should—”

“Here.”

Yahiko turned to see Hiko handing him some sake.

The older man looked pained, but there was something akin to hope in his eyes. “Before you go, have one drink for my baka deshi.”

Yahiko nodded and took the cup. “Thank you.”

Hiko drank his own. “So, he looked peaceful? That's something. He lived a longer life than his years accounted for.”

Yahiko looked toward Hiko's face. There finally seemed to be peace on it. “I should be going.”

Hiko only nodded.

Yahiko left.

 

Hiko stepped into the clearing, much as he had forty years ago. The wooden crosses were gone, rotted away with time and weather. Things change. It was the way of the world. Hiko made his way to the center of the clearing and found what he was looking for. Three worn, moss covered stones. In front of them was a forth stone that Hiko had added that morning, before returning to his hut for a jug of his best sake.

Hiko's hands were worn and bruised from having to dig around in all of the undergrowth to find these special stones. He looked at his hands and had to smile. Another reminder of the stupid boy who had never ceased to amaze him. Whose small hands had also been bruised and bloodied after a week of burying murderers and victims alike.

Hiko opened the sake and poured it on the four stones, repeating the words he'd said all those years ago. “No one should reach Nirvana without the taste of good sake on his lips.”

He closed his eyes and listened to the wind blowing the leaves around him.

He could hear Kenshin's response. And whether it was a memory or a comforting spirit, it finally put Hiko Seijuro's mind at peace. Hiko could hear it.

“Thank you...”

 

Author's Note: --mild spoiler here—Now that you all probably think I'm a morbid sicko, allow me to explain where the idea came from. I'm an avid watcher of Rurouni Kenshin and the Samurai X OVAs. I have only recently finished the Kyoto arc as well as having watched Trust and Betrayal: Director's Cut. I was instantly drawn into not only Hiko Seijuro's character, but also the character of Shinta/Kenshin, and their relationship. At the end of the Kyoto arc, Megumi mentions that Kenshin can't keep this up forever. It made me wonder how he'd die, and how Hiko would react... This was the result. Please review! I'd love to know if anyone sees these characters as I do!