Kendo no Go
In the Language of Kendo:
A Fanfic in 100 Chapters
by Akai Kitsune
75: Kodomo
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child kodomo n.
1. a baby; infant. 2. a fetus. 3. a boy or girl before puberty.
4. an offspring; son or daughter. 5. a descendant. 6. a person
like a child in character, manners, interests, etc.; a person regarded as
immature.
The first
time Kenshin ever saw his son, he broke down into tears.
It was a silent, unspoken
display, misunderstood by most. He was so overwhelmed, so incredibly happy,
that his body seemed to respond automatically, forcing him to give the child a
reaction both rare and unusual from him.
At Kenji's initial entrance to
the world, the two of them cried together.
Yahiko was confused by it, he
knew. He was supposed to be the strongest swordsman, who could be firm and calm,
harsh and gentle, smiling and dark-eyed, shifting so easily from one to another
He had never, in all their time
together, seen Kenshin cry.
Two weeks
after Kenji's birth, Yahiko made his daily visit from his home in Sano's old
longhouse to the Kamiya dojo, only to find Kenshin relaxing on the porch. Kenji
was swaddled in a deep magenta blanket and cuddled against his father's stomach.
Yahiko approached, cautious of waking either - Kenshin's eyes were closed - but
as he drew near, the former rurouni smiled.
"Ohayo," he
greeted, opening his eyes to welcome the young dojo apprentice.
Yahiko nodded, a little uneasy,
and mumbled a response.
"It's going
to be a hot day today," Kenshin continued, undeterred by the boy's quiet
attitude.
"A-aa."
Kenshin stretched, careful not
to wake the child in his lap, and brushed his hand against the porch space
beside him, the action and the glimmer in his eyes acting as silent invitations.
Yahiko hesitated a moment longer, then propped his shinai beside the post,
crouching down at Kenshin's side.
They sat in silence for a long
time, both watching the newborn as he dozed in the early spring light.
"Hey,
Kenshin?"
Kenshin's gaze flickered
towards the young man at his side, a soft smile on his face. "Yes?"
Yahiko's expression was
terribly serious, his lips pursed tightly, eyebrows knit together. "... never
mind."
The smile faded, and Kenshin's
eyes turned back to his child for a moment before shifting to the sky, bright
and empty of storm clouds. "You're wondering why I cried," he murmured, not
really asking the question. Yahiko didn't answer.
Kenshin's hands moved to his
son's side, as the child reached out in his sleep and curled his fist around a
proffered finger.
"I cried,"
Kenshin finally continued, his voice tender, "Because this child is the most
wonderful thing ever to happen to me... and also the most frightening. I cried
because I do not know what to do, but will never regret that this has happened."
Yahiko blinked, surprised, yet
knowing he should have expected such an answer. His eyes, still on Kenji, were
almost curious.
"So, he
asked haltingly, "I guess you're happy to have a son."
He was a samurai. He knew the
importance of a male heir, to carry on the family name and traditions.
It was Kenshin's turn to be
surprised, and he smiled as Kenji stirred. "I'm happy to have a child,
regardless," he corrected gently, "But yes, I'm very happy."
"But...
still scared?" Yahiko added, gazing up at the older man.
Kenshin nodded. "Scared of him
getting into trouble, or being hurt because of my past... scared of being a bad
teacher for him."
"That's
impossible," Yahiko let a grin touch his nervous look.
Kenshin didn't respond; he
merely stared at his son with eyes full of adoration and lingering fear.
"You'll help
me, won't you?" he finally whispered.
Yahiko's expression melted, and
he scuffed a hand through the scrap of auburn hair atop Kenji's head.
"We all
will," the boy promised, his voice rich with confidence and assurance. Kenji
stirred again, his eyes creeping open, blinking navy eyes at his father.
And Kenshin smiled. "Ohayo," he
said simply.
So it begins again.
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