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Disclaimer: Oh great, now I have to make a habit of putting these in? Mou... Okay okay, RuroKen doesn't belong to me. I'm too poor to buy a whole series. But Watsuki-sensei said he'd maybe give it to me on permanent loan... ^_^

Light of the Snow-Red Village
Part III - Flame of Growth: The Dream of Kenjutsu - Chapter 2

The sun was shining brightly the next morning, and Gatsu chose to teach outside. Neither the class, Hikari, or Gatsu's wife knew anything of the previous night's confrontations, and were better off left in ignorance, the instructor had surmised. Kenshin readily agreed with his decision, and was content to leave the matter alone. Shinzo would not return without his father, and then their problems would likely be solved.

A tight-lipped frown crossed his face, as he watched Gatsu lead the class in their exercises. 'For the moment.'

The name Kuroi was familiar to him; all too familiar. He had spent two years of his life in Kyoto as a bodyguard, ferrying men who molded the Meiji era into what it had become from one place to another, ensuring their safety and learning of the enemy's movement at the same time. He had met and protected a great number of the current officials, and names were something he easily recognized. Kuroi was no different.

He had kept a group of Shinsengumi at bay while Kuroi and a few others had escaped, once during the Bakumatsu. He was not a reckless man, nor particularly foolish, but his inexperience with the careful methods of Hitokiri Battousai had nearly cost them their lives. Kenshin had been wounded, he remembered; he carried scars that could attest to that.

'His presence is a risk,' he decided reluctantly. 'And there is a chance that he might reveal my identity. After today, he will know it is I... and he will not likely keep this information to himself. Nor will he let me remain here beneath anyone's knowledge.'

It pained him to think that way, for there was a brightness in Hikari's eyes as she practiced, determined, happy to be pursuing a dream long denied.

He watched her, trying hard to smile for her, all the while knowing that she would not be happy later that night.

Gatsu strode over after a moment, curious of his odd expression, while his own face seemed uncharacteristically grim. Kenshin glanced back, puzzled. "What is it?"

The kenjutsu instructor halted beside him, eyes turning back to the students. "I... I keep repeating last night in my mind. What you did. What you said." His voice was very quiet, almost inaudible. Kenshin knew that he spoke so that only he would hear.

Kenshin clenched his eyes shut, and for a brief moment the world spun out of control. 'The night... it comes too soon, nowadays.' "And... with this knowledge... what do you propose to do?"

The other man shook his head. "Tell me first. Tell me the truth. Are you... really...?"

The former hitokiri opened his eyes and gazed hard into Gatsu's, the violet orbs belying anything he might say. "Must I say it? I can see... you have already made your decision. I will not deny it. Answer the question." His eyes were saddened, regretful. "I will be gone by nightfall, if you wish."

Gatsu clapped a hand on Kenshin's shoulder, looking almost shaken. "Don't," he demanded, voice rough. "Don't you dare compare me to some peasant with blind eyes and narrow-minded gossip to rely on. Do that again and I'll knock you flat, deadly skill or not." He curved his mouth into a mock snarl, before it faded. "I fought in that war, Himura. I know what men are like, and what rumours can do. I know that there are lies that conceal the truths in many things."

Gatsu paused. "Perhaps. But you cannot stand here and say, after all this time, that you are the man so many have cursed without knowing." He leveled his gaze very carefully at the smaller swordsman. "Or are you proud of what rumours have made you?"

His eyes were suddenly sharp, and he glared at Gatsu icily. "Would you be proud? To hear your name spoken in terror, used to frighten people — children, even — and bring nightmares to those you would befriend? Would you be glad to announce yourself when you enter a town?" Slowly, he turned away, looking back towards the class. "Would you tell your child... what the world has changed you into?"

Gatsu shook his head, understanding creeping into his expression. "I suppose not. But... I'm not throwing you out, Himura. I just had to know. In case there are... problems, in the near future."

Kenshin finally smiled, small, and grateful. "I... I thank you for that. I do. And... I hope that there will be no problems. For Hikari's sake, far more than my own."

The other man nodded without responding, and they watched, together, in silence for a while.

Until the exercises, half finished, were halted by the sudden appearance of a horse-drawn carriage rolling up to the front gate.

The man within didn't look at the boy, and merely closed his eyes. "Shinzo-kun, stop acting as if you were in the wrong."

"Shinzo!" the man raised his voice, snapping his eyes open to look at him. "Be silent. I have come here to restore the damage you have done. You have no right to be angry, nor to feel as if you are being punished unjustly. You're here to apologize; nothing more will be done for you."

Shinzo turned away, scowling. "You know who he is though," he persisted in a petulant voice. "Surely that means something."

The man gazed ahead, eyes misted for a moment. "Yes," he murmured, "Yes, it does..."

Slowly, the carriage stopped moving, and his driver announced their arrival. Taking a deep breath, and shooting a quick, warning glance at his son, Meiji Official Kuroi Atari stepped down when the door was opened, two guards close at his heels, and walked through the gate, towards a puzzled class, a scowling kenjutsu instructor, and Hitokiri Battousai.

"Kuroi-san." Kenshin greeted, cautious, but without aggression. "You look well."

Kuroi was a taller man, slightly plump and much older, but seemed healthy and well-cared for. In the Bakumatsu, Kenshin mused, men had never looked as well as they did now. The man eyed him up and down, eyebrows raised and a small smile on his face. "And you look ragged, Himura. Isn't anyone willing to feed you?"

The wanderer shrugged, a tight smile on his own lips. "When there is money available, yes. I'm not sure a man such as you would understand that."

Kuroi merely shook his head. "Why didn't you stay with the government? They would have paid you for something, at least."

Kenshin grit his teeth, biting back a flash of anger. "I was paid, if you recall. That payment, eight years ago, is the last I will ever receive from Meiji."

There was a pause, and Kuroi took a moment to consider it. "That... is true. I heard about that. If you will accept my apology, then I will give it gladly."

He halted when the former assassin raised his hand. "No. I do not seek revenge. I merely want to know... who to avoid, I suppose."

Kuroi frowned, lips pursed tightly. "I'm sorry," he said finally, "I don't know. I heard it only from Katsura-san. I know many of whom were not involved — including myself — but those who planned it... truly, I am sorry, Himura."

Kenshin nodded, eyes calm. "I understand. It's all right." He looked back, eyes resting on Hikari for a moment, taking in her confusion, then returned to the man before him. "That is not why you are here, though."

Kuroi shook his head. "Iie. I'm here to correct the mistakes my problematic son has caused. I believe you have my father's wakizashi in your possession?"

"And you can swear that it will not be returned to this child when you have it?"

Kuroi sent a sideways glare to his son. "If it is within my power, he will not touch it. It was never meant for him to begin with." He looked back to the swordsmen in front of him. "Thieves can be dealt with."

"Dealt with, but not punished," Kenshin noted, one eyebrow raised. "A trust has been broken, and that can't be repaired. What do you plan on doing about that?"

Kuroi shook his head. "I'm sorry, but what I plan to do with him in my own business."

The wanderer frowned, face taut and unhappy. "It is my business in that it involves my daughter. I want to be sure she is safe from him, and from the danger he represents."

"You are a fool!" Gatsu raised a fist to hit him. Two of the guards sprang forward. Shinzo took a step back, then returned his eyes to the recipient.

Instantly one of Kenshin's hands was on his sword, and his eyes narrowed fiercely. "Quiet!" he snapped, almost desperately. He started to draw.

"A fool." Gatsu muttered furiously, glaring daggers at his former student. "You have no idea what you've just done."

Kenshin realized suddenly that he was breathing too fast, too heavily. He tried to calm himself, and failed miserably.

"She knows nothing," Kenshin said tightly, through clenched teeth, "And you know even less."

Biting back his concern, Shinzo tightened his fists. Kuroi stepped forward, placing a hand — none too gently — on his shoulder and pushing his son back. "Don't be a larger fool than you have been already."

The two withdrew for the moment, Shinzo objecting, Kuroi ignoring his every word, and Kenshin watched them, unable to push away the fear and the fury they had boiled inside of him.

'A fool... far more than that, to announce my — that — name in front of children... my child...'

She gazed back at him, eyes searching, confused and alarmed at the same time. There was a question in her gaze, and he knew that he would have to answer it without any illusions or lies.

"Ume-chan," he choked, and found himself unable to continue. The shinai in her hands was lowered, dangling from a few uneasy fingers. He watched them slip, and then tighten, the movement a small distraction from what he saw in her eyes and could not understand.

Kuroi turned back, eyes intense and angry. "Himura, I must leave, and take my son back home where he belongs. I will return soon, but he will not trouble you any longer. I promise you that." Bowing slightly, he spun in a slick, diplomatic form and stepped back to the carriage, dragging his son behind him with an invisible, disciplinary leash.

Kenshin didn't look up; he failed to even hear the man. Hikari's trembling hands finally failed her, and the shinai dropped with a sudden, hollow clutter. She bent to pick it up, and hesitated, watching the involuntary shaking of her fingers. He remained fixed, the fear welling up inside his eyes.

Gatsu moved forward, giving a harsh look at the rest of his students. "Okay, everyone into the dojo! Our lesson is done for today, so go practice what you've learned. I want to see perfect strokes by the end of the day!"

As the class filed into the dojo, quietly murmuring amongst themselves, Gatsu placed a large, yet strangely gentle hand on Hikari's shoulder. He knelt low, and whispered into her ear. Kenshin didn't hear him, but Hikari did, even through her shock and newly formed horror, not at what she had learned, but what her father had done.

Token message delivered, Gatsu turned and followed his students, leaving father and daughter, suddenly strangers watching each other across a vast, terrifying gap of broken trust.

Hikari straightened, leaving the shinai where it was, and looked up to meet her father's eyes. He seemed fearful, patient but full of hesitation. She had never seen him so timid.

"Go easy on him, little lady. He's a lot softer than the world makes him out to be."

"Battousai is gone. He doesn't exist anymore. You never have to be afraid of him, ume-chan. He's gone forever."

Slowly, she turned away, and spoke. "Was... was he telling the truth? Are you really... that man?"

Kenshin winced, lips pursed tightly. "I-I don't know how to answer you, Hikari. I don't want to lie... but I don't want you to... to..."

"Don't want me to what?" she demanded, turning back to look at him. "You've been lying to me, tousan! We... we never lie to each other! Why did you lie?!"

He hung his head. "Hikari, I didn't mean to lie. But... did you really need to know this? To know... what I've done? Who I a — was?" Mentally, he cursed at his mistake.

She softened. "No... but... don't you trust me? I wouldn't tell anyone, I promise. If it makes you sad..."

He closed his eyes, pained at her gentle reassurance. 'You wouldn't tell anyone, ume-chan? Did you really think that is all I'm worried about?'

'Does this change nothing between us? Do you... do you still think of me as the same person?'

"I trust you, Hikari," he finally replied, opening his eyes. "I trust you with everything. And... and yes, he spoke the truth. I was Battousai. A long time ago, I was that man."

Hikari glanced back to the shinai, anything to avoid what she saw in his eyes. 'He's waiting for me to say something,' she realized. 'He's waiting to see if anything changes. If I... I...'

She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, and looked back at him again. Then, closing the distance between them in three quick steps, she wrapped her arms around his thin waist and hugged him tightly.

"Arigato, tousan..." she whispered, "For not lying. For... trusting me. I'll keep it a secret." She looked up at him, wide eyes pure and earnest. "And... you're not cold, tousan. So... you weren't that bad, were you?"

He wanted to cry at her words, so gentle, so kind. 'She doesn't care,' he thought, the words sending a wave of joy through him. 'She doesn't care. She still...'

He held her back, drawing from her gentle, forgiving nature, and allowing it to wash over him, making him feel cleansed, untainted, if only for a moment. As she held him, he felt purer than he had ever felt before. His grip tightened, wishing the moment and the feeling would never fade away.

He really was too reliant on her complete trust in him, Kenshin considered later on. He had been too quick to dismiss the fact that the son of a well-known Meiji official has shouted his identity — quite loudly, reassured that he was correct — into the air and the streets of a town so small that everyone knew everything in a matter of hours.

It wasn't just the class, he realized, walking through the town on one of Shi's errands, a tofu bucket hanging from his fingers. The townsfolk around him watched him, whispering words that his finely-tuned ears could hear quite clearly despite their attempts to mask them — could hear, and silently wished he could ignore just as easily. The day of Kuroi's visit had been generally uneventful after he and Hikari had left the dojo, seeking solitude and a brief respite from what civilization had brought them, and wandering the woods surrounding the city. He had watched her — laughing, smiling, happy despite him, despite everything — and it had suddenly dawned on him that maybe... just maybe... it was all right to know who he was, sometimes.

Because, returning to the inn that day, and the next day, brought murmured warnings of a shadow hitokiri walking the streets, armed and dangerous.

What is he doing?
Staying at Gatsu-san's inn, I hear.
Eh? Are they mad? Has anyone told Shi-chan?
I hear she knows. They're both terrified of what he'll do. You know the stories...
Of course, everyone does.

He closed his eyes, fists tightening around the bucket handle until his knuckles went white. Of course they knew everything. What could a hitokiri conceal from others that would not be seen immediately? What could he hide, to such wise people?

His pace quickened, hair lifting slightly in the breeze, anxious to return to those who cared nothing for who he was — had been — in the past. Always in the past.

'You can run from the past,' he thought bitterly, 'But it can always run faster, eager to await you wherever you go...'

Everyone knew everything. His eyes stung, pain, anger, even shame mingled in their depths.

Hikari's face suddenly came to mind, joy filling her eyes as she swung the shinai with practiced ease. He visualized her as she would most certainly be, if he told her they were leaving. Her crushed, torn expression stabbed his heart more than anything else.

He fought the urge to run, wanting, needing an escape from the cruelty expressed so easily from these fearful, ignorant people. The inn suddenly came to view, and he breathed a sigh of relief, gradually slowing down until he stood in front of the door. As his hand touched it to push it aside, hoping for a familiar face, he heard voices.

"Can't I? This is my inn, don't forget. You run your dojo, and let me take care of what I own."

Gatsu growled, his voice frustrated. "Shi, you can't expect him to leave just because he's got something in his past. Everyone has demons they're running from. He needs a place to settle for a bit, maybe calm his soul. And he's running his girl ragged trying to find that place."

Shi scowled; he could hear it in her voice. "I'm losing business, can't you see? Just last night five of the patrons left! And I expected them here for at least two more days! They're afraid, Gatsu!"

"So let them run," he huffed. "It's their choice, if they want to run because of something they think is threatening them. You can't just toss out one to accommodate the others. It's bad business."

She stamped her foot indignantly. "Weren't you listening?! It already is bad business! We're losing money, and nothing he does is going to change that. He can run all the errands he likes, but it won't fix everything! He has to go, Gatsu. That's all I have to say."

Gatsu hesitated. "He's... he's just a soldier, love. A tired, wounded soldier who's looking for a place to rest. Can't you see that? Why... why did you take me in, Shi? Why?"

She sighed, softly. "Anata... I took you in because I love you. That's why. And... you don't have a name; not like that. No one dreads the Hitokiri Gatsu — you aren't that kind of man. Maybe if Shinzo hadn't-"

She chuckled gently, moving closer to where he stood. "Fine, I won't. But it's simply because of a name that he has to leave. He'll be unhappy here now, whether we send him away or not. You've heard them in the town. Everyone knows."

"So... just tell him. Tomorrow, if you want to let him rest one last night. But soon, Gatsu."

Kenshin stepped back from the door, bending down to set the tofu bucket on the ground. Then, soundlessly, he jumped to the roof, climbed into his room, and knelt on the floor for a long while, thinking of his life and how many times he had made the wrong choices that were now destroying his future, one by one.

And Hikari's heartbroken expression was at the forefront of all his thoughts. Every one. For when his past reared its ugly, unwanted head, ultimately, she was the one who suffered.

She was back from practice, not long after he had composed himself enough to face her. He heard the shoji slide open, close, and then felt two thin arms around his neck. "Tousan..." Hikari said cheerfully into his ear, "Today was a really nice day. I learned a new technique, and Gatsu-sensei said I was very good at it! How was yours?"

"Hikari," he murmured, voice wind-soft and as gentle as he could possibly make it, "We must leave this place tonight."

He felt, more than saw, her immediate disappointment and shock. Her arms loosened, then dropped from his shoulders. "Na... naze?"

'The best way,' a fiercely protective voice in his soul growled, 'Is to say that no, it was a lie, we could stay here...'

"Because," he replied, slowly, throat suddenly parched, "Not everyone... accepts me as easily as you do, ume-chan."

She gulped, her breath quickening. He couldn't imagine what her face looked like.

No. No, he could imagine, and chose not to turn... because he knew, however he visualized her grief, that seeing it would make it so much worse.

"But..." she stammered, finally, "I promised I wouldn't tell anybody. I promised, tousan."

'Oh love...' he closed his eyes. 'How I wish I had had the foresight to silence that boy...' "I know, ume-chan. I know you did. And if Shinzo had made the same promise... if Gatsu's students had also sworn to keep silent... maybe things would be different."

There was a small, stifled hiccup at his back. "O... oh." There was pain in her voice, pain that had no right to show itself in her. He himself should have protected her from it.

And suddenly, abruptly, felt the need to cry. But he had sworn, long ago, that he would not shed tears for himself, for self-pity so badly undeserved. There were too many other things to cry over, things that needed to be cried for, though those tears would not really fall. Tears were a weakness; something he was unwilling to show.

Wincing at the sound of her sobs, he reached over to hold her, but she drew away, fists clenched. Her withdrawal hurt, more than anything. It was his fault; all his fault. Everything.

"Ume-chan..." he choked, voice husky and low. She looked up at him, eyes pitiful and dark with unhappiness, and slumped to her knees, hands crushed over her eyes, wailing quietly. He stretched out his arms again, and she didn't resist; he felt only a slight stiffening as his hands touched her back, stroking gently to ease her sadness. He wished he could do more.

"Why?" she suddenly whimpered, voice muffled in his gi. He felt a stab in his heart as she repeated the question, over and over, pounding his chest with her tiny, oddly strong fists.

'Why, indeed?' he echoed in the silence of his mind, struggling with the dilemma he had not the heart to deal with. 'Why do such things have to happen to us? To her? If it was just me affected... I could stand that. I could... even accept it. But not to her.'

She wiped her eyes against his clothes, sniffling softly. "Why...?" she murmured, eyelids lifted barely a crack. "Why... does everything have to-to hurt you...?"

He blinked, then looked down at her, puzzled, and more than a little concerned. "U... ume-chan?"

Hikari gazed up at him, eyes flashing in the dark. "Why do people hurt you? Aren't you the same as when... when you weren't Battousai? When they didn't know?"

He frowned, shaking his head. "I wish I could answer that truthfully, Hikari. But... I don't know. I've never understood it." 'In my heart, some part of me does... it is a mix of fear and awe... fear of what can likely hurt or kill you... but awe, in the fact that something so close... so strange... can do that sort of damage to another...'

'... that a hitokiri... can be seen in the early afternoon, delivering tofu to the innkeeper into whose keeping he has been taken...'

"It's not fair." she mumbled, curling up beside him. He nodded in musing agreement, and began unbinding her hair from its braid. "Not fair..."

Unbidden, unwanted, a tear escaped his eye, trailing down his cheek and slipping underneath his long, scarlet bangs, only to fall in his daughter's hair as he brushed his hands through it.

She fell asleep on his shoulders as they left the inn. He felt her relax, and smiled, despite what they were doing and why. Even after everything she knew... she could still fall asleep with him. She could still trust him, love him.

He shifted the weight of the bag he carried, feeling a minor discomfort between it and the girl clinging to him. 'All our possessions, in one small bag,' he thought with a small smile. 'All we've ever needed.'

'So it will be again. I knew... we would move on someday. It just came sooner than I thought... hoped. Too soon, for her.'

Taking a deep breath, pushing all thoughts of past, present, and the uncertain future away from him, he started forward into the night.

He stumbled away, startled by his inability to foresee the collision, and steadied himself so as not to fall backwards on Hikari. He quickly looked up, and met Gatsu's puzzled, accusing eyes. A shinai was slung casually across his broad back. "Ga... Gatsu-dono...?"

The larger swordsman eyed him, mouth curved into a grimace. "Figures. You're taking off, aren't you?"

Kenshin gaped at him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I... overheard your conversation with Shi-dono. I don't wish to cause trouble."

"And you were going to disappear in the middle of the night, without even giving yourself and the little lady a decent rest?" Gatsu leaned down fiercely. "Without so much as a thank you to your hosts?"

Kenshin weighed this one over for a moment, then smiled slightly. "Aa, forgive me for that. I thank you for your kindness... it has been quite a while since I have been able to stay in one place for a time. Long enough... for Hikari to learn, and enjoy herself."

The rurouni nodded, calm understanding in his eyes. "I know. Certain... obstacles stand in your way."

Gatsu blinked, then chuckled. "Clever, Himura. Very clever. I apologize for my wife... but the inn is everything to her, and I can't ask her to risk her reputation for... well..."

Laughing quietly again, Gatsu turned away. "A stranger, I suppose. That's the only way she can describe you. She doesn't know you."

"It does," Gatsu insisted with a scowl. "It matters because tonight, I am losing one of my best pupils to a rumour, a myth."

Kenshin closed his eyes. "Sumanei. I cannot help that. If we don't leave now... there could be problems. There will be problems. There's no telling what a town will do when they feel they are in danger."

"Battousai!"
"Murderer!"
"Stop him!"
"Why hasn't the government hunted him down..."

Gatsu watched him for a moment, studying his expression, and shrugged uncaringly when he couldn't read a thing. "Well, I can't stop you, either way. Seems the whole world is against me..."

'Against you?' Kenshin couldn't help but scoff internally. Instead of vocalizing his thoughts, he smiled in finality, and began walking towards the property entrance. "I'm sorry for troubling you. Good luck with your school."

"Matte." Gatsu called, and moved to walk in stride with him. He lifted the shinai almost reverently from his shoulder, passing it to the baffled wanderer. "A gift, for Hikari. Just because she's leaving doesn't mean she can skip out on her training." He winked, grinning cheerfully. "I'm still her sensei, you know."

Kenshin gazed down at the bamboo weapon in his hands, then turned back to Gatsu, an intense gratefulness in his eyes. "Arigato de gozaru. I... really don't know how to repay your kindness."

Gatsu shook his head, waving a hand in dismissal. "Just make sure that you listen to her. She's a treasure, that one, and her requests are never that unreasonable. Let her do kenjutsu, and... let her teach you what this world cannot."

The rurouni's face gained a strange, musing expression. "I've been told that before... but... I thank you, once again." He bowed very low, and for a long time.

Finally, Gatsu reached out to ruffle Hikari's hair gently, and turned again, heading back towards the inn. "Get out of here, Mr. Samurai, before my wife starts chasing you with Kuroi's bokken. A nasty dismissal that would be, ne?"

Kenshin couldn't hold back his smile, despite the thought that it was, in fact, Shinzo who had forced them out of the town. "Aa."

The thought filled him with both dread and apprehension, and he pushed it away as he made his way down the quiet, moonlit path, a sleeping child in his arms and a darkness over his heart that he too often felt, and rarely was able to dismiss.