This fan fiction is based on the Rurouni Kenshin manga. Rurouni Kenshin characters are the property of creator Nobohiro Watsuke, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Sony Entertainment, and VIZ Comics. This is a non-profit work for entertainment purposes only. Permission was not obtained from the above parties.
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Against a Sea of Troubles: Chapter 7 - Instinct


by Haku Baikou ::: 01.Mar.2004


Noriya kept a careful eye on Himura as they made their way along the beach.  He walked slowly, making sure the boy could keep up.  He was impressed that Himura had the energy to walk steadily despite the fact he’d rarely been out of bed and had only had a few cups of miso soup and some rice in the last six days.  Himura had an impressive strength that belied his small frame, and even in the dark mood the boy was currently in, Noriya could sense the fire that must have burned behind those amber eyes when he was strong and fit.

Noriya sighed quietly to himself, concerned for the lad.  Fumiko had left without a word, Noriya had discovered when he and Hideo returned to the house last night.  It was unlike her to leave without saying goodbye.  And judging from the pallor of Himura’s face, the exchange had not gone particularly well.  

Himura had not revealed what the two had talked about, much to Noriya’s frustration.  The boy had shut himself off since Fumiko’s visit, reverting to the tight-lipped silent stranger he’d been when they’d first found him.   He’d taken to sitting on the window sill, staring listlessly off towards the sea.  He’d stopped talking and only responded to the most direct of questions, seemingly more out of courtesy than any real desire for socializing.  

Noriya had expected that whatever Fumiko said to the boy would be more than a little upsetting.  Fumiko-chan had a way with words, could make a person want to shrivel inside his own skin and slink off to hide in shame in some dark corner somewhere.  She’d done it plenty of times to poor Hideo whenever the greengrocer said anything inappropriately caustic in public (which was, unfortunately, rather often).  But Hideo could handle the young woman’s scoldings since he knew she did so out of concern for him.  Himura hadn’t had any such knowledge to lessen the sting of her words.  

The day had come and gone, and Fumiko had not come back to visit today.  And Himura had spent the day staring at the waves thinking… gods only knew what.  

By sunset, Noriya had had quite enough.  

“Come with me.  We’re going for a walk,” he’d said to the boy impulsively as it suddenly occurred to him that it would do Himura a bit of good to get out of the house.  Young men, wounded or no, generally didn’t take well to being cooped up indoors for days on end.

That suggestion had finally garnered a response.  Himura had stared at Noriya as if he thought Noriya had gone completely mad.  

“Someone will see me—“ the boy had protested.

“It’s dark out.  We’ll risk it.  You’ve always known people were coming long before we could see them.  The only one you can’t seem to sense is Fumiko-chan.”  And when the amber eyes had continued to stare at him in disbelief:  “And from far away, you look like her, no offense.  No one will think anything of it.”

Without another word, and despite the foolhardiness of his idea, Noriya had helped Himura get dressed in his now-mended gi and hakama.  Soon he and the boy were out the door, strolling along the sand with a pleasant breeze blowing from the water.

They walked along the beach in silence, Noriya enjoying himself, while Himura remained wary, eyes scanning their surroundings constantly as they ascended the cliff side path.  The boy’s skittishness was almost making Noriya  uncomfortable.   

But at least the apathy was gone, thought Noriya, which was the thing that mattered most.  Any kind of emotion was better for the boy than the leaden despair that had settled over him for the last day.  It was worth the risk of going outside.  Besides, with the cliff as high as it was, they really wouldn’t be visible to anyone on the main roads.  And Noriya truly did trust that the boy would know if anyone approached.  They were safe.  He was certain of it.  

Noriya decided it was time to breach the subject again.  He hadn’t mentioned anything of Fumiko’s visit since last night, but hopefully the chance to get out of the house would have lifted the boy’s spirits enough to allow them to talk at least a little.  Noriya was an optimist.  He had a feeling he’d get the boy to tell him eventually.  

“Himura-san…” he began.  “Whatever Fumiko said to you—”

“She spoke the truth, Sato-san,” said the boy softly.  “She asked me some questions.  That was all.”

Noriya highly doubted it was as simple as the boy made it seem.  

“Fumiko has been angry for a long time, Himura-san.  Death is difficult to accept for anyone, of course, but it’s especially true of younger folks.”  Noriya said gently.  “But as for me… I’m too damned old to waste my time on anger.  I’ve got other things to live for.  Fumiko-chan, Isamu-chan, Hideo…old friends…And new ones.”

Himura looked at him with a thoughtful expression and frowned slightly.  Noriya was only glad it wasn’t the blank stare that had graced the boy’s features since Fumiko’s little talk with him yesterday.

“Yes, I’m talking about you, lad.  You’re a friend whether you like it or not,” Noriya continued good-naturedly.  “You’ve no choice but to accept it, Himura.”

A long moment passed before the boy spoke, voice hesitant, sounding suddenly quite young.  “Sato-san, I said things to you yesterday, that I regret.”

Noriya waved a hand lazily, indicating that it was a thing of the past, that Himura could forget it ever happened.  

They walked in companionable silence.  Noriya closed his eyes, relaxed.  He’d lived by the sea all his life, and yet its beauty never ceased to have its effect on him.  It was good to be outside, to feel the wind through the fabric of his gi.  The ocean wind made him feel free in a way that breezes further inland could not.  

He almost yelped when Himura suddenly grabbed his arm in an almost painfully tight grip.  “What the—“

“Quiet!” hissed the boy as he stilled, his gaze darting about them quickly, his stance suddenly rigid and tense.

Noriya resisted the urge to pull his arm out of Himura’s grasp.  He listened for whatever it was that had alarmed the boy, but he could hear nothing.   If Himura was concerned about being discovered….

Noriya heard it then, the faintest sound, coming from far away.  Someone crying out, but he couldn’t tell who it was or what they were saying.  

Himura’s grip on his arm loosened as the boy frowned.  “Someone’s fighting,” he said softly.  

The sound was getting louder, and sure enough, Noriya could make out the sounds of metal ringing, of scattered shouts.  And then: “Noriya!”  A woman’s voice, closer than the rest, screaming his name as she ran through the brush.

Fumiko?

He was running up the path then.  

Didn’t remember deciding to move.  Just recalled hearing a desperate Sato-san, wait! from Himura.  But the boy was too late.  Noriya had taken off already, his daughter-in-law’s safety his only concern.

He dimly realized he had no weapon, and he didn’t know what he would do with whatever situation he found.  And a small part of him, a small rational part, was begging him to slow down.  To stop and consider the possibilities.  To grab a weapon of some sort, at least, before charging into gods-knew-what kind of horrid scenario that awaited him.  

But all he heard was Fumiko-chan’s desperate cry, and his mind had blanked out.  And the next thing he knew, he was moving, speeding through the narrow path in the woods leading from the road near Fumiko’s house, unheeded branches from shoulder-high brush whipping at his arms and face.

He saw her then as he rounded a corner, running towards him, and thankfully, alone.  

“Fumiko!” he cried, as she reached him, practically falling forward as she grabbed him shakily by the arms.  “Are you hurt?”

She was winded, face flushed and hair in disarray.  She gasped for breath, but seemed well enough to impatiently bat his hands away as he checked her frantically for injuries.  “I’m fine,” she said, as she finally managed to gather enough breath to speak.  “But Etsuo… Akira… ran into bandits….”

“Etsuo?”

She nodded, swallowing large gulps of air.  “Their patrol.”

“Where’s Isamu?” he asked her as he looked around for a thick branch, anything he could wield as a weapon.

“At my sister’s.”  Fumiko coughed, was bringing her breathing under control.  “I was coming to…to visit you…when I heard the fighting…. About a dozen men, maybe more.”

He nodded and squeezed her arms briefly.

“Go to my place, Fumiko.  Find Himura.  Take my boat and go to town.  Stay there.  Send help.“

“Noriya, you can’t fight them alo—“

“Go!  Damnit, girl!” he shoved her hard, almost sent her sprawling.  Nearly had his heart stop with worry as she froze a moment, stubborn enough to consider staying with him.  But she obeyed him then and moved.  And with a quick backward glance, she turned and ran down the path towards his house.

He found a large, thick branch that would suffice as a makeshift club.  Figured that a patrol from town usually had four men.  Against twelve.  Would have been easy enough odds for young Etsuo if he and his friends were hardened warriors instead of a squad of untrained boys.  Noriya’s mouth hardened into a grim line as he ran.

The first man appeared, a black shadowy figure that burst forth from the shoulder-high brush to his right, a glint of steel visible in the moonlight.  

Noriya had fought in a few battles in his day, but had never been a warrior.  And it had been a decade since he was last involved in any kind of fight.  But despite the protesting creak of his bones, instinct took over, and skills drilled into him years ago suddenly surfaced as he ducked and rolled to the side.  

The bandit, who had been chasing Fumiko, was surprised by Noriya’s presence.  Noriya took full advantage of this fact.  He swung the branch as hard as he could at the other man’s shins and heard a satisfying crack and thump as his opponent tripped and landed hard on his face in the dirt.  

Noriya stared in shock for a moment.  Fucking miracle, he’d managed to knock the bandit out cold.  He stared at the unconscious man for a moment, not quite believing his luck.  

He got quickly up, wincing at the new aches and pains his little rolling stunt had caused him.  He was definitely too old for this kind of exertion.  

He grabbed the bandit’s sword, and kept going, trying not to think about the insanity of the situation he was in.  He’d freeze if he thought about it too much.  He only hoped that he could surprise his next opponent in the same way as he did the first.  He knew he had no chance of winning in a fair fight.  His tactics weren’t exactly honorable, he thought with a twinge of guilt, but it was the only way he could manage, being as rusty and out of shape as he was.  

Shouts to his left drew him onward, and he came eventually to a clearing where Etsuo and two strangers were engaged in combat.  They fought clumsily, he saw, none of them particularly well-trained.  But desperation and the vitality of youth had lent them a ferocity that made up for lack of skill.  Etsuo swung his swords in wide arcs, somehow, managing to keep both opponents at bay.  

Noriya grasped the unfamiliar sword firmly in both hands and, with a deep breath and silent prayer, rushed forward soundlessly into the fray.  One of the bandits must have sensed his movement for the man turned suddenly with a roar and charged toward him full tilt.  

The bandit swung his sword wildly in a quick succession of arcs that Noriya barely had time to block.  His opponent may have been an untrained ruffian, but he was young with a young man’s strength and speed.  Noriya’s strength was flagging, the short burst of energy from his initial fear now spent.  His past training kept him alive, but barely, as the bandit’s swings came in closer and closer.

And then it happened.  His sword was knocked from his hand, landing against the roots of a nearby tree with a sickening dull clatter.  Noriya watched in an oddly detached horror as the younger man began to swing his sword in for the kill.  

“No!” Etsuo’s voice cut in suddenly.

Noriya’s opponent started in surprise, turning toward the new threat in mid-swing.  His arm twisted as he did so, Noriya realized dazedly, for the blow that should have sliced Noriya in two, knocked the wind out of him instead as the flat of the blade, not the edge, hit him hard against his gut.

He dropped to his knees, gasping for breath, stars swimming in his vision.  He was vaguely aware of young Etsuo blocking another swing from the bandit Noriya was fighting.  He heard a shout from a third man and realized that Etsuo’s previous opponent had not been dealt with and was now joining his comrade in a combined effort against the young patrolman.  

Etsuo was doomed, Noriya knew, unless Noriya could get his breath back and help the young man.  But he couldn’t breathe right, let alone fight.  And when he tried to stand, the edges of his vision began to black out, so he stayed as he was, hoping he’d recover soon enough.

He heard a grunt of surprise as one of their opponents went down.  Didn’t have a chance to see how young Etsuo had managed to do it.  But there was only one bandit left now, the man who had initially been fighting with Etsuo.  

Noriya crawled towards the nearby tree where his sword had fallen and retrieved his weapon just as he heard Etsuo gasp in pain behind him.  He turned to see the boy on his knees, hand pressed tightly against the side of his head, unable to get up.  As his opponent lifted his sword, Noriya did the only thing he could think of.  He grabbed a large rock and hurled it toward the bandit’s head.

It caught the man on the shoulder, knocking him off balance for a quick moment before the man regained his footing and turned toward the direction of the throw.  Noriya held his sword in readiness and blinked, trying to clear the last stray stars from his vision.  He tried to slow his breathing, to gather his flagging strength as the man rushed towards him with a fierce howl.

He blocked the man’s first swing, arms straining against a force much stronger than his own, turning his blade so that the man’s blow was deflected to the side.  Took two quick steps to his right as his opponent overbalanced and had to step to his left to keep from falling.  Swung his own sword toward the opponent, but was too slow, and the man managed to block Noriya’s attack.  His opponent side stepped, then kneed Noriya in the gut, sending him sprawling once again.  

He scrambled to turn onto his back and hold up his sword to block whatever came next.  Saw, with dismay, his opponent’s blade already flashing downward at him before he’d had time to bring his own blade up.  

A blur.  A gust of wind.  A dull crack.  A hiss of pain.  

A moment of pure disorientation.

And next thing he knew, the bandit’s sword landed with a thud in the grass, the man cradling his sword hand against his chest, gasping in agony at what seemed to be a broken wrist.  

Noriya frowned in confusion, his grip on his own sword gone slack.  The bandit was staring at something behind him, the man’s eyes wide in apparent terror.  He seemed too frightened to move.  

Noriya sat up and turned around.  And forgot to breathe a moment as he saw, standing utterly still behind him, a darkened silhouette.  

And a hitokiri’s amber eyes.

“Run.”  A soft voice that promised death if unheeded.

Realization slowly dawned on the bandit’s face as the man understood he was being spared.  Eyes wide, he backed away, slowly at first, practically tripping on the uneven ground behind him.  The bandit turned then, and ran, stumbling away into the brush, fleeing as if he thought the very demons of hell would be following upon his heels.  

“Himura-san?” Noriya whispered, afraid of a sudden, though he knew the boy would never harm him.  

Himura took a step forward and came out of the shadow into the moonlight, and Noriya’s fear changed to alarmed concern.  Even in the darkness, Noriya could see the boy was pale, and his left hand, which held an empty sword sheath, shook uncontrollably.  

A sheath.  So that was the dark blur that Noriya had seen.  Himura had broken the man’s wrist with a hard swipe of an empty saya.  

“You all right?” asked Noriya.

The boy nodded.  “You?”

“I’m fine.”  Noriya stood shakily, trying not to think how close he came to being severed in two.  “Is that sheath from the man I tripped back on the path?” he asked conversationally, trying to maintain his calm.  

Another nod.

It was a stupid question of course.  He knew of no other place Himura could have obtained the weapon.  But Noriya wasn’t exactly at his best at the moment.

He stumbled over to where Etsuo lay, gently running his hands over the boy to see where he was hurt.  He had a large lump on the side of his head and a few gashes on his arms and shoulder, but nothing that seemed life threatening as far as Noriya could tell.  The head injury was the biggest concern.  They were tricky, Noriya knew.  Head injuries could sometimes be far more serious than they appeared on the surface.

“I caught that man back on the path by surprise as he was chasing Fumiko.  Hid low and tripped him up with a thick branch as he came out of the brush.  Not very honorable, I’m afraid,” Noriya babbled as he tapped at Etsuo’s face lightly, waking the boy.  “I’m no warrior, Himura.  Never could do well in a fight.”

Himura said nothing.  The boy leaned on the saya, head bowed.

“Etsuo,” Noriya said gently.  “Come on, lad.  Wake up, now.”

“Where is Fumiko-san?” asked Kenshin as he looked around at the small clearing.  

Noriya frowned.  “You mean she’s not at my place?”

The amber eyes looked at him.  “Iya.”

“She should have passed you,” said Noriya with a growing sense of urgency in his gut.

“I haven’t seen her,” Himura replied, a note of concern in his voice.

Etsuo’s eyes blinked blearily at that moment as the boy finally came to and looked around in confusion.  “Noriya-san?”

Himura froze, stopped speaking, and stepped back again, effectively melting into the shadows as Noriya helped young Etsuo to sit.

“Etsuo, lad, you gave me quite a fright for a moment,” Noriya said, keeping his voice confident despite his worries about Estuo’s head wound and his growing fear for Fumiko.  “Think you can stand up?”

“Who was that?” asked Etsuo, face still blank with disorientation.  

“Who are you talking about, boy?” asked Noriya, making sure Etsuo was facing away from the spot where Himura stood.

“I thought I saw someone else here,” Etsuo mumbled, hand automatically reaching for his aching head, and wincing when he discovered caked blood in his hair.

“There’s no one here but the two of us,” said Noriya.  “Now let’s get you to your feet, lad.  Come on.  Up we go.”

He took the boy by the arms and hefted him up to his feet.  It was a painfully slow process.  Noriya was impatient, wanted to get the boy up and moving so he could go running off to find Fumiko again.  

Etsuo shook his head to clear it, then instantly seemed to regret the motion as he groaned in pain and promptly passed out again.  

“Dammit,” Noriya swore desperately as he grabbed onto the boy before he could fall on his face.  He bent his knees, getting his shoulder under the boy’s arm, supporting him best as he could.  Hopefully Etsuo would wake up enough to help him by walking, but if not, Noriya was prepared to drag the young man all the way back home.

Noriya froze as he heard the sound of shouts in the distance.  No way to tell if those were other boys from town or if they were more bandits.  

He turned to say something to Himura, but the boy was already walking away.  

“Oi, where are you going?”

“Take your friend away from here, Sato-san,” said Himura without looking back.  “I’ll look for Fumiko-san.”

“You can’t stay here by yourself!  There are more of them out there.  Come with us.”

Himura stopped and turned around.  “If there are more of them out there, they’ll catch up to us before we get far.”  Spoken reasonably, and with a calm Noriya greatly envied at the moment.

“I’ll stay then.  You take Etsuo—”

“I can’t carry him, Sato-san.”

“You’re in no condition to fight!  You can’t face more of them.”  Noriya looked at the boy, trying to suppress an awful feeling of dread.  “Kami-sama, you’re shaking, Himura.  Don’t think I can’t see it.”

Himura smiled grimly, a strange gleam in his eye.  

“You underestimate Battousai, Sato-san,” the boy said softly.

“Battousai hell!”  Noriya looked at the sheath in Himura’s hand.  “Take a sword, at least.  I’ll not have you fighting brigands with a fucking sheath!”

“Iya.”  Himura shook his head.  And with that, he turned and walked away.

“Himura!  I’m taking him to Hideo’s house.  It’s closer.  Look for us there!” he called out to the boy.  Himura nodded once, then continued walking.  

“Damn him,” Noriya hissed furiously as Himura disappeared from view.  

Scared, angered, desperate.  

Everything had happened so quickly.  He wondered how warriors could stand it, the mercurial shift of events they must have faced every night they went to fight.   It made a man’s mind spin.  

Noriya was a scholar, dammit.  Scholars didn’t get involved in crazed battles.  Scholars like their world running at a sane pace.  A slow pace with time to think.

He didn’t have time to think.  He needed to get Etsuo taken care of.  Needed to find Fumiko-chan.  Needed to warn the town.  Needed to go after Himura and somehow keep the boy from getting himself killed.

Etsuo mumbled something incoherent, the boy’s face buried in his shoulder.  

Noriya took a deep breath.  Calm himself.  First things first.  

Murmuring an assurance to the boy, he hefted Etsuo up into a more comfortable position and began to make his way toward the safety of a friend’s house.  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


He leaned against a tree and allowed himself a brief moment of rest once he was out of sight from the old man.  He pressed his hand gingerly to the bad shoulder, trying to ease the throbbing ache that pulsed down his entire arm.  Ironic now, that the taut, constricting bandages that had given him such grief over the past week were now the very thing he wished he had again.  The new sling that Sato-san had fashioned yesterday did wonders for his comfort when he was sitting still in Sato-san’s house.  But out here, in the middle of a fight, it didn’t offer nearly enough support.  Every time he turned, the sling swung and his shoulder shifted, and he felt as if his arm were being pulled from its socket.  

He kept a firm grip on the saya, not daring to tuck it in his hakama for fear he wouldn’t have the reflexes and speed to draw it out in time should he encounter any of the enemy.  He wrapped his good arm, saya and all, around the sling, hugging it close to himself, supporting his bad shoulder as best as he could as he walked.  

Sato-san was right.  He was damnably weak and in no condition to fight.  It had taken all the will he could muster to run after the old man, to follow him to the clearing.  Swinging the saya at the bandit had drained him more than he expected.  And his legs felt wobbly with fatigue, his knees threatening to buckle and give out on him if he did much more this night.  

But Fumiko-san was missing, and he couldn’t allow anything to happen to her.  He couldn’t even conceive of how he’d feel if she came to harm while he had breath left in his body.  And with that thought, he pushed himself upright and forced his feet to move, backtracking along the path to Noriya’s house, looking for a point in which the woman may have strayed off the path.  

He sensed the other man coming before he could see anything, but a rustle among the leaves prepared him for where the man would emerge from the brush.  He waited, sensing from the quick flare of ki, that this one would not be a mere amateur.  This man, whoever he was, was skilled enough to possess the ki of a warrior.

There.  A few yards ahead, the man burst forth from the grass and brush, looking about warily, anticipating an adversary.  As Kenshin had guessed.  This one had skill enough to sense that Kenshin lay in wait on the path.  

The man turned towards him sword held steadily before him, body crouched, ready to attack.  Kenshin took his time with his approach, studying the man as he neared.

He was dressed like the other bandits, nothing different in his apparel, but there was an air about him that told Kenshin this was a captain of sorts.  A leader among the bandits, his position obvious by his confident manner, by the faint aura of power about him.

The man studied him in turn, squinting in the darkness, his vision apparently not as sharp as Kenshin’s own despite the bright moonlight.  The man’s eyes widened of a sudden, his breath drawn in a sudden hiss.  

But it wasn’t fear or anger that followed, as Kenshin expected.  The man’s expression was clearly unafraid.  If anything, the man seemed almost…glad to see him.

“Hitokiri Battousai,” the stranger breathed in awe, in obvious excitement.  

Kenshin remained silent, keeping himself ready in case this was some kind of trick.

“Battousai,” the stranger lowered his sword.  “What are you doing here?  Have you come to help us?”  Kenshin nearly cringed at the eager sound of hope in the other man’s voice.  “My name is Sakamoto.  I saw you fight once, in Kyoto.  You saved my life that night, though I’m sure you wouldn’t remember.  I remember though…. I’ll never forget.”

Kenshin stared, then made a quick effort to mask his shock at this unexpected turn of events.  So, these bandits were former Ishin Shishi men.  He should have realized it long ago based on the way they fought, but he’d been so preoccupied with Noriya’s safety and Fumiko’s whereabouts….

“Kami-sama,” said the man.  “I never thought to see you here!”

Kami-sama indeed, thought Kenshin.  He’d been a fool not to have known.  

“I’m looking for a woman,” he answered carefully.

His opponent blinked.  “You mean the one who saw us?  Yes, of course.  We must find her.  If she tells the townsfolk, they’ll send reinforcements for sure.  Be careful, Battousai.  This town supports the shogunate.  Bad enough they find me and my men, but you…you’d be a major catch for them.  They’ll show you no mercy.”

The man noticed that Kenshin still had not lowered his sword.  “There’s no need for the weapon here.  You’re among friends.”  Confusion began to seep through his earnest face.  “You are trying to stop her, aren’t you?”

“The woman is important to me,” Kenshin said.  “I would not want to see her hurt.”

The stranger cocked his head to one side.  “I don’t understand.  She’s a shogunate supporter.  She’s with the other side.”

“The war is over.  There are no more sides.”

“Of course there are.  Maybe not officially, but there are always sides.  You…” The man frowned and took a step back.  “You’re not here to help us then?”

“Are you stealing from these people, Sakamoto-san?  Are you killing them?” Kenshin asked.  He was tired.  He didn’t want to hear the answer.  And despite his disapproval for what the bandits were doing, he didn’t want to see the look of betrayal in this man’s eyes.  Yet another person he hurt without even trying.  He was getting good at that.

“We’re starving, Battousai.  We have no choice.”  The man’s voice hardened.  He raised his sword again, though it was obvious he didn’t want to use it.

“Where is the woman?” Kenshin pressed, although he was pretty sure the man hadn’t found Fumiko-san yet, else he wouldn’t have been searching through the brush himself.

Kenshin began to move forward.  

Sakamoto was looking at him more closely now, noting his injured arm, his lack of a true weapon.  It didn’t take a warrior to realize Kenshin was exhausted, barely able to stand.  

Sakamoto stood his ground.  It was a show of courage that was impressive, considering the man knew fully well what Kenshin was capable of.  Even weakened as he was, Kenshin knew that he terrified the man.  He could see it in the way Sakamoto’s breathing had quickened, the way his fingers shifted nervously as he gripped his sword.

“I don’t want to fight you, Battousai,” said Sakamoto, voice slightly shaky as he took one involuntary step back.  

“You’re in my way,” said Kenshin quietly, continuing his advance.  

“Damn,” the man murmured.  And visibly steeling his courage, he let out a shout that was part battle cry and part scream of terror.  Sakamoto swung his sword and lunged toward Kenshin, initiating battle.  

Kenshin sidestepped the blow barely in time, could feel the hiss of air as the blade narrowly missed his neck.  Sakamoto had deliberately aimed toward his bad side, knowing it would be the most difficult for him to defend.  But Kenshin had seen it coming and taken counter-steps, ducking and twisting and bringing up the saya to clip the man on the back of the head.  

They parted after the first pass, Sakamoto wincing and rubbing his head, Kenshin winded and clutching at his shoulder.

Kenshin had the disheartening thought that he had suffered more from the exchange even though technically, he was the one who had won this particular round.  Even more upsetting, was the confusing sense of gladness he felt on Sakamoto’s behalf.  It was a bewildering thought, this self-opposing desire to see Sakamoto do well in this fight.  Kenshin frowned, disturbed by the odd turn his thoughts were taking.  

Sakamoto initiated a second pass, sword thrusting forward in an astonishing imitation of a common Shinsengumi technique.  Kenshin had seen it coming, but still, he was impressed by the man’s ingenuity, his willingness to use the technique of an enemy to augment his own.  He deflected the blow with the saya, turning to the side to avoid being stabbed.  And when Sakamoto spun around, using momentum to come for another attack from the side, Kenshin blocked again, ducking out of the way as the saya snapped in two from the sharp edge of Sakamoto’s blade.  Anticipating the destruction of the sheath, Kenshin snapped his arm upwards as he fell, catching Sakamoto on the chin with the jagged edge of the sheath’s severed end.  

A small spray of blood as Sakamoto grunted in surprise, his head snapping back from the force of the blow.  It was the last thing Kenshin saw as he landed badly on his right side, and his vision whited out as his shoulder hit the ground.


Silence, but for the soft thrill of a cool breeze.

Blue skies.  Wisps of clouds.   

White plum blossom petals tumbling lazily as they drifted to the ground.

A small house.  The pleasant scent of dinner being cooked on the fire.

He stood in the waist high grass, looking toward the house, and began to sprint.

His steps light.  His body strong.  No pain, no fatigue.  No thoughts.  No obligations.

He smiled.  Laughed.  Enjoyed the glorious feeling of running home.

He bounded through the doorway.

Blinked a bit at the relative darkness of the interior.

And saw lovely dark eyes look up at him.  A hint of a smile on her small, delicate mouth.

He smiled back.

Hold onto this moment, he remembered thinking to himself.  

Hold onto this memory.

Hold onto this feeling.

For you know it won’t last.

Battousai will steal it and take it all away….


He opened his eyes.  Knew he had been dreaming.  Absurd visions of a life that was never meant to be.  

He wondered if he was losing his mind.

He sat up and looked around him.  Looked down at Sakamoto’s unconscious form draped across his legs.  The man had fallen on top of him, blood from a gash on his chin and lip trickling onto the fabric of Kenshin’s hakama.    

He sat as he was, pinned beneath his opponent, too tired to try to roll the man over and free himself.

He buried his face in his good hand, rubbing his eyes.  He tried not to think.  Tried not to remember what he had almost done in the last moment of the fight.  

He was Battousai.  They were one and the same.  He would always be Battousai.  And no matter how hard he tried to turn over a new leaf, Battousai’s thoughts always intruded.  Always found a way in.  Not the emotionally crazed berserker that the public feared, but the emotionless fiend whose cold logic had believed in murder for the greater good.  A part of him would always be the detached, ruthless assassin.  Would always go for the killing stroke.  Would always….

Would always want to do what he had almost done to Sakamoto.  

He shuddered.  Almost.  He’d come so very close to doing the unthinkable.

He’d caught the enemy on the chin with his saya, had resisted the impulse to do worse at the last minute.  

Kenshin had almost aimed the jagged saya at the tender, vulnerable flesh of Sakamoto’s neck.  Had almost given in to the logical conclusion that a dead opponent was safer than a living one.  It would have been so simple to crush the man’s windpipe, to rip apart his jugular, to do the safe and practical thing by finishing him off once and for all.  

All he’d had to do was to tilt the saya a fraction of an inch downward….

“No,” he said, face still in his hand, mind envisioning how the fight would have ended had he given in to instinct and gone for the kill.

“So, I’m still a killer.”  The admission was to himself….

And to the person he sensed coming up the path behind him.

Soft footfalls hesitated at his words, then continued past him and stopped before him.  

He opened his eyes finally.  Saw the hem of a delicately patterned kimono, stained with mud.  Saw the knees bending and a delicate hand reaching for the sword that Sakamoto had recently dropped.  

His eyes followed that hand as it pointed the sword at him.  He stared at the gleaming tip, then let his gaze travel upwards, finally settling on a pair of brown eyes tinged with a hint of fear, but otherwise revealing nothing.

She stared at him, eyes wide.  Sword held steadily.  Silent.

“I was looking for you,” he said to her slowly, “Fumiko-san.”

All righty.  Kind of a weird chapter, but I think it reflects the utter chaos that has been my life in the last few weeks.  As I’ve warned people before, the chapters may take a while since school is crazily busy this semester.  But I’m still enjoying working on this one, and I’m always happy to get back to writing the chapters.  I have a couple of school project deadlines the next two weeks, a paper to write, and I’m getting over a bad cold, so I’ve been sleeping a lot.  Hence, the lack of writing time.  So apologies for the delays.  And thanks so much for your patience.  Spring break is coming up.  I’ll have time to write then.  I look forward to doing so.
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