Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Conversations with Hiko ❯ Chapter 1

Conversations with Hiko

 

Written by mtgranola

 

Disclaimer: I do not own the Kenshin-gumi, and quite frankly I'm surprised that anyone owns Hiko…. He's rather large…and scary.

 

A/N: I know! I know! I have so many other stories to work on! This is actually something that I started a long time ago and decided that I wanted to share. That and I'm avoiding doing my homework...did I mention that I was the queen of procrastination? Revised 1 October to incorporate some great ideas I got from some of my reviewers and to correct some grammar errors (thanks sueb!).

 

Oh, and Akemi refers to Hiko as his alias, not the name he took when he became the thirteenth master of Hiten Mitsurugi.

 

&&&&&&&

 

Akemi:

Even a sheet of paper has two sides -Japanese Proverb

 

Arrogant bastard; egotistical; tyrannical peacock. Those are the words I use to describe a certain potter that lives up on the mountain. But there is a lot more behind those guarded eyes and attitude then he lets on, I know this because I have seen him once a week for the past thirteen years. Thirteen years is a long time to know someone, but I can honestly say that I think I've gotten past at least the first layer of pretenses in the last year or so.

 

But he will let no man or woman ever know him truly, he wants to be an enigma. And that's fine with me, I'd just like to think that after thirteen years we'd be close to being considered something akin to friends. However, I know that will never be possible. Not between he and I, at least.

 

He is merciless in his criticisms and is by far the rudest man I have ever met. Which is saying a lot because we, as Japanese, are polite to a fault and he is even ruder than the gaijins that occasionally come into my little shop. He always leaves me seething in anger, and I usually catch him smirking before he leaves. I am beginning to wonder if he enjoys getting me all riled up like this.

 

He may be a potter now, but that was not what he was originally.

 

He has the physical attributes usually associated with a swordsman or samurai, and I can see the calluses on his large hands when he hands over his latest work for me to sell. I would say that he had the confidence befitting a samurai, but he takes it way beyond anything that could be considered normal.

He always wears this cape, a large white one that flows behind him. I don't know the reasoning behind it, but I think he wears it just so he can be that much more intimidating.

 

Which is a frightful thought, because just his presence can be intimidating….

 

It is a wall he builds, strong and sturdy like the pots he throws but fragile enough that it merely takes a second of carelessness to shatter it into a million pieces. It's amazing how one man, so large and rough, can create such delicate and beautiful pots. You'd think he'd be one to destroy, not create….

 

Sometimes when he comes in, I can see a hint of sadness or regret in his eyes, flickering for a moment before the wall comes down again. He gives me an arrogant smirk before we proceed with business. When he leaves I am left wondering, what happened to cause him such pain? A friend, a lover, a child? There are times when he looks at me like I am someone else. It's not as common now as it used to be when he first started coming into this shop to sell his work to my father. It's after these episodes that the rest of my day usually goes down hill quite a bit.

 

He is an overwhelming presence and when he gets upset or frustrated the whole world knows about it, almost as if he wants the rest of us to share in his pain. Like I said, he's a conceited asshole.

 

“Akemi-chan?” I look up, surprise written on my face, I think this is the first time that he has ever addressed me…at all, at least by my given name. Usually, it's `hey you', or `girl'…. In fact, I am rather surprised that he knows my name well enough to address me so informally.

 

“Hai, Kakunoski-san?”

 

“Do you know who made this piece?” he asked pointing out a delicate vase standing on one of the shelves. I felt my eyes widen for a moment, and my throat went dry.

 

“H-hai, I do.” I answer back quietly avoiding his gaze. Out of all the pieces that have moved in and out of this store for the past thirteen years, that he has never even given a second glance, he picks out the piece I have made. The first piece in all my years of practicing and throwing clay I have deemed worthy enough to sell.

 

“Are you going to give me a name, girl?” he barks back at me. I frown at him, my courage finally back thanks to my annoyance with the man.

 

“Actually, the potter wishes to remain anonymous.” I reply tartly. Inwardly, I wince at my rudeness, but I am beyond caring at this point. He turns it around, looking for the chop mark that all potters use, but he doesn't recognize it, I know. I specially designed the chop mark after an English word that I had come to learn in my pursuit of the langauge. Hope. I understand it's meaning to be similar to `mikomi.' And that is a word that means much to me in this Meiji Era. Hope for peace, hope for a better world, hope for the new age.

 

“This is in English.” He states, turning the vase around carefully in his hands. “Do you know what it means?”

 

“Hai, it is the word `Hope' in their language…we call it mikomi.”

 

“Mikomi? Interesting….” He set the vase back down on the shelf, a very pointed look directed at me. “She has a very fluid style, unique. I have never seen anything else quite like it.”

 

“Hai, very unique.”

 

I watched as he twirled around to head back out the door. It is truly amazing how such a large man can move with such grace, you hardly ever hear him make any noise other than to talk.

 

I stilled in my movements to put Kakunoski-san's new work out on the shelves as it hit me… I never told him that the artist was a woman.

 

&&&&&&&&

 

Hiko:

 

The pebble in the brook secretly thinks itself a precious stone-Japanese Proverb

 

Murashi Akemi is a girl…actually I should say woman now, that I have practically watched grow up. As I walked away from the same small store that I have sold my works in for the past thirteen years I remembered why I started going there in the first place.

 

She is very similar looking to my baka deshi, that is, if my baka deshi had long black hair instead of his unusual flame-colored hair. Her eyes are the same violet I first remember looking into on that fateful day so long ago when I first met the boy named Shinta. They could be siblings, and truly I only act so mean to the poor girl because I like to see the fire light up her eyes, the same subtle golden sparks that the boy known as Kenshin had when he got frustrated or angry with me. Or with life in general.

 

She is the only reason why I still go to that little run down store, truly. My pots are so well known now that I can easily sell them for much higher prices and to much more prestigious shops…but I like that little girl. Not that I'll ever admit it out loud, but I do.

I know it was she that threw that graceful little vase marked with an English word. But even then she reminds me of my baka deshi, even if he doesn't have hope for himself, he does have hope for the new era that he helped create through the destruction of his own soul. A new era of peace for that young woman that is always sitting behind that counter every week, her violet eyes flashing.

It was so much like her, so unexpected. I have never seen a raku piece so…fluent. It isn't like the usual pieces you see made by the Zen monks right before a tea ceremony, but something that stretches the limits of what an art form can become. She is very unsure of herself, much like my baka deshi when it comes to showing what lies on the inside….

 

Then again, I could even be accused of such. Have been accused as such. But personally, I think I have the right to be arrogant, perfection needs to have standards….

 

I pause and then smirk before going along on my way. I don't think she realized that I knew it was her that threw that piece of perfection. She is so…readable sometimes, not to mention that the basic principle of Hiten Mitsurugi is being able to read your opponent.

 

Come to think of it, I wouldn't really mind having that beautiful vase to myself….

 

I think I just found a present for my baka deshi to give me.

 

&&&&&&&

 

Kenshin:

A good sword is the one left in its scabbard-Japanese proverb.

 

I looked blankly at my Shishou as he repeated his `request.' Since when did Shishou care to collect fine things other than saké? I knew exactly what pottery shop he was talking about, I remember the owner quite well from my days with the Ishin Shishi. He had offered me shelter more than once during the Shinsengumi's frequent rounds through Kyoto.

 

I also remember his little girl. I suppose she's not so little anymore, she was only four years younger than sessha after all. She had wide lavender eyes and inky black hair that fell straight down. Always a smile on her face, even in the midst of one of the most bloodiest periods of the Bakumatsu….

 

She always had a smile for me too, calling me Himura-kun. I don't think she ever knew I was the Battousai, and even if she did , she never let me know. Akemi-chan never showed any fear of me…a rare event in those days when I prowled the shadows for what I believed in.

 

I had no idea Shishou was acquainted with Murashi-dono. I would love to be able to go down there myself, and talk with him. Thank him for all he did for me. Thank Akemi for her smiles. But Megumi-dono has threatened me with bodily harm if I try moving outside of the Shirobeko before she okays it. Even a carriage ride is out of the question because it might `jostle' me too much.

 

I sighed as Shishou droned on, looking out the window. I really don't do well stuck inside all of the time.

 

“Are you listening to me, baka deshi?”

 

“Oro…?”

 

“Don't you `oro' me you idiot, I want you to get me that vase down at Murashi's. It's a raku piece, and the chop is an English word, `hope.' Did you get that, baka?”

 

“Hai, Shishou. Raku vase marked with a chop that means `hope' and you want it as a present…. Why does sessha have to buy you a present anyway?”

 

Shishou smirked at me. Kami, how I hate that smirk. “Because, I taught you the secession technique, baka.”

 

“…” I seriously considered rolling my eyes at that point, but knowing Shishou, it would have ended with him and I out in the court yard with our swords…and Megumi-dono is much scarier than Shishou when she is determined enough.

 

He seemed larger than life back then, when he saved me from the slave traders. I suppose he is still seems larger than life to me now, but mostly because I am so much shorter than he is. I study his face and I notice a few more wrinkles than what decorated his face fifteen years ago when I left him to join the revolution. But those are the only signs of age, and if anything, he seems to have gotten even more arrogant over the years, which I hardly thought possible.

 

It's hard to imagine that I myself once carried myself in such confidence. Now I hide behind a clueless façade of “oro's” and silly smiles. Hiko sees behind it, though, I know, he has always been able to remove masks….

 

I wonder, sometimes, if he's still angry with me for leaving all those years ago to become the Battousai. Even though I'll never admit it to him out loud, he was right. I destroyed myself by becoming a hitokiri, my soul stained with the blood I split using the techniques he taught me. Me, a poor orphan, a slave…the son of farmers, of a family I can barely remember now, and he took me in and raised me the best he knew how. However, I cannot regret my actions, only repent for them.

 

He is my family, a father figure.

 

A child always strives to make his parents proud. In some ways, I guess I still am trying to seek that approval, that affection….

 

I allow myself a small smile, I'll ask Kaoru-dono to go down there later.

 

&&&&&&&

 

Akemi:

Anyone who says you can't see a thought simply doesn't know art -Wynetka Ann Reynolds

 

I truly never really understood why Kakunoski-san kept on coming to sell his works at my shop. He was pretty well known now, and with the new moneyed classes, was very much in demand. In fact, probably the only reason why my little store was still open was because of the profit I make from selling his work…and I am the only one who carries them.

 

In many ways, he reminds me of a young man I knew back during the Bakumatsu. Himura-kun, I called him. A young man a few years older than I was, with shockingly red hair and blazing amber eyes. He spoke with the same confidence that Kakunoski-san often speaks in, although no emotion, no arrogance ever showed on his face. I always tried to smile for him, he always looked so sad….

 

Of course, if I were the Hitokiri Battousai, I probably wouldn't be too happy myself.

 

I always wondered what happened to that young man, his soul so broken you could see it in his eyes. My father had heard that he died during one of the last battles of the Revolution. Sometimes I still hear that he is alive, a rurouni helping people. In other rumors he is a bloodthirsty murderer whom the government hasn't been able to stop. Last I heard he was responsible for the murders of fourteen people up in Tokyo.

 

Then of course, there are the recent ones that the Battousai is back and haunting Kyoto….

 

But I know that Himura-kun would never be capable of doing that, even if he were still alive. He did not enjoy the blood he had to spill for the Revolution's ideals, or all the chaos he caused. He created a new world for me, an era of peace to grow and prosper, to be my own person. I could never thank him enough for that, I hope someday, in this world or the next, I will get that chance.

 

I hear the door open and watch as two young women walked into the store, looking around at the wares.

 

“Ohayou-nasai! May I be of help to you?” I asked politely as I bowed.

 

The young woman with a bow in her hair, and a shorter girl wearing fairly indecent clothing bowed back before the taller one answered. “Yes, we are looking for a specific piece, a raku piece to be precise.”

 

“Ah, yes, please allow me to show you what we have.” I said as I led the women over to where I displayed all the various raku pieces. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

 

They both gave a slight bow to me as they began looking over the different pieces, whispering to each other in what looked like a semi-heated argument. I watched them silently for a moment before I went back to the task I was working on before they came in.

 

“What did Kenshin say was on the vase Misao-chan? I can't remember.” The taller girl hissed at the younger one.

 

“How should I know what Himura said? If it's a present for Hiko-san he should have just come down himself….” Came the grumbled replied.

 

“You know he can't do that yet, he still recovering from his wounds. I don't think he could have walked down here very well yet.”

 

“I didn't even know that this little shop was down here at all! But Himura said he was familiar with it.”

 

“Yes, Kenshin did know exactly where it was….”

 

My heart gave a start hearing the name `Himura' pass from the shorter woman's lips. Himura Kenshin…I never did know Himura-kun's first name, and I seriously doubt it was Battousai. That's a warrior's name, a nickname, not something a parent would name their child. Kenshin has a certain ring to it, and it would fit Himura-kun…. I sighed, Himura is quite a common surname so there really is no reason to get my hopes up.

 

Himura Battousai is nothing more than a memory now, lost to the passage of time. A ghost that haunts the alleyways of Kyoto, and in the stories that children tell each other to scare themselves. It is so sad how people only see him as a murderer and not as a revolutionary, as a man-child who at the time deserved their understanding and respect. Who still deserves our understanding and respect. He sacrificed his very soul so that those girls browsing my store, giggling like young women tend to do, and I could have a new era not guided by the hands of old traditions and Shoguns.

 

I hope these girls' Himura-kun did not have to suffer like mine did. And if he did, I hope he has found some measure of peace in this new age.

 

They lowered their voices again, so I couldn't hear the rest of their conversation…. Not like I should have anyways, it's rather rude to eavesdrop, especially on your customers.

 

And to think I was berating Kakunoski-san for his lack of manners earlier.

 

I sighed as I waited for the two young women to make their choice and bring it up to me, and I was surprised when they did. In fact, I nearly dropped to the floor right then.

 

They had chosen my vase!

 

Sure, I had put it on display, but I never really expected anyone to buy it…and now these girls were choosing it as a present for a man named Hiko….

They paid for it, and thanked me for my help before leaving, bowing politely as they did so.

 

I was so shocked I didn't know what to do. I didn't know whether to faint or be elated…it was such a wonderful feeling selling my first work.

 

I could almost feel the glow of my smile as I went back to my tasks…it was a wonderful day indeed. A wonderful age indeed…so full of hope.

 

&&&&&

 

raku: meaning literally comfort, it is a Japanese style of glazing that is very much dissimilar to the Americanized version of raku. The ceramic piece is glazed with a lead-based glaze along with different oxides (minerals) such as copper, cobalt or iron. It is then thrown into a gas-fired kiln (modern day version anyhow) where there is no oxygen and to an extremely high temperature before being taken out while glowing hot and thrown into a semi-air tight bin filled with sawdust. The sudden oxidation of the glazes creates very beautiful and somewhat random results. In the tea ceremony it was quite common for monks to do this right before, although I am not too sure of the reason behind it…something I need to do further research on. I'm sure that there is something deeply spiritual and religious about it, because the tea ceremony is the same way.

 

Closing notes: I think I am rather satisfied with how this turned out, not overly sweet, I don't think…at least not enough to give someone a toothache. I am contemplating leaving it as a one-shot, or making it a series of oneshots featuring mostly Hiko, but probably a lot of Kenshin as a side note (I seriously love how those two interact) along with various other OC's at different points in their lives.

 

Now, it's your turn…press that button on the bottom of the screen and tell me what you think!