Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ In this Truth We See ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: Yes! Soujiro is mine! Mine! Wahahahaha-hack-cough-hack-hack! Or so I'd like to believe.

Don't sue me.

In this Truth We See

by squishybookworm

If you don't become strong . . . you will die for sure. . . .

The statement was unnervingly close to what Shishio-san would have said. Soujiro turned, catching just the flutter of the youth's loose tunic before he disappeared around the corner.

"Oniisan!"

The other boy - Haji, was it? - rushed out of the room. He searched frantically for the older boy and unsuccessful, turned narrow chocolate brown eyes on Soujiro.

Soujiro jerked. There was something fragile in the gaze. Something that was not the innocence of youth, yet not quite an adult.

THWAP!

Soujiro's small body slammed against the wall from the impact of the slap. He slid to the ground and curled up into a small ball, tears and whimpers wracking his tiny frame.

"Get up, boy! I barely touched you; you're already sniveling?! I said, GET UP!"

WHUMP! WHUMP!

He curled into a tighter ball, barely recognizing his sobbing voice as he pleaded with them to stop. But the abuse continued. Interminably.

Why?

Why were they doing this?

"Lazy good-for-nothing! If that scoundrel father of yours hadn't been such a lecherous bastard, we wouldn't have to waste good money on such blubbering piece of shit, like you! Bastard! Bastard!"

WHUMPH! WHUMPH!

Was it because he couldn't reach the rope to get the well water? Was that why they were so mad?

He'd try extra hard tomorrow and be extra quick too!

"Bastard! Just couldn't die in your whoring mother's cursed stomach, could you?!"

Was it the sandal he'd accidentally snapped?

He'd fix it and be a good boy and never break it again!

"BASTARD! Stop crying! STOP CRYING, I SAID, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

WHUMPF! WHUMPF!

It hurt.

It hurt so much.

Why did they keep hitting him?

Soujiro swallowed thickly, an unexpected curl of anger settling like a hot brand low in his stomach. Yes. The look in the young boy's brown gaze. It was the bewildered hurt of one too young yet to understand that world could be cruel just for the sake of being cruel.

He remained still, somehow afraid to even breathe as he met the boy's tremulous stare.

"U-um. . . ." The boy hunched his shoulders and lowered his head. A faint tremor vibrated across his shoulders and he mumbled, "E-excuse me, sir. Can you tell me where . . . where the larger courtyard is? Um." He fidgeted before finishing in a rush, "T-the-innlady-said-my-brother-and-I-could-use-it!"

Moving slowly as if any sudden movement would cause him to scamper away like a timid chick, Soujiro carefully set his pile of firewood to the side and approached the boy.

But Haji did not move. He followed Soujiro's shadow as it approached him and tilted his slim brows in confusion. The smell of warm miso soup drifted from somewhere beyond the small courtyard and mixed agreeably with the subtle scents of sakura and wisteria. Pink petals drifted from the tree, fluttering gracefully across Haji's still form and tangled in his hair. Light frolicked, bringing out the fiery hue, like the rays of a sunset, fingering into the fringe between blue sky and velvet night. Pale skin stretched taut over a clenched jaw and the glimmer of tears were rapidly blinked away.

Soujiro crouched before the boy. Peeked up into the boy's face, careful to keep the harshness out of his smile when the coal in his stomach seemed to leap up into his heart and spread itself through his body with the blood of the pumping organ. A thump and the barely perceptible vibrations moved through the floorboards from a nearby room where a man had rolled over in his sleep. His dreams remained undisturbed as the white rice paper of his window slowly brightened, illuminating the edge of his dark blue blanket and playing among the untidy pile of his baggage, lying forlonly in the corner of the sparsely furnished room.

Tightening his hands in the folds of his hakama, Soujiro swallowed thickly, but words would not come. What could he say. . . ?

If you're strong, you live. If you are weak, then you die...

Back then, those had been Shishio-san's words.

Soujiro opened his mouth.

"Hajime Stop being lazy and come here!"

Then a cloud swept over the sun and it all disappeared.

Haji spun around at the sound of his brother's voice, "Um, okay!" He turned back to Soujiro, who had instinctively slipped a pleasant smile onto his face. In the sakura tree, a bird chittered loudly and was answered just as noisily by another. The clamor of people just beginning to open shops or set up stalls out in the streets came, muffled, through the thin wooden walls and a faraway playful screech of a little girl soaked through with an accompanying laugh. In his room, the slumbering man turned once again, but this time, towards the door, where the sunlight no longer warmed the thin square papers.

Haji stared at the brunette a moment longer then bowed slightly and said, "Um, thank-you, sir and um, sorry about bothering you, sir, but that's my brother and I can find my way there now. Um . . . Thanks again."

With that, he ran down the veranda, only pausing at the corner to give Soujiro another curious glance before disappearing.

Soujiro sighed, smile still plastered on his face.

What would he have said anyway?

Her lips twitched in irritation as she swept one hand behind her neck, under her mandarin collar, and dislodged the short strands of wet hair that had snaked down during the lesson then slanted a critical eye towards Haji's still form.

They stood under an oak tree in a moderate courtyard. The packed dirt comprising the short and winding paths through the neatly-kept garden, was evenly lined with medium-sized stones that matched the colorful array used to build the koi pond. Water lapped gently and occasionally, a soft slap and splash would sound as a koi, bright like a gold coin, came to the surface as if curious of the two who had taken residence near their watery home.

The sounds of people going about their morning routine filtered through the young ferns and dainty morning glories, bringing a soft, intimate, yet indistinct murmur as of lovers just beginning to awaken to each other's warm embraces. Morning sunlight gilded the surrounding rooftops and filtered through the budding branches above, to dapple their forms. A bird twittered above, followed closely by the scolding chatter of a bushy-tailed squirrel.

A shudder ran the length of Haji's spine and his arms and legs trembled slightly. The strain of holding his posture for two hours straight. Usually, Xiao Yan had him finish the exercise within an hour and then they would go through various forms of their martial arts, but the punishment had been necessary for his slothfulness that morning. Really. Mother would have been angry. Very angry. He was lucky Mother wasn't around this time.

Swiping away the errant curls from her face, Xiao Yan frowned then barked, "Hajime! Your arm is dropping. Keep it up."

How did he expect to become stronger with such little resolve? And Mother. What would she think if his training had deteriorated in the time she'd been gone? That Xiao Yan had shirked in her responsibilities?

She would be disappointed. Deeply disappointed, Xiao Yan was sure. She probably wouldn't show it and pretend a disinterest, but Xiao Yan knew otherwise. She would worry, of course, at such slovenliness in her only child and would be deeply ashamed at such behavior. Of course. No doubt about it.

Haji's arm drooped slightly again and Xiao Yan sighed. Continuing his training in her mother's frequent and lengthy absences had shown her the extent of his endurance, and it seemed that now, he was reaching it.

"Put your arms down. Relax," she said.

Haji slowly lowered his arms and straightened his legs, relaxing aching muscles.

"Dragon step, crouch, then a kick," Xiao Yan instructed briskly, "One hundred. Then get cleaned up and have breakfast. I'll tell them to send some to the room."

Haji nodded quickly and began the exercise she'd laid out for him as she left. At the garden's edge, she stopped.

Without turning around she said, "I will be out all day, so I expect you to stay in the room, do you hear? I'll inform the proprietor to bring you your meals."

She'd already clambered onto the veranda and was walking away by the time his soft 'Yes, oniisan,' reached her ears. He'd always called her 'oniisan' although it had always been understood, in their household, that he was not her mother's child, even if he was born from her womb. It was an explicit understanding that carried to her. Just as Haji was not her mother's child, Xiao Yan was not a girl and not a boy. Thus she was a girl playing a boy's role, yet she was neither because the boundaries that separated both had been blurred and erased so thoroughly for her that she could never truly be either.

This was her just punishment. As meted out by her honorable mother for the events that had occurred ten years before. To repay a stain of dishonor that would be remembered forever.

Turning the corner that led to their room in the inn, Xiao Yan turned to observe her younger half-brother.

A fringe of messy, flame-tinted dark hair fronded across his puckered forehead as he concentrated on accomplishing a correct dragon step. At times, upon seeing this feature he'd inherited from her, her mother would scowl darkly and grab her sharp sewing scissors and chop off his hair right there, until he was left with nothing but an uneven fuzz. Lately, however, she'd been so preoccupied with some other matter that she hadn't noticed the length of Haji's hair, and no one had ever bothered to trim his hair because it would inevitably be shorn by her mother. Xiao Yan supposed she should do something. . . .

Haji stepped too far forward in his dragon step and leaned to the side slightly as exhausted muscles protested the movement. But he finished the step and moved on to the next part of the exercise, his slanted eyes narrowing further with strain.

Really. Why was he moving so sluggishly? Was it the heat? Well, it was a bit warmer, but she, herself, had had no problems adjusting to it. Maybe she should have extended the punishment? After all, it wouldn't do to have his tainted blood showing through.

Xiao Yan turned to go. And promptly ran into a wall of flesh.

"Oh!"

"Ow!" She fell onto her bottom, legs sprawling, and clutched her nose instinctively.

"I'm sorry, sir. Are you hurt?"

A young man sat across from her in the same loose-limbed position she was in. He rubbed his chin absently and gave her a sheepish smile that didn't quite reach his midnight-blue eyes.

Xiao Yan repressed a shiver. It was the man from earlier. His earth-brown hair, shorn shorter than her own, grazed his ears and the collar of his kimono messily, giving him a very boyish look, yet the congenial smile on his face somehow felt . . . unpleasant. Shen-shen, she immediately thought.

"Did I hit your nose, sir? I'm really sorry," he said. He stood up quickly, offering his hand.

She slapped it away. "You'd better be sorry," she snapped. Really. He unnerved her. She hadn't felt his presence until she'd run into him. Even now, she could barely detect his chi.

"Please excuse my clumsiness," he said, smile dropping slightly, "If there's anything I can do, please tell me."

"Whatever," she muttered as she scrambled to her feet. "Just watch where you're going next time."

She brushed past him and continued to her room, ignoring the piercing gaze he sent to her back.

Once she'd closed the shoji door of her room, she paused and lowered her head in thought. She'd never seen the man before, but he was obviously a martial artist of some sort. The way he had moved had been graceful, yet efficient and he'd been skillful in concealing his chi.

Who was he? Really. He was quite strange.

Shaking her head as if to physically dispel the thought, she cleaned herself quickly and changed her mandarin shirt before donning the same tunic again. A long and narrow, cloth-wrapped object rested next to their packs and she reached for it. Then hesitated. She smoothed the rough material against the object beneath. Really. It was unnecessary and she was sure it would draw undue attentions, but she felt more confident with it in hand like she might be more than "not a girl" and "not a boy". A swordswoman. Maybe. Eventually, smiling wryly, she shook her head and left.

On the veranda, she passed Haji, who was sweating profusely and was quite flushed from his exertions. He was rubbing his stomach distractedly and when he saw her, opened his mouth to speak.

She swept pass him. Really. She was in a hurry. He'd have to wait until she got back.

In the front she found the proprietor's wife, Ayu, just bidding farewell to a couple in freshly laundered traveling clothes. Xiao Yan waited patiently, studying the simple décor that adorned the wooden walls of the small room, while the small woman finished her business. Indecipherable conversations drifted from the street through the open door, punctuated occasionally by a dog's bark. Ayu finished and turned.

"Ayu-san?"

"Yes?"

She smiled prettily, light-brown eyes twinkling. Crow's feet radiated from the corners of her eyes, yet they only lent another level of beauty to the graceful woman. Her elegantly coiffed, black hair and flower-patterned kimono added to the air of sophistication and motherliness she exuded. She made Xiao Yan slightly uncomfortable.

"I am searching for information," Xiao Yan began. "Someone who can give me information, actually."

"Really? I may be able to help."

"Well. I'm looking for a man."

"A man? A Japanese man?"

"Yes."

"What is his name?"

"I do not know his surname. I only know that he went by the name 'Shigeta'." Xiao Yan prayed that Buddha would forgive her lies, but this was the only lead they had. Somehow, she doubted 'Daisuke' would be easy to find.

Ayu tilted her head, pondering. "Unfortunately, that's a very common name. I would imagine it would be very hard even if you knew his surname, but . . . Does he have any distinguishing marks or did he wear a kimono at all? Does he live in Kyoto?"

Xiao Yan shook her head. "I don't know. I only met him once and that was before Hajime was born. But I do remember that he had dark eyes that drooped at the corners."

"Hmmm," Ayu hummed. Then she shook her head and sighed. "I'm sorry, dear, but I can't help you."

Xiao Yan flinched slightly at the 'dear', but managed to hide it as a smile and a shift in her stance. "Perhaps you know someone I can ask . . . ?"

Ayu stared at her. Hard. As if she was trying to pull Xiao Yan's soul out with her gaze alone. Xiao Yan stilled. It was the same look her mother had when she was assessing whether Xiao Yan was ready to move to the next level of her training.

Ayu beamed, obviously happy at what she found. "Maybe Kashiwazaki Nenji-san may help."

"Kashiwazaki Nenji-san?"

"Yes. He is very knowledgeable and knows many people. If he can't help you then he might be able to direct you to someone who will be able to."

"Where can I find him?" Xiao Yan fought to keep her voice modulated. Like an educated man, her mother would say before giggling strangely. Xiao Yan hated her when she did that. Then would immediately feel ashamed for thinking such unworthy thoughts.

"He runs a restaurant, called the 'Aoiya'," Ayu said.

"The Aoiya?"

Ayu nodded and gave her directions. "If you get lost, just ask anyone. They'll be able to direct you to it."

Xiao Yan blinked. "Are they that famous?"

Ayu nodded again. "Yes. But not because of their inn. Now you should go or you'll never be able to get there and back again before dark."

Ignoring the cryptic response, Xiao Yan nodded and bowed. "Thank you, Ayu-san. Oh, and one more thing."

"Hm?"

"I'd also like to ask you to do a favor for me," Xiao Yan said.

"Mama!" A voice from the back interrupted their conversation as a young girl emerged from the curtained doorway that separated the foyer from the hallway that led to the rooms. "Satsuki's being a butthead again! I told him to clean the large room and he dumped the water all over the floor!"

Ayu sighed. She smiled apologetically to Xiao Yan before turning her daughter. "Get it cleaned up, then, silly girl! We'll need that room tonight for Iwamoto-san's dinner party and what will they say if we give them a room smelling like mud?"

"I'm not silly!" she cried. "Besides, it was his fault! He should clean it up!"

"Keiko-chan. . . ."

Xiao Yan backed away slightly. Surely this woman would lash out at her daughter for such a surly and disrespectful tone. She did not want to get caught up in it, yet the thought of the small woman physically striking her daughter, disappointed Xiao Yan greatly.

But the young girl simply giggled and replied impishly, "Alright, alright. But only if Satsuki gets bath duty today!"

Ayu shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "Get going before I give you both outhouse duty!"

Her daughter gulped, eyes widening and disappeared back through the curtains.

Ayu allowed her small grin to blossom into a full smile. "And there goes my children again. I'm sure you understand, ne? You and your brother often squabble, too?"

Xiao Yan shrugged. No, they never argued because Haji had been raised well. He was quiet until she had need of him. Other than that, there was nothing to talk about, much less argue over.

"Well?" Ayu asked after it became apparent that the young Chinese would volunteer no more information.

". . . Huh?"

"What is the favor?" Ayu was smiling again, eyes laughing merrily.

"Oh, yes." What was so funny anyway? "Please send breakfast and lunch to my room. My younger brother will be there."

Ayu frowned, still managing to look like she was laughing silently at some private joke. "He'd be happier eating out in the city, I would think." Her frown dropped and she regarded Xiao Yan seriously. "Or even better, he could go with you. Boys of his age should be out and running about."

Xiao Yan's gaze sharpened and her mouth twitched slightly. "I don't think you need concern yourself."

Not looking in the least contrite, Ayu turned away to begin organizing her books at the counter that ran parallel to the wall next to the door. "Yes. Of course, you are right." She glanced out of the corner of eye at the silent "boy" next to her. "I will make sure your brother is fed well, but I will let him eat with my children. I will not let him stay in that tiny room all day."

Xiao Yan considered a moment then nodded. "Agreed."

She paused before saying hesitantly, "I have one more question, Ayu-san. I wanted to know; who was that shen-shen man?"

"Shen-shen?"

Xiao Yan colored slightly. "Um, I meant a man who I saw earlier. He's about this tall." Xiao Yan raised her hand about a handspan above her own head. "Has dark hair and eyes . . . blue, like the depths of an ocean. . . ."

The small lady's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Ah. You must mean Soujiro. He's a wanderer. He'll be here until tomorrow morning." She winked. "Handsome young man, don't you think?"

Xiao Yan's brown eyes widened, "Oh, no, Ayu-san. It isn't what you think! . . . Thank-you, Ayu-san. I must go now!"

It wasn't until she was out the door did Xiao Yan realize what Ayu had meant with that statement. She slapped her forehead. Merciful Buddha, how did she know?

Soujiro wrung the rag. Water spilled out in little streamlets and trickled to the wooden bucket below. It tinkled like the wind chimes he'd seen Ayu-san hanging around the inn. It was pleasing. But strange that he found this simple chore so peaceful, especially since most memories he had of scrubbing floors were connected to those people.

"Yamato-san! Are you going to work or are you going to stand there all day like a goof?" Keiko, Ayu's youngest daughter, planted her small fists on her hips indignantly.

"Leave the man alone, Keiko," Satsuki said. He was older than Keiko by one year and trying to pretend he was much older than that to impress the calm ronin their mother had taken in. "The spill was our fault, so we should take responsibility."

"Ooooohh, no. You mean, the spill was your fault and you should take responsibility."

"It was not! You made me spill it!"

As the conversation quickly escalated into bickering, Soujiro shook his head. They were interesting people. Quick to voice their opinions and not at all apologetic. Very interesting, indeed.

Very different from the Chinese youth and his younger brother. He'd peeked in on the last part of their unusual exercise. Haji had been in obvious pain. His face would spasm occasionally and his hands jerked, but he would not drop the position his brother had told him to hold. The slow flush creeping onto his face and the sharp hitch in Haji's breathing had been obvious enough to Soujiro that he wondered that the older brother did not notice.

He a felt strange relaxation on his face and realized his smile had almost completely disappeared. Shortly after his run-in with the elder Chinese, Haji had walked by him. His head had been lowered and he'd been clutching his stomach strangely. He hadn't even noticed Soujiro smiling politely at him.

"Yamato-san!" Keiko scolded, "I don't see those hands moving! You know what they say: No work, no time for playing at the river!"

"Idiot," her brother responded, "It's no work, no pay!"

"I know that! I was just saying that for fun. You're the idiot!"

"Am not!"

"Am too!"

Soujiro smiled again. He really shouldn't dwell on the Chinese pair. He probably would never see them again.

"Oh, Kami-sama! Help! Please, someone, help!"

"Help! Someone, anyone, help me!"

Soujiro tensed. Senses stretched to their limits and he reached for the nonexistent sword at his side. When his hands came up empty, he shook his head and raced towards the voice. Too late, he remembered he'd been without a blade for almost five years now. Since leaving Shishio-san.

"Yamato-san?!" Keiko and Satsuki echoed.

His feet pounded against the wooden floorboards, causing faint tremors. Air whipped his dark chocolate hair back as all along the hallway, doors slid open and people stared at the young man in blue as he rushed by. Some recoiled as they caught sight of his dilated ocean-blue eyes and a woman fainted, feeling as if she'd stared into a void, chilling and remorseless.

Tenken no Soujiro was here.

"Hajime-kun!"

He faltered.

Hajime-kun? Wasn't that the other name the youth had used for his younger brother?

". . . at's going on here?"

". . . heard a scream and . . ."

"Hajime-kun, wake up!"

"Is that Ayu-san?"

He rounded a corner, coming onto the veranda and ran down the length, tempted to use the shukuchi. But even as he finished that thought, he reached the knot of people that had gathered outside one of the rooms.

"Let me through." There was no time to temper his words. His heart was fluttering strangely and it seemed unnaturally loud. Like anyone could hear it easily. The men gave him surprised looks as they quieted suddenly and separated readily for him

He walked sedately through the small crowd, ever-present smile still plastered onto his face.

The proprietor's wife cradled Haji's head in her lap as she cried loudly for the small boy to wake up.

Haji did not respond. His head lolled limply. Sweat plastered flame-touched dark hair to his forehead. He breathed deeply though, his chest rising and falling and Soujiro let go of a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He bent down to pick up the child.

"You, there." He looked at the men, picking out one by catching his gaze and holding it. "Unroll the futon. You, fetch a healer. You, assist Ayu-san in retrieving water and towels. And the rest of you, make yourself useful or get out of here."

No one disobeyed as the Tenken's obsidian gaze landed on them. He smiled. Men twice his age scrambled to excuse themselves. They would later reassure themselves that the chill they had felt had been a late winter wind and not the dark abyss of the young man's eyes.

Soujiro gently placed Hajime's light body on the futon once it had been unrolled and carefully arranged the thin limbs into comfortable positions. He used the sleeve of his faded kimono to blot the boy's forehead.

Heat radiating off the boy seemed to sear through his sleeves and burn his hand. Pressing his lips slightly, Soujiro came to a decision and swiftly undid the frog clasps of the boy's tunic. He opened Hajime's high-collared shirt and slipped both articles off.

A tenseness flowed from his shoulders and he blew a silent sigh. A few scars marked Hajime's snow-white skin, but they were the marks a martial artist inevitably earned in sparring matches with another opponent.

"Here's the water, Soujiro-san," Ayu said as she and another man bearing linen strips came through the door.

"Thank-you very much, Ayu-san. Sir." Soujiro smiled and moved aside reluctantly to allow Ayu to begin sponging the sweat off Hajime.

He sat down in one corner, folding his arms, and watching Ayu's ministrations in silence. Everything should be fine, then. He could stop ruminating on these unusual Chinese people. Haji would be fine once he got older and could get away from that youth he called brother.

When she finished, Ayu turned with a relieved smile. "He doesn't seem as bad as I'd initially thought. Soujiro-san, could you stay with him until the healer comes? I'll send some soup and water along with your breakfast, but I have to get back to the front."

"Of course. I understand, Ayu-san. You have been more than helpful and I'll make sure Hajime-kun understands that when he wakes up."

"No need." Ayu gave him another merry smile and left.

Soujiro kneeled by Hajime's side then placed one hand against the boy's head. It was still hot, but thankfully dry. The head shifted beneath his fingers and the young boy opened his chocolate brown eyes.

Soujiro froze. The same fragility he'd seen earlier shone in Hajime's painfully young eyes, and he was speechless. A tightness like that of a stranglehold squeezed his throat suddenly and he could hardly force himself to maintain eye contact with the small boy. What could he say?

Maybe . . .

". . . Hello." Soujiro smiled easily from more than fifteen years of practice.

"Um . . . hi." Hajime shifted uncomfortably.

". . ." Soujiro smiled.

". . ." Hajime averted his gaze.

". . . Are you comfortable?"

"Um . . . 'M'kay."

"How do you feel?"

"Um . . . 'kay. . . ."

"Ayu-san found you. She also cleaned you off."

"Oh. Um . . . thanks."

"Are you hungry?"

". . . Um, I'm really thirsty."

"Ayu-san has sent some water and breakfast. It'll be here any moment. Are you still feeling hot?"

". . . Yeah. . . ."

Soujiro dipped a fresh towel in the cool water, so relieved to have something to do, his hands began trembling slightly. Quickly he wrung the cloth out then placed it onto Hajime's forehead. Hajime studied his movements intently. As if trying to figure out why he was doing any of this and after the young swordsman had finished, he summoned the courage to blurt, "Who are you?"

"My name is Soujiro. Seta Soujiro. . . ." He winced, realizing belatedly that the alias he'd given Ayu-san was Yamato Soujiro. Too late for that now and he could only hope Hajime wouldn't accidently give his real name. Yet, somehow he was glad that the boy would know his real name. "And you are . . . ?"

"Oh. Um, I'm Haji."

Soujiro's smile dipped. ". . . Just . . . Haji?"

"Yeah."

"But earlier, I heard your brother call you 'Hajime'."

"Oh. He calls me that sometimes. My real name is Haji."

Shame? Who would name their child 'Shame'? Soujiro narrowed his ocean-blue eyes slightly. His smile thinned, feeling unnatural at that moment. Like someone was pinching his cheeks.

He'd also unconsciously presented a strange and scary grimace to the young half-Japanese boy causing said boy to widen his eyes in alarm and scoot closer to the kneeling Tenken.

"I'm sorry," he cried. "Please don't leave me!"

Soujiro blinked. His smile lowered, but didn't disappear completely. "What? Oh, no, I wasn't planning on leaving you and you should really stay still, okay?"

"But . . . you looked mad. Did I do something wrong?"

Was it because he couldn't reach the rope to get the well water?

"No. No. It wasn't you, Hajime. Not you at all."

"Are you sure?" His slanted eyes creased in worry and he reached out to grasp the dark blue material of Soujiro's hakama.

Was it the sandal he'd accidentally snapped?

"Hajime." Soujiro softened his smile to be as reassuring as possible. "I wasn't angry with you. I was angry with your brother."

"Oniisan?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

This brought Soujiro up short.

Why, indeed? What did it matter to him how the brother wanted to call his sibling? Why was he not as angry with the unknown parent of this child? Why did the memory of large brown eyes make a brand of rage start low in his stomach almost making him physically sick?

Luckily he was saved from answering by a low knock at the door and the doctor announcing himself. Hajime's grip tightened and he would not let go, even when the healer bent down to inspect him, so Soujiro sat with him until the doctor left; until breakfast was over; until Hajime fell asleep. And even then, he had to pry the boy's fingers off gently.

A/N: Well? How is it? I really do want people to review and tell me how they think the story is progressing. Is it good? Is it bad? Which part works? Which part doesn't? I love criticisms because it helps me improve my writing. Thanks!