Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Tale of Kenji ❯ Kaoru and Kenshin ( Chapter 2 )

The pile rose up beside her, almost up to her elbow if she was sitting down. It was varied too. A gi, a kimono, a small tabi, but they all had one thing in common, they needed to be sewed. Kaoru sighed as she took the little black tabi off the top of the pile and inspected the rip. Did other families generate these many holes? Kenshin had said he'd take care of it, of course, but in reality, Kaoru didn't mind. It reminded her that her family was around, live, vital, and wearing holes into things. She shifted into a more comfortable position, flinching slightly as the baby shoved a lazy fist against her. He, or she, was certainly going to be an active one. She smiled and rubbed a hand over her belly. A soft wind came in from outside, stirring her hair. She looked up and the smile faded from her face and from her heart. The shoji were open and some lanterns had been lit and hung outside, but there was nothing but darkness. It was getting awfully late.

Well Kenji would be all right. Kaoru frowned, searching the scrap pile for the appropriate patch for the tabi. He was older now and it wasn't the first time he'd been out this late. She bit her lip, trying to keep the emotions inside her from spilling over. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten into a fight with Kenshin either. Somehow he seemed to have changed overnight. The cute, polite, loving boy had been replaced with a snarling surly teenager. She couldn't even remember Yahiko being like that. Of course he was rude but…well yes and obnoxious too and thought he knew better than anyone. But even then, he seemed more mature than Kenji was now. Had she been too easy on Kenji growing up? Or maybe she had been too hard on him.

The sound of running feet distracted her and once again she glanced up. A moment later, Inoi came tearing into the room, saw Kaoru and came pelting toward her.
“Mama, Mama you have to hide me,” she said. Her small face was flushed, her hair a complete mess, springing up around her face like a red-brown dandelion. Kaoru couldn't help but smile.

“Come sit behind me,” Kaoru said, reaching up to briefly touch the girl's face. Inoi nodded and scrambled straight through the scraps pile, sending them everywhere. Mou… But the warmth of her daughter's small hands on her back melted away her slight irritation. Instead she picked up a little black scrap of cloth that had once been part of a yakuta, picked up the needle and started to sew the little patch on.

A heartbeat later, Kenshin appeared in the doorway, Shinta sitting high on his shoulder. Kaoru's smile widened and she was overcome with the sudden urge to go to him and wrap her arms around him. But that would only ruin the game so she stayed where she was and just smiled at him with all the feeling she had inside her. He smiled back, eyes wrinkling around the corners.

Ahhh. She loved him so much!

“Aaa, Kaoru-dono, I'm looking for a little girl,” he said. “About…this tall,” he said, holding up his hand to his shoulder. Inoi's hands clenched in her yakuta and she could feel a giggle being stifled against her back.

“Papa,” Shinta frowned. “Papa, Inoi isn't that tall.”

“Oh?” Kenshin looked at Shinta. “This tall?” he asked, raising his hand above his head. Shinta shook his head fiercely.

“No. Inoi's shorter than I am.”

“I am not!” Inoi squeaked. Then gasped. Kaoru couldn't stop smiling even if she wanted to. Shinta gasped too.

“There she is Papa! I see her!”

“Where?” Kenshin said, craning his head in first one direction, then another and finally looking up as if he expected to see her clinging to the ceiling. Shinta giggled.

“There!” he pointed. “Hiding behind Mama.”

Kaoru felt the rush of air as Inoi stood and twisted her head back to see her daughter glaring fiercely at her brother.

“Aww, Shinta! You told!”

Shinta looked abashed.

“Oh! Sorry, Inoi-chan!”

Kenshin came into the room and knelt in a fluid movement in front of Kaoru so he could look at Inoi. He still had a swordsman's grace, even though he hadn't even really picked up a sword for years. Kaoru glanced at him sidelong from under her lashes, taking in the curve of his jaw, the line of his neck the breadth of his shoulder. It wasn't long before she began thinking thoughts that were not at all appropriate when there were children about, and especially not good for a pregnant woman. A sharp prick as the needle jabbed into her finger bought Kaoru back to the sewing.

“There you are, little Inoi,” Kenshin said, thankfully oblivious to Kaoru's thoughts. “You look pretty tired. Are you ready for bed yet?”

“No,” said Inoi and Kaoru felt the girl's small strong arms wrap around her neck in a hug. “I'm going to stay up and help Mama.”

“Are you?” Kenshin said, raising his eyebrows. He seemed to think about this for a moment, then smiled and sat back. “Well that sounds like a good cause. We'll wait for you then.”

Shinta slid down from Kenshin's shoulder into his lap and Kenshin wrapped an arm around him, holding him close. Inoi made a small annoyed noise in the back of her throat.

“Here,” said Kaoru, pulling one of Inoi's own yakuta from the middle of the pile. One of the sleeves was ripped almost completely off. She'd never quite heard the story behind that one. She handed the yukata back to the little girl. “I'll get your needle and thread all ready.”

Inoi frowned, her lower lip pulling into a pout. Then she sighed heavily and took the yakuta anyway, sitting down beside Kaoru and scooting closer to her side. Kaoru smiled, threading a needle for her. She took the needle carefully and got to work, little wrinkles forming in her brow as she concentrated. Kaoru couldn't help but watch her. Every part of her was special, from the way she clumsily sewed to the way her nose scrunched up like a rabbit's when she was amused.

“Aaa. Karou-dono is pretty all the time, but I think she is especially beautiful when she smiles like that.” Kenshin's voice was quiet but his words filled her with warmth and made her insides positively melt.

“Mama's blushing,” Shinta said quietly. Kaoru put a hand to her face and felt the heat there. Mou… Kenshin always made her blush like that. She looked up at her husband, putting a hand absently on her stomach.

“Kenshin…” she said, wishing she knew the words to tell him how lucky she felt. Even though they had been married for thirteen years, there was never a time when she felt he didn't love her. Or, if there was, she couldn't remember it.

“Mama would smile a lot more if Kenji wasn't such a stinker,” Inoi announced. And just like that, Kaoru's heart twisted and she looked anxiously past Kenshin's shoulder into the darkness beyond. Kenji was still out there somewhere.

“Inoi-chan,” Kenshin said, voice stern but gentle. “That's not very nice.”

“Well it's true,” Inoi mumbled. Kaoru forced a smile and ran a hand through her daughter's hair.

“You're doing a very good job on that. I think you can do it all on your own now. You keep at it while I go to get some tea.” She shifted her weight, bracing one hand on the floor and covering her belly with the other as she rose to her feet. Oof. No matter how many children she had, she didn't think she'd ever quite get used to being pregnant. Smiling at her little family, she waddled past them and out into the engawa. It was a full moon and a clear night.

Everything was bathed in a white glow, making it easy to see. At least Kenji would be able to find his way home easily. But, on the other hand, anyone would be able to find him. A cool breeze with a hint of remaining winter chill swirled around her and she wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her shoulders. She closed her eyes, trying to remember what Kenji used to be. The sweet toddler that would be content to sit and stare for hours. The helpful boy who couldn't be pried from the dojo with a lever. Why was he like this now? What had happened to her little boy?

Warm arms wrapped around her shoulders and she was suddenly wrapped in the scent of Kenshin as he pulled her back against him. She smiled, even though tears pricked at her eyes.

“Don't worry, my Kaoru,” he said in his soft way, his lips tickling her ear, then the side of her neck as he placed a little kiss there. “As soon as we put the twins to bed, I'll go look for him.”

“He's not really bad,” she said, reaching up to rub the moisture from her eyes. “He's not. He's just… just spirited. Confident.” Even though he seemed to get into fights more and more lately and couldn't seem to stay out of trouble.

“I know, I know.” He kissed her temple and sighed softly, the warmth of his breath tickling through her hair. “Our Kenji will come around, de gozaru.”

“Oh, Shinta…” Inoi said from behind them. Kaoru blinked at the exasperation in her daughter's voice. She twisted her head to give her husband a curious look. He shrugged.

“What's wrong, little Inoi?” he called.

“It's Shinta,” Inoi called back. “He fell asleep right on my yukata.”

Kaoru reluctantly disentangled herself from Kenshin's arms and turned to peer into the room. Shinta had indeed fallen asleep on her half sewn yukata, one hand curled in his hair, the thumb of his other lodged firmly in his mouth. Inoi tugged at her yukata firmly with no effect, then gave them a forlorn look. Kenshin laughed softly.

“It's all right. I think that's enough sewing for tonight.” He crossed into the room and lifted Shinta easily. The little boy curled closer to his father, wrapping a small arm around his neck.

“I think you should go to bed,” Kaoru said, holding out her hand for Inoi. “It's a big day tomorrow and you need your rest.” Inoi nodded and let the yukata fall before coming over and grabbing her hand. Kaoru tried not to think of where the needle could have ended up and instead followed Kenshin to the twins' room. A long time ago, it used to be Yahiko's. But now he was grown up with children of his own. So much had changed over the years but…for the most part it had only gotten better.

Kenshin set Shinta in his futon and then tucked Inoi in hers since if Kaoru got down it would take some effort to get back up again. A light flared in the room as Kenshin lit the lantern that was set well away from the futons, but close enough to protect the children from nightmares. For an instant, his face was basked in the light. He had gotten older…but now when she looked at him…he didn't seem quite so tired anymore. He moved away from the lantern, his face lost in shadows, only to be highlighted again as he came toward her. Kaoru smiled and held out her hand to him. Kenshin slipped his palm against hers, lifting her hand to his lips briefly before twining his fingers through hers. Connected. Grounded. Together. They had always stood through everything together. Together, they were strong.

“Good night,” Kenshin murmured to the children, before sliding the shoji shut, but leaving it open just a crack. Kaoru squeezed his hand tightly. Together they walked down the hall and out into the engawa. The courtyard was still filled to the brim with moonlight and somehow the stars seemed closer than they were before.

“It might take me a while to find him,” Kenshin said after a while. Kaoru smiled and tried not to think about where he could be. What he could be up to.

“I'm sure you will find him.”

“Aa, that I will. And I will bring him home to you, my Kaoru.” Kenshin put a hand to her cheek. It was rough and callused, but Kaoru had never wanted anything more. “So get some rest. You need it. It's been a long day.”

“All right.” She would try. She really would. Kenshin leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. Then he knelt and pressed his lips against her belly.

“You stay in there until I get back,” he said in a stern voice, rubbing her belly gently. The baby nudged in response. Kaoru laughed and shook her head.

“Just because the twins decided to come early doesn't mean this one will as well.” “I'm only making sure,” he said, giving another kiss to baby. “I don't need any more gray hairs.”

He stood then, giving her belly one final pat before turning and going down the steps, crossing the courtyard slowly. Kaoru leaned her head on the support post, watching him go. It wasn't the first time she'd watch him leave, his hair swaying with his movement. It was a bit shorter now but the effect was the same. And even now, she resisted the urge to run up behind him and grab him back to her. But it was all right, Kenshin wasn't going anywhere. He would be back soon because, among other things, he had so much to return to. She smiled and rubbed her belly lightly, watching him until he disappeared through the gate. Then she sighed.

“Well I think I'm about ready for bed,” she said to the child nestled within her. But they both knew that was a lie. Instead of going directly to their room, she went the extra distance to Kenji's and pulled back the shoji.

This had been Kenshin's room. She remembered how it looked when he slept here. So barren except for the futon folded neatly in the corner, sometimes with the sakabatou resting against the wall. It had been the room of a wanderer. One that would leave at any time with nothing to attach him to any place. But now… now it was a disaster. The futon was still in the middle of the floor, unrolled, blankets crumpled every which way. There was a stack of clothes in one corner, a pile of books in the other. A torn kite hung on the wall. Kenji's first kite, actually, that had died a violent death on a spiky tree but was still not forgotten. Kenshin had nearly gotten stuck himself trying to untangle it, but they had laughed and laughed. And when the kite finally came fluttering down, Kenji looked at his father like he was the greatest man in the world.

Holding her belly, she carefully knelt on the floor and leaned over to straighten Kenji's bed so it would be all ready when he came back. And he would be back. Kenshin would bring him back safe and sound because that was what he always did. And she would do what she always did and wait for him to come back home.

---

Kenshin stood on the roof, scanning the street below carefully. Tokyo sprawled around him, mostly asleep, though a few light still burned on in distant windows. The moon was out, bright and full, but still there wasn't a sign of Kenji anywhere. He narrowed his eyes. Despite the fact that they'd had peace for almost ten years now, Tokyo was still a dangerous city and even more so at night. There were many things that could happen to a young boy. Especially a young boy who seemed to throw himself into trouble.

Right now, however, worrying wasn't going to solve anything. Kenshin glanced up, absently picking the northern star out of its neighbors. If he was a thirteen-year-old boy having a temper tantrum, where would he go? Was he ever a thirteen-year-old boy? Some days it felt like he'd been this age forever. Kenshin closed his eyes and tried to think. When he was younger and shishou had driven him out of his mind, where did he go? The forest…? Suddenly he remembered sitting on a rooftop, seeing the faint lights of the sleeping Kyoto flickering below him. He replaced the image of himself with one of Kenji. He imagined the wind lifting Kenji's red hair…the boy rising to his feet with the easy movement that was completely natural to him. A roof plate slipping unexpectedly and sending Kenji tumbling down and cracking his head open in the alley below.

Kenshin shuddered and opened his eyes. The afterimages of bright red blood splattered on the wood frame of a house stayed in his mind. He tried to shake it away, took a deep breath to try to erase the memories of the smell of blood. It was something he deserved to live with, he knew. To remember all the lives he had taken. But it was not helpful when he was looking for his son.

Besides, despite the fact that Kenji took after him in looks, he was someone completely different. As much as he'd watched his son, he'd never seen the boy on a roof. Kenji seemed to prefer walking along the edge of the dojo wall…or sometimes the bridge. In fact, he seemed to be attracted to water. When he was younger, they couldn't keep him away from it. Aaah, perhaps he was by the bridge. If not, there was one other place Kenshin knew he might be. But it would be better for both of them if Kenshin didn't catch the boy in Rakuninmura again. Kenshin walked gingerly to the edge of the roof, so as not to wake the people below, and made a controlled leap to the ground. Landing sent a bright stab of pain right up his leg and into his hip, sending him down to one knee. He felt like he'd landed on a katana.

Ugh. He squeezed his eyes shut as he stood, the pain continuing to lance through him. Reaching back, he rubbed his hip, trying to get it to stop hurting. That was going to ache in the morning. He was getting too old for rooftops. Too old for a lot of things. It really wasn't fair. Saitou didn't seem this old, aah, but the old wolf probably drank blood to keep himself young. Shishou too, now that he thought of it. But according to some of Kazuo-chan's western stories, it was nothing a stake through the heart couldn't cure.

Once he felt like he could walk without limping too badly, he started forward once more, trying to ignore the pain. Tokyo rose around him, silent and drowsy. A cat trotted across his path, disappearing into a dark alley. It was deceptively peaceful. He'd seen too much happen here to be lulled into a false sense of security. Though sometimes he wondered what it would be like to not have to worry about who might be lurking just around the corner. But he was too old to dream too long about things that would never be. Besides, things were wonderful as they were now. More than wonderful. Even Kenji's attitude was a mere bump in the road compared to the times when he thought he would never see the light of another day.

Though he was too wary to be taken in by the city, memories were more deceptive still and he found himself coming to the bridge sooner than he'd thought. And there he was, so small and alone, standing in a pool of light cast by the lantern. He was sitting on the edge of the bridge, staring up into the starry night sky. He looked so peaceful and innocent sitting there. Just a child, no blood on his hands, the whole world out before him. Kenshin could remember the first time he'd ever held Kenji, the weight of his tiny perfect body…the sticky warm splatter of regurgitated milk on his neck. In his hair. On his hands. Practically whenever he picked the child up. Yahiko still teased him about knowing when he was coming by the smell of sour milk. But never once did Kenji spit up on Kaoru. Oh no. He'd always been too smart a kid for that.

“You think he's got anything on him?” a harsh whisper from the darkness. Kenshin's eyes narrowed and he stiffened. Were they behind him? No, in front of him, standing on the bank and hiding in the shadow of the bridge.

“Doubt it. He's just a kid. But I'm in the mood for fun. Let's see if we can make him cry.”

Kenshin's hand flew to his side where the sakabatou wasn't. He curled his hands into a fist, nails digging into his palms. The fact that these grown men would beat up a child for any reason, let alone such a stupid one, was intolerable in itself. But they wanted to harm his child. His son. For no other reason than because they were in the “mood” for it. He could stop them now, but if he'd arrived just a moment later…. Images flashed in his mind of Kenji bruised and bloody. Of these shadowy men looming over him. His blood boiled inside of him and he longed for the weight of the sakabatou. The feeling of the hilt in his hands. He wanted to feel the impact when the dull edge hit them, wanted to see their bodies crashing into the river.

And getting back out again, he firmly reminded himself. And getting back out again. Because even though they had every intention of harming his little boy, they hadn't done so yet. And wouldn't get a chance to do so. In fact, if they were smart, they wouldn't even get hurt at all. The men started to move from the shadows and Kenshin moved swiftly to intercept them, standing in front of them, blocking their path. They were young men, stupid looking, covered with bruises as if they had been beaten not too long ago. Kenshin couldn't help but feel a small twinge of sympathy for them.

“I suggest you gentleman find your entertainment somewhere else, that I do,” he said, not even bothering to try to sound pleasant. Hopefully they would become intimidated and leave. He had learned a bit of jujitsu in place of the sakabatou just so he wouldn't be completely defenseless, but if they really wanted to get into a fight, he was going to have a hard time.

“Whatchu gonna do?” one of the men asked, throwing a sloppy punch. Kenshin batted his wrist away easily with the back of his hand. The second punch was as easy to block as the first but the man seemed to be getting frustrated. Kenshin watched the man's companion out of the corner of his eye who, for the moment, seemed content to watch bemused at his friend's trouble.

“What are you doing out here?” the young voice behind him made his heart jump. He nearly missed the idiot's third punch, grabbing his wrist a moment before the man's fist sunk into his stomach. The movement had been quicker than he'd expected and he felt the strength of the man's arm as he tried to pull away. Perhaps not so weak after all. Who knew about his companion. The situation was more dangerous by the second.

“Kenji,” Kenshin started, “Get--”

“Hey, Junnichi,” his opponent's companion interrupted. “It is that kid from earlier! I told you it was!”

“Well don't just stand there, get the little bastard!” snapped his opponent. “I'll deal with pops here.”

“No!” Kenshin said, reaching out to stop the other man. Just then the one named Junnichi jerked his hand free and let loose a flurry of punches, controlled and fast. Not fast enough so that Kenshin couldn't dodge easily, but it was still irritating. This would be so much easier if even he'd thought to take a bokken with him, or pick up a stick. Finally he managed to grab Junnichi's wrist again and in a quick movement, twisted the man's arm behind his back, jerking up until he heard the pop of the man's shoulder dislocating. Juunichi howled in pain. Kenshin moved around him and started toward the other man who had all but cornered his son on the bridge.

“Didn't we talk about this, Jiro?” Kenji said, voice strong and unafraid, despite the fact this man was at least two times his size. The boy was so—

“I don't want to have to beat your ass twice in one day,” Kenji continued. Kenshin was startled to a stop. What?

There was a sharp whistle from behind him and he glanced over his shoulder to see Junnichi was the one that had made it. Over the noise came the sound of running feet. More of them. Wonderful.

“Kenji, run away,” he called.

“No!”

No? This was no time for the boy to be stubborn!

“Kenji, now. There are more of them coming!” Just as he spoke, he saw the first appear on the bridge, running at full speed toward him, others behind him, four in all. If Kenji started running now he should—

“I'm not going anywhere! I'm not a baby!”

Kenshin bit back the fresh surge of annoyance that made the blood pound in his ears. He started toward his son, just as his first attacker pulled a staff from his back and swung at him. Kenshin ducked, grabbed the staff before the man could start a back swing and jammed it back into the man's neck. He gagged and fell back, his grip loosening. Kenshin jerked the staff from his grip, shifted his grip on it and whirled around, catching the man in the back of his legs, sending him tumbling to the ground. The other three were still running onto the bridge. It was too dangerous to go to Kenji now and let these men get behind him. Kenshin took a moment to adjust for the lighter weight and the longer reach of the staff, before charging forward. He caught the first man in the chin, the second in the stomach and the back of the head before sending the third flying hard into the bridge's stone railing. He stopped, geta sliding a bit before he stopped completely, and turned back toward his son. Kenji was avoiding Jiro's well aimed punches with a skill that startled Kenshin. How long had it been since he'd watched his son practice? Jiro swung and Kenji jumped lightly on the bridge's railing.

Kenshin shifted the staff in his grip again and rushed toward the man, just as the man lunged for his son. He would have more than enough time to— Kenji jumped, landing on Jiro's head and pushing off with the ball of his foot, sending Jiro's face into the railing and sending himself directly into Kenshin's path. Kenshin had just enough time to drop his guard before his son crashed into him, sending them both sprawling hard onto the bridge's stone floor.

Once the spots had cleared from his eyes, the first thing he saw was his son's frowning face. There wasn't a scratch on him and he looked angrier than he did frightened. Kenshin didn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed.

“Kenji…” he started, reaching up to touch the boy's face, just to make sure. Kenji jerked back and rose to his feet, folding his arms across his chest. Aaa, that seemed to be his favorite pose lately. So tight and defiant, angry at everything in the world.

“I didn't need you to help me. I could have handled it fine on my own.”

Kenshin frowned and sat up. His lower back twinged and he flinched, absently rubbing the spot. Waking up in the morning was not going to be pleasant. Maybe his beloved Kaoru might let him sleep in a little later.

“Aaa, confidence is a good thing, my Kenji,” he said, rising to his feet a lot slower than he would have liked and dusting off the back of his hakama. “But there is a fine line between confidence and arrogance and the--”

“The latter can get you killed, I know.” The boy plucked the staff off the ground where Kenshin had dropped it. “You've told me enough times,” he muttered. Well then maybe it was time you started listening, Kenshin thought, biting back the words before he could speak them aloud. No one ever listened when they thought they were being antagonized, no matter how well intentioned the words were. Although Kenji never seemed to listen at all.

“So…” Kenshin prompted.

“So I could have taken care of it.” Kenji insisted. Kenshin sighed inwardly. It was probably just a young boy's bravado. Yahiko had a lot of it too, but deep down he'd known when he was over his head. Kenji was probably the same way.

“Maybe so, but I'm still glad I came anyway.” He started to raise his hand, wanting to put it on Kenji's small shoulder so he could guide him back home. Kenji stiffened, glaring at him and Kenshin sighed again, letting his hand fall to his side, then absently pulling it into his sleeve so he had something to do with it.

“I guess you want me to come home now,” Kenji said, inspecting the staff for a brief second before tossing it casually over the railing.

“Your mother is worried.”

“Mama worries about everything,” Kenji said, moving past him to start back toward the house. Kenshin moved into step by his side and inwardly flinched at the bodies of the young men lying in prone positions around the bridge. If he hadn't done what he needed to do, they would have hurt Kenji. He knew this and yet right now they seemed younger than they had been, more vulnerable. How many of these boys still had fathers? Fathers that would sit up and worry about them? That would wonder over the livid bruises on their son's faces. He glanced at his own son's face, wondering his reaction. Would he be sad to see all that Kenshin had done? Afraid? It was hard to see his face in the dim light. The lanterns on the edge of the bridge highlighted Kenji's face and his expression made something twist in Kenshin's stomach. He still seemed more annoyed than anything. As if everything that had happened didn't mean a thing.

Suddenly he remembered the first thing that had made him pause on the bridge. Kenji had fought these boys before. At least the first two. Even though they were young, they were far older than his son, and seemed far more dangerous. What had his child been up to exactly?

“It seems you've had an altercation with those boys before,” Kenshin said casually, glancing down the dark street and keeping his senses open for anyone else that might lurk out of the shadows. “This one wonders how that came about.”

Kenji shrugged. A fight seemed no great deal to him. No, he must be misreading something. Kenji wouldn't just fight for the sake of it. Not his son.

“They're part of the Akamiitsu gang,” he said blandly. “Any kid who goes through Yoshiwara has an altercation with them.”

Kenshin tripped, nearly falling over. Yoshiwara? He stared at his child with wide eyes. What could Kenji have been doing in Yoshiwara? He wasn't… No, he couldn't be. He was thirteen. Not entirely impossible, said the traitorously logical part of his mind.

“Did…do…you meet anyone interesting in Yoshiwara?” Kenshin said, trying to speak normally and ending up sounding as if Kaoru was strangling him. Which was a circumstance that would likely come true if she ever caught wind of this.

Kenji shrugged again.

“No one really. Fujita just needed to check something out for his father so I went there with him.”

Kenshin felt something unknot inside him. Well that was a relief…. Of a sort. He sighed heavily.

“Kenji… I really don't like you hanging around with Saitou's boy. “

“So?”

For a moment he thought he hadn't heard that right. He couldn't have heard that right. Kenji wasn't like that. Kenji was never like that. He'd just misheard. He better have just misheard.

“My apologies, I seemed to have missed that.”

Kenji hesitated. Enough to know that he had indeed said what Kenshin thought he had but was beginning to rethink his answer. Kenshin watched him, waiting for whatever his son was going to say. He was just a child. Just a thoughtless boy, speaking first before really realizing it. He waited…and waited…but Kenji didn't seem to want to say anything at all. Kenshin slowly counted to ten, trying to force the irritation back to where it wouldn't cause problems. He needed to be calm for this. He needed to be in control of the situation.

When the annoyance had been beaten down once more, he moved in front of Kenji, blocking his path and sinking to the boy's level so he could look his son in the eye. His hip twinged with the movement but he did his best to ignore it. Kenji stopped and met his gaze. It seemed he was in the mood to listen, or at least wasn't just going to walk away.

“I know it might seem like I'm being unfair, but I'm just trying to protect you. I want to keep you safe.”

“I can keep myself safe,” Kenji said in a hard voice. Kenshin took a deep mental breath. Where did Kenji get this stubbornness from? Oh, Kaoru was certainly independent but even she knew where her limits were. It must come from him. It had to come from him. What would Shishou do in this situation? Aaa, but no matter what Shishou would do, Kenshin had made a promise to himself long ago that he would never do the same to his offspring.

“You're very talented, Kenji, I'm not denying that. But I think it would be best if you were a little safer about what you did.”

“You didn't care what Yahiko-ji did,” Kenji countered. Aaa, and here he was folding his arms again. “Yahiko-ji was fighting grown men when he was ten years old.”

“I still cared, Kenji. I wouldn't let any harm come to him.”

“But you trusted him enough to let him take care of himself. You didn't come after him and tell him to get home because he was a little late.”

“Well he'd been taking care of himself for a long time before I knew him,” Kenshin said, deciding to let the fact that it was well past midnight slide by. Yahiko had been more mature than Kenji too…and certainly not as stubborn.

“Well I can take care of myself too, Papa. I'm a lot better than he was! Even Mama says so. I'm brilliant!”

Wouldn't Shishou be pleased to know his temperament had skipped a generation? Kenshin cast his eyes to the ground, amusement and frustration coiling in him like snakes. Kenji's voice had been so eager and the Papa…. How long had it been since Kenji had called him that?

“Even if you are brilliant, it doesn't mean you should go looking for trouble.” He reached out and touched the boy's shoulder, feeling the warmth and the strength there. He was a good boy. He really was. A little rambunctious, a little hotheaded, but all he needed was guidance, a little push in the right direction. Kenji snorted, rolling his eyes. Kenshin braced himself for the reply that he knew he wasn't going to like.

“What else is there to do around here?”

Kenshin stared at him. He'd been expecting sarcasm. A muttered explanation. Anything but what he heard. It couldn't be true. It couldn't be. Kenji had always been such a good boy. Decent. Caring. When had he turned into this? When had Kenshin stopped paying attention? Kenji looked away from him. But he wasn't ashamed. Annoyed, uncomfortable perhaps, but not ashamed. As if he really didn't care.

“It's not the end of the world,” Kenji muttered.

“Kenji, it's dangerous. It's irresponsible.” But it was more than that. Even though he knew he was stubborn as a child, even he didn't go looking for trouble.

“Other kids get into trouble all the time!” Kenji said, shrugging out from under Kenshin's hand.

“You are not other kids,” Kenshin said sternly, rising to his feet. How could he word this? What could he say to make Kenji understand? He searched for the answers that he needed. Nothing seemed to be adequate.

“What do you want me to do? Just stay home and sit on my hands?”

“I want you to stay out of trouble,” Kenshin said in a harder voice than he'd meant to. “I want you to be careful. I want you to stop picking fights and actually think about what you're doing.” He wanted him to be the boy he used to be. The boy he used to know. Kenji threw up his hands.

“Fine, I'll be careful, I'll think. Are you happy?”

Somehow he doubted that. It was entirely too easy for him to give in like that.

“And stay out of trouble?”

“Yes!”

“And stop picking fights?”

“Yes, fine, okay. Can I go home now?” Then, without waiting for an answer, Kenji brushed by him, marching on the path back toward the dojo. It was all Kenshin could do not to grab his arm and… and… He let out a long slow breath, counting very slowly as he did so. Acting out of anger didn't solve things. He watched Kenji's small dwindling form as he strode into the darkness. He wanted to trust him. He wanted to believe this was the end of it. But it wasn't. He had the sinking feeling that it was only the beginning.