Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ The Alchemy of Gold and Silver ❯ Entrusted ( Chapter 1 )

Author's Notes: It is generally my preference to put these at the end, but there are some things I should probably mention before you start reading.

 

First off, this is an AU timeline; the entire story (well most of it, anyway) takes place during the bakumatsu. As such, I've adjusted everyone's ages to fit them in it. This first chapter happens the year Kaoru is born. To give you some idea, this is before the Meiji Restoration/Revolution (it's kind of a contested moniker) takes place, but close enough to the start that savvy people know it's coming.

 

Secondly, there will be some pretty significant timeskips between early chapters, then I'll slow down once we actually get to the nexus of the story, so to speak. Hopefully, everything you need to know will fall out of the story pretty organically, but if there is something I feel might need explaining, I'll put it in a note like this one (though hopefully shorter).

 

That said, if there's anything that I fail to make clear, feel free to ask! And be kind with the historical criticism, if I screw something up, it's generally on purpose; the manga wasn't all that correct itself.

 

*********

 

Chapter 1: Entrusted

 

Do not trust all men, but trust men of worth; the former course is silly, the latter a mark of prudence.

-Democritus

 

***

 

Kamiya Koshijiro raised his dark, thoughtful eyes skyward and asked whoever might be listening to make sure that his friend was still there.

 

It had been so long since the two had last met, and he could only pray that his former senpai was still in this forsaken forest outside Kyoto. If he wasn't… there was no telling. He continued along the dirt road, allowing his memories to guide him, the sword　smith's words weighing heavily on his mind.

 

“I have forged my last blades, Kamiya. They will come for me, and demand that I make more, but I cannot. I have gazed upon these swords and seen that this is what is right. Please, take them. Give one to the person you trust the most, and keep the other safe. These swords are not for this era, but for the next, and I fear what will happen if they are misused.”

 

Koshijiro clasped the hilt of the sword at his waist. The blades were the last thing he had expected, but they had given him hope. Hope that perhaps one day, in this new era that Muramasa had spoken of, such blades really would make a difference.

 

A reverse-blade sword. A tool to protect people.

 

Koshijiro smiled. Yes, certainly that was something to look forward to. The road ended, and he was brought back into focus as he tried to remember precisely where to go from here. The forest was large, and it would not do to get lost. Survival in those woods, while a problem for many an errant wanderer, was not his issue. He had, after all, practically grown up here. Rather, his matter was one of some urgency, and he needed to return home as soon as possible.

 

At length, he reached a familiar clearing, and was surprised to see a small boy of about four swinging a stick around as though it were a sword. The sight stirred conflicting emotions within him; he was joyfully reminded of his own child, currently no more than a few weeks old, and of the reason for his urgency. Sadness welled in his chest as he thought of what it meant that such a young boy was already learning to defend himself, and yet he knew that it would not be long before he began teaching his own daughter the same thing. Such were the times.

 

The redheaded child lost his balance, and Koshijiro chuckled lightly. It was odd, that having a child of his own could make everything about all youngsters so much more charming. It seemed he was turning into an old soft-heart already.

 

“Hello there,” he said, pitching his tone low and quiet so as not to frighten the boy.

 

He was regarded with wide, solemn purple eyes. A startling color.

 

“What's your name?” he inquired gently.

 

“Shi- I mean Kenshin.”

 

“Well, Kenshin, you're doing a pretty good job with that sword there. But you know what might help even more?”

 

Kenshin's eyes widened, and he looked at the stick in his hand, then back up to Koshijiro with the utmost solemnity.

 

Koshijiro smiled. “It's the way you stand. See, if you turn your foot just a little bit here…” He demonstrated the stance, “You'll keep your balance better. Why don't you try it?”

 

Kenshin appeared doubtful, but he turned his foot accordingly and swung. When he didn't fall over, a grin broke out on his face.

 

“Thank you, sir,” he said politely.

 

“My name's Koshijiro,” the man replied. “Say Kenshin?”

 

“Yes, Koshijiro-sensei?”

 

Koshijiro smiled at the use of the term. He was certainly a swordsman, but a teacher? Maybe he'd have to consider opening a dojo…

 

“I'm looking for someone, and I thought maybe you could help me. Have you seen a big, scary man with a cape around here?”

 

Kenshin looked like he was about to respond, but as Koshijiro had been expecting, the barb had been enough to draw Hiko out of his own accord from his hiding place a ways away from the other two.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I'm here,” grumbled the thirteenth master of Hiten Mitsurugi, “The question is, what the Hell are you doing here, Kamiya?”

 

Koshijiro grinned, “Now, now, Seijiro, there's no need to be like that. Can't an old friend stop in once in a while for a visit?”

 

Hiko snorted, “Last time you `stopped in for a visit,' you left with a few new bruises, as I recall.”

 

“And as I recall, that just about tied our sparring record, now didn't it?”

 

“You here for a tiebreaker, Kamiya?”

 

Koshijiro raised his hands in mock defeat, “Oh, no, nothing like that.” His expression grew more serious. “I came to talk to you. Besides, I've already won.”

 

Hiko raised an eyebrow, “Whatever. Come on in if you like. Just don't damage my student any more than you already have. And you-” he turned to Kenshin- “do three hundred more of those, without stopping to chat this time.”

 

Kenshin nodded dutifully, but Koshijiro shook his head. “Ouch. That's a bit harsh, don't you think?”

 

“Our master was no easier on us.”

 

Hiko led Koshijiro into his house, and the two sat opposite each other, on either side of a sturdy table.

 

“I'd offer you sake, but I know you don't like it.” Hiko shrugged and poured himself a bowl.

 

“I'd thank you and decline, but you didn't offer.” Hiko rolled his eyes, but Koshijiro knew him well enough to detect the amusement in them. The feeling of nostalgia was overwhelming here, and it took Koshijiro back to a time when his whole world had been Hiko, their master, and the training.

 

“So, did you ever manage to create those moves you'd been working on?” Hiko asked, breaking the silence.

 

“Yes, actually, I'm happy to say that the Kamiya Kasshin style now has a full set of succession techniques.”

 

“Damn, Koshijiro, sometimes I forget why master picked me to learn the final techniques of the Hiten Mitsurugi. Then I think he probably knew the world would get a whole new school out of it.”

 

Koshijiro shook his head, “Don't flatter me, Seijiro. It ill becomes you. We both know he chose you because I had neither the temperament nor the body type for it.”

 

“Are you still on about that `sword that protects people' crap? I told you, swords kill people, and-”

 

“Kenjutsu is the art of murder, yes, I know,” the other man finished. “But it doesn't have to be. My succession techniques attest to it, I promise you. Between the fundamentals of the Hiten Mitsurugi and what I've picked up from other schools, I'm hoping to show people that.”

 

“Idealist,” Hiko muttered under his breath.

 

“Cynic,” Koshijiro responded.

 

“Fair point,” his friend conceded, polishing off his sake and pouring himself another bowl.

 

“My, you've grown quite fond of that stuff, haven't you?” There was a teasing note to Koshijiro's voice, and Hiko was quick to pick up on it.

 

“I don't suppose you actually came here just to chat?” he asked pointedly, shifting the topic before it went any further. Koshijiro acknowledged the switch by growing somber.

 

“No, there is something you need to know.”

 

***

 

Hiko's eyes narrowed at his friend's change in mood. Just what was going on?

 

“About a week ago, Muramasa came and found me at my home. He seemed…off, and he was talking like he was on his deathbed or something.”

 

Hiko nodded slowly. Muramasa was a mutual acquaintance, and the two of them had helped the smith out of more than one tight spot. It made sense that he would come to one of them if he was in trouble.

 

“Based on what he said, he just might be. He gave me two swords, and said they were his last, that he would make no more.”

 

“That might not be his choice,” responded Hiko.

 

“That's just it, Seijiro, I think he's completely serious. He said the swords are for a new era. He seemed to be very concerned that they be kept safe. He didn't even want one person to keep them both, and told me to give the other to the person I trusted most.”

 

“I see,” Hiko responded. Some things, at least, never changed. Even after all these years, Koshijiro was the only man that Hiko would ever trust his life to, and it still appeared to be the other way around as well.

 

Koshijiro proffered the sword he had been wearing at his waist, and Hiko took it. Sliding the blade out of its sheath, he could tell immediately from the balance and quality that Muramasa had outdone himself. No wonder he didn't want to make anything else. Still, it was a bit surprising.

 

Hiko's brow furrowed, he grasped the black-and-gold hilt in his sword hand. “Are both of the weapons sakabatou?” he asked.

 

“Yes. The other is just as well-made as this one. The only differences seem to be stylistic, mostly in the hilt design.”

 

“Swords for a new era, huh?” Hiko shook his head, “I'm surrounded by idealists.”

 

Koshijiro frowned slightly, “Nevertheless, you will keep it, will you not?”

 

Hiko leveled his gaze at his longtime friend, “Of course.”

 

The younger man seemed relieved, “Good. I couldn't think of anyone else to go to if you refused.”

 

This drew a short bark of laughter from Hiko, and seemed to lighten the mood considerably.

 

“So,” Hiko asked after another long draught of sake, “How's the wife? Still can't believe an idiot like you ended up with a looker like that.”

 

Koshijiro smiled wryly, “Neither can I, believe me. She's… about as well as can be expected. It's taking her a while to recover from the birth, though.”

 

Hiko nearly spit out his sake, swallowing it painfully instead, “Say what?!”

 

“Oh, didn't I tell you? My wife had a child a few weeks ago. We've named her Kaoru.”

 

Hiko muttered darkly. He was pretty sure Koshijiro had told him that way on purpose, for precisely the effect it had had.

 

“Are you going to teach her your style?”

 

Koshijiro seemed thoughtful. “As unusual as it might be for a woman to inherit a style, yes. I want my daughter to be strong. And… something tells me Kaoru will be my only child. I can't see there being enough room in my heart for another.”

 

Hiko would have scoffed at the sentiment, but something in his friend's eyes gave him pause. What he was saying was only half of the truth, and Hiko wondered if Koshijiro was referring to another child or a second wife. If it's really taking her more than three weeks to recover…

 

“What about you?” he continued. “Is little Kenshin your student?”

 

Hiko smirked, reemerging from his internal monologue. “I guess he is now. You've gone and taught him something, now I bet he won't stop bugging me until I do, too. I don't know if I'll ever be able to repair the damage you did, though. What's with making him stand like that?”

 

Koshijiro shook his head at Hiko's bluster, but did not answer the accusation. Instead, he changed topics again, “There is war on the horizon.”

 

“I know,” Hiko responded solemnly, “Not much news reaches me out here, but even I can tell it's coming.” He scoffed, “Damned idiots.”

 

Koshijiro examined his hands, his face assuming the expression that Hiko knew meant he was planning contingencies. At length, Hiko spoke again.

 

“You and your family should leave the city. You know they'll conscript.”

 

His friend sighed, “I wish I could. But, my wife has family there, and there's no way she'll want to leave them. Besides, I don't want Kaoru to grow up away from her grandparents. I'll just have to find a way of making sure I'm more useful to the government at home than at war.”

 

“Like how?”

 

“I don't know yet.” There was a thoughtful pause, then: “Seijiro?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I need to ask a favor.”

 

Hiko downed another bowl of sake. He didn't like where this conversation was headed.

 

“What is it?”

 

“I want you to be Kaoru's godfather.” Koshijiro's request was much more direct than usual, which Hiko respected, but there was an edge of pleading to it that made him decidedly suspicious.

 

“Oh no, I'm not stupid Koshijiro, I know where you're going with this, and it isn't going to happen.”

 

“Please, Seijiro. I just need to know that she has somewhere to go if something does happen, of if I need to send her away. Please.” Hiko watched as his friend bowed formally, forehead to the floor.

 

“Fine, fine, just… get up already,” he grumbled. Watching his friend grovel was not pleasing; it made him rather uncomfortable.

 

“Thank you, Seijiro.” Koshijiro smiled, but the gesture was somewhat forced-looking. He pulled three rolled scrolls from his gi, “In that case, I will need you to take these. They contain the final three succession moves for the Kamiya Kasshin style. I'm trusting you not to read them.”

 

Hiko accepted the proffered scrolls with an increasing degree of both reluctance and foreboding. Afterwards, the two chatted and reminisced for a while longer, but Hiko could tell that his friend's mind was elsewhere.

 

“Well,” he said abruptly, “I'd offer you a room, but that little apprentice of mine is taking the only spare futon.”

 

“I'd politely decline, but no room was offered,” Koshijiro responded with a smile.

 

Hiko followed him to the door and watched silently as he left, waving to the kid on his way out. The two never said goodbye; such wasn't their way, but Hiko couldn't shake the feeling that it was the last time he'd be seeing his kohai.

 

He was right.

 

 

*************

Kiku's Corner (aka the endnotes)

 

So, what do you think? I love hearing feedback of any kind. Flames make me sad, but if that's how you feel, I'll take it. Constructive criticism is my favorite, but I also like compliments as much as the next person. All of that was a very wordy way of saying that I would love it if you reviewed.

 

Thanks to my betas (I have two! I'm so spoiled!) Torin Jingles and buzzk97 (better known as Beth to anyone who's read any of my other stuff). I think this is much better for your comments, ladies.

 

Thanks also to everyone who took the time to try reading this. I hope it was worth your while.

 

Until next time,

~Kiku~

 

***

Japanese Dictionary

 

Senpai: Senior student, in school or martial arts.

 

Kohai: Junior student of the same.

 

Sakabatou: reverse-blade sword.

 

I'm sure most of these were pretty obvious, but just in case they weren't, I thought I'd say so anyway.