Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ The Mountain Stories... ❯ Tools ( Chapter 2 )

Tools

a mountain story

Kenshin struggled with the large heavy broom. Just when he managed to right it properly, and get a small pile of dirt going, he would lose his grip on the entire thing, spreading more dirt across the small porch then he had originally removed.

Once again, he thought that perhaps this time he had gotten it right. Instead, he wound up tripping over the broom, and it promptly smacked him on the head. "Orooooooo..."

He looked around quickly to make certain that his master had not seen the entire display. Much to his relief, Hiko was standing at the edge of the lake, staring blindly at the serene waters.

Screwing up his courage, little Kenshin trotted over, intent on informing his master that there was simply no way that an eight-year-old child as small and thin as himself was going to be able to make do with a heavy wooden broom that had been designed specifically for someone as large and strong as Hiko. His footsteps faltered a little, when he realized that Hiko would simply demand that he somehow craft his own broom.

Still, he continued on.

"Shishou..."

He paused, and blinked.

Hiko had not turned to look at him. In fact, he had not acknowledged his apprentice's presence all day.

"Shishou!" He tried again, trying to make his voice sound commanding. Instead, the soft tenor note broke and fell flat. Hiko did not notice.

Finally, Hiko spoke. However, his words did not seem to be directed at the small redhead child at his side. He rumbled sadly...

"Hiko Seijirou the thirteenth..."

Kenshin's brows knitted together in concern. What in the world could be wrong with his master?

"...baka deshi..." Hiko whispered, closing his eyes.

Then, his fingers closed on the hilt of his katana. Kenshin sprang backwards as the thin sheet of steel sang.

"A sword is a weapon... Swordsmanship is the art of learning how to kill... But these hands were not meant for a blade... For a wheel. For clay. ...For creation, not death. Why...? Why did so many fail you, Father? Why was there no one left but me to succeed?"

Kenshin had fallen backwards on the bank, and was staring up at his master in shock.

Hiko spoke again, voice dry and dark, as if quoting someone both despised and long dead. "A useless potter. That is what I have made. A pathetic boy with dreams of life. There is no life you fool... There is only death..."

Violet eyes widened as he understood what his master was speaking of.

"A weapon... What good is this weapon that you have willed to me, Father? Of what use? I can see no purpose for these ultimate skills that you have passed on. I can see no path."

"...shishou..."

"Dragons screaming as they tear at each other's flesh. Men bleeding. Children enslaved, and sold as whores. This is what I see. Honorable Blade of the Soaring Heavens... No... It is false all false. There is no reason."

"Swords can be used to protect!!" Kenshin cried.

Hiko's eyes widened in shock, and he looked down at his apprentice for the first time. "...To... protect...?" His mouth quirked briefly on the side. "Yes. ...Idiot Apprentice, did I ever tell you what the goal of Hiten Mitsurugi is?"

"No, Shishou."

"...To protect those too weak to defend themselves... To save even the smallest of lives... The Honorable Blade of Heaven... The Gods's tool. To ascend to Heaven, one must kill..."

They stared at the lake for a few more moments. The gold of the sun began to fade, as the great beast slipped beneath the horizon.

"...Idiot?"

"...Hai, Shishou?"

"Did you ever finish sweeping the porch?"

"Oro?!......."

Hiko turned to look at him, mildly surprised to see the boy on the ground and twitching. "Heh."

He walked back towards their small house. Kenshin followed.

~+~

Sometime later, Hiko sat on a stone in the yard, studying the plain sheath of his katana.

Once, Kenshin had commented on the blade's simplicity. He had fond it odd that a man so obsessed with his personal appearance would own such an non-ornate thing.

How to explain it to him?

"Take this blade, Sei."

"...Father?"

"It is simple and unadorned. This blade has known no glory. It has no name, and will never bring acclaim to its wielder. A suitable blade for a potter's hands, ne?"

"..."

"Do not look at me with such disrespect, boy. It is better than you deserve!"

"...Better than I deserve..." Hiko snorted.

And he frowned, recalling his father's smug face, and that ever-present smirk.

The frown vanished, replaced by a smug smirk of his own, as he remembered the way the old man's face had changed that day in the shallows of the lake.

He had not believed in the power of his own ability to train. He had had no faith in the excellence of the genetics he had passed on. He had chosen his son for this path simply because there was no one else. He had not anticipated young Sei's dedication to the cause the old man had never truly grasped.

He had known it then, however. He had realized his own folly in the split second that his son's simple, simple blade had pierced his chest. The smirk had slowly faded, as had the light in his eyes.

Finally, Hiko's gaze came to rest on the boy across the yard.

Already, he was nearly ten years of age, and yet... He was so small and frail that in Kyoto, he was still mistaken for a girl. And yet... Already, those hands held a blade with chilling firmness. Already, those thin limbs could force that frail body into the air, and back down again, with impossible strength. Already, those pale, woman's hips could propel that wisp of a form forward at speeds that would kill an average youth three times his size.

As he watched, the little redhead leaned the heavy broom back with one hand, and wiped his thick bangs from his face with the back of one bony wrist. He smiled up at the sky, and a flock of passing birds. Then, the broom slid forwards, clipping him in the shoulder, knocking him down.

"Ack! Oroooooooo-----"

Hiko smirked.

And yet, he wondered how long it would be before he and this tiny, woman-like child made their own journey to the shallows of the lake.

And he wondered what his own face would do when that tiny kiss of steel finally gave him the purpose he had lacked all his life.

Hiko smiled at the small boy before him. Kenshin struggled endlessly with the task at hand, and yet, somehow managed to succeed. His smile was proud.

"Oi, Shishou---!"

And somehow, Hiko knew what his face would say when his idiot apprentice landed that all-decisive blow.

"...Better than I deserve..."

This thought made him smile as well.

OWARI...

An odd story written spur of the moment.

10/20/02 6:13 p.m.