Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Wandering ❯ Changes ( Chapter 2 )

Rurouni Kenshin Fanfic

Rurouni Kenshin & Samurai X Original Japanese Version © N.Watsuki/Shueisha * Fuji-TV * SME Visual Works Inc. * Sony Pictures Entertainment
All Fanfics created by Chiruken (me) were written for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale.

Wandering
by: Chiruken
Changes

 

 

The streets were teeming with life, sounds of humanity swelling to overload his senses. He had become accustomed to the tranquility of the countryside during his recent travels and now found the press of the crowds threatening to overwhelm him. It had been the promise of a warm meal and a dry place to sleep that had drawn him here in the first place. He shivered, neatly sidestepping an overloaded cart filled to brimming with fresh vegetables being taken to the nearby market, carefully ignoring the curses of the vendor behind him as he hurriedly removed his foot from his toes. Turning quickly he bowed and offered his apologies before rushing away, ducking down a side street away from the crowd.

He leaned against a wall and breathed in a silent sigh of relief. The city was larger than he'd first expected. From a distance it had appeared like any other city he'd been to before but once he'd crossed the unseen boundary into its limits he'd been accosted with hoards of people pushing and shoving, throwing curses at each other as they vied for supremacy of the road. It was, he decided, not his favorite place.

Following the scent of salt water, he slowly made his way to the docks and stood staring at the large vessels moored in the bay. Ships of every shape and size bobbed with the gentle waves against the anchors thrust into the depths. He spotted a few flags waving in the breeze that he recognized. Dutch, French and Portuguese with a few gilded hulls flying the colors of the British flag. He'd never seen so many foreigners in one place before. He shook his head and turned away from the scene to watch the men working on the docks, loading and unloading cargo ships, shouting ribald comments back and forth in a strange cacophony of noise. He recognized Dutch, but the rest made no sense to his untrained ears. He wondered if it would be in his best interest to just leave before he was spotted by the burly sailors lounging against the warehouses. His experience with foreigners had been fleeting at best, but he remembered that their strange customs were confusing and often barbaric. He wrinkled his nose in distaste when the wind shifted and he caught the scent of unwashed bodies. “Definitely barbaric.” He muttered under his breath, hastily retreating before he got another whiff.

The further he retreated, the sweeter the smell on the breeze and he began to relax again. Personal hygiene, in his opinion, meant bathing at least every second day, preferably every day. It never failed to amaze him that most of the foreigners he'd met didn't share that view. Somehow, they got the strangest notion that bathing was bad for them. He shook his head at the oddity of foreign thinking. Didn't they realize that cleanliness ensured health? Obviously not if the smell was any indication. He shuddered and pushed the thought of being trapped on a relatively small ship with so many people who didn't clean themselves regularly. He assumed that if everyone smelled bad they obviously wouldn't notice their own odors.

He wandered aimlessly through the streets, carefully avoiding the busier areas, keeping a sharp eye out for pickpockets and other, more dangerous, criminals. The revolution, as far as he had determined, had left many negative impacts on the people of Japan. It weighed heavily on his already guilt ridden heart. To him, they'd only made matters worse by overthrowing the shogunate. At least the Bakufu had retained a semblance of order, unlike the fledgling Imperialist government. He could only hope that as time passed the situation would improve.

He passed by an establishment innocuously named The Gentle Snow Swan and shook his head. From the sounds of it, there was nothing `gentle' about the place or its customers. He hurried by, not giving in to his curiosity to peek inside to see for himself what had caused such an uproar. He decided that in some cases it was better not to know. He quickly crossed the street and paused, a tempting aroma wafting out to tickle his senses. He turned his head, sniffing appreciatively. He couldn't place the scent, but it certainly made his mouth water. He stepped closer to the building the delicious fragrance was coming from and felt his eyes widen in surprised delight. He stepped even closer, peering in through the front glass windows and licked his lips, stomach rumbling. He'd never seen such an array of food before. Impulsively, he stepped through the door, blinking at the merry tinkling of bells his entrance had caused.

A woman approached him, a scowl marring her round features and he swallowed with difficulty. She was obviously a foreigner, but he'd never seen a woman so tall before. He tilted his head back to peer up into her angry features and resisted the urge to bolt in terror. Foreign women, he decided, were frightening, and not just because of their imposing size. They had a certain look about them that spoke volumes.

“Get out. No beggars allowed.” Though her accent was thick, the words were easily recognizable as were the gestures of her large arms. “Out!”

He bowed quickly and left, deciding that in this instance the better part of valor was a hasty retreat. It was a shame, though. Those round flat shapes with bumps that smelled sweet and nutty had certainly looked delicious. He wondered what they had been. With a last look over his shoulder he decided that it was better not to know when faced with the prospect of another sound verbal assault. Foreigners certainly weren't very friendly in his opinion. In this case, he knew it wasn't because the woman had suspected his past, but because of something else. He shook his head and continued on his way.

“Hey!” He paused at the shout, glancing to his left where it had originated. “Boy!” He looked around before realizing that the voice was addressing him. “Come here, boy.” Warily, he approached the woman beckoning him. “Want a cookie?” He tilted his head to the side curiously, not entirely certain what she meant by that last comment, only that she was asking him if he wanted something. He recognized the language as being English. His grasp of the language was fleeting at best. “I said, do you want a cookie?” As he continued to stare at her in incomprehension a she raised her voice, obviously thinking he was hard of hearing. “Cookie!” She shouted, waving a round thing in his face. His eyes crossed as he looked at it, recognizing the object he'd been studying before the other woman had chased him out of the store.

 

So that's what that is…a kuki… It made no real sense to him, so he smiled politely and shrugged. This woman wasn't nearly as imposing, being closer to his height. He studied her, noting the uncomfortable looking attire she was wearing, somewhat shocked at how it revealed her feminine curves. It was that he hadn't seen a woman's body before…he had been married of course…but he'd never seen clothing that revealed so much before. The kimono he was familiar with revealed very little, and yukata, though more revealing, was reserved for after bathing and for sleeping attire. He also found it strange that her waist was so small, appearing childlike in size. He decided immediately that the poor woman must have suffered a severe illness or malnourishment to have caused such a thing. His eyes moved upward and he blinked in astonishment. She didn't look ill, her complexion was pale, but not emancipated…of course, most foreigners were pale. But it wasn't that that had caught his attention. It was her hair. Like his, it was a vibrant red hue, catching the light of the full sun and framing her face in a blazing glory. Instantly he realized what had happened. She obviously assumed that he was a foreigner as well.

Scowling at his lack of response, the woman waved the cookie again. “What's the matter with you, boy? Don't you like sweets?” She'd never seen anything like this. The child continued to watch her warily, large violet eyes wide with surprise. She wondered if there was something wrong with his mind. Her own eyes narrowed on his clothing. “Why are you dressed like that?” His continued silence began to annoy her. “We may be in the land of heathens, but that doesn't mean that we must behave like that.”

He shook his head again. She didn't seem to realize her mistake. What I wouldn't give to understand what she's saying… Finally he sighed and stepped away from her, bowing deeply in respect. “I'm sorry, that I am. I believe there has been a misunderstanding, that I have.”

Eyes widening in shock, she stared at the slender boy before her. He'd addressed her in Japanese! That was most irregular, in her mind. She frowned, pursing her lips as she strove to remember the lessons her father had insisted on in the language of this country he'd dragged her to. “What are you doing?” She finally managed.

Tilting his head to the side he wondered at the strange question. “I am talking to you, miss, that I am.” Were all foreigners either hostile or dopey?

She scowled, planting her fists on her hips to glare at him. “You know full well what I meant. Why are you playing this ridiculous game? Why did you pretend to not understand me? And why are you dressed like that?” She pointed at the offending clothing.

He looked down and frowned uncertainly. “How else would I dress?” He muttered under his breath. Looking up at her again he shrugged. “I didn't understand you, miss, that I did not. I don't speak that foreign language…English, correct?”

Her irritation evaporated and was instantly replaced by curiosity. He spoke Japanese as well as her tutor had, perhaps even better. “Who are you?”

He flushed in embarrassment, realizing belatedly that he'd been behaving rudely. He bowed again. “My name is Kenshin.” When she stared at him in shock he smiled. “Himura Kenshin.” He added, knowing that she wouldn't associate his name with the hitokiri from Kyoto.

“But…but that can't be right! That's a Japanese name.” Could she have been mistaken? Was this boy truly one of the natives of this country? But how? She'd never seen a native Japanese with such coloring yet.

He placed his hand behind his head and smiled a little more widely. “Well, yes, it is.”

“Oh.” She shrugged and decided to ask her father later if there were areas that had fair skinned, red haired and blue eyed Japanese. She knew he'd be interested to learn of this. She held her hand out to him quickly. “Mary Swanson, it's a pleasure.”

He looked at her hand uncertainly for a moment before taking it gingerly. “Swanson-dono…” He repeated slowly, recognizing the strange foreign practice of placing the family name last.

She held the cookie out to him again. “I saw you in the store. Very rude of that woman to chase you like that. Here. I know you wanted one.” She placed the sweet treat in his hand and smiled widely, deciding immediately that she wanted to be friends with the strange boy.

He looked down at the cookie in his hand and bowed deeply. “I thank you, Swanson-dono, that I do.” He tucked the sweet smelling item away for later. He wanted to savor it alone, without an audience. A sudden shout drew his attention and he saw several well-dressed men descending on them, each wearing identical scowls as they glared at him. Immediately he stepped back, his hand falling to the hilt of his sakabatou as he sensed hostility rolling off of them in waves. He had a feeling they didn't like the fact that he was talking to this woman.

Mary turned, following his gaze and snorted in an unladylike way. “Oh bother.” She muttered under her breath in English. She leaned closer to her new friend and smiled. “Those two glowering individuals are my brothers and the one in the middle is my father's idea of a perfect fiancé.” She explained in an undertone.

“Fiancé?” He repeated slowly, nodding his understanding. He quickly bowed respectfully, though his hand remained near his weapon. He didn't fully trust these men standing over him like a trio of vultures ready to swoop down to pick his bones clean. The odd analogy caused a shiver to course down his spine.

“Mary, just what do you think you're doing?” Though he didn't understand the words, he recognized the censure in the tone. Obviously these men weren't pleased that their sister was speaking to a stranger in public. Foreigners had strange customs and if he recalled correctly, they were very strict about supposed proper behavior for their women. He had a feeling that somehow he'd overstepped the bounds of that propriety, no matter how unwittingly.

Mary rolled her eyes and stepped closer to Kenshin. He glanced at her warily, uncertain if what she was doing was improving the situation or making matters worse. He decided on the latter by the way the men bristled. “I'm meeting people, of course. That is what father wanted, is it not? For me to be more sociable?” He recognized the word for `father', but the rest was a garbled mess of incomprehensible sounds. I really must learn this language. “Really, Charles, stop glowering like that. I think you're frightening the child.” She placed her arm around his shoulders and blinked in surprise when she felt the unmistakable signs of maturity in his muscular shoulders. She schooled her features to hide her shock. Small and slender he may be, but she now realized that she'd been mistaken in his age. This was no child she'd been conversing with.

He glanced at the young woman and blushed, feeling decidedly uncomfortable with the physical contact. “Ano…” He began hesitantly, uncertain how to move away from her without causing offense. He didn't wish to offend her since she'd been so kind to him, despite the obvious misunderstanding between them. Suddenly he stiffened in surprise, sensing a familiar ki swiftly approaching. He turned sharply, moving away from the small group of foreigners, narrowed gaze scanning the crowd for the source of the individual responsible for the sudden burst of kenki. It took only a moment for him to spot the familiar tall figure moving in his direction. “Fuck.” He muttered and began to move further from the innocent bystanders. He didn't know the purpose behind his sudden arrival, but he didn't think it boded well at all. He had to get away from Mary and her family before…

“Himura.”

He winced inwardly. Too late. He nodded, hand gripping the hilt of his weapon as he stared up at the other man. “Shishio.” He responded tightly.

Shishio Makoto smirked down at his predecessor, ignoring the foreigners standing directly behind him watching the exchange curiously. “I never thought to meet you here, sempai.”

He couldn't stop the low growl from emerging from between tightly clenched teeth. “What do you want?” He hated the way the other man addressed him. It was a bitter reminder of his past as a hitokiri. This was the man who'd replaced him in his duties as the shadow assassin for the Choushu clan immediately after the death of Tomoe when he'd stepped from the shadows to become a guard for the Ishinshishi.

He laughed harshly and poked a finger into the smaller man's chest. “You, of course.”

Kenshin flushed at the double meaning. Either Shishio was playing a dangerous game of seduction in public, or he'd been sent to eliminate him and his knowledge of the internal workings of the Imperials and their less than honorable conduct in their bid for power. Either way he had to get the taller man away from the crowded street. Reigning in his instinct to attack first and question later he nodded towards a side street. “Perhaps a more private setting would be better suited to this conversation.” He suggested mildly.

“Undoubtedly.” Shishio smirked and gestured for the former hitokiri to precede him. “After you, of course.” He wasn't taking any chances with this very dangerous man, not before he'd had a chance to have his say first.

Nodding curtly, he turned to bow deeply towards the small group staring at what to them must be a very odd exchange. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Swanson-dono, that it was. Thank you for the…” He paused, searching for the word she had used. “Cookie?” He tilted his head to the side hopefully.

Mary nodded with a smile. “Will we meet again, Kenshin-san?” She didn't like the tall man hovering just behind her new friend. He gave her the creeps. There was something about his eyes that spoke eloquently of violence lurking just beneath his exterior of civility. She didn't understand why he'd address someone obviously younger in such a manner, knowing that the term `sempai' referred to a position above his own. It was obvious that there was more to Himura Kenshin than she'd first believed. She wished fervently that she'd had a chance to learn more. “If you have time, come by the British Embassy. I'm certain my father would dearly enjoy getting to know you.” She smiled impishly. “I know I have.”

He nodded and bowed again before turning to stride away, steps quick and silent as he led Shishio Makoto away from the crowd of innocent bystanders. When they were in a relatively more secluded area he turned to the larger man and scowled. “What do you want?”

“I already told you. I want you.” He smirked and leaned against the wall of the nearest building. He decided to not play with words, to just get to the point immediately. If he were to be refused, so be it, though he highly doubted that possibility considering the smaller man's `reputation'. He lowered his hand and rubbed against his crotch lewdly. “I find I wish to act on the attraction I felt last time we met…in Kyoto.”

His eyes followed the gesture and he sighed inwardly. “I see.” He stepped back and regarded the other man coldly. “Not here. I don't engage in public displays.” He turned away, ignoring the disappointment in the hitokiri's eyes.

“Pity. It makes it more interesting, wouldn't you agree?” He hadn't been refused entirely, which piqued his interest considerably. The rumors had obviously been true regarding the smaller man's preferences.

“Interesting? Hardly.” He glanced over his shoulder irritably. “Do you have a place in mind or not?”

“Of course I do. I have a room at an inn not far from here.” He'd made other arrangements, of course, just in case he found his predecessor willing. He had doubted that he'd be willing to do much in an alley, so he'd taken the liberty to reserve a semi-private room at a less than respectable establishment for his purposes.

As the silence stretched he turned back and folded his arms over his chest. “Am I supposed to be omnipotent, Shishio? Are you going to tell me where we're going or do I have to guess?”

He gestured to the left. “This way.” He led the smaller man through several twists and turns until they reached their destination. He stepped through the open doorway and continued along a short hall to the room he'd reserved. He motioned for him to enter.

He grimaced, disliking the inn instantly. There was no doubt in his mind that it was merely a thinly veiled whorehouse, the sounds in the other rooms unmistakable. He grimaced, taking in the sight of a poorly kept room and shook his head. “Not a very gracious host, are you?” He muttered, swiftly removing his haori and the gi beneath. He turned to find Shishio already stripped and waiting. “In a hurry?” He didn't bother hiding his sarcasm as he stepped out of his hakama and folded them to place to the side with the rest of his discarded clothing.

“I don't have the time, Himura.” He laughed bitterly. “Unlike you, I can't just disappear into the shadows again. The government we helped bring into power doesn't seem to like the idea of honoring their promises.”

Tilting his head to the side curiously as he slowly lowered himself to the floor, ignoring the dirt and grime lying thickly over the rough boards. “I don't understand.”

He waved a hand impatiently. “Never mind.” He reached down and stroked his half-aroused member roughly, bringing himself to full hardness before approaching the other man. “Kneel.” He ordered harshly.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “What's this? No preliminaries? Haven't you ever heard of foreplay, Shishio?” Despite his mild reproof he moved to do as he'd been told. He had no illusions about this encounter. Shishio Makoto was not a gentle man and he'd be a fool if he expected anything but rough handling from him.

“You want to play?” He laughed, a more natural sound of amusement as he knelt behind him. “All right.” He grabbed the smaller man's slender hips and pulled him sharply back against him, rubbing his hardened flesh against the smooth muscular buttocks exposed to him by the position. Reaching around, he trailed his sword callused fingers down over his sleekly muscled chest, pausing to circle the flat male nipples on his way down to his stomach, enjoying the way his breath seemed to catch.

His dislike for the other man was affecting his responses. Try as he might, he just couldn't dredge up even a small amount of attraction to him. His member remained unexcited, despite the stimulation of the larger man's hands and the fact that he hadn't engaged in intimacy for some time. He sighed inwardly. It was going to be an unpleasant experience, he was certain of it. He wished fervently that he'd simply refused and walked away, though he knew instinctively that Shishio wouldn't have accepted his refusal gracefully.

He scowled when his hand encountered Kenshin's flaccid member. “What's the matter with you?” He turned him roughly and pushed him back so he was lying flat against the floor. He lowered his head and took the other man's flesh into his mouth, sucking hard, urging him to respond.

He closed his eyes and waited, though all the other man's actions did for him was make him feel ill. “Face it, Shishio. I'm just not attracted to you.” He pushed him away and shivered when the cool air hit his moistened flesh. “If you want a reaction, then let me do it.”

He smirked and sat back on his heels. “Fine by me. For a minute there I thought that maybe you were incapable of…” His words were cut off immediately by the smaller man's fist connecting solidly with his jaw. “What the fuck was that for?” He rubbed the bruised flesh gingerly and glared at the other man, noting the blatant anger reflected in his narrowed amber eyes.

“That…” He began tightly. “Was for doubting my manhood. Of course I'm capable, it's just that you make me want to retch.” He shifted, laying back again and reaching down to grasp his member. “Now shut up and let me do this. If you want to continue, that is.” He looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“By all means.” He shifted closer, eyes following the other man's hand as it moved slowly. He found the situation exciting. The former hitokiri was willing, yet not willing at the same time. “Do you intend to masturbate throughout?”

“If needed.” He gritted his teeth, feeling his body responding to the stimulation of his hand. “Do you at least have oil?” He had his answer the next instant as the scent of perfumed oil drifted to his nose. He released his flesh and held out his hand wordlessly.

Shishio poured a small amount of oil into the smaller man's sword roughed palm, watching impassively as he continued to move his hand over his now hardened flesh with slow rhythmic strokes. He poured oil into his own hand and rubbed it over his erection, shifting closer. “Bend your knees.” When the former hitokiri did so, he reached forward, thrusting his fingers into the tight opening exposed to him by the new position.

He grunted at the intrusion, spreading his legs a bit more to accommodate the other man's movement. It made his skin crawl to let him touch him so intimately, but he refused to back out now. Besides, the long fingers were hitting that one spot inside of him that sent shivers of pleasure coursing through his entire body. Maybe it won't be so bad after all. He closed his eyes, blocking out the other man's face and tried to envision anyone but Shishio Makoto touching him. When he felt him remove his fingers and move over him he opened his eyes. “Not like this.” His breath was coming in soft pants as his hand moved faster. He rolled to his stomach, releasing his aching flesh to push himself to his knees. In this position he wouldn't have to see who was touching him.

He shrugged and, with a grunt of satisfaction, buried his throbbing cock deep within the tight passage of the smaller man. “Feels…good…” He groaned, gasping in pleasure at the way Kenshin's body seemed to receive him so easily. “Not a virgin.” He muttered, gripping his slender hips tightly as he pumped into him forcefully.

He rolled his eyes and glanced over his shoulder, expression tight with annoyance. “Did you expect me to be?” The idea was ludicrous. He'd been discrete, but he hadn't made any attempt to hide his when he'd been with the Ishinshishi, not after he'd returned from Otsu. Without Tomoe, he'd sought to relieve the void left by her death by any means necessary. He'd found several men amongst his comrades more than willing to aid him in this.

“No.” He shifted his grip, pulling the smaller man back against his thrusting hips, eyes closing as the pleasure engulfed him. He could feel the other man's arm moving, and noted with amusement that he was still stroking himself. He didn't really care one way or the other if the former hitokiri brought himself to orgasm or not, just as long as he was allowed to reach his own release.

He closed his eyes again, breath emerging in harsh pants as he felt his engorged member sliding against his palm, the oil making the flesh slick. He could almost ignore the man moving over him, pumping into his body with increasingly hard thrusts. It was uncomfortable, even a little painful, but it was easily pushed to the back of his mind. It was, by far, the most disagreeable act he'd participated in…ever. Even his first time with Saito hadn't been so unpleasant, despite the fact that he'd been an unwilling participant at that time. He grimaced at the reminder of the forced intimacy and, like he'd been doing lately, pushed the unpleasant memory to the back of his mind. He refused to dwell on the disagreeable parts of his recent past at this time. He was striving to make a new life for himself and the constant reminders of his life in Kyoto made that task nearly impossible.

Shishio's body went rigid, a harsh groan escaping passed clenched teeth as his body shuddered in release. He thrust his hips once more, his cock pulsing as it emptied into the smaller man's receiving body. He pulled out, his now unexcited flesh glistening in the dim light as he collapsed beside Kenshin. His glittering eyes watched as he continued to pleasure himself. “Not done yet?”

He opened his eyes as he sat back on his heels, a much more comfortable position. “Some people like to savor the sensation, Shishio.” He closed his eyes again. Truthfully, he just wanted to get it over with and get away from the other man as quickly as possible. There was something about him that was just…wrong. It far surpassed the wrongness deep within his own soul and it made him distinctly uncomfortable to be around him.

His only answer was a grunt. He decided that he definitely didn't like the smaller man. There was something about him that made him feel inferior. He didn't like the feeling at all. As he watched Kenshin's breath caught on a sharp gasp, his body trembling as his fingers tightened around his pulsing length. Impulsively he reached out, letting his seed flow over his fingers. Raising his hand, he touched the digits to his parted lips, before licking. He shrugged and reached to the side for a cloth to wipe his fingers. “Well, that was disappointing.” He stood and reached for his clothes, pulling them on leisurely.

“I agree.” He wiped his hand and thighs, grimacing in distaste. He definitely needed a furo. He felt dirty and hated the feeling. He dressed quickly. He couldn't wait to get away from Shishio Makoto. The man's aura was beginning to weigh heavily on him. “I don't think we'll meet again.” In his mind he fervently hoped the statement to be true.

“Doubtful.” He agreed. “I'd watch my back, if I were you.” He smirked when the smaller man tensed. “The Imperialists are on a vendetta to erase all their dirty little secrets and you and I are amongst them.” He laughed, striding for the door. “I heard they're also on the hunt for the Sekihoutai, poor bastards.” He smirked and shook his head. “Their own fault for believing the lies.”

“What do you mean?” He didn't like the implications in the other man's words. The Sekihoutai, as far as he knew, was a small army made up entirely of farmers. What could the government possibly be worried about from them?

“The self-righteous bastards promised to lower the taxes to get the farmers to join in the cause and now they've realized their mistake. Any idiot would know that the promise was false.” He waved carelessly over his shoulder. “You and I know too many of their dirty secrets…so watch yourself.” He paused at the door and glanced over his shoulder. “Of course, if they were to ask me, I think I'd enjoy eliminating you.” He shrugged. “But I don't think they'll be too eager to approach me anytime soon to assign me another assassination.”

He watched as the other man disappeared through the shouji and shivered. He now had further incentive to put the past behind him and disappear from the annals of history. He may regret many things he'd done and knew that he deserved any and all punishment that may come his way, but he had no desire to hasten his death any time soon. He had too much to atone for and a promise made to Tomoe as she lay dying in his arms. He had to live, if only long enough to try to right some of the wrongs he'd done. He shivered again and quickly collected his sakabatou and travel bag. He had to leave the city immediately. “So much for a warm furo…” If Shishio Makoto was here and he'd been correct in his assumption, then this definitely wasn't the safest place for him to be. He felt a moment of regret for not being able to pursue the brief acquaintance he'd made with Mary Swanson. He would have liked to meet her father. He may have been able to teach him the English language. With Japan's borders now opened to foreign trade, being skilled in other languages would be a definite asset to him.