Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Wandering ❯ Frustration ( Chapter 4 )

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
Frustration

 

 

It was happening again. He sighed and cautiously moved forward. How long had he wandered around Japan seeking peace and atonement? Not nearly long enough. He thought morosely. His travels had taken him from one end of the country to the other, through the nearly unbearable heat of Kyushu to the frigid winters of Hokkaido, and still he had yet to find the peace he was searching for. Everywhere he went he found the same thing…unrest, unhappiness and a deep sense of betrayal. The government he'd fought so hard to bring into power had failed him and the innocent people they'd sworn to protect. Bandits roamed freely, slaughtering at will. He was beginning to think the nightmare would never end.

He halted at the edge of a clearing staring at a small farm bathed in the last red glow of the setting sun and sighed again. The unkempt yard, the untended garden, the rundown appearance of the house all spoke of neglect. The thin tendril of smoke emerging through an opening in the roof signified that the farm hadn't been abandoned, that someone still lived there. The occupants had obviously fallen on hard times, perhaps even struggling to survive after losing the main supporter of the household. Fathers, sons, brothers…how many had been lost to the ravages of the times? How many women and children had been left widowed and orphaned, destitute? He felt personally responsible for all the sorrows these people endured in the wake of the bloody and chaotic revolution.

Stepping up to the house he stopped and cleared his throat, waiting for his presence to become known to whoever was inside. When no one came to greet or challenge him he stepped up onto the engawa. “Hello?” He called out, listening to the sounds from within the house. The shouji slammed open and he was faced with a tall, young man wearing the colors of the Sekihoutai and brandishing a katana. He took a quick step back, out of range of the blade.

“What do you want?” Dark eyes narrowed on the stranger, taking in his worn clothing and threadbare appearance. Looking him up and down he slowly lowered the katana. He sensed no threat from the smaller man despite the weapon he wore with casual ease at his slender waist. His eyes fell on the blood red hair tied into a loose ponytail at the back of his neck before moving to the crossed scars marring his left cheek. “Hitokiri Battousai. So, they've finally sent you.” He lifted his sword back into readiness. “Well, I won't go down without a fight!”

“Wait!” He leapt back quickly, barely avoiding the other man's attack. “There is a misunderstanding, that there is!” He continued to evade the wildly swinging katana, noting that the other man had more determination than skill behind his attacks.

“Right. Like I'm going to believe that. I know who you are, assassin.” He growled in annoyance as the smaller man sidestepped again and his blade met with nothing but air. “Stand and fight me! Or are you more accustomed to cutting down your victims from behind in the concealing shadows of night?”

Eyes narrowing he fought to retain his control on his temper. He would not rise to the bait and draw his sakabatou, not without good reason. “I am not here to take your life, that I am not.” He paused, wondering how he could get through to the other man without hurting him first. “I'm a rurouni, just a simple wanderer, that I am, nothing more!”

He paused and stared hard at the slightly built man and scowled. “Is that so?” He stood back, not lowering his katana, but indicating that he wouldn't attack again until the other man had had his say. “I'm listening, so get on with it.”

“I don't know how to convince you of my sincerity, but I am speaking the truth. I'm not here to take you life nor am I hitokiri any longer. The revolution is over, the killing has ended…for me, at least.” He held his hands up in a gesture of peace, far from the hilt of his still sheathed sakabatou. “I don't wish to fight, that I do not.”

“There is a ring of truth to your words…” He conceded reluctantly as he relaxed his stance slightly. “However, you have yet to explain your presence here.”

“I was merely seeking shelter for the night, that I was.” He shrugged and took a half step back. “I understand your distrust, that I do. I have heard of the dishonorable treatment of your comrades at the hands of the government.”

“Oh you have, have you?” He gritted his teeth, his anger rising again. “And just what do you know? Dishonorable treatment you say?” He barked out a bitter laugh. “They were cut down like dogs, murdered by those they trusted the most.”

“Your anger is understandable, but misplaced. I had nothing to do with it, that I did not.” He shook his head sadly. “I regret their deaths as much as you…”

“You regret their deaths? Don't make me laugh!” He swept his hand expansively. “I'm the last…my life spared merely by a strange quirk of fate. If I hadn't been ill at the time, I would have been there as well. Every last one of the Sekihoutai was brutally butchered, their heads severed and placed on display for all the world to see. We believed the lies and were betrayed for that trust. And you expect me to greet you as a friend? You, who was the strongest of all Imperialists?”

“What do you want me to say?” He cried, spreading his arms out to the sides. “I stand here, not as an enemy, but as a simple traveler. I would change the past if I could, but that is beyond my power. You think you're the only one suffering? These are hard times for all. I have traveled throughout Japan and everywhere I've gone there is always the same…pain and suffering, grief and sorrow. No one was left untouched by the horrors of the revolution.” He placed a hand against his chest, over his heart. “I carry the guilt within me. No amount of trying will change what I did…but I did not murder your comrades. I was just as betrayed as you were, the hopes and ideals I carried are long dead, defeated by the leaders I trusted just as you did.”

He slowly lowered his katana, shoulders slumping in defeat. “What's the use?” He shook his head and turned away from the slightly built man standing in the last glow of the sun. “Do what you will…” He stepped inside, leaving the shouji open in silent invitation.

He hesitated for a moment, undecided, before he followed the other man inside the house. He looked around the dim interior, lit only by a single flickering candle and sighed, setting his travel bag down in a corner. He paused, eyes following the taller man's movements before placing his sakabatou against the wall. He felt the danger had passed. He would not be attacked again.

“There's soup in the pot, serve yourself.” He sat slowly, placing his katana on the floor beside him. He watched as the former hitokiri did as he'd commanded and knelt across from him. “So…you say you're a wanderer. What is it that you're searching for now?”

Staring into the bowl at the warm liquid he sighed again. “I was seeking the truth, that I was. I wanted proof that what we did was the right thing.”

“And did you find this truth?”

“No. All I see are people struggling to rebuild their lives…lives destroyed by idealistic fools like myself.” He shook his head, slowly looking up, eyes filled with sorrow. “I can't change the past, I can't undo the wrongs I have done. I can only continue on the path I started and try to atone for what I've done.” He set the bowl aside, untouched. “I fear that it's an impossible task.”

He snorted and reached for his jug of sake. “As much as I'd like to blame you, I can't. You, like the rest of us, followed the lies dished out by the bastards who used us. It was your bad fortune to be so skilled with a katana. That's why they wanted you. Us?” He laughed bitterly and drained his cup. “We were able to summon large forces, that's what we were good for. We followed simply because we were promised lower taxes and better lives for our families. Now look at us? Dead. All except me. What are we supposed to do now?”

“Continue on the best you can, of course. There is nothing else that can be done.” He shifted to a more comfortable position. “The revolution will never be over, not for us. There is still much to be done, that there is. There are still a few who carry the ideals within their hearts…but they can't continue alone. They will need support.”

“Are you suggesting that I just forgive and forget all that they've done?” The idea was ludicrous. “I can't…I won't. They can all go to hell as far as I'm concerned. You can continue fighting, but my days of following blindly are through. I just want to try to make a place for myself, live the best I can and wait for the day those pompous asses drown in the innocent blood they spilled.”

“I no longer fight for them, that I do not. I learned the hard way that my sword cannot be wielded for one power, no matter how great their ideals may be.” He leaned forward, head bowed. “The Hiten Mitsurugi should be wielded freely, for the people, not one group or power over another. My shishou tried to tell me this, but I didn't listen.”

“A wise man.” He nodded sagely and held the jug out to his guest. “Here. Drink. It isn't much, but at least for a time it helps one to forget the troubles of these times.”

He eyed the container, the scent of sake drifting to him and slowly shook his head. “I cannot drink the sake. The taste is too bitter for me.” He admitted softly.

“Bitter you say?” He shrugged and set the jug aside, placing the stopper in the opening before leaning back again. “Is it true, then?” At the smaller man's questioning look he elaborated. “The wrongness in one's soul affects the drink of the kami.”

“I don't know about that…but it could be true.” He shrugged and looked away. “There is a wrongness within me, but I don't know if that is what affects the taste.” He paused, debating on whether he should confide in the other man or not.

“What do you mean by that?” He found the other man's demeanor puzzling…and intriguing. His appearance was delicate, almost frail, yet the rumors all spoke of his unmatched strength. How could it be that someone who looked like a child could be the legendary assassin from Kyoto? It made no sense to him.

“During the chaos of the revolution I nearly lost myself to the madness. There were many who believed me to be inhuman.” He closed his eyes, his low voice filled with the sorrow he carried within his heart. “I killed. I murdered. I spilled the blood of countless men all in the name of Tenchu, heaven's justice. I blindly obeyed the commands, never questioning, and hid behind the mask of the hitokiri. There were few who saw beyond this…few who wished to see. Those who did reacted in very different ways. There was one who treated me with kindness, drew me to him with tenderness and allowed me to forget for a short time all that I'd done. Another was drawn to me seeking revenge…she became my wife and died for it. The other was a man who truly understood and it was through him that I was shown a measure of peace, though that is what ultimately led me to the wrongness within me.”

He listened, fascinated, to what amounted to being a confession of sorts. “There were rumors, of course…” He murmured softly, eyes traveling over the other man's almost delicate features, pausing briefly on the scar marring his otherwise beautiful appearance. “Rumors of your preferences…”

“Rumors?” He repeated uncertainly, opening his eyes slowly to regard the other man carefully. “If you're referring to the fact that I took male lovers, then yes, they were true.” He shrugged at the hint of a blush tingeing the larger man's face.

He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, those rumors. I often wondered at them, but now I think I understand.”

“Do you?” He tilted his head to the side with a slight smile. “I still don't know your name, sir.”

He smiled more naturally. “Daishi.” He answered, executing an abbreviated bow from his seated position.

“Daishi…” He repeated softly and returned the bow. “Kenshin.” He supplied at the other man's questioning look.

“Well, Kenshin, this is an unusual situation.”

“How so?”

“I find myself curious, of course.”

“Curious?” He echoed uncertainly.

“Of course.” He smirked and shifted a little closer. “I'm curious what it would be like to make love to a man such as yourself.”

He almost choked at the abrupt change in the conversation. “Well…” He wasn't sure how to reply to such a statement. Finally he shrugged. “The only way to know is to do, wouldn't you agree?” He almost laughed at the look of surprise in the other man's expression.

“So it's true then…you do prefer the attentions of another man.”

He shook head. “Not really…I find I much prefer women. They're softer, smell better are much more gentle.” He smiled and shrugged out of his haori. “However, I can enjoy the touch of either.”

He found the smaller man's humor to be refreshing. “I'm glad I didn't kill you.” He quickly rid himself of his clothing. “I think I could like you, Kenshin.”

“I should hope so, considering what we're about to do.” He carefully folded his clothing and set them to the side. “Do you have oil, Daishi?” He watched as the other man nodded and stood to cross the room, rummaging through a cupboard before producing a bottle. He took it with a smile and gestured for him lie down on the unrolled futon. He waited until he did so, noting his somewhat uncomfortable expression. “Don't worry, I won't hurt you, I promise.”

He waved his hand in dismissal. “It's not that. It's just that…” His words trailed off and he looked away, uncertain how to explain.

“Ahh…I understand. I don't object to receiving, that I do not.” He shrugged and poured a generous amount of oil into his cupped palm and set the bottle aside before rubbing the lubrication equally over both hands. Moving closer until he was kneeling between the other man's legs he leaned forward and pressed his lips to his flat abdomen in a fleeting caress. Reaching down, he grasped his member and gently caressed him, from the top all the way to the bottom where he released him, the oil on his hand making the gesture glide easily. He brought his other hand up to the top of his slowly hardening arousal and repeated the gesture. He continued to gently stroke him, enjoying the way he responded so enthusiastically, his breath coming quicker as his hips thrust upwards to meet his slowly moving hands. He paused, bending forward again to touch his lips to the tip of the hardness he was caressing, tasting his excitement. He pulled back and shifted until he was straddling the other man's hips, pressing his own arousal against him, rubbing against him sensuously.

Daishi couldn't take much more of the stimulation. He reached up and wrapped his arms around the smaller man, capturing his lips in a deep, almost desperate kiss. He pushed him back until he was lying flat on the futon beneath him and grinned. “My turn.” He growled before running his hands over the sleekly muscled body beneath him. He lowered his head, sucking gently on the flat male nipples until they hardened into small peaks before continuing down. He paused before drawing the rigid flesh into his mouth, sucking hard and swirling his tongue along the length. Kenshin's response was immediate, his hips rising up to meet the downward motion of his head. Daishi smiled and increased the pace, urging his legs to his shoulders. He released the engorged member reluctantly as he sat up, pushing the former hitokiri's legs up against his chest. He reached down, grasping his own cock and guided himself to the tight entrance exposed to him by the somewhat awkward position.

Drawing in a quick breath he forced his body to relax, to accept the intrusion of the larger man's hardness as it pushed inside him. He closed his eyes, biting back a soft moan. It was uncomfortable, but he could bear it. Compared to Saito's rough handling, this was nothing. A small part of him would always compare his lovers to Saito Hajime, compare the intensity of their joining and find nearly all others to be lacking in some way. It was frustrating, but he knew the Shinsengumi captain would always hold the same power over him, no matter how much time passed. If they were to meet again, he knew the violence of their coupling would always remain foremost in his mind, taunting him, tempting him to experience it again.

He closed his eyes, reveling in the sensations assaulting his senses. The smaller man's body gripped him tightly, sending him into a spiral of pleasure that he was powerless to deny. He leaned forward to capture his lips in another searing kiss, feeling Kenshin's member throbbing between them, pressing against his stomach insistently. He thrust forward hard and fast, unable to control his responses. He had one thought in his mind…experience more of the pleasure as much as he could. The other man's soft pants encouraged him to increase his pace. He thrust into him frantically, desperate to reach his release. He'd been too long without intimacy to worry about technique or grace. He was beyond caring about such things, his mind blank to all but the way the tight passage gripped him so firmly, the smaller body writhing beneath him, urging him ever closer to the abyss. With a final grunt he stilled, buried deeply within the other man's body, his member pulsing as he spilled his seed within him. Unable to support his weight any longer, he collapsed, panting raggedly as he tried to collect himself after such an explosive orgasm.

He stared up at the ceiling, waiting for Daishi to move off of him. His body ached from the rough handling, yet he found he didn't mind so much. What bothered him, however, was the fact that he was still painfully hard and it didn't seem that the other man would be helping him with it any time soon if his soft snores were any indication. He sighed softly and eased the larger man off of him, grimacing when his now flaccid member slid out of him with a wet plop. He shuddered at the feeling of the larger man's seed trickling from his body, coating his thighs. He hated the feeling, but he would bear it. He had more important things to worry about than that, namely his own body's urgent demands for release. He turned to the other man with another sigh and shook his shoulder. “Daishi?” There was, not surprisingly, no reply. With a growl of annoyance he gave up trying to rouse the sleeping man and shifted away from him. He'd have to take care of it himself, it seemed. He eyed the other man for a moment, gaze resting on his lower body before he shrugged the idea away. He wasn't one to take advantage of another just because they were sleeping. His hand would have to do. This was the first time he'd had a lover fall asleep on him before he'd found his own release. He was rather irritated with the fact.

Reaching down, he grasped his hardness and stroked firmly, closing his eyes at the pleasure of the stimulation. Shifting so his knees were partially bent, he moved his hand faster, breath coming in harsh pants as he neared his own completion. This was the first time he actually felt used after a joining. He didn't care for the feeling at all. No one, not even Saito in his selfishness, had left him unfulfilled. Sure, he'd always taken his own pleasure first, but he'd always seen to Kenshin's needs too. He turned his head and scowled at the snoring man. No one had ever fallen asleep on him before either. All in all, he found the entire episode to be frustrating beyond belief. With a gasp, he closed his eyes, his body trembling in the release he'd been seeking, warmth flowing over his hand as his member pulsed in orgasm. With a soft sigh he lay staring up at the ceiling again, fighting to catch his breath before he rolled over and stared at the tiny flame of the candle sputtering before it died into a thin tendril of smoke, grimacing in discomfort as his body protested the events of the evening. He closed his eyes and sought the oblivion of sleep.