Rurouni Kenshin 1. Default Chapter

Kokoro No Itami Nakunaru Made Zutto: Sanctuary 

By: Hitokiri Gentatsu

Rating: PG

Summary: Unexpected circumstances lead Kenshin to meeting a Buddhist monk and to make an unplanned trip to Aizu, which is still recovering from its war with the Imperial army. Tormented by events in the recent past and his soul wavering between life and death, can Kenshin find the will to 'live on' in the new era? Here is the third saga in the tale of the wandering years of Himura Kenshin. 

Historical Note: In case some of you don't know, the Aizu clan was a strong supporter of the Shogun. The clan staged a rebellion (and I am using that term loosely) and was overrun by the Imperial Army, which was sent to pacify the area.

Author's Note 1: I couldn't wait to start on this one so you lucky readers get it earlier than planned. A word of warning this fic is a bit darker in tone then the other ones have been, so be prepared. Hope you enjoy this one as much as the others and don't forget to review. Thanks!

Prologue: Meiji 3 January 27, 1870

"You can die at any time. Living on is what really takes courage"

Himura Kenshin

RK Episode 21

Subtitled

The fire burned cheerfully in its ring of stones, casting a pool of light that drove back the surrounding shadows. Himura Kenshin paid little heed to the warmth of the fire nor its cheerful glow as his mind was occupied with other, far more weighty matters. Instead of looking at the fire, his eyes were trained on the starry expanse of sky above him. He stared at the stars with an intensity that he usually reserved for his opponents during battle, as if trying to divine whatever secrets of life the stars might impart to him. He was a man in search of answers, answers to the myriad of questions that occupied all of his waking thoughts and plagued his sleeping mind. He blinked his violet eyes slowly and took deep even breaths, trying to still the turmoil in his soul and the whirlwind of his thoughts. Nothing in his life had been easy nor was the conclusion he had reached about his future but still it was the only way. It was the only hope for peace that he could see in a future that could very well turn out as bloody as his past had been.

He was alone again but this time he had chosen to be so. There was no one around this place for miles, the nearest village being some fifty miles away. The closest people to his present location were some monks who lived in a temple a day's journey to the east. It was the perfect place for him to think about his future and to do what had to be done.

"I don't want to be around people right now," he thought as he watched the stars. "I'm a danger…a killer."

He had come to this place, seeking the solitude of the forest and the calming effects of nature. He had hoped that solitude would calm his spirit thereby strengthening his resolve but he had been camped in this place for three days now and still he could not bring himself to do what he knew in his heart was honorable and just. He needed the calming effects of nature now more than ever before, especially after his last encounter with people.

The rumors of the Hitokiri Battousai had spread this far into the countryside and even into the smaller, outlying villages he had passed through.  Rumors he could have ignored but, unfortunately for him, those rumors also included an exact description of him. He had not been able to stay in any town or village for more than a few hours, only long enough to gather supplies, before he was forced to move quickly on. He could not bear to see the fear in the eyes of the people he met. He could deal with people's sometimes violent reaction to him and with their sorrow but he could not deal with the fear in a child's eyes when he stopped to ask them for directions to the nearest in.

His answer to this problem was to seclude himself far from people and this area provided just such seclusion. What he was planning to do restrain the hitokiri in his soul would be hard enough without people trying to stop him or witnesses. He knew he was running the risk of the rumors spreading farther but he found that he did not care as much about that as he once had. If he were successful the rumors would mean nothing he reasoned since the Hitokiri Battousai was going to vanish completely from history. He turned his head and stared into the fire, watching the flames dance happily. He wished he were as happy as the flames seemed to be but he had not been happy in very long time. He turned his eyes back to the stars and wondered what his family would think of him now. Would they think he was brave and honorable or would they cast him aside just as others had in the past?

"At least there I will finally get the rest Dr. Asukara wanted me to have," he thought.

He grimaced at the memory and felt a flash of rage as the hitokiri made his presence known. Kenshin forcefully clamped down on that rage, trying to lock it down behind a sealed barrier so that it would not escape and cause harm to others. He blamed himself for Asukara's death, even though his blade had not been the one that had committed the murder. Toshihiro had told Kenshin that he was not to blame for this but he felt he was. If he had not been there then there was no reason for the doctor to die. The murderer had been after Kenshin's life in revenge for the death of a brother during the Bakumatsu and Dr. Asukara had been in the way.

Kenshin closed his eyes against the surge of regret in his heart. Dr. Asukara had died because of him and because of who he was in the past. There was nothing anyone could say and no way anyone could gloss over the truth of this fact. He opened his eyes again and tried to concentrate on the stars but found that his concentration was broken by the questions that moved through his mind.

"Is there any point in continuing this pretense? Am I only ever destined to be the one called Battousai? Will my heart always be that of a killer?" He looked into the fire again but saw a different fire burning there, the fire that raged in his own heart and soul: the cold fire of the hitokiri's rage. "I cannot fight that forever… Two wills cannot exist in one body…"

He shivered against the memories and turned his eyes back to the stars, which stared back at him from their positions in the heavens.

"Two years…" he muttered. "It's been two years since Tobu Fushimi. 

"Two years since we last fought and tasted blood," the hitokiri muttered, a hard edge to his voice and a nearly overwhelming urge to kill rippling through him.

Kenshin clamped down on the urge and ignored the comment. The voice in the back of his mind muttered darkly but left him in peace with the warning that it was only a matter of time before he would be released again.

" Two years…" he murmured again. "Two years since I laid aside the hitokiri's sword. And yet…I would reclaim that sword in an instant. Nothing has changed within my soul and within my heart I know I am still a killer. I am no closer to the truth now than I was then. And what is worse is the fact that one wrong move could send me spiraling back into the darkness and madness of the hitokiri." 

He stared into the fire for a long time, remembering a sky the same color as the flames before him and the day he had decided to leave the Ishinshishi and the life of death he had lead. The setting sun had stained the clear sky crimson and orange and he was walking a path that would lead him far from the battlefield and from Kyoto, the center of the life he was giving up. He had felt an incredible sense of purpose and hope back then. A purpose that was symbolized by the sakabatou's reversed edge and by his vow to the one he had accidentally killed, a hope that he could now live his life according to his own beliefs.

"But two year later, where am I?"

The hope and purpose he had felt then had withered and slowly died, overshadowed by the Battousai's nearly uncontrollable killing rage. The killer he had been during the Bakumatsu was still with him, hidden in the shadows of his own mind. The hitokiri had been so easily drawn out by the thrill of a life or death battle and there was no denying that he would be drawn out repeatedly every time Kenshin chose to go into battle. His two spirits were like a double-edged sword that was posed to slay him and now he was back to where he started. The time he had spent in trying to tame the raging hitokiri within him had been wasted. Once again his two sides were in conflict and there was no need for anyone to tell Kenshin which side was stronger. He could feel himself beginning to slip into the madness and rage of the past again and he knew he could not hold out against it. The was only one thing he could do now to stop his descent and it was something he would never have considered if he truly believed in his heart that he could make it work.

He closed his eyes against the tears in them and the pain in his heart. "Tomoe…I don't think I can do this…the path of peace is to difficult for one such as I. I'm sorry I cannot be the man you thought I was, Koishii…Please forgive me… but I cannot…live like this anymore…"

He felt hot tears burning a trail down his cheeks and saw the serene face of his long dead wife. He put a hand to his left cheek and traced the deep and unhealed scar there.

"Perhaps it would have been better if I had died on that mountain…Perhaps it would be better if…I…"

He unsheathed his sakabatou and looked at the blade's sharpened edge, which glinted coldly in the pale light of the fire. Calmly, with tears still in his eyes, he reversed the blade to its sharp side and then pointed it at his stomach.

"An honorable death is all I have left. It is the only option open to me now. I cannot win this battle." 

He gripped the blade below the hilt, drawing a thin line of blood from his hands. He knelt there in the snow for several silent moments, not moving an inch, the tip of his blade inches from his stomach. Then he sheathed his sakabatou and laid it next to him. He could not sully the blade that was meant to protect lives without taking them with his corrupted and tainted blood. He pulled the tanto that Tomoe had always carried with her from his sleeve. He looked at the saya and closed his eyes for a moment seeing it in the hands of a man who had meant to take his life on the same day his love died. Then he pulled the blade free from it and looked at its shining surface. It was the perfect weapon for seppuku and it had already tasted his blood. 

He touched his left cheek again and looked up at the stars one last time, the tears in his eyes blurring their dim light. "Forgive me Tomoe but I cannot live like this any longer with my two selves warring against one another. I'm sorry Shishou. You were right. I have become nothing more then a murderer and I have dishonored your teachings."

He felt a sudden calmness in his spirit and he closed his eyes, speaking the prayer required of the ritual and then, before he could change his mind, in one quick motion, he slashed the blade across his stomach. He felt more pain then he had ever felt before and he fell forward, blood staining the ground underneath him. In his agony, he rolled over and caught a glimpse of the stars high above him. He focused his fading gaze on one that seemed to be twinkling in time with his heart. Time slowed down, every agonizing instant seeming like years to Kenshin's failing mind.

"This is no more then I deserve. Let…my death…serve as atonement…for them. Let my blood…free their tormented souls and…mine…"

"Death is not an answer!" he thought he heard a voice say but it was too far away and now he could feel nothing at all. All pain and regret seemed to have vanished from him. There was darkness at the edges of his vision but the star overhead seemed to have gained intensity, brightening until it rivaled the sum in brightness. He thought he heard voice shouting but he could no longer understand the words. He closed his eyes as a suddenly sharp wave of pain and darkness overcame him.

Author's Note 2: Now before some of you complain at me for having Kenshin be suicidal let us remember that he himself has said that he always felt in his heart that it didn't matter when he died or was killed. Also he is coming off of the events in the previous story here in which he came very close to reverting to his old self again permanently. Those thoughts and the fact that someone was killed 'because he was there' are weighing heavily on his mind. He feels this is the only answer to stop the killer that still lingers in him and a way to restore his honor. This will be a story of how his view is changed, how he found the will to 'live on' long enough for Hiko to restore the will to live that he lost during the Bakumatsu and is also an answer as to why the Hitokiri Battousai seemed to vanish so completely that people who might have been searching for him could not seem to find him. 


	2. Chapter One

Kokoro No Itami Nakunaru Made Zutto: Sanctuary 

By: Hitokiri Gentatsu

Rating: PG13

Disclaimer: I own none of the Rurouni Kenshin characters and I am definantly not making any money from this story. 

Chapter One: The Monk and the Samurai

"Your disappearance was a show of determination to never kill again…"

Yamagata Aritomo

RK Episode 3

subtitled

The young man on the bed before him hovered on the edge between life and death. Haishidiya, the newest member of the order, looked down at Kenshin sadly and began to say prayers over the young samurai, his prayer beads making a faint sound as he prayed for the state of the young swordsman's soul. He closed his eyes in prayerful meditation for the unnamed man several more moments, and then he opened his eyes to look at the pale face before him.

"I wish I knew your name," he said quietly, still looking down at Kenshin with sadness in his eyes. "And why you would attempt to take your own life."

He bent over Kenshin's still form and removed the bloody bandage from the swordsman's waist, carefully cleaning the wound beneath it of the blood that continued to seep from it. Then he checked the stitches he used to close the wound. Satisfied that all was in order and that he had done all he could at the moment, he covered the wound with a clean bandage and pulled the blanket over the young man again.

Haishidiya put a cold cloth on the swordsman's forehead and put a hand to the man's mouth to check that he still breathed. The monk eyes studied Kenshin's face and wondered who the samurai was and what had brought him to such a remote location as this. His smooth face and slight frame made him appear to be a youth who could not yet have attained manhood but the scars on his body spoke of a hard life spent in war. This meant that the man's age could very well be closer to his twenty years. Haishidiya studied Kenshin's face again. The skin of samurai's face was deathly pale from loss of blood, but he reasoned that Kenshin's skin was naturally so. The cloud of red hair spoke of foreign blood but it was clear that this man was no foreigner. Clearly, he was of the samurai class for he carried a sword and only samurai were allowed to do so. Though his weapon was not the daisho usually carried by samurai, it was still of good quality from what he could tell without actually touching the sword. 

He puzzled over this information and over the deep scar the marred the young man's otherwise smooth and youthful face. It was in the shape of a cross and, for some reason, although it was clearly an old wound, it remained open and unhealed. Haishidiya ran a finger over it carefully, thinking about what he had seen in the forest. Whoever this man was, he was clearly a samurai in service to a powerful clan or daimyo and had seen fighting in the recent Boshin War. The style of his clothing indicated that much.

"Perhaps he was committing seppuku because that clan or daimyo lost his place or his honor. Maybe this young man is a ronin who lost his place." 

The monk knew that sometimes the code of the samurai required him to join his defeated or dishonored lord in death or that a samurai who had been forced to become a ronin often chose an 'honorable death' over a life of poverty. Haishidiya was from a samurai family himself so he was aware of this but there had been no fighting in the area for the entire war and there were no samurai families in the village.

"He spoke of atonement. Atonement for what? Doesn't he know that in order to atone for wrongs committed you must first find the courage to live? Truth can only be found in living life and there is no truth to be found in death." Haishidiya shook his head and returned to his prayers hoping the man's life would be spared.

*

Kenshin felt as if he were floating. There was blissful nothingness all around him. He knew no fear, nor regret, nor sorrow and here in the darkness he felt no pain. He longed to stay there, within that nothingness for all eternity but something was nagging at his mind, calling to him with a soft feminine voice, which he tried desperately to answer. 'I will…protect…' There was the smell of white plums for a brief instant and he felt a hand brush his cheek. Then he heard a different voice, a man's voice, softly chanting.

His eyes snapped open and he hissed in pain as his self-inflicted wound made itself known to him again. His body burned with fever and his head was spinning.

"Kuso," he muttered softly and the man's head snapped up at the word.

"So you wake at last," the man said and Kenshin could see it was a monk somewhere near his own age.

Kenshin struggled to rise so that he could pay the man the proper respect but the monk put a restraining hand on his shoulder and pushed him back gently. 

"You must rest and conserve your strength for now. I'm called Haishidiya and you are in our temple."

"Himura Kenshin," Kenshin replied weakly, his eyes now closed. "Why didn't you let me die?"

"Dying now would serve no purpose. Only in living can one find atonement."

Kenshin felt tears running down his face. He whispered: "I…you don't know who I am…what I have done…"

"Whoever you were and whatever you did doesn't matter now. You are a man whose soul is in torment and whose heart requires healing before you can move on with your life." Haishidiya looked down at Kenshin. "But before this can happen you must rest."

"I cannot rest," Kenshin said as he opened his eyes again. "I cannot…my life…worthless…"

"All life has worth. Every living thing in this world has a purpose. You just need to find yours." The monk paused. "Rest now Himura-san. You will come to no harm here." 

Haishidiya watched as Himura slipped back into sleep and he placed another cold cloth on the man's brow, hoping to bring down his dangerously high fever and wondering if Himura would even remember their conversation when he did wake.

*

A cool morning breeze slipped through the half opened window near Kenshin's futon. It tugged at the loose strands of red hair around his still, pale face but Kenshin didn't wake. Outside the wind chimes tickled their many notes, which were echoed by the sound of bells somewhere inside the temple complex. Keshin remained in the deep sleep he had fallen into a week previous, his eyes closed and his face smooth and unlined with worry. Haishidiya entered the room, his feet making no sound of the mats covering the floor. He looked down at Kenshin's serene and peaceful face. There was a look of concern in his dark eyes and his forehead was creased with worry.

He had tried calling Himura's name, any number of prayers and chants and a great number of noises but nothing seemed to work. No matter what he tried, Himura simply would not wake. Haishidiya was afraid the young man would die without having a chance to truly live. His body had been fighting a dangerously high fever brought on by the severity of his wound for the last several days and it seemed as if the young swordsman would die. The monk knelt next to the samurai's still form and laid a hand on his forehead. He was surprised to find that his hand encountered sweat on the young man's brow and that the fever had lessened somewhat. It looked as if the fever was breaking at last and soon that part of his ordeal would be over. 

Haishidiya offered a quick prayer of thanks to the gods and then removed the bandage from Himura's wounded stomach. He studied the wound carefully, his nose hovering inches from it. The skin around the wound was no longer an angry shade of red nor was it hot to the touch. There seemed to be a little swelling around the area but, aside from that, it was healing nicely and there was no smell of rotted flesh in the wound either. It appeared it would heal just fine now.

Satisfied that things were going as well as could be expected and that Kenshin's wound would heal properly, Haishidiya placed a fresh bandage over the wound. Silently he thanked the gods that Himura had not done worse damage to himself. He studied the young man before him, concern still etching his features. He watched Himura's chest rise and fall with each shallow breath the swordsman took and hoped that he would wake soon. It was vital that he replace what he had lost and that he begin to get his strength back.

The monks of the Chowa Heiwa Temple were being forced to leave the security and safety of it soon and it had been agreed that they would all go their separate ways so as not to attract undue attention to themselves or their order. Haishidiya had already agreed to take Himura with him when he returned to his native land but first the man must be strong enough for the journey, which would take many weeks, and he must be able to travel under his own power. They would never be able to pass through the stations on the road or the border guard in his han either if Himura was not well.

"Please wake, Himura-san."

*

Kenshin opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling above him, trying to remember what had happened to him and where he was. His purple eyes swept the room in momentary confusion as nothing about it was familiar to him. He took in the room's plain, wooden beams and paper walls but they didn't tell him anything about the place he was in. Calmly, he waited for his mind to catch up with the rest of him. 

Then he heard it again, the musical sound from his dreams. A wind chime moved in the breeze, sounding a single clear note. He could see it hanging from a beam outside the window and he watched it swing to and fro. Then the note produced by the chime was answered by another note from a bell in the distance. A look of confusion swept across his features as his mind processed this new piece of information.

"A temple?" he thought as he tried to shake off his confused state of mind. "Where? Why?"

He closed his eyes in concentration, trying to remember what had happened, and then he opened them again and sat up to get a better look at his surroundings. He felt a sharp pain shoot across his stomach and looked down to see a large bandage covering the area. Suddenly memories rushed forward from some hidden part of his mind: he saw himself kneeling in a clearing surrounded by trees. He saw the glint of the blade of Tomoe's tanto as he gripped it forcefully in his right hand and pointed it at himself. He felt the pain of it enter and slide across his stomach. His eyes widened as he remembered something else: when the blade had pierced him, he remembered instinctively jerking backward to minimize the damage that was being done so that he would not die of the wound.

He opened his eyes, which had become clouded with tears. He could not even manage to commit seppuku properly. His samurai spirit wailed in anguish at this additional dishonor, but it was abruptly cut off as another thought came to him and with it, a memory.

--A fire flickering, a pain in his heart that would never heal any more than the cross scar on his cheek would, the still and pale form of his wife, the horrible wound he had inflicted hidden from view by white garment she wore, words he had spoken to her with hope, now seemed so meaningless and trite in the face of his anguish. He couldn't protect her or his own happiness. And yet he made a promise to her as she lay there, sleeping the eternal sleep called death.

"I will never kill again…never again…"—

He had promised her that all those years ago, using her death by his own hand as the reminder of why he had sworn such a vow, and he always kept his word. He had promised in his heart to hold all life sacred and, for better or worse, that included his own life. Then Tomoe's words came back to him.

--You must live. You have a duty to protect Japan and her people remember…"—

"A duty…" he whispered, knowing that it was true. "I have to live…but…"

It was then that he noticed the young monk who was in the room with him. Kenshin jumped, surprised that the man had snuck up on him so easily, and he reached for the sword he no long carried at his side. He stopped and looked at the monk curiously, discovering that the man could hardly be older then he was. He had a calming presence and a strong aura of tranquility about him that was somehow soothing to the swordsman. The monk had a tray of food in his hands and smiled down at him.

"It is good to see you awake again, Himura-san. I have brought you dinner."

Kenshin studied the man's face, finding that it was familiar to him, but he was unable to remember the monk's name.

"Arigato…?"

"Haishidiya," the young man supplied and he smiled, setting down the tray next to Kenshin.

"Haishidiya-dono," he said, bowing carefully to the man before applying himself to his dinner.

Haishidiya raised an eyebrow at the antiquated honorific. "We need to build up your strength and get you well enough to travel in three days time."

Kenshin raised an eyebrow of his own at the monk's statement and absently brushes his hair out of his eyes. "Why Haishidiya-dono, if I may ask?"

"The Meiji government," Haishidiya spat the words out harshly. "Has ordered us to leave here in three days time. Most of the others have already done so but I stayed behind to tend to your injury. You will be leaving with me when I do because your wound is not fully healed yet so you and I will be returning to my home together. You can stay with me until you are well enough to continue your journey."

Kenshin nodded without arguing and went on eating his meal. As soon as he was strong enough to travel on his own, he would part ways with the monk but for the time being it was a wise arrangement.

"Where is your home, Haishidiya-dono?" he asked, chewing on his food thoughtfully as he spoke.

"Aizu."


	3. Chapter Two

Kokoro No Itami Nakunaru Made Zutto: Sanctuary 

By: Hitokiri Gentatsu

Disclaimer: I own none of the Rurouni Kenshin characters and I am definantly not making any money from this story. 

Chapter Two: Behind Enemy Lines

"I have never known peace until now"

Himura Kenshin

Tsuioku Hen

The journey to Aizu had wearied Kenshin almost beyond endurance but he did not allow his weariness to show. He kept his eyes focused on the road in front of him and tried to still the drumbeat of his heart. He pulled the wide hat he wore lower to help hide his features and tucked his arms into the new magenta gi that he now wore in place of his tattered, dark blue one. He winced slightly as a stone in the road caused pain to ripple across his wound but remained silent, wishing he had not agreed to come to Aizu in the first place.

'One wrong move and both of us could be killed. I know they would like nothing better than to capture and kill me in revenge for all the deaths I caused.' He shook his head at the thought and wondered how many widows and orphans he had created here, all for the sake of an ideal.

They had passed the last border station several hours ago and were now making their way to the small house Haishidiya's family owned. Kenshin trudged along behind the monk, his senses tuned to a higher pitch than was normally the case. Aizu was enemy ground to anyone who had been numbered among the Ishinshishi and, since their arrival, Kenshin had felt as if there were hundreds of hidden eyes watching his every move. The guard at the border station had scrutinized Kenshin's features closely before allowing him to pass and that worried him. All it would take was for one Aizu samurai to recognize him and the whole clan would be after his life.

He walked on, trying to ignore the warning bells that were going off in his head and once again thanked the gods that had given him such a youthful appearance. That, plus the colorful gi he now wore would, hopefully, make him appear to be no threat whatsoever.

'With any luck, the others will think I am too young to have served in the war or that I am some kind of servant.'

Haishidiya watched Himura closely, noting his tense posture and the way his eyes swept the road in front of him. He seemed about ready to bolt and to be hiding from something. It seemed as of he expected an attack at any time and that he was preparing himself for just such a thing.

"Hiding from your worries never accomplishes anything constructive, Himura-san," he said softly, his eyes on the road in front of him.

Kenshin stopped in the middle of the road and his eyes widened. 'Am I that transparent?' he thought as he turned to look at the monk.

"I am merely being cautious, Haishidiya-dono. It had not been long since Aizu was at war." He waved a hand at the overgrown field and ruined house they were passing for emphasis.

Aizu had been allied with the Shogun during the Bakumatsu in Kyoto. When the Shogun's army was defeated at the Battle of Tobu Fushimi, the first battle of what would be called the Boshin Wars, the Aizu clan was hardest hit by the loss. But, even though their cause was lost, they had refused to lay down their arms and remained in rebellion until the Imperial Army was dispatched to Aizu to put an end to the fighting. Kenshin had heard this from Hideki several months ago and now, ironically, he now found himself in Aizu, a place he had been warned to stay away from if he valued his life.

Kenshin shook his head and continued to walk, keeping an eye out for trouble. Haishidiya knew there was no point in arguing with the samurai. Himura was stubborn when it came to arguments. The man could argue any point and he would never back down once he had taken a stand on an issue.

"That stubbornness will get him into trouble someday, if it hasn't already," he thought as he began to lengthen his strides. He wanted to make it home before nightfall.

*

Haishidiya's home turned out to be a miniature temple situated on a small rise if heavily wooded land that shielded the place from view. The nearest village was several miles away and the area itself was as secluded as Kenshin could have wished for.

"I need all the quiet I can get right now," he thought, feeling a bit of the tension he had been dealing with since their arrival drain out of him.

The monk motioned him to a room on the eastern side of the house and Kenshin slide open the door, his eyes sweeping the room, more out of habit than anything else. He found a large room with windows that faced east and south. There was a folding screen, made of lacquered wood, depicting a battle and two scrolls hanging on the walls, which were decorated with birds and flowers done in a delicate female hand. 

"Arigato, Haishidiya-dono," he said as he removed his hat and set it aside. 

"I will go and prepare a bath for you. A nice relaxing bath is what you need right now, Himura-san." The monk looked at him closely and Kenshin knew then that he hadn't hidden the weariness he felt as well as he thought he had.

"Arigato…" he replied quietly as Haishidiya left the room, quietly sliding the door closed again.

Kenshin went immediately to one of the eastern facing windows and slide it open to find a view of the surrounding forest. He looked at the trees and felt himself begin to relax more.

"I need this rest and some peace for a change. If I am able to have that then maybe I will finally find some way to control Battousai." He slide the window closed again and waited for the monk to return.

*

Kenshin lowered himself slowly into the steaming water, being careful of his wounded stomach and wincing slightly when it came into contact with the water. It stopped hurting almost immediately though and he was able to sink into the water up to his chin, before plunging under the water for a few moments to clean his hair and then resurfacing. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting the water soak away the dirt and grime from the road. He could feel muscles that he hadn't realized were tense, relax and he could also feel himself slipping into slumber.

He jerked himself awake several times, having no wish to drown in the bath. Instead of remaining in the steaming water where he might fall asleep, he rose from it, toweling himself dry. Putting on a robe, he sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of the bathhouse. Then he took up another towel to dry his hair, watching the steam rise from the water while trying not to thing about anything in particular. The steam and the gentle, nearly imperceptible, movement of the water, momentarily mesmerized him. He allowed it to send him into a meditative state and let his mind wander.

He saw Tomoe, her sad, dark eyes watching his face as he held out a hand to her. He saw those same eyes again, gazing at him with all the love she had never expressed to him in words and he saw himself, covered in blood, holding her still form in his arms as hot tears fell from his eyes. Then he saw his sword gleaming in the setting sun, only it was the sakabatou he now carried and not a regular katana. At least it appeared to be the same sword. He saw himself standing protectively in front of something or someone that he couldn't see clearly. His eyes were narrowed but he saw no amber glow in them. The rage of the hitokiri was no longer present within that image of himself. Then the image blurred as it moved forward with god-like speed.

Kenshin's eyes snapped open and he blinked several times to clear his mind of its temporary confusion. It could not have been more than a few minutes since he had fallen asleep because his hair was still dripping, leaving a pool of water behind him. Kenshin toweled it absently, replaying that last image in his mind.

"That man was me…" he thought, remembering the calmness in the man's narrow eyes and the steady, strong beat of a Ki that was in perfect balance. "I want to become that man, but were do I begin?"

He thought about his 'dream' all through the rest of the day and through the evening meal. Haishidiya could tell Himura was deep in though but he said nothing. "This is probably the best thing for him to do at the moment. At least now he is thinking and not just reacting to the situation."

Kenshin returned to his room after the evening meal, pleading tiredness, and still deep in thought about the vision he had seen. He opened the window again and sat on the sill, one leg dangling outside. His arms were folded across his chest and his head was bowed, his hair masking his face. He thought about what he had seen. His older self had been standing in a defensive posture, his stance that of battoujutsu. His violet eyes had been narrowed and he was glaring at some foe that he had been unable to see. This situation would normally call forth Battousai from deep inside him, symbolized by the amber glow in his eyes, but there was no hint of amber rage in this man's eyes at all. The man's Ki had been strong, stronger by far than his own was now. Somehow, he had found a way to rid himself of the hitokiri so completely that there was no sign of him at all and yet his swordsman's spirit was strong.

"You will never be rid of me. We are too intertwined for that to ever be possible. There can never be one without the other." The hitokiri's voice was a faint whisper in his mind.

Kenshin ignored the thought and instead held onto this image of himself. He wanted to become that man, wanted what that man had and if there was a way to do so he would find it.

*

Over the next several days Kenshin kept the vision of his future self in his mind, pausing several times a day to replay and analyze the image as if it were one of his enemies. He wanted to discover how he had managed to overcome the killer within him but the vision told him nothing of that. Still there were other things that could be learned from the vision, not the least of which was that he would, if the vision were true, in time find a way to overcome the hitokiri hidden within his heart. At least now he had a clearer idea of what he was striving toward, even if he had no idea how to achieve that goal yet. He had also noticed something else about his older self. Kenshin had analyzed his counterpart's stance and discovered that, although it was definantly a Hiten Mitsurugi battoujutsu stance, it was one that was unfamiliar to him.

"Does this mean that I will someday complete my training in the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu?" he thought, and then he shook his head at the impossibility of that. It was a ridiculous notion. His Shishou would never take him back now, not after he had tarnished and dishonored his teachings.

He sighed heavily, remembering their last argument and his subsequent departure from his master's house to join with the Ishinshishi. There was no possible way he could ever return or ever complete his training at this late date.

Kenshin returned his attention to the soapy water in front of him and began to scrub the clothing within it, feeling himself begin to relax to the rhythmic pattern of washing. Over the last few years he had discovered the relaxing quality to be found in chores and that he actually enjoyed what his former comrades would call 'woman's work'. He smiled, watching the sudsy water sparkling in the sun and began to wonder what his foes would think of the legendary Hitokiri Battousai, most feared man in all of Japan, doing laundry. He smirked, thinking about his worst foe of those days, Saito Hajime, the leader of the third Shinsengumi squad. His smirk grew into a smile as he thought about how shocked the man would be if he could see the Battousai now, elbows deep in soapy water. That smile grew wider as he tried to imagine Saito in his 

position, his hands covered with suds. 

Suddenly, Kenshin got an image in his head that sent him into gales of laughter. He saw Saito attempting to clean the laundry and, when things did not go according to his plan, he began to try to Gatotsu the dirty laundry into submission. The image in Kenshin's mind was of a frustrated Saito, covered in water with soapsuds clinging to his face and hair. Kenshin chuckled at the image and then he began to laugh, clutching his wounded stomach, as his laughter sent shooting pains across the area. His other hand grasped the washtub and he leaned against it as he continued to laugh.

He tried to stop but the image in his mind did not go away and every time he believed he had calmed himself down, he would close his eyes and see the image and start laughing all over again. This went on for several minuets until Kenshin, who was by now on his knees from laughing so hard, accidentally upended the washtub onto himself. The coldness of the water shocked him into silence. He sat there, too stunned to move as the water pooled around him. His eyes widened in surprise as he stared at the now muddy clothing he had been washing and then down at himself. Then he uttered a word he had not said since he was a child in his parent's house.

"Oro…" he said quietly, his eyes wide and blinking.

Haishidiya watched from the porch of the house, smiling as he watched Himura get up and frown at the sodden and muddy mess that had been newly clean clothing a few moments before. The monk watched as Himura shook his head with a chuckle and returned to his rooms to change his wet clothes before returning to the laundry.

"Maybe he can finally begin to find peace with himself." Haishidiya silently prayed to Buddha that it would be so.


	4. Chapter Three

Kokoro No Itami Nakunaru Made Zutto: Sanctuary

By: Hitokiri Gentatsu

Authors Note: Sorry for the long wait but I am working on two stories at once and that takes time. I also had a serious bout of writer's block on this one. Go figure. Anyway here it is at last. Please remember to review. Thanks.

Chapter Three: Peace and War

"I want to ask one thing…does that man currently regret how he lived his life?"

"Even if he were to regret it, he can't ever go back."

Himura Kenshin/Fisherman

RK Episode 63

Subtitled

For several days after the incident at the washtub, Kenshin began to feel his heart lighten somewhat. He no longer wanted to take his own life but he also wanted nothing farther to do with the world that had almost stolen his sanity. That world was just too painful a place for him to live in anymore and he had no desire to face the years ahead living in fear for his life. He had begun to watch Haishidiya closely and discovered that the monk had an inner peace and harmony with everything around him that Kenshin knew he lacked. More than anything else he wanted the peace Haishidiya had and, with that idea in mind, he had asked the monk to start teaching him a way to achieve it. Haishidiya was only too happy to do so and began instructing him in the ways of Buddhism that Kenshin had never understood before.

Kenshin absorbed the teachings as of his mind was mind was a sponge and he was grateful to find something to occupy his mind and free his soul.

"Maybe I can control Battousai with meditation and prayer," he thought.

He wasn't sure when his heart began to change but he knew that it had. He felt more relaxed and at peace then he had in several years, despite the fact that he was in enemy territory, and that peace began to carry over into his everyday attitude. The hitokiri's voice, which had always been a constant hum in the back of his mind, was now completely silent. The smell and sight of blood had faded from his senses and the urge to kill had dwindled to almost nothing. He had no more nightmare replays of his past and his thoughts had turned from war to peace. He couldn't help but feel as if he had found his place at last, something he had not thought would ever be possible again.

Kenshin sat on the floor of his rooms with his hands folded and his back straight. His eyes were closed against distraction as he repeated the sutra that Haishidiya had taught him. He could feel his body relaxing and his mind slipping quietly into a state of meditation. This last perhaps five minutes before his hitokiri alarms went off and his eyes snapped open, his hand going automatically for the sword at his left side.

He scanned the room but found nothing that would cause such a reaction. Then he sent out his ki to find the source of the disturbance. He could sense Haishidiya's calming presence not to far away from him, in a room down the hall from his own but there was a second presence in the room as well. The Ki of this individual was murky and dark to his senses.

"Ninja? Hitokiri?" Kenshin's mind frantically searched his memory for the person to whom this Ki belonged, knowing that it was familiar to him. He longed to rush into the room and see who it was but he knew that it would be better if he remained silent. Whoever they were, they were most likely looking for him and he would not put Haishidiya in danger by revealing himself now. He could feel a numbness come over him. If someone knew he was here then someone at the border station must have recognized him. He cursed himself for a fool and thoughts began to fly around in his head. He could not seem to fit two of them together in any coherent fashion but there was one thing he knew for certain: He could not allow Haishidiya to live in ignorance any longer. He would have to tell the monk the true identity of his newfound friend and companion. The idea filled him with dread but, in order to protect the monk's life, Kenshin would have to tell the truth.

*

Kenshin remained meditating in his room for several hours after Haishidiya's guest left trying to calm the drumbeat of his heart. It was only through strength of will that he had been able to remain in his room during the visit. The hitokiri had wanted to rush in there and silence the potential enemy before he could do the same to him but the rurouni managed to convince the hitokiri of the logic in waiting. The rurouni also managed to convince his more violent self that it was far safer and wiser to wait until an attack came, if indeed one was coming. When no attack came and when the man left the house without an attempt to attack Kenshin, the hitokiri lapsed into silence once more. Kenshin returned to his interrupted meditations.

Now he sat before an extremely pale and shocked Haishidiya. Kenshin closed his eyes and let his hair fall over his face, hiding his emotions from the young monk.

"He will throw us out and we are in enemy lands now." Battousai's voice had a cold, hard edge to it. "We will have to fight our way out." 

Kenshin flinched slightly at the words knowing that they could be true.

"We will wait. Haishidiya is a monk and I do not believe he will throw us to the wolves, no matter who I was."

The hitokiri muttered and Kenshin could feel his anger beginning to rise. Once again, he clamped down on it and began to repeat his sutra, striving to calm himself and to fight the rising tide of anger and fear in his heart, risking a look at the monk as he did so.

Haishidiya was in complete shock. He had heard the rumors, nearly everyone had of course, but he never expected to come face to face with the legendary Ishinshishi hitokiri. His eyes studied the red-haired man before him. Himura's head was bowed and his hair hid his features from the monk but he was still able to see a part of the scar that seemed etched into the other man's face. The cross scar, one of two features that identified this man as the Hitokiri Battousai. Haishidiya could not believe that he had allowed such details to slip passed him without notice.

The man who sat before him was not at all what had expected from the one who was called the strongest. Where other samurai often looked down upon people of lower rank, Himura was humble, acting as if everyone else was above him. Where some swordsmen talked of their prowess in battle or of their skill with a sword, Himura had never mentioned it, even though his sword never left his side. Curiously, Himura never mentioned anything about himself or his past at all, choosing instead to keep it locked away.

"That's not good," Haishidiya thought as he continued to study the man who was said to be the most feared in all of Japan. "If he keeps erecting barriers between himself and others then one day the seals on that barrier will break to his regret."

Haishidiya wondered how the hitokiri that was once known as a cold, heartless and emotionless killer, the hitokiri who was the one against whom all others were measured, had changed into the man he saw before him. He wondered what event had been the catalyst for it but he pried no farther into the man's past because it was really none of his affair.

It had cost Kenshin all of his hard won peace of mind to tell Haishidiya about his past. He sat there with his head bowed and his eyes closed, still awash in a sea of emotions brought on by his memories. He sensed confusion within the monk's spirit but knew the young man would not turn him out for admitting the truth.

"You must know that you are in danger here, Himura-san," Haishidiya said quietly. "Already there has been a man here seeking you. He said his name was Yoshiba Torisuya."

Kenshin looked up quickly at the name, which seemed somehow familiar. He put his mind to work, searching his memory, while he nodded to Haishidiya. 

"I sent him away but he did not seem satisfied with my answers to his questions. I suggest you keep an eye out for him."

"I am sorry I have brought undue trouble to your door Haishidiya-dono. You may rest assured that I will leave at the earliest convenience." Kenshin's voice carried a tone of regret and he felt one of his many masks slip into place.

"Rest now, Himura-san. You are still not fully healed. Stay here in peace and have no fear. When you are ready and your body has healed then you can still leave if you wish but rest for now."

Kenshin's eyes widened but he knew that the monk spoke nothing less than the truth. He had barely enough strength to do the chores and none to spare if he should be attacked. He was carrying his sakabatou but it was more out of habit than anything else. He looked away from Haishidiya at the folded hands in his lap and then looked back at the monk, his face a mask of resignation.

"Arigato for your hospitality. Haishidiya-dono," he said quietly, bowing. "I promise you that I will leave as soon as I am fully recovered."

Haishidiya bowed as well, then he rose from his place and looked down at Himura. "I will be waiting for you outside by the pond."

Kenshin nodded, realizing it was time for their daily meditation. The monk slid the door open and left him alone with his thoughts. 

Kenshin sat for a long time, deep in thought, before he rose and joined Haishidiya outside for their daily meditation. The monk said nothing about his late arrival. Instead he sat calmly staring into the waters of the lake. Kenshin joined him, his body immediately relaxing as he took up his position next to Haishidiya. He, too, stared at the lake, watching the water sparkle in the late afternoon sun. The two men said nothing and Kenshin was glad of it. He needed time to sort out what he had heard but, for the time being, he locked away those problems in the back of his mind. He began to breathe, taking deep, even breathes as he had been instructed to. Soon all of Kenshin's troubles melted away and a sense of peace stole over him and he wondered why he let things worry him anymore. The world was of no consequence and had not bearing on his life now.

*

He went to sleep that night in better spirits then he had been in for a long time. His soul seemed to be more in balance that had ever been before and the hitokiri now lay dormant within his mind. That was why the dreams surprised him.

--He was surrounded in flames that leapt and danced around him. He could feel their heat brush against his skin and he felt a sudden nearly overwhelming fear. He tried to find a way out of the flames but there was none. The blazing light of the fire blinded him and he could feel pressure building in lungs that were crying for air. Then he saw someone, a shadow, lunging at him through the flames. He sidestepped the grasping hand but felt himself brush against the flames. He bit off a scream. Then he heard and felt an explosion, which sent him sprawling to the ground. His vision dimmed for a moment and everything around him became a haze of gray and black. —-

--The sickening sweet smell of blood invaded his senses then. He tried to back away from it but the scent followed him wherever he went. His ears became full of the sound of screams and the sound of a sword slicing through men. When he could see again he saw a bloodstained field strewn with bodies. His younger self stood there, his high ponytail whipping in the wind and his eyes glowing menancing amber. He held a bloodstained katana in his hand, which he held out toward Kenshin in an open invitation to join with him. Kenshin shut his eyes tightly against the sight as the screams continued around him and as the smell of blood permeated his senses, filling him with the desire to kill once more. His mind spun away into darkness. –-

--He could hear the laughter of a young feminine voice.

"Shinta-chan! What is it you have done to yourself now?" a bright voice teased.

Kenshin's eyes snapped open and he saw a face of a person he hadn't thought of in years.

His sister, Mikaeko's, eyes glowed with laughter as she picked up her wayward younger brother, who was covered from head to toe in mud from the fields.

"Mika-niisan…play…" Shinta babbled in his baby voice.

Mikaeko laughed and hugged the boy to her and then swung him around through the air. Shinta's laughter rang through the field, full of innocence and happiness that he later lost to the war. Kenshin tried desperately to hang onto this dream, looking into the deep blue eyes of his sister but they faded before him and he found himself looking instead into the sad, dark eyes of Tomoe instead.

"If your life had taken a different path, you could have been happy here…" she whispered. –

Kenshin's eyes widened and he sat bolt upright on his futon, her words echoing in his mind. Overlaying it all were the screams of all those he had slain.

*

For the next few weeks dreams of the past kept haunting his sleep, making it difficult for him to get any rest. His sleeping mind seemed to be dwelling on events in his past, some of which dealt with the childhood he hardly remembered. In them he saw his family again as they had been before cholera stole them from him forever. As the days passed the dreams he had of his recent past as a hitokiri began to fade while the dim memories of his childhood began to surface.

Kenshin found his spirits beginning to rise and it seemed that his dreams were urging him to seek peace and not to dwell so much on his bloody past. His eyes began to sparkle again and there was always a true smile on his lips now, not one that was hiding pain and sorrow within it. He began to take pleasure in the things he had not had time to notice in his former life. The forest around Haishidiya's home became an endless source of pleasure to him. Everyday there was something new to see there and Kenshin reveled in the peaceful calmness of the time he spent there.

Haishidiya watched Kenshin with amusement. It appeared the former hitokiri was now beginning to live life instead of dwelling on the life of death he had once lived. Haishidiya's spirit lightened and he nearly laughed at the almost childlike behavior Himura was displaying.

"He's probably never had any kind of a childhood. Thank you, Buddha." Haishidiya bowed his head for a moment in thankfulness. "Thank you for granting him this chance at peace."

The monk lifted his head and watched Himura leave by the back gate, just as there was a knock on the front one. Puzzled, Haishidiya turned to the gate and went to answer it, wondering who had traveled to this remote place. It was the last thought he had for a long while.

*

Kenshin disappeared through the back gate and took little notice of the knock at the front one. He walked down a well-worn path, drinking in the sights, smells and sounds of the forest as he did so. He smiled, watching the sunlight filter through the leaves, as he continued walking toward the stream. A light wind played along the tops of the trees and through his hair and he felt peace in his heart. This was the place he came most often to meditate and think because it reminded him a little of the river near where his master, Hiko, lived. It seemed ironic that his favorite place should remind him of the master he had left behind but it did. Kenshin's former master was the furthest thing from his mind though, as he arrived at the stream and stood watching a few birds flying high overhead. They called to one another, their songs mingling with the other sounds of the forest and with the sound of the rushing water farther upstream. The sky was an arc of blue overhead and the sun was just high enough that the waters of the stream were sparkling.

His smile widened and he felt himself relaxing more. He walked out onto a natural bridge made of stones and sat on one of them, removing his sandals and tabi so that he could put his feet into the lazy current of the stream. He lay back, his head resting on his folded arms, watching a few clouds move majestically overhead and listening to the sound of the stream as it played within its banks. He found himself falling into a meditative state without trying and he continued to watch the clouds, letting his mind wander were it would.

He was so deep in his trance that he didn't, at first, notice the birds stop singing and the forest around him becoming silent. He also failed to notice the sounding of his internal hitokiri alarm until he heard the whistle of a blade overhead and saw it arcing toward his face. In that instant he seemed to disappear from the rock he had been on and he had come down quietly on the opposite bank of the stream. Kenshin winced as his bare feet made contact with the rocky shore and he felt his left ankle twist underneath him. He made no sign of this to his attacker though and stood regarding the man, who stood blinking in confusing at the spot, Kenshin had been in a moment before. Carefully, so as not to draw attention to himself, he slipped into the forest, one eye still on his attacker, while he searched for others he was sure would be nearby.

"Don't move or you're a dead man, Hitokiri Battousai!" hissed a voice behind him as a he felt a strong arm grab him from behind and the point of a dagger on his throat.

Kenshin froze and the hitokiri within him cursed and raged. Kenshin sent out his Ki and found that the forest behind and across the river from him was full of men up and down the bank. Ten men on each shore plus four more up and down river. He shook his head inwardly. The situation was not good. The men came from concealment and now gathered around their leader, who held Kenshin in a vice-like grip. Kenshin's sword arm was pinned by the man's arm and the man pressed the dagger into the flesh of Kenshin's neck, eliciting a surprised hiss from him and a trickle of blood that dripped down the side of Kenshin's neck.

He fought the urge to move and said coldly, "Who are you?"

"You are in no position to demand anything, hitokiri. We are the ones with that right. You have none here, murderer. We demand justice for all those you have slain." Kenshin felt the man behind him grab a handful of his hair and pull his head back so that his neck was exposed. Then he traced a thin line across the former hitokiri's throat with his dagger. A thin trail of blood welled from the shallow cut, which seemed to excite the men in front of him.

"You will die by the slowest means we can devise but first…" Kenshin felt the point of the dagger pierce his shoulder just as another man kicked him in the stomach. Kenshin could not stop the cry that issued from his lips as pain exploded there and he felt blood flowing from the not completely healed wound. He felt himself falling limply to the ground, clutching his bleeding stomach before awareness was taken from him completely and all was darkness.


	5. Chapter Four

Kokoro No Itami Nakunaru Made Zutto: Sanctuary  
  
By: Hitokiri Gentatsu  
  
Authors Note: Thanks for all the reviews. Sorry this is taking so long but real life keeps interfering. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter and hopefully I will be able to update more often.  
  
Chapter Four: Lost Soul  
  
"At any rate, everyone will follow the path shown to them. It is a lonely path."  
  
His first sensation was one of intense pain followed by a fridged coldness that seemed to sap what little strength he had and left him shaking. He tried to open his eyes but they refused to cooperate. He tried to find the strength to stand but, again, his body refused to follow orders. So instead, he attempted to remember what had happened. He searched his memories and found that they were a hazy collection of random images, unclear and undefined. The last event he could remember with any clarity was the Battle of Tobu Fushimi and the brillant crimson of flowing blood as it arced from his sword.  
  
"My sword?" Battousai's hand went reflexively to his left side where, through the haze of pain in his fingers and hand, he could feel the smooth wood of the saya and the metal of the sword's tsuba. He sighed in relief. At least, they had not taken that from him as well.  
  
The first thing he needed to do was to find out how much damage he had sustained, he would worry about anything else later. Carefully, he moved his arms and legs, which sent shooting pains up and down them. After a moment he decided that nothing was broken, just badly bruised. His left ankle felt like it was sprained, though from his current position he could not tell how badly and his sword hand felt badly bruised, possibly broken. He had a vague memory of his hand being smashed into a rock.  
  
He shook off the memory and tried once more to open his eyes. The left one refused to do so but the right one opened and he saw stars and a waning moon overhead. He blinked his good eye, trying to clear up the blurriness of the sky but it stayed the way it was. He lay there for several moments, looking at the sky as if it could tell him where he was and how he had come to be so injured. When he was unable to find his answer there, he carefully sat up to take stock of his surroundings. A hiss of pain escaped him as he did so and a wave of dizziness washed over him. His chest and stomach were on fire with pain. It appeared he had broken several ribs and that someone had managed to cut him on the shoulder and across his stomach. His gi and hakama were wet and sticky with blood, which accounted for the dizziness he felt.  
  
"I have to get out of here." He looked around and saw no one. The area was devoid of any people and he became puzzled. This did not fit with his last solid memory of a smoke covered, bloodstained battlefield.  
  
As he was puzzling over the implications of this he saw a flickering light in the distance. He blinked his good eye several times to make sure that the light was no figment of his addled mind. It remained there.  
  
"A house?" This, if anything, puzzled him more. There was nothing left standing at Tobu Fushimi. The battle between the two armies had left both villages in smoldering ruin.  
  
He shook his head to clear it of those memories and instead concentrated on making himself move. With force of will, he was able to stagger to his feet and he stood there, his legs trembling and his breath coming out in harsh gasps. He remained still for several moments, unable to move for fear of falling again.  
  
There was darkness at the edge of his vision and he felt, for a moment like he would pass out again. Only the fear that pounded through his body kept him on his feet as he slowly made his way toward the distant light. He concentrated solely on putting one foot in front of the other, inching ever closer to his goal. After a few minutes, the light resolved into a flickering lantern. A few moments more and he could see that the lantern hung next to the gate of a house.  
  
After what seemed to be an eternity to Battousai, he collapsed against the gate, his face and body slick with sweat and blood. His breath sounded sharp and ragged to his own ears and his body was on fire with pain. That pain held him immobile and all he had the strength to do for several moments was to lean against the gate, trying to regain enough strength to knock upon it.  
  
The moon had already disappeared beneath the tree line before he was able to pound the gate with his left fist. He made no other sound because he hadn't the strength to do so and he hoped that his knock was heard by someone inside or he would likely die out here without the ability to defend himself. There was a creaking sound as the gate opened and a white haired elderly man peeked out at him.  
  
"I require shelter…" Battousai managed to gasp, holding onto the wall for support, his good eye trained on the man.  
  
The man eyed the red-haired swordsman with open suspicion and began to close the gate again.  
  
"No…please…" Battousai's voice was not much more then a harsh whisper and a look of compassion crossed the old man's features, as Battousai moved into the light.  
  
"Please…help…me…"  
  
The old man, throwing caution to the winds, came out of the gate and took him by the arm, throwing it about his shoulders, taking the swordsman's weight off his injured leg. He carried Battousai inside the estate and left him on the ground just inside it before closing and locking the gate.  
  
"Arigatou…" he whispered, his head bowed and his breathing labored.  
  
"Yamashiro Haishi," elderly man said.  
  
"Arigatou, Yamashiro-san." The world around him was spinning and the darkness once again hovered at the edge of his vision.  
  
"And your name is…?" Yamashiro began.  
  
"My…name…?" Battousai's heart clinched painfully and he looked up at  
  
Yamashiro with confusion in his eye before that eye rolled up inside his head and he passed out.  
  
*  
  
He jerked suddenly awake several days later because of the sun's light shining in his eyes. His hand went reflexively to the sword that lay by his side and his amber eyes swept the room but he found that it was both unfamiliar and empty. His rapid breathing slowed and the adrinaline rush disappated. As it did so, he felt intense pain burning across his stomach. He hissed and wrapped an arm protectively around it noticing it was covered in bandages. A quick check of his other wounds turned up more bandages as well as a enough bruises to start a collection.  
  
"Kuso! What happened to me?" He tried to remember but all he could see was fire and blood. There was nothing within his memories to help him out.  
  
His amber eyes swept the room again and his hand strayed to his sword, his senses on high alert. Slowly, he attempted to stand and, after a few moments, he was able to get shakily to his feet. The room spun around him for a moment but he was able to force it to remain still. He looked around the room. It was small but clean and smelled new. There was a scroll on the wall, covered in kanji written in a delicate hand and he walked over to it, studying the characters and still trying to figure out what happened.  
  
The door slid open and Battousai whipped around, his heart beating wildly and his sword in his hand before he had realized what had happened. Yamashiro stood perfectly still, looking at the sword that had been leveled at him so swiftly that he had not even seen the blade move and into the golden, fire-like gaze of the man who held it. Those eyes, full of raging amber fire, froze Yamashiro's heart and held his own imprisoned within their firy depths.  
  
"He will kill me…" was Yamashiro's panicked thought as the seconds gave way to minutes and still the two stood facing each other in silence.  
  
Battousai's chest was heaving, causing pain to shoot across it. Then he really noticed who was in the room with him.  
  
"The man…from the other night…"  
  
He felt his fingers release the sword, which fell to the floor with a clatter. He followed soon after, and sat on his knees, his chest still heaving, while his heart thudded in fear of what he had almost done. His hair was covering his face and his eyes were tightly closed.  
  
"He helped me and I…I…"  
  
Yamashiro entered the room and set a tray of food next to the young swordsman. "It's all right. You're not the first person who has drawn a sword on me."  
  
"It was unforgivable. You have helped a complete stranger and I was going to reward your kindness by…" He let the sentence hang there incomplete.  
  
Yamashiro waved his hand to brush aside his protests. "It's quite all right, I assure you. There have been worse things that have happened within my sight."  
  
Battousai silenced his voice, gazing at the man intently, confusion in his burning gaze. Briefly, he wondered if this was a trap of some sort but he shook off that idea when he saw Yamashiro smile at him with no hint of anger or hatred. He bowed politely to the man as Yamashiro pushed the tray of food so that it was in front of him.  
  
"You should try to eat something."  
  
Battousai eyed the food and felt his stomach growl with hunger. He began to eat slowly, knowing that if he ate to quickly he would likely make himself sick. Yamashiro sat across from him, drinking tea and eyeing the young man before him, trying to place him. Something about him was tugging at his memory. A name…a description…?  
  
"Who are you?" he asked after several minutes of near silece, that was punctuated by the sound of chopsticks scrapping against porceline.  
  
Battousai stared at his food a moment and then looked up at Yamashiro, a look of confusion mixed with fear in his eyes as he tried to remember his name.  
  
"I…I…can't remember." He looked away from his rescuer's face and back to his hands, which were fisted in his hakama so tightly that the knuckles of his fingers were nearly as white as the material of it.  
  
"I see." Yamashiro studied what he could see of the young man's face, looking intently at the deep scar that disfigured the left cheek of the other man. "What is the last thing you remember before you found this place?"  
  
The young swordsman shuddered as a jumble of images went though his mind. He saw himself set upon and surrounded by a group of men. They all seemed to be shouting a name at him but he couldn't catch it. Then his eyes widened as the image of a battle came to his mind.  
  
He bowed his head, still shaking and whispered, "Tobu Fushimi…the battle at Tobu Fushimi. That is the last clear memory I have, everything else is a jumble."  
  
Yamashiro's eyes widened at the mention of Tobu Fushimi but he said nothing, not wishing to speak of the battle that had claimed the life of his son, daughter-in-law and their young child. "I'm sure you will remember in time. You were hit pretty hard in the head. Sometimes injuries like that cause a person to forget things for a time."  
  
"What if I don't remember who I am?" Battousai's voice was panicked.  
  
"Well, you could stay here, for a while." Yamashiro's voice held compassion for the distraught young man.  
  
"I will have to stay here for the moment in any case. I was staying somewhere nearby, I think, but at the moment I'm too injured to travel far."  
  
Yamashiro nodded. "Rest for now and let your body heal. In time you might even remember what you have forgotten."  
  
"I will do so," He paused for a moment. "But as soon as I have healed I must move on." Battousai felt that there was someone after him and again he experienced flashes of the past few years on the run from something.  
  
"Then all is well, for now." Yamashiro rose and, after bowing to the young samurai, he left the room. As he slid the door shut again, he gave the red- haired swordsman an icy glare and he whispered, "Hitokiri Battousai."  
  
*  
  
For the next several days, Battousai was forced to keep to his bed, recovering from his wounds. Surprisingly, he gave Yamashiro little trouble over this, knowing that he wanted to heal as quickly as possible so that he could be on his way. During the time he spent in his borrowed room he tried desperately to remember his name and the events of the past few months. He knew he had been a soldier in the recent war, brief flashes of memory indicated this; though he could not remember what side he had fought for. There were also dark and haunting images of blood and sadness that played through his mind that he didn't understand the meaning of as well as the face of a beautiful woman with sad dark eyes. These images and memories came to him in no particular order, so he had no way of making any sense of them. His only clear memory was of Tobu Fushimi and it seemed to him that he had just left there, so vivid was that memory. He could still hear the screams of the dying and wounded and smell the acidic smoke that hung over the field, wreathing it in crimson flame. Before that everything seemed to be awash in pain and regret.  
  
He locked those memories away to examine later and tried to make sense of the memories after that battle that he still had a grasp on, hoping they would be able to tell him who he was and how he had come to be here. After several day of examining these more recent memories he was no closer to finding out his identity then he had been when he started.  
  
"Kuso!" he thought fiercly. "Why can't I remember anything about myself or my family?"  
  
His hands clenched into fists at his sides but his face remained impassive as he stared out the open window. He was growing frustrated at his inability to remember anything and this feeling had him on edge. Somehow he knew he had to find out and soon. It was somehow important. If he could remember even just his name then he felt sure the rest would fall into place. He wasn't sure why he felt this way but his instincts were telling him that something was not quite right here. Battousai's hand strayed to his sword, which was another puzzle to him. This was not the same sword he had carried during the war. It's hilt felt strange to his hand, heavier somehow. Its weight felt strange to him and at the same time familiar.  
  
"Why a sakabatou? What does this say about myself?" He pulled the sakabatou from its saya and looked at the shining blade closely. He had to admit that the workmanship and quality of the blade was as fine as any he had previously wielded but that still did not answer the question of why he carried such an unusual weapon.  
  
Something tugged at the back of his mind, a foggy memory of an oath he'd sworn to…to whom? He closed his eyes to better concentrate on the dark and hazy memory but became no clearer. All he could remember was that it was an oath that meant more to him then life itself and something he would willing die to uphold. He concentrated some more and a memory flashed across his mind: a dark room, a woman's body laying in death and the echo of his own voice.  
  
"I will never kill again…never again."  
  
He felt the sting of tears on his cheeks and he opened his eyes, looking at the sakabatou again. Suddenly he remembered why he carried the unusual blade. He had taken many lives, including the life of the woman whose face haunted his dreams and whose name he could not remember. She was the only one who had been able to break his pattern of killing. She had loved him for who he was, not what he could do for her. He had sworn to protect her happiness and her. He knew he had somehow failed her and she had died because of him, for him.  
  
"That is why I carry this sword now, to make sure I never make the same mistake again." He looked at the blade with a little more respect then he had in the last hour.  
  
He slowly sheathed the sakabatou, watching it reflect the light coming from the open window. He caught his own reflection in it and looked for a moment at the scar on his cheek, reaching a hand up to trace its deep and unhealed lines. This scar was also a mystery to him. He turned to look out the window at the birds and the small pond in the garden outside of it; the air a warm breathe on his face and his thoughts swirling in his mind.  
  
Cold eyes watched him from a nearby tree, the man's presence was carefully masked and his dark clothing concealing him from the unwanted attention of his target. An evil smile twisted the man's features and his eyes narrowed as he watched the swordsman at the window.  
  
"So you cannot recall who you are? Well, before I am through, Hitokiri Battousai, you will remember every sin you have committed and you will pay for every life you have stolen a hundredfold.  
  
*  
  
Twenty miles upstream from Yamashiro's estate, Haishidiya reached the place where Kenshin had been attacked. He had been in search for the swordsman ever since recovering from the concussion he had received at the hands of the same bandits that had kidnapped Kenshin. For three days he had been searching for his friend using every trick he had learned in his samurai days, glad for the first time in years for the training his father had given him.  
  
"He was attacked here by several men," he read the faint traces of battle left behind by the combatants, carefully following them downstream until he came to the place where the attackers had dropped Kenshin into the raging current of the river. There was no sign that he had struggled when they threw him in.  
  
"Probably he was unconscious at the time." Haishidiya noticed the great quantity of blood scattered throughout the area and decided it was probably from Kenshin's stomach wound. "I have to find him and soon. Aizu is not a safe place for the one who was called the Hitokiri Battousai. There are many people here who lost family to the Ishinshishi during the war. They would seek him out to exact vengence."  
  
Haishidiya shouldered his pack and began the long walk downstream, trusting that Buddah would guide his steps and lead him to his friend before it became to late. 


	6. Chapter Five

Kokoro No Itami Nakunaru Made Zutto: Sanctuary

By: Hitokiri Gentatsu

A/N: Well, here it is finally. The next chapter of 'Sanctuary' that some of you have been waiting months for. Sorry for the long wait but I had several things come up plus I had developed a bad writer's block on this one. Gomen nasai. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and please don't forget to review. Arigatou. Also, I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.

Chapter Five: Face of the Past

"The smell of blood…it won't come off."

Hitokiri Battousai

Haishidiya moved swiftly but silently downstream, keeping to the shadows and searching for any sign that Kenshin had managed to pull himself from the flow of the river. The surrounding forest was uncommonly silent around him and that plus the frantic worry that laced his heart had is nerves on edge. He had searched nearly everywhere along the river but there was no sign of Kenshin nor of his attackers and seemingly no place the young swordsman could be except still in the river, carried away be the wash of the current.

Haishidiya moved his lips in silent prayer for the soul of the man he hardly knew and continued to walk. That was when he saw it, a small indentation in the sandy bank of the river. He knelt down to examine it farther. On closer examination it looked like it could be a footprint but it was too unclear for him to know for certain. However, this clue led him to a second, more certain one. The sand nearby was discolored and it smelled faintly metallic.

"Blood," he thought as memories he believed to be long buried under prayerful meditation came to the fore. He could feel the warm stickiness of blood on his hands again and, unconsciously, he rubbed them as if to remove the stain of it from them.

"That was the past," he thought vehemently. "That person is gone now. He is dead and buried."

Haishidiya felt the urge to hold a katana again and his hands clinched and unclenched as he knelt there with his eyes closed and memories of his past life flooding his senses. In desperation, he began to repeat a sutra he had learned when he first decided to throw that past away and become a monk. Almost immediately he felt himself begin to calm and, after a few moments, he was able to open his eyes again as the memories were locked away once more within the deep recesses of his mind.

He looked around the area, searching for other clues as to the direction Kenshin might have went in, if indeed this vague indentation was from his foot. At first there was nothing that told him anything useful and there was no sign that anyone other than animals had passed through the area. He combed the riverside for several feet in both directions but found nothing.

"Shimmatta," he cursed softly. "Where could he have gone? He couldn't have gotten far in his condition."

The monk scanned the nearby woods again and paused in his search if the riverbank when something caught his eye. There was a bright piece of fabric amid the dark green leaves of a bush. Haishidiya pulled the fabric from the bush, finding it was a scrap of magenta cloth. Below this he found another indentation in the soft ground followed by two more headed east.

Haishidiya walked slowly, following the minute clues left behind by the wounded Kenshin: a spot of blood here, a piece of cloth there, until he came upon a house. Kenshin's trail stopped at the gate of the estate. His heart froze inside his chest.

"Please Buddha…don't let him have ended up there."

He studied the gate for a moment but heard nothing from beyond it. Then he made to walk passed the estate but instead headed into the surrounding forest of bamboo, hoping to see a way to enter the estate besides the front gate, all the while hearing the frantic beating of his own heart.

"Please Buddha protect Himura."

*

Battousai sat on the porch, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes closed. To all appearances he was sleeping, his head bowed so that his fiery hair concealed his eyes. But he was not sleeping; instead he was deep in thought. Memories had started to come back to him and he was trying to sort them all out, hoping to discover who he was. He was trying to find the source of the uneasiness he'd been experiencing ever since his arrival at the estate.

On the surface everything appeared to be normal and there seemed to be no one in the Yamashiro estate that wanted him harmed. Everyone had been extremely polite to him and even helpful. He could sense nothing evil in anyone nor in their intentions and that's what was making him uneasy. The people on the Yamashiro estate seemed to be unreadable to him, their ki blurred and indistinct. This was triggering a memory in him.

"It's almost as if…" Battousai's thoughts trailed off. "They couldn't possibly be…"

*

After an hour of trying to figure out what was bothering him about the people, Battousai gave up and went to sleep, hoping that he would remember more of his past. His night was full of nightmares. Blood soaked battlefields and the stench of death surrounded him. Nameless faces haunted his dreams and he called out to those hazy people, wanting to know who they were, but they remained silent. Then, abruptly, the dreams changed from the blood and fire of the battlefield and alleys, to a landscape of fridged, pristine white marred by the stain of warm blood. He could hear an anguished cry and felt warm tears fall from his eyes. A soft, feminine voice whispered brokenly and the smell of white plumes hung heavily in the air.

-"It's better this way…so please don't cry…forgive me beloved."

Her voice carried all the love she had for him but had been too afraid to express in words before. He bowed his head and watched the life go out of her dark eyes, his hand on his stinging left cheek.

"Tomoe?" his voice sounded lost, as he bent over her still form to hold it one last time.

Slowly, he lifted her in his arms, cradling her gently against him and turned his back on the place of her death. Somehow he picked up her purple scarf and his bloodstained sword, taking them all back to the small house that had become their home. The trees and snow around him blurred as he walked, tears coursing down his cheeks. He bent his head over her still form and whispered softly.

"I will never kill again. When this war is over, I will never take another human life. I promise this to you, Tomoe…my only love…I swear it.-

Kenshin jerked awake, memories flooding his thoughts in a sudden rush. He knew who he was now and where he was. He was Himura Kenshin and he was in Aizu recovering from a self-inflicted wound. Some former Aizu samurai, who had beat him badly and left him to drown had cornered him at the river. He had been the Hitokiri Battousai and now he knew why he was unable to read the ki of the other people of the house.

"They are ninja…" he whispered.

"So we are and now it is time for you to join the ranks of the dead, Hitokiri Battousai!"

*

Haishidiya felt the flare of multiple ki coming from the house and above it, standing out like a beacon, was the ki of the former Hitokiri Battousai.

"Please Buddha…" he whispered as he ran toward the house, wishing he carried a sword instead of the walking staff he now carried.

He ran toward the house and jumped to the top of the wall. Looking below him, he saw ten men surrounding Himura and several more shadowy figures stealthily approaching the young swordsman's position.

"Himura!" Haishidiya shouted and Kenshin's head whipped around to find the monk pointing at a position behind him and to his left.

Quicker than the eyes could see, Kenshin was on his feet and had moved out the range of their trap. He glared at the men in front of him, his eyes shifting from violet to a cold blue, flecked with amber. He gripped the sakabatou's hilt tightly with his bandaged right hand, ignoring the pain that it caused when he did so. The voice of Battousai was in his ears, whispering incessantly that these men, these ninja were still enemies that needed to be eliminated.

Battousai's voice grew stronger as Kenshin narrowed his eyes a fraction, the golden flecks becoming more pronounced.

-"Flip the blade over and we will exact revenge for what they did to use in the woods.-" Battousai's cold voice sent shivers down Kenshin's spine.

::I will not. They are not my enemies anymore. I left that life behind me when I left Kyoto.:: he thought fiercely at Battousai even as the ninja began to close again.

"Hitokiri Battousai. How strange we should meet again after all this time," a deep voice cut through the air and the advancing ninja parted to lot their leader through.

Kenshin's eyes widened for a moment in recognition before narrowing again, becoming more golden still.

"You!" he hissed coldly.

The man smiled a disarming smile but said nothing for a moment, studying Kenshin with a critical eye.

"You're not doing so good are you?" he said matter-of-factly.

Kenshin felt the Battousai's anger flare but he strove to remain in control of it. He would not allow Battousai to have control of the situation this time. Instead, he glared at the man through narrowed bluish eyes, trying to gage his opponent's strength. The tall man laughed, highly amused by Kenshin's struggle to contain the hitokiri's rage and the ninja nearby took up his amused laughter.

Battousai's eyes turned brilliant gold and his face became a mask of hatred. That man was responsible for the deaths of many highly placed Ishinshishi in the past. He had crossed swords with the man several times in Kyoto and the memory of their last encounter still seemed fresh in Battousai's mind.

*

-The streets were teeming with Shinsengumi and their Aizu allies. They were searching desperately for the stores of arms and the secret meeting place of the Ishinshishi forces said to be on the march for Kyoto. Little did they know that the advance force was already in place. 

Battousai crouched in an intersecting alley with several other men, waiting to make their move. Battousai stayed somewhat away from the others, concentrating on the enemy, and they watched him, fear in their eyes. None of the men he was with had actually seen him fight but they all knew his reputation as a cold-blooded killer with no mercy and they had all heard stories about him.

Battousai watched the mouth of the alley, his amber eyes glowing in the faint light and the men shivered, hoping that when the battle came Battousai would remember the difference between friend and foe. Most of the men believed Himura was a little mad, especially in the midst of battle. It was rumored that he became as cold and sharp as the blade he carried at his side and that he killed without remorse for his actions.

Battousai tensed and shifted slightly and the men were just able to make out the sword scars that where etched into his left cheek. They, like countless others before them, wondered about that scar. When the young assassin had gone into hiding after the 'Troubles in Kyoto', he'd only had one scar there, which was the gift of a bodyguard he's slain during an assignment. When he'd returned to Kyoto once the danger was passed, he bore two scars, the second of which slashed across the first making the whole cross shaped. No one knew who had given him that scar but it was rumored that before each battle he would touch it and say one word, so softly that no one had been able to catch it.

Battousai felt the men's scrutiny but he chose to ignore it. His hand went to the scar on his cheek and, as he brushed a hand over it, he whispered: "I promise Tomoe." The men behind him thought they saw the amber glow fade from his eyes for a moment before it returned. Then he turned away from them and watched the mouth of the alley. The foe was coming upon them from the east and south. Battousai could feel their ki searching for his party's own and he smirked, feeling himself growing numb as the killer within him tensed, waiting for the attack.

He waited, with his men behind him. The other samurai tensed in anticipation of the battle to come but their face remained impassive as they waited for Battousai's signal. Battousai narrowed his eyes and counted in his head, ready to spring into action at the first sign of the enemy.

The faint scrap of a sandal overhead and the jerk of Battousai's head were all the warning the other Ishin received before the enemy struck. Several ninja descended on the party from above, while an equal number of samurai rushed the alley. Battousai moved to face the samurai, noting that their clothing all bore the crest of the Lord of Aizu.

"These ninja are probably in his pay as well," a distant part of his mind, thought as he traded blows with the leader of the samurai.

After twenty minutes, all of the samurai were dead and a barely winded Battousai turned to help the rest of the Ishin in their fight with the ninja. With surprise he noticed that two of the ninja lay dead. His companions were not bad swordsmen then. He smiled coldly and moved to their aid but found his way blocked by the leader if the ninja.

He smiled at Battousai, raising his katana in salute, but said nothing. Battousai's eyes narrowed and his smile turned into a sneer. He took up battou-jutsu stance and waited for the ninja to make a move. He just stood there, smiling at Battousai with barely concealed contempt. Battousai glared back at the man, saying nothing and still waiting. When he was unable to wait any longer he moved toward the ninja leader, who for some strange reason remained still. Battousai went into a spin that would add momentum to his strike. As he came out of the second part of the spin, he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder and saw the ninja leader seeming to blur in front of him. He swung his katana at the man but it failed to connect.

Battousai spun around and then felt himself slump to the ground his sword clattering uselessly to the stone beside him. He glared up at the ninja leader and tried to find his sword, but everything around him began to waver in and out of focus. The ninja leader stood before him with his arms folded in front of him, his mouth curved into a sinister smile. Battousai grimaced, feeling a cold burning fire in his veins.-

*

 Kenshin was still not sure how he managed to return to headquarters or even how he'd managed to survive the deadly poison that had coursed through his veins that night. One thing was absolutely certain though: that ninja leader and the man who stood in front of him were one and the same.

"Now we will finish what was started during the height of the Bakumatsu and this time you will die." The man's cold laughter floated in the air between them.


	7. Chapter Six

Kokoro No Itami Nakunara Made Zutto: Sanctuary  
  
By Hitokiri Gentatsu  
  
A/N: Arigatou for all the reviews. I don't own Rurouni Kenshin but you knew this already, ne? Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the others. Please feel free to review if you wish.  
  
Chapter Six: True Spirit  
  
"In a duel, death is no one's fault."  
Takimi Shigure  
Ishinshishi no Requiem  
  
Haishidiya looked down from his vantage point at the man he knew as Himura, watching the other man take up his battle stance. Himura's body was crouched low and his hand hovered over the hilt of his katana, which was tipped downward.  
  
"The battoujutsu." he thought, recognizing the stance for what it was.  
  
The monk could not make out Himura's face but the ki that beat against his own was dark with rage; the cold killing rage of Battousai. It was as if Haishidiya was feeling the ki of a different man. He watched the scene below him with mounting horror, not directed at Himura but toward what he was about to do.  
  
"I have to stop him."  
  
*  
  
Kenshin felt rage overwhelm him at the man's words. He crouched in battoujutsu stance and waited, amber fire burning in his eyes. He could feel the hitokiri coming to the fore and the cold indifference that came with the persona he'd created during the Bakumatsu. A part if himself craved the fight, wanting to hear the screams of the men as they died and to see and smell the blood that would pour from their bodies. That part of himself, the killer he had been, was very strong still because the hitokiri had been in control of his actions for so long.  
  
But now Kenshin felt something within him begin to rise up and try to temper the killer's dark rage. His true self, the peaceful, kindhearted man that Tomoe had helped him to find and that Haishidiya had helped to grow stronger was there in an instant and Kenshin found the rage inside of him draining slowly.  
  
-He must die to avenge those who were slain by him.-Battousai muttered and for a moment Kenshin felt the rage rise again.  
The man before him seemed not to sense the struggle within Kenshin's soul. Instead, he stepped forward and attempted to slash at Battousai, who merely moved out of harms way, without having appeared to move at all. Glittering amber eyes met his and the look on Battousai's face would have caused a lesser man to take a step back in fright. Several of the ninja behind Kioya did move back a pace or two but that didn't concern Kenshin. Only the man in front of him held his interest.   
  
Battousai made no move to attack, once more crouched into his defensive battoujutsu stance and still waiting for Koiya to make a move. The two swordsmen stared at each other down the length of the blade that separated them, their cold eyes locked on one another and their ki's in furious battle. The men nearby moved back several more paces and a few began to move toward the gate or the house in an attempt to get away from the two killers. Haishidiya jumped down from the wall and walked closer to the two combatants, waiting to see what would happen. He prayed to Buddha that Kenshin would not lose himself the madness of the hitokiri.  
  
Kenshin struggled with two conflicting desire, which were both tied to his need to protect people. A part of him wanted to kill the man in front of him so that he could do no more harm to others but the other part of him, which was no nearly as strong, wanted to help this man see reason. The two desires warred with one another and, as Haishidiya moved closer, he noticed Kenshin's internal struggle was being played out on his face. Kenshin's eyes shifted rapidly from amber to a cold, hard blue and back again.  
  
Finally, it appeared that Kenshin had made a choice because his eyes took an icy blue and narrowed for a moment, amber sparks moving through them. Koiya moved forward and slashed at Kenshin again, who drew his own sword to block the attack and pushed the man back.  
  
"We don't have to fight anymore," Kenshin said, his voice quiet but with a hard edge to it. "The war is over and now is a time of peace."  
  
Koiya blinked at him and then snarled, his voice laced with contempt. "How dare you talk of peace! You and your Meiji government friends have taken everything from us. They are all uncaring, unfeeling demons and you are the worst of the lot, Hitokiri Battousai!"  
  
Haishidiya saw Kenshin flinch as if struck and the young man bowed his head as Koiya's words washed over him. He saw the former Hitokiri shudder for a moment as seemed to struggle with some unseen emotion. He raised a hand to his left cheek and when Kenshin looked up, Haishidiya saw a soul containing more sorrow then he had ever seen before. Kenshin's fingers traced the scar on his face and looked at Koiya with pained filled eyes.  
  
"You are not the only one to have lost someone dear to you." Kenshin's voice was soft but roughened with sorrow. "War does nothing but destroy the lives of people on both sides."  
  
"You know nothing of what we have suffered here." Koiya swung his katana at Kenshin again, and it was blocked again. "Hundreds of innocent people died when your government came here to subdue us. All those deaths are on their and your hands."  
  
Kenshin looked at him. " Koiya-san you need to open your eyes before your hate consumes you as it almost did me."  
  
"The Battousai talks of opening my eyes…How dare you! You have no right to demand anything of me. You are nothing to me except a cold-hearted killer."  
  
"Yes, I killed many, including one I never meant to slay. I live with those deaths every day. Not a day passes that I am not visited by nightmares of those days, but I made a promise to the ones who gave me this scar. Would you care to know the promise I made to her?"  
  
"Why should I care?"  
  
"I promised that I would never take another life ever again once the war was over. This scar reminds me of the promise and it also reminds me that I must live for those who died." Kenshin turned his back on Koiya and resheathed his sakabatou, feeling uneasy about having his back to the man that was after his life but seeing no other way to end the fight. "If you give it a chance, time might be able to heal your wound."  
  
Kenshin began to walk away from the ninja leader, but had only managed to move a few feet before Koiya charged him with his katana raised. In a second the fight was over. Kenshin pivoted and his own sword flashed out, catching Koiya in the stomach. The ninja slumped to the ground just as Kenshin's blade snapped home. He closed his eyes and tried to calm the part of himself that was the Hitokiri.   
  
Haishidiya moved to look at the wounded man, fully expecting to see blood, but there was none, just a deep red welt that ran across Koiya's stomach. He looked up at Himura, who was eyeing the other ninja carefully.  
  
"Think about what I have said," he said quietly to them and then he began to walk toward the gate.  
  
The ninja parted to let him pass, stunned looks on their faces. When Haishidiya caught up with the young man, he found Himura leaning heavily against the wall of the estate. His face was a mask of pain and as pale as rice paper. His arm was wrapped around the wound in his stomach, which from the look of it had been torn open again. His breathing was rough and had a hissing quality to it.   
  
"I think…I did…to much…." he whispered between gasps.   
  
"Come, lets get you home. Then we can talk." was all Haishidiya said before throwing one of Kenshin's arms over his shoulder and helped him to walk.  
  
"Arigatou…" he said faintly, barely aware enough to realize who was helping him or that he was being helped at all.  
  
Haishidiya shook his head and adjusted Kenshin's weight on his shoulders before beginning the long trek home. 


End file.
