Rurouni
Kenshin Fanfic
Rurouni Kenshin & Samurai X Original
Japanese Version ©N. Watsuki/Shueisha * Fuji-TV * SME Visual Works Inc. * Sony
Pictures Entertainment
All Fanfics created by Chiruken (me) were written for the
sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I awaken suddenly
and listen in the dark for what disturbed my sleep. I stare up into the shadowy recesses of the ceiling unable to
hear any other sound save my own breathing and the distant barking of a
dog. I shrug and close my eyes,
snuggling into my blanket, seeking sleep again. Obviously it was nothing but my own uneasy dreams…and doubts.
Perhaps I acted
rashly in inviting a strange man to live here, at the doujou, with me. I told him his past doesn’t matter, yet I
can’t shake the disturbed feeling I get when I dwell on what I know. I’d have to be an idiot if I didn’t feel
afraid. After all, I grew up on tales
of the brutality of Hitokiri Battousai, told to every child to ensure good
behaviour. ‘If you misbehave, Battousai
will come and get you.’ I shift
nervously on my futon. I must be a fool
to have invited the legendary hitokiri to live with me, alone, with no
protection save my bokken. I grimace in
the darkness. Like that’s any use
against a katana.
I sigh and roll
over onto my stomach, folding my arms under my head. I have to admit he doesn’t look like a vicious killer. For one thing, I assumed Battousai would be
taller…and not quite so delicate in appearance. I frown, thinking of my guest…Boarder, actually, I correct
myself. His eyes aren’t the eyes of a
killer. No, the gentle violet gaze so
full of innocence and sadness are not what I envisioned the eyes of a hitokiri
to look like. He doesn’t act like a
hitokiri either. Who ever heard of an
assassin cooking and cleaning like he does?
He even washes the laundry for kami-sama’s sake. I don’t know of any normal men doing that,
never mind Hitokiri Battousai. Yet he
does…and seems to enjoy it, too.
From our first
meeting I knew he was different…and I was drawn to him. Despite knowing who he really is, I find
myself liking the man who calls himself Himura Kenshin. How could I not like him? His gentle manners and good-natured humor
make him very likable. However, what depths does he hide behind his oft times
silly exterior? I have observed him
when he thinks he’s alone and the sadness in his expression touche4s me
deeply. I think he’s been very lonely
for a very long time. It must be
difficult making friends with a past like his.
I can’t blame him for not wanting to tell me who he really was at
first. He probably feared a hysterical
reaction.
I raise my head
and stare through the shadows at the wall separating him from me. He treats me with the utmost
respect---acting almost in a deferential manner befitting that of a servant. It makes me rather uncomfortable,
actually. He addresses me in a way an
older, matronly woman would be addressed, by someone much younger, which is odd
considering he is the older one…by eleven years to be exact. To counter his odd formality I refrain from
attaching any honorifics to his name, choosing instead to call him
Kenshin. He hasn’t corrected my
seemingly lack of good manners yet, so I’ll continue to do so. My father would be horrified by my lack of
courtesy, I suppose, but Kenshin doesn’t seem to mind.
I flip onto my
back again and pull the blankets up to my chin. Despite my liking for him I can’t deny I still fear him. I try not to let it show, though somehow I
think he knows. There are times, when
we sit sipping tea in the evening, when he will look at me, his violet eyes
knowing and so unhappy I feel guilty for my fear.
I’m being
irrational and I know it. Kenshin
hasn’t given me any reason to fear him, quite the opposite, actually. I wince, remembering the events from earlier
today. I really shouldn’t take my anger
and frustrations out on him. It isn’t
like it’s his fault my students haven’t come back yet. I still feel bad for hitting him over the
head with the water bucket like I did.
He was only trying to be helpful.
My hands tighten into fists in renewed irritation. He shouldn’t have suggested that I teach in
other doujou’s. Doesn’t he understand I
want to teach my family’s budou, not someone else’s?
I take a deep,
calming breath and unclench my hands, pushing my annoyance away. I need to get some sleep. I can be reasonable in the morning after
getting some rest. I’ll apologize to
him tomorrow and we’ll get on with the day.
I yawn and close my eyes, willing myself to fall back to sleep.
**To Be Continued…**
***
Author’s Notes:
1.Another early attempt at fanfic writing. This is one of my earlier attempts at First
Person Present POV. Please be kind, ‘K?
2.This was originally a one-shot, but I felt that it was too
bunched together so I separated it into shorter parts.
3.This takes place some time between when Kenshin first comes to
live at the Kamiya Doujou and when Yahiko enters the picture.
4.I’ll have the rest posted ASAP---I promise!