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.

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Behind the Rurouni’s Smile

by Chiruken

I smile brightly, forcing a cheerfulness into my expression that I’m far from feeling. All around me are people I don’t know…I’m surrounded by strangers. I can feel their eyes on me, openly staring longer than courtesy would normally allow.

Is it the sword I carry? It’s possible that this is what attracts their attention. After all, under the Firearms and Sword Possession Control Law, I’m in violation and should be arrested. Swords are illegal in the Meiji Era…even one like mine. Nobody cares that it’s a sakabatou, a non-lethal weapon.

But maybe it’s my appearance that generates such rude interest. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I resemble a gaijin more than a native Japanese citizen. Red hair and blue eyes aren’t common in Japan outside of the ports and western quarters in major cities. Not for the first time I find myself wishing for a more conventional appearance.

Of course, the strangers I meet often stare openly at the crossed scars I bear on my left cheek. Whispered tales passed from one era to the next precede me everywhere I go. I see the questions in their eyes as they hastily avert their gazes. It is a bitter legacy that I must try to live down.

Often my formality will draw unwanted attention to me as well. It is because with my smaller stature I resemble someone much younger than I actually am. It’s embarrassing to realize that so many mistakenly view me as a child. And, of course, children aren’t polite, hence the extra attention.

But I think what draws the hastily raised hands concealing whispers and the amused snickers isn’t my unusual appearance nor the forbidden weapon at my side. Neither is it the suspicions generated by the scars reminding many of a shadowy figure from stories told about the revolution. No, it isn’t any of those things.

I believe what draws the attention of strangers everywhere I go is something far removed from my appearance, accessories and attitude. It’s the clothing I wear. They see me, a short man with odd colouring searing a bright pink gi and they begin to wonder. Well…let them wonder. So what if my gi is pink? I happen to find the worn material comfortable.

I keep my cheerful smile firmly in place and walk slowly down the street, my arms full of the groceries that Kaoru asked me to carry. I keep my head high and pretend I don’t hear the too-loud whispers questioning my ‘preferences’. Instead, I grit my teeth and keep my smile pasted firmly in place. In my circumstances, could they do better? My gi started life as red, not pink. Use, washings and repairs have faded it over time. As another snicker reaches my ears I close my eyes and turn my head towards the speaker as we pass. Then I open my eyes again to see a tall, solidly built man towering over me. He blinks in surprise, his smug expression altering to fear and I know he sees the hitokiri within me as I draw closer. Keeping my voice low, speaking for his ears alone, cheerful mask firmly in place, I growl: “I hate pink.” And continue on my way.

Owari

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Definitions:

Meiji Era: 1868-1912

sakabatou: reverse-blade sword

gaijin: foreigner

gi: short kimono (like a tunic)

hitokiri: assassin (lit. people cutter)

owari: end