<This story isn't mine, but the person who's it is doesn't have regular
access to email, so I'm posting it by proxy. The real writers email is at
the bottom, so be sure to send C&C there for your comments.
Enjoy. This is a goodin'.>


DRAGONS

By the Unseen Watcher

Disclaimer:  Rurouni Kenshin does not belong to me.  Hiko doesn't belong to
me.  Life sucks that way.  Please don't sue me, its not nice and your lawyer
would only get lint out of me.  I just like to write and figured there might
be a few out there who might like my ideas.  Hello? <echo>  Or maybe not.
^_^;



The red-head sat in the doorway, his katana against his shoulder in a
passive pose.  His eyes were closed.  A shadow fell over him, but he didn't
look up or open his eyes.

"She's gone."  The doctor said, seeing no way to soften the blow.

"I know."  The man replied quietly, his expression unchanged.

The doctor looked at the unruffled man questioningly, slightly shocked by
his casual tone.

"I felt her leave."  He explained in the expectant silence.

The doctor looked at him, her dark eyes unreadable.  Only then did she
notice the small sack at his side.

"You're leaving."  It wasn't a question.

The other nodded, finally raising his head to reveal clear, disturbingly
serene violet orbs.

"It's time."  He said simply.

The doctor looked ready to protest, but could not get the words out in the
face of that tranquil gaze.

Rising to his feet, his small bundle of belongings over his shoulder, he
faced her one last time.  He bowed low in respect and acknowledgement, his
only farewell.  Then, turning, he quietly made his way to the open gate.  He
paused only once, standing before the dojo sign that still hung there,
showing that the honor of the school was still intact, even after all this
time.  He gave it a long look, fingers reaching up to trace the worn kanji,
before turning and moving down the street.  He didn't look back.

Standing on the now abandoned porch, the doctor fought the tears that
threatened to overwhelm her composure.  She looked after the slight man that
had been so important in the lives of so many and whispered a faint
farewell.

"Sayonara Kenshin-san."

**

He made his way through the city, drawing occasional stares.  His worn
hakama and bright gi were out of place in the growing metropolis where the
fashion had long ago turned to more exotic western styles.  Most startling
of all was the antiquated sword that swung casually at his side.

He didn't seem to notice the attention, or simply didn't care, passing by
the towering new square buildings lining the street with his eyes straight
ahead, shoulders back.  A passing streetcar rushed by him, ruffling the fire
bright hair.

He passed several policeman, but received only neutral looks.  None moved to
stop him.  Unchallenged, though he was blatantly breaking the sword law, he
eventually made his way out of the city.

**

A week later a potter looked up from his cold kiln.  Hazel eyes met purple,
before turning back to their contemplation of his drink.

"It's about time you showed up."  The potter said irritably, shifting his
larger frame on his log seat, absently moving a corner of his long white
cloak to make room for the newcomer.

They sat for a while, staring out at the world around them.  Finally the
dark-haired potter offered the red-head the sake jug.  The other accepted it
with a slight nod.  They sat there in silence, passing the container between
them.

"The lights get closer every year."  The potter said, his deep voice matter
of fact.  The red-head didn't comment, slowly sipping his drink from his cup
as his eyes gazed off into nothing, darkening to a deep amethyst in thought.

"What took you so long anyway?"  The larger one asked irritably.

"I made a promise."  The smaller samurai said calmly, unruffled by the
other's attitude.  He had long ago grown used to it.  "I promised that I'd
stay until the last."

"Only you'd stick around until the last of your children died."  Hiko
grunted, glancing over his glass at his former student.

Kenshin smiled faintly.  "I promised their mother."  He said simply.

There was nothing his master could say to that, so he contented himself with
snorting softly.  The red-headed former rurouni's devotion to his wife was
unquestionable, impressing even the cynical kenjutsu master.

Actually, Hiko could have been considered a Grandmaster, if anyone official
even knew of his existence to formally declare it.  Those in charge tended
to miss or overlook his presence.  No easy task for a man well over six feet
among a population primarily composed of people of below average height.

Somewhat subdued but damned if he was going to show it, Hiko Soujiro tipped
the last few drops of sake into his cup.  Giving the now empty jug a
betrayed look, he tossed it aside and groped for a new one.  "You still took
your sweet time."  He grumbled half-heartedly.

"Megumi-dono's granddaughter is a credit to her profession, and her family
line."  Again that slight smile appeared.  "She also has all of her
grandfather's tenacity and then some.  Her patients tend to live long lives.
They get well or answer to her."

Hiko raised a sardonic eyebrow, but didn't respond.


"When were you going to tell me?"  Kenshin asked abruptly, his voice low.
Hiko flashed him an irritated look before finally locating an unopened jar.
Pouring himself a cup, he took a sip before replying.

"Well, what did you expect?  You lived the kind of life you have and you
think you'll remain unchanged by it?"

Kenshin only looked at him.  There was more to it.  His master's words often
were, under the surface.  He had learned that through hard experience, along
with the patience it took to unravel them.

"Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu is an art based on dragon symbolism."  The 13th master
of the school said, glancing thoughtfully into his cup.  "It draws on
aspects of nature, using  the strength of your spirit as its focal point,
it's power extended through your sword.  It pushes your body to its limits
and beyond.  You know well what I've taught you.  Earth teaches stability of
mind and spirit, Wind to flow with its movements, Water easing the heat of
the fire that can either consume you . . ."

". . .Or forge you like the finest blade into something more."

Kenshin pondered this, head tilted to the side.  Few things surprised him
any more, yet his master's uncharacteristic blunt reply had managed to do
it.  He didn't doubt a word of it.  This was Hiko Seijuro.

"What happened to just being a human being?"  He managed to ask.

"That was then, before you had fully mastered the style.  Or it had mastered
you, or whatever.  Besides, in a sense you are human.  You've just become. .
.more so."  Hiko frowned at this inadequate explanation.  "In a sense,
you've grown closer to what a human can potentially be."

"Each master of the art passes along the mantle, and burden of power, to the
next through the succession technique of the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki.
Most don't live long enough to even get in sight of old age, though there
was a legend of one who took two centuries to find the right student.  I
thought it was only a tale until recent years."  He shot Kenshin a disgusted
glance.  "You changed it all with your stubborn refusal to kill me."

Kenshin's smile was wry.  "Gomen Nesai."  He murmured, his tone conveying
just how insincere the apology was.

Hiko snorted again, passing the sake jar over to him.  "So here we are.  Two
fighters who've seen and done more than they care to remember, fated to live
the-kamis-know-how-long because we're too blasted good at what we do.
Stopped in time because the nature of our ki energies won't allow age to
touch us.  Warriors in an era where none should exist."

"We're still needed."  Kenshin pointed out.  "There are still those who
cannot defend themselves, and ones who seek to gain through their
suffering."

"There always have been."  His master replied, a sad look of hard-learned
wisdom passing quickly across his face.  "There always will be."

Kenshin gazed into his cup.  An old memory flitted through his mind and he
smiled.

"You once told me that if a man didn't like the taste of sake, there was
something wrong with him."  He said, his unexpected words drawing the other
from his dark thoughts.  "You told me that every season touched it
differently, but that it always tastes good.  For so long, mine tasted of
only blood and tears.  Then I found a happiness I didn't know existed, and
the flavor returned.  Save once."  The day that Kaoru had died and for many
days afterward.  But he didn't say it and his master didn't ask.  He knew.

Kenshin felt a shift in the weight of his glass and glanced up to see Hiko
silently, almost respectfully, pouring more into his glass.  Solemn hazel
eyes met startled purple once again.

"I also recall . . ."  The dark-haired man rumbled, the mocking gleam gone
from his eyes ". . .that I said that one day you would understand what I
meant, and I'd pour sake for the both of us."

Kenshin nodded slowly, meeting the other's gaze steadily, honored beyond
words by the implications.  His master considered him an equal.  Well, as
equal as one could get to Hiko Soujiro the 13th.

After another long silence, Hiko stoppered the sake jar firmly.  Standing
up, he pulled out a bundle of his own from behind the well-worn log seat.
Sake jar swinging from one hand and bag over the other shoulder, he
unceremoniously started for the trees.

"Where are you going?"  Kenshin asked, surprised by the move.

"I think I'll wander around for a bit; maybe a century or two.  See the
world and all that."  He called over his shoulder.  Stopping at the
treeline, he hesitated.  Turning, he raised an impatient eyebrow, trying and
failing to conceal the slight smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Coming baka deshi?"

Kenshin found himself returning the smile, his own mouth curving into a
disturbingly identical grin.  "Hai, Shishou."  He replied formally, grabbing
his own bag of belongings from the ground where he'd dropped it.  He ran to
catch up to the larger man, his shorter steps double the other's long
strides.

"Good."  Was all the dark-haired man said, turning his head to hide his
relief at the acceptance of his veiled offer.  "I need a halfway decent
sparring partner."  He glanced down at the younger man pacing him.  "You'll
just have to do.  It'll take a while to get you up to even that level.
Knowing you, you've slacked off again these past years. . ."

Kenshin only smiled and continued walking.  It would be nice to be on the
road again, and even better with a traveling companion this time.  He was
sure his obstinate master felt the same way.  Answering yes or no in the
right conversation places, the 14th master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu followed
his predecessor, the two of them melting into the forest.

A moment later, the clearing was empty.


C&C to watcher578@yahoo.com.  Please don't complain about Hiko's eye color
though.  The man is one of those whose eyes seem to shift with each episode.
I did my best!




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