Disclaimer: I do not own Kenshin, or any of the characters in it. I am making no money off this piece of writing (wish I was, though, but then I guess I'd get sued), therefore please leave me alone, I haven't done anything wrong.

WARNING: Rated R, even though it might be more PG-13 but I wanted to be safe for slight yaoi content, implications of rape, and violence. Maybe some language in there too, but I think most of that I put in Japanese. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! No flaming! If you don't like that kind of content, don't read it!

Author's Note: This is set when Kenshin is still Hiko's pupil and is a BIT of a what-if fic, maybe of some event that could've first sparked the Battousai in Kenshin. So therefore, though there's a fair few references to things from the OAV, there are huge conflicts with the plot so please don't outline them all to me, I've watched Kenshin enough to know what they are, I just wanted to write this fic for some obscure reason. Reviews are appreciated, but flames are not. Contrary to popular belief, I'm well- versed in insults, swearing and general gutter language of several languages, so there's no need to attempt to educate me. Your consideration is most appreciated.

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Servitude Chapter One

By Sinnatious *****

"Baka! Can't you do anything right?"

Kenshin gritted his teeth in frustration, forcing himself to respond politely. "I'm trying, Shishou."

The 13th successor of the Hiten Mitsuryugi Ryu snorted. "Trying? You think your opponents in battle will take pity on you just because you're TRYING?"

Forcing himself not to make any snide comments under his breath that would surely result in punishment, he muttered a feeble excuse. "But Shishou, we've been practicing all day, and I haven't eaten since dinner last night. I'm tired." Probably the wrong thing to say, but too late to take it back.

"Baka deshi!" Kenshin almost didn't notice the insult anymore. "If you hadn't let supplies run low, you wouldn't have had to skip meals! And if you don't push yourself, you'll be a puny little weakling forever!" Hiko snapped. His master was more irritable than usual today, probably because the said lack of supplies had forced him to ration his sake. The apprentice decided not to point out that the reason he was still so small was probably DUE to the fac that he had to practice all day and miss meals; he had learned early on that it wasn't wise to either annoy, or surprise for that matter, a master of the Hiten Mitsuryugi style, not that it would be easy to surprise his master anyway.

Hiko Seijuuro seemed to have had enough of taunting his pupil for the day, though, Kenshin's weary body stiffening with hope as he turned back towards the little hut that they called home. That hope was quickly dashed, though, when the larger man called behind him, "Don't even THINK of coming back until you can show me a perfect Ryu-Tsu-Sen! And after you've done THAT, get us some more firewood! We're out!"

Aghast, Kenshin exclaimed, "But Shishou!"

"It had better be PERFECT!" Hiko called behind him, before he and his white mantle blended in with the trees on the way back to the hut.

Sheathing his katana temporarily, Kenshin glared at the straw figure he had been practicing on as if IT was somehow responsible for his misfortune. Crazy old man, if he hated having an apprentice so much, why bother taking him on in the first place? He would have been better off with the slavers.... scratch that thought, but it was certainly a close second. At least the slavers occasionally fed him.

Hiko wasn't exactly the lenient master, that he was not. Either way, he'd better do as the crazy drunk old swordsman said, lest HE be the one ending up on the business end of a Ryu-Tsu-Sen rather than an unfortunate pile of straw. This comforting thought in mind - how did he get to sleep at night? - he unsheathed his blade and focused on that maneovre once again.

About the thirty-second time, going through a still sloppy strike on a barely-recognisable dummy, Kenshin noticed his focus begin to slip as the one dummy became two briefly. Pulling back from the clumsy blow, he wiped sweat off his brow and for the first time noticed how dark it had become. If he couldn't even see straight, how was he supposed to even HIT the infuriating thing?! He wasn't even twelve years old yet! Had his master forgotten he was human?

On the thirty-third strike, Kenshin decided enough was enough. It was getting beyond dark, and Hiko didn't like cooking, so perfect or not he was willing to bet that his master - he struggled to remember not to insert a less complimentary term there, lest one day it slip out accidentally - would at least give him slack to avoid having to cook himself. First though, he admitted to himself, sighing for what had to be more times than the number of blow's he'd landed on the admittedly trashed dummy in just this day, he had to get firewood. He cast another useless glare at the dummy. It was so torn up he could almost use that.

So it was that another hour later, in another part of the forest, Kenshin found himself muttering a long string of expletives (sword style not being the only thing learnt from Hiko) as he dragged sticks and logs around with him, still trying to find some decent dry firewood. His blue gi snagged on a branch he hadn't seen in the darkness and the unfortunate sound of tearing fabric could be heard. Oh, Shishou was going to have his butt for that one. So much for getting any slack. Maybe he should just drop the firewood and go back to practicing right now.

It wasn't many moments after than thought crossed Kenshin's mind when he thought he felt several unfamiliar ki nearby. Granted, in his exhausted, dizzy state he could be reading his own ki (though technically impossible) over and over again and still not be sure, but better safe than dead. He dropped the firewood and darted behind the nearest cover - a tree.

"Shimatta," Kenshin cursed. He was to be the 14th successor of the Hiten Mitsuryugi Ryu and the best reaction he could come up with was to hide behind a tree?

.....Well, at least he could. He'd like to see Hiko try and hide behind a tree and get away with it.

Hiding, though, he suddenly felt wasn't about to do him much good. Now that he was actually paying attention, he was fairly certain that he was surrounded. Maybe as many as ten.... his velvet eyes strained to pick their forms out of the darkness. His vision clouded, and he blinked it back. Now wasn't the time to be getting tired, he'd been tired all day, it was about time to focus already! He'd never escape the taunting if his master proved himself right.

Nothing like defiance to inspire an exhausted individual.

There, movement! Springing into action before he barely registered what he was doing, Kenshin dodged the big brute of a man who came out of seemingly nowhere. Thank you, Hiten Mitsuryugi, from the bottom of my heart. Almost as quick, another came, until all ten men - none of them all that good- looking, he noticed, and decidedly unsavoury - came within his limited range of vision, most having made at least one attempt to grab him, now unsheathing their swords. Hopelessly outnumbered. Kenshin briefly contemplated yelling for help, quickly dismissing the idea - bruise to the pride aside, he was too great a distance from the hut for Hiko to even hear. Still, it hard to restrain himself. He wasn't certain he could take care of ten intruders all at once, but Shishou could probably handle it in the middle of chewing him out and drinking sake.

He drew his katana, steadied his breathing and carefully watched all those around him, who hadn't said so much as a word yet. It registered that they had to be after him or his master for something, but they hadn't even bothered to say what! Being as unfamiliar as he was by now with most of the affairs of the outside world, though, Kenshin didn't really give it a great deal of thought. Especially since, the next instant, he was dodging three of the attacking brutes, leaping into the air to avoid capture or injury. A heartbeat and several strokes later, two of the men were howling in pain from wounds on their sword arms, a third staring in amazement at his cheaper sword missing a great deal of the blade. Pausing only half a second to take a breath, Kenshin leapt into the air again, bringing his sword down to his next target.

Imagine his surprise, then, when his katana met another.

Oh, great, a real samurai. Or maybe not a real one, if he was hanging around with these lowlifes, but either way, in just reading his stance Kenshin was educated enough to know a competant swordsman when he saw one. He wasn't all that impressive-looking otherwise, his only distinguishing feature an ugly scar down the whole right side of his face. Eyes flicking to interpret the other's moves, he swiftly evaluated that once he took care of this one, the others should be short work, and as the others started to hang back, it looked as if he would be given the privilege of a one-on-one fight. Given that this was his first time against any swordsman other than his master, he didn't want to wait for the other man to attack first. Kenshin raised his sword and stepped forward. Trying to use his speed to his advantage, which he found was painfully slow compared to what it should have been, he jumped back, darted forward and under the other's man's blade, aiming to strike for the stomach, each strike blocked though by a familiar flash of metal. The stranger grinned, pushing the flame-haired youth back off him effortlessly.

I should have been fast enough to get past his defenses! He isn't THAT good. Kenshin glared at the other man, who flicked the blade casually and moved into a battle-ready stance. The light was slowly dawning on young Kenshin Himura, though, that these men weren't trying to kill him. Fear snaked through him briefly. It didn't seem natural for them not to want to kill him when they'd just attacked him in the middle of the night on a mountain by the horde.

The others were grinning, now, the first sign of emotion he'd seen from the bunch. The swordsman, though, must have recognised at least some of Kenshin's skill. "Hey, kid, my name's Ishii. Remember it. I might be a famous swordsman one day."

Kenshin said nothing. Why bother with introductions now when they'd only tried to jump him moments ago? The scar-faced man who'd just introduced himself as Ishii rushed him, Kenshin parrying the blow, then using its momentum to sweep at him, his only connection once again with the other man's blade. Kenshin forced himself to put on a burst of energy he didn't really have and leap into the air to strike down decisively - once again meeting cold metal, and his force wasn't enough to cut through the other's blade. Flipping off the sword to avoid a rough landing, Kenshin crouched, then sheathed his katana.

Relax, Kenshin, he told himself, deciding maybe it was time to stop being gentle and start using some more deadly techniques. He moved into a familiar batou-jutsu stance - one of the few techniques that he was good enough at that even the stoic Hiko would compliment him on it - You've been trained for situations like these. If you can't defend your own sorry little hide, then you never have a hope of carrying out the first principle of the Hiten Mitsuryugi Ryu. He would be lying though, if his own sudden slowness, the heaviness of his own sword and the multiple Ishiis appearing before him didn't have him at least intimidated.

Multiple Ishiis?

No, not now! Don't get dizzy of all things NOW! Damn Hiko and his starvation tactics!

As he swayed in position, they were too fast for a weak and diorientated 11- year old boy, even one schooled in Hiten Mitsuryugi Ryu, to dodge. A thick arm pinned his arms to his body, a rough hand held a sweet-smelling cloth to his face, and though he struggled uselessly against the stronger, larger form that held him firm, it wasn't long before he succumbed to darkness.

Once the petite form was sprawled on the ground, red hair splayed out almost artfully, the men gathered around him, minus the two grumbling injured who remained in the background feeling sorry for themselves.

"Looks like the rumours were true. He's perfect."

"Good work, Ishii. He was a tough little bugger. Lucky he was feeling woozy."

"Let's hurry and get him chained up with the others. We wasted a whole day of travelling on this little excursion and I'm not going to waste another minute more!" was the samurai's only response.

One of the nameless intruders picked up the redhead, exclaiming at how light he was. After a moment's thought, another removed his katana and dropped it on the ground. "Won't be needing that where he's going."

With that, they carried the young swordsman into the darkness of the night.

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Hiko Seijuuro the 13th glanced irritably at the clock on the wall. This was getting ridiculous. How did the baka expect to be able to function at all if he didn't come in for dinner? It'd been a whole day the kid had been without food, he couldn't possibly still be practicing the Ryu-Tsu- Sen. Admittedly, maybe he had been a little harsh on his baka deshi - after all, it had taken himself weeks to perfect the Ryu-Tsu-Sen.....

Muttering unpleasantries, he prepared himself for bed. The kid would no doubt crawl in at some insane hour, and he wasn't going to be found waiting up for him.

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