The Secret
A Rurouni Kenshin fanfiction by Heather Logan
(Disclaimer: This was written for fun, not profit. Rurouni Kenshin belongs to Nobuhiro Watsuki. Contains spoilers for manga volumes 10, 11 and 12.)
Idiot.
The night has distilled my thoughts down to that one word. It fills my mind as I sweep aside the curtain and step out into the light of the rising sun.
You idiot.
You haven't slept. I can see that much immediately. Still standing in the clearing in front of my cottage, where I left you yesterday afternoon. Left you to find what you were lacking.
You still don't realize how surprised I was when you came running back to me. I'd given up thinking I'd ever see you again. Not that I wanted to, you moron. I'm far better off without you. But when you came running back to me -- and what kind of a greeting was that anyway, you idiot, striking at me from behind? -- when you came running back, I thought that my training might have finally gotten through to you.
I was wrong, of course. Not that I really expected it now, not after you'd been gone all those years.
It's been a long time. Half a lifetime, for you. Fourteen years since you ran off, leaving your training unfinished to go out and try to save the world. And where did that get you, idiot?
From the very start you got it wrong. You wanted to protect people from suffering, but you failed to keep yourself free. You threw in your lot with those revolutionaries and you let them use you. You handed them your soul, stupid, and you let them turn you into a killer. And then, when you couldn't take it any more, you ran away and left them to find a replacement.
They found Shishio Makoto. They turned him into a hitokiri to take your place. You created him, you idiot. You, who were too weak to finish what you'd started. And now, when he comes back to haunt you, to threaten that fragile, illusory Meiji that you hold so dear, here you come crawling back to me, begging me on your knees for the secret. The Deep Act of Hiten Mitsurugi.
I haven't slept either.
It was I who taught you the Hiten sword, all those years ago. It was I who taught you that a sword is a weapon, that the way of the sword is the way to kill. That was my truth. I have always wielded my sword according to the teachings of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu, to protect the people from suffering. But even so, too many times I could not save a soul. As much as I killed, still the bandits kept coming, born out of a country in decay. All I could do was bury the victims.
And I taught this to you.
I wonder sometimes how different the world would be if I'd found you just a little bit later, all those years ago. Just a minute later, maybe just thirty seconds. Enough time for those bandits to add a small boy to their pile of corpses.
Would it have made a difference to the world if Shinta had died there? Would the revolution still have happened if you hadn't been around to drench Kyoto in blood? How much credit do you give yourself for that?
No. I can't fault you there. You don't give yourself any credit, I can see that much. You only carry the weight of all the lives you took. The names on the slips of paper, and whatever bodyguards were unlucky enough to be on duty those nights.
Yes, I know how they had you work. I followed your career. After all, it was I who saved Shinta's life that night. And it was I who taught you the Hiten sword-- taught you enough to kill Shinta yourself, the first time you used it to murder a man.
Knowledge without wisdom. Skill without understanding. I let you go before your training was complete. Your sword skills were superb, but you were still a child. I let you go before you understood the soul that has to stand behind the sword. In that state, letting you throw yourself into the chaos of the Bakumatsu was a huge mistake.
I should have stopped you then. Stopped you, or killed you myself.
"So," I say. "Did you discover what you were lacking?"
And I know before you reply that the answer is no. You haven't found it. You still don't understand a thing.
I had hoped.
When I saw her, I had hoped. The girl with the sunlight in her eyes. The one who had followed you all the way from Tokyo. When I saw the way she looked at you.
No. When I saw the way you looked at her. That is when I changed my mind. Her story of what you've been doing these last ten years only confirmed it.
I followed your career, idiot. But I only followed it up to the end of the Bakumatsu. During the war you dropped out of sight. Disappeared. At first I figured you'd been killed. Been betrayed, or maybe let yourself die. I wouldn't have blamed you, by that time. But then I started to hear things, every once in a while. Every year, every couple of years. The hitokiri Battousai sighted here and there around Japan. It could have been mistaken identity. We both know how often that happens. But you were alive, wandering the country as rurouni, helping people. When the girl told me that, I almost laughed.
I agreed to give you a chance because I thought you'd finally started to internalize the teachings of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu.
You were rusty, though. Damn rusty. I was disgusted by how far you'd let your skills deteriorate. The way you'd gotten lazy, depending too much on reading your opponent, depending too much on your own reaction speed. So I took the opportunity to try and beat some sense into you. Not that it's ever worked before. Still, I was glad when I saw your eyes, that first night of training. You wanted this. You wanted this badly. Badly enough to give it everything you had. Just like when you were a child, my baka deshi.
I had to get you back into shape. I had to sharpen you up again. If you were really ready, I couldn't let you lose the secret to an unpolished reaction. Lose the secret, and your life.
You fought well. I was pleased with how fast the rust fell away, leaving you shining like forged steel. It was just like when you were a child. And I was careful, just like then, gauging the force of my strikes. It's an art, training a student. It requires the patience of the gods.
You, however, were always impatient. Always charging into things, always overreaching yourself and getting whacked. It's how you've always trained. How you've always lived your life, too, you idiot. Like the time you fell in the river. The time you ate those poison mushrooms. The time you went out for winter training and got yourself lost in a snowstorm. Always overreaching and getting whacked.
It was fine by me. Quicker that way.
So I challenged you to land a blow on me. A single blow, before I'd teach you a thing. If you couldn't even do that, moron, what chance did you have of learning the secret?
And you did it, eventually. You put everything into that one strike, and you landed it. I will never tell you how relieved I was. I was starting to think I'd have to beat on you for all eternity.
Mind you, you landed the strike, but you didn't land yourself. I'm glad you didn't kill yourself, coming down from that leap and banging your head like that.
I guess you couldn't do yourself much harm, though, considering there's not much in that head of yours besides rocks.
I still thought you might be ready. And so I showed you the Kuzu Ryuu Sen, the Nine-Headed Dragon. Of all my moves, it is the greatest. Impossible to dodge. Impossible to block. Can you blame me if I let you think it was the secret? I needed you to focus. And I knew you'd focus better thinking this was it.
You got the form, got it in one shot. The rust has fallen away indeed. Of course, your Kuzu Ryuu Sen won't do you much good. Your arms are too weak and you're too much of a lightweight. But you understood it. That's what was important. You understood the nature of the Nine-Headed Dragon. That it is impossible to dodge, that it is impossible to block. You understood right away the only way it could be countered -- by battoujutsu, faster even than the god-like speed of the Kuzu Ryuu Sen. You understood that this was the nature of the deep act, the secret of Hiten Mitsurugi: the Amakakeru Ryuu no Hirameki.
But could you actually do it? Could you surpass that speed? Ah, you saw it then, idiot, that this was the real question. Battoujutsu. But not the usual kind. And then you stood and faced me. Null form. And your sword in its sheath. That sakabatou, not designed for battoujutsu.
Fighting with your back to the river, I thought. Putting it all on the line, knowing that if you failed, that was it. I thought I understood. You'd wait until the last moment, wait to see what was coming, wait for the inspiration. I still thought that you'd seen it, that you had what it takes.
I was wrong.
'Even if it costs my life,' you said, and I knew then that you'd missed it. You'd missed the whole point. If I'd come at you then, you would have died.
I gave you a night. I hoped you would find it, in that time. I should have known better. You still haven't found it, even now.
"In that case," I tell you, "you are a man who has hit his limit."
I've let this go on too long. I should have ended it earlier. And not just when you came to me last week and begged me to take you back, to teach you the core of Hiten Mitsurugi. I should have ended it fourteen years ago, before you had a chance to drench the Hiten sword in blood.
A father should never have to bury his son. But a swordsmaster must take responsibility for the actions of his pupil. You think you're the only one who's carried the burden of those stolen lives?
"If you cannot see what it is you're lacking," I tell you, "not only will you fail to learn the secret, but you will never defeat Shishio. And even if you do manage to defeat him somehow, you will never defeat the hitokiri in your soul."
You're looking at me now with desperation in your eyes. Fool! You should fear me now. I know what you think of me -- crude, arrogant, a tyrant. Think what you will. I cannot leave you to suffer like this.
"Instead," I say, "you will fall into confusion, eaten alive by loneliness."
I take a step forward, holding your eyes.
"And you will slay men."
I can see it again now, that new thing in your eyes. There's still the raw idealism, the mule-headed stubbornness, the blind idiocy that was there when you left me those fourteen years ago. But there's a new coldness there, around the edges, in the depths. I'd seen a hint of it, when you came to me that night and told me of your pursuit of Shishio Makoto. I'd seen it again, when you faced me and told me you were ready to die to learn the secret. Not realizing, of course, that in such a state you would never be able to grasp it.
"It is my duty as your master to spare you that."
I understand now the meaning of your exchange with that girl, when she called after you on the night I agreed to take you back. Not what you said, but what you did. Or rather, what you failed to do.
She was waiting for you to turn around and smile at her. It was clear as day; you must have known this. But you couldn't do it. Not and keep that coldness inside your heart. If you'd turned around, the sunlight in her eyes would have melted it.
You thought you needed it. You think you need it still, in order to learn the secret. In order to defeat Shishio. This is why your soul wavers. You think you need the coldness of the hitokiri.
It is this coldness that is tearing you apart. It is this coldness that I have to slay. Now.
It is up to you whether you die with it.
I reach up and unhook the mantle from my shoulders, hurl it aside, draw my sword and slash the air. The shockwave cuts a line into the earth in front of my feet and you step back, trying to shield your eyes from the dust. From the flying leaves.
And then I step forward and face you, across these few yards of earth. Across these fourteen empty years.
I should never have let you go. In a strange way, I'm glad you've returned.
And there's a second new thing in your idiot eyes. Fear. Your hands are trembling now. Don't think I can't see it. Of course I see it, and it makes me glad. You should fear me now. For behind me is death.
Even now, you try to steel yourself against the fear. Even now, you think that living through that chaos has prepared you for this. Even now, you think you're ready to die for my secret.
It's time.
Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu...
... Kuzu Ryuu Sen.
I charge forward. Nothing, now, will stop me.
Not even the change in your eyes.
I see it now, a third new thing. I see the girl with the sunlight in her eyes, reflected in your own. I see it in that split second, and I keep coming. If it is enough, it will be enough. You will stop me yourself. If not, nothing will be enough to save you.
And you move. It's a new kind of desperation in your eyes now, a kind I've never seen there before. A desperation to stay alive, to hold on to your life at all costs. Your sword across my chest is a feeling beyond pain.
And then all is stillness again.
"Yes," I say. "That's it."
My idiot apprentice got it. I think I must be dreaming. The way you're looking at me, you must think you're dreaming too.
"You've killed so many," I tell you, thought I shouldn't have to. "You carry so much guilt. So you take your own life lightly. You blind yourself to the fact that your own life is also a human life."
You're looking at me like you can't believe this is happening, like you can't believe you're still standing.
"That stops you from exerting your true strength, and sometimes allows the hitokiri within you to regain control. If you're to overcome this, you need to remember what you just saw."
I catch your eyes and hold them.
"You need the will to live."
Remember this, idiot. Remember this.
"Even if you protect the weak and the ones you love by sacrificing yourself with the compassion of the Buddha himself, sorrow will remain in those people. They will never be truly happy." I'm talking fast now. I know I don't have much time. You'd better be listening, dammit. "Even if you quell danger with your fierce anger, sacrificing your life, it is only for one short moment in the vastness of time. And time goes on."
Please remember this.
"The will to live is the heart of existence. Do not forget that. Remember it, and the Amakakeru Ryuu no Hirameki is yours. With it, you will defeat not only Shishio, but the hitokiri within you."
"Shishou...!" you gasp. There's wonder in your eyes. Revelation.
Good. Finally. It almost makes me smile. And having seen that, I close my eyes.
"Shishou?" A change in your ki. Concern?
"Pay it no mind," I say. Speaking has become difficult. "This is the fate of master and apprentice... when the secret is passed on. Consider this removed... from your vow not to kill."
This is how it should be. A father should never have to bury his son. And as the darkness takes me I smile truly, because--
"Shishou?"
--Kenshin--
"Shishou! No!"
--I always loved you.