To the people of the small towns that helped make up the city of Kyoto, Himura Kenshin had always been the Obedient-type deshi, always trailing quietly behind his shishou when the pair came into town. Polite, shy, and cute as a button was what the women from the mini-cities said, with his fiery hair and innocent amethyst eyes.

But the truth was, Himura Kenshin, Hiko Seijuro XIII's young student, was the I'm-Going-To-Act-Stupid-So-Everyone-Thinks-I'm-So-Cute-type deshi. True, little Kenshin wasn't a horribly rotten child, one who poked at small creatures with sticks or chased girls with said creatures in hand; but he was much more clever than he let on. In fact, there was only one single human in all of Japan who could tell that difference between his truly confused face and his plotting face—his shishou.

No, Hiko Seijuro had never actually been outsmarted by his bright student, though not from Kenshin's lack of trying. Countless times during the past year or so, Kenshin had tried to cause Hiko to fall victim to one of his harmless pranks, but had, each and every time, failed.

One would think that childish jokes such as these would only an annoyance to a proud man such as Hiko Seijuro, but in truth (a truth which he could only bear to admit to himself, because of the pure, mushy indignity of it), he was relieved by Kenshin's immature behavior. When he had first 'adopted' Kenshin, he had been shy and blindly subservient; which was not healthy for any child, let alone a future master of Hiten Mitsurugi.

So Hiko, with his usual arrogance, permitted Kenshin to continue his tricks, keeping well in mind that his baka deshi could never actually catch him in one of his little traps. Never.

X

Besides Kenshin's "deshi-type," it was also a little known fact that Kenshin had a slight tendency to lose touch with reality on dreary, cloudy days; only when, of course, he wasn't occupied with his training or chores. It had always seemed so perfect and peaceful to him on those days, the days that threatened thunderstorms that never actually came. It was relaxing, and the hazy air tended to make him unusually lazy.

These "Grey Days," as dubbed by Kenshin himself, seemed to have the opposite effect on his shishou, whose irritability increased tenfold on these days (if that was even possible). This may well have had something to do with the ludicrous fact that he always seemed to have a rather low supply of sake on the Grey Days—and Kenshin found that there was nothing scarier than a Sakeless Shishou.

The young red head pondered this one day while sitting against a tree, thunder sounding from somewhere over Kyoto. He thought it so odd that the amount of sake left in Hiko's stash seemed to have control of both the weather and the man's attitude. His head began to drift pleasantly, with entertaining thoughts of alcohol and Chibi-Shishous who could change the weather with a snap of their tiny fingers filling his mind.

Then, there was a real snapping of fingers from somewhere outside of his head. Kenshin cracked a single violet eye open, to find a very un-chibified Hiko towering over him and looking royally pissed off about something or other.

"Oi!" he growled, waving a small wooden bucket in front of his student's nose in a rather overly dramatic fashion "We need water, baka, water! You've dreamt the day away, so now go fetch some water! Yare, yare, what's wrong with you?"

As the huge swords master turned away, tossing the bucket behind him (which narrowly missed Kenshin's head) and muttering darkly, his stubborn apprentice stuck his tongue out at him, grudgingly pulling himself off of the tree and picking up the wooden bucket, heading towards the shack to grab another one and something to carry them over his shoulder with. This was all done with a lot of moping and stomping. Fetching water wasn't the most dignified thing he could be doing, after all. His shishou, who was sitting by his kiln, drinking, of course, what little sake he had left at this point, gave him a wicked grin as he dragged himself out of the mountain clearing, towards a nearby stream.

X

Kenshin dragged his feet the entire way to the creek, cursing under his breath, with a "tyrant" added in here and there. Life wasn't fair for poor, lowly baka deshis, not fair at all—another life lesson learned that hard way from the fabulous Hiko Seijuro XIII. All hail, et cetera, et cetera.

Shaking his head dramatically, the boy complained to the gurgling water and any forest-dwelling creatures unfortunate enough to hear his whining. Nothing quite as foul or sarcastic as his earlier mutterings, but a pathetic, miserable mix of whimpering and sniffling. "Shishou can never leave me alone, no, not even for a day. It's always 'Baka do this, Baka do that!' He's the baka!"

Apparently the water was tired of his whining, as it suddenly came up and splashed him in the face as he was kneeling by it, filling up the first bucket. It found it's way up his nose and he choked, rubbing at his face. Apparently, some Kami had also gotten fed up with his whining (or perhaps his weather-controlling Chibi-Shishou), because it had actually started to rain. This no longer qualified it as a Grey Day, but as a Rainy Day, which Kenshin loathed with a passion, because Hiko usually made him practice even harder in the rain, which usually ended in a cold or a fever.

Sighing silently, not wishing to further anger whatever God was upset with him, Kenshin filled the other bucket as quickly as he could manage, slung the both of them over his shoulder, and started the long walk back to the hut.

Several times, the wind had picked up and nearly blown his tiny body over, sending a huge slosh of water splashing into the ground, forcing him to turn around and refill the bucket until he was thoroughly drenched.

X

Once he got into the thick underbrush of the forest, it wasn't quite so bad. It provided shelter from the wind and decreased the flow of the rain enough so that he could actually see three feet in front of himself. Red hair waterlogged and heavy, he hung his head—allowing him to see the various plants on the forest floor.

Kenshin was normally never the Revengeful-type deshi, either. But as he marched, soaked to the bone and shivering, something came over him when that particular three-leaved plant came into the boy's view. A small grin came over his face and, unbeknownst to him, his huge eyes shifted to a bright amber color as a wicked plot began to form in his clever little head.

Tearing off a large strip of fabric from his gi, he wrapped several of the glistening plants in the cloth, careful not to touch it.

X

Kenshin cracked the door of the hut open slightly, not wanting to bring several pounds of water flooding in. "Ano…Shishou?"

Hiko turned slightly towards the door, olive eyes widening when he saw the boy. Of course, he had sensed his ki from a mile away, and a little dampness was to be expected after the heavy and sudden rain shower (in fact, he wouldn't have been satisfied if Kenshin had come back completely dry), but this…this looked like he had actually gone swimming. And rolled around in the mud for good measure. His thin frame was shaking and he looked about ready to pass out under the weight of the two buckets slung across his shoulders.

"Yare, yare, Kenshin. What, did you not take cover from the rain under the trees?" he sighed, receiving a sneeze, a sniffle, and a nod from the boy as a reply. "Get out of those clothes and under a blanket or something." Kenshin did as he was told without protest, setting the buckets of water carefully down on the floor, all the while sniffling. Hiko noticed that he was taking great care in taking off his dark blue gi, but decided it was because he didn't want to get even muddier than he already was. He took the same precautious measures with his hakama, folding both articles of clothing neatly, not touching the collar or sleeves of his shirt or the tie of his once white pants.

Hiko took them and directed Kenshin to put something else on, and brushed past him, outside to the laundry tub, rolling up his sleeves. He wanted the filthy garments clean, even if he had to do it himself. As a start, he looked to see why Kenshin was avoiding certain parts of them.

Probably bugs or spiders or something balled up in them, he assured himself, beginning to unroll the gi's collar. No squirming insect rolled out onto the ground. In fact, only a few glossy leaves drifted out of the only part of the fabric that was still dry, onto his uncovered arms.

With a moment of stupidity, Hiko examined a leaf, laying it flat on his palm. Then he reached up Kenshin's gi's sleeve, pulling out a fist full of the sprouts, all of them hidden carefully in spots where they wouldn't touch Kenshin's arms. There was a scampering of feet, as Kenshin, freshly clothed and clearly not sick, took of with something that resembled godlike speed down the mountain. With about a week's worth of food under his arms.

That was when realization dawned.

"KENSHIN NO BAKA!" Hiko snarled, immediately releasing the poison ivy enclosed in his fists, not even bothering to check what was in the folds of the tie part of Kenshin's muddied hakama. "GET YOUR SCRONNY ASS BACK HERE SO I CAN BEAT IT! OI! I SAID GET BACK HERE! KENSHIN!"

Now, normally, Hiko would have followed, and probably would have caught up, too, but, naturally, he was a little preoccupied with scratching his palms.

X

Let it be known that on June Twelfth, 1859, Himura Kenshin, the insolent baka deshi, had outsmarted the fabulous Hiko Seijuro XIII.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

A/N- I just found out today that my Aunt has poison ivy, and I thought up this story weeks ago. Creepy…sort of.

Do I really think Kenshin was a rebellious brat? No, but it was fun to write. Obedience is no fun, after all! Everyone loves a tea-dumping Rebel…or something like that… Hope you liked, please R&R!

Oh, yeah, I don't own, hence the term fanfiction.