Kenshin Himura felt the tears in his eyes before they began to fall. He was crouched over the riverbed not far from the hut that he had been living in for the past few months, and he felt his heart breaking total and completely. The bucket in his hands was sending a stinging pain through his palms as it rubbed roughly against his blisters. He closed his eyes and he tried and tried to hold back the waves of tears that were threatening to overcome him.

He hadn't meant to be a burden to his new found master. He hadn't meant to be anything to him. When the man had told him that he was going to teach him how to use a blade he hadn't thought much on it. He wasn't used to such treatment at all. He wasn't used to anything of the sort. He tried to calm himself down once again, but it only made his spine shudder even more and his shoulders shook harder.

The tears were falling freely and he tried to rub them away, but he hissed quietly. His hands were still wounded from the blisters that were forming in greater amounts over the past few days. The salt in the water that was falling from his eyes was making him even more uncomfortable. He shook his head and tried to bring himself back to his senses, but all he succeeded in doing was shaking his tangled hair out from his face. Sighing heavily, the boy dipped the bucket into the river and struggled to stand up.

It wasn't his fault in all actuality. If he had taken the moment to think about he'd have realized that there was nothing else that he could have done. Yet when the blow struck him from behind and he yelped painfully and fell into the river, he was to tired and to small to even realize what was happening. When he blearily managed to bring himself to the water's surface he hadn't thought to scream because he had been to stunned to bring it upon himself.

A second strike, and he feebly tried to defend himself. The weapon crashed against his shoulder and he fell into the river once more. He pulled himself up though, then he glared up at his opponent. He had resolved that he would deal with this problem, then and there just like he had told his master earlier. He had told his master that he didn't need to be protected anymore, and that he could do whatever it was that was necessary to advance. To more then just swinging a sword around in his hands, aiming at air.

The attacker lunged forward, but he had finally managed to draw his sword. He lifted it and he blocked the attack. It would have been beautiful, had he not been so small already. The block was useless, and the sword was rendered useless as his head was caught and thrust into the water of the river. He struggled to breathe, to move, to do anything. He struggled to do something, but there was nothing that he could do. Slowly yet surely he started to loose consciousness, and then, his precious sword was roughly pulled from his fingers by the unrelenting water that surrounded him.

He was pulled up before he drowned, and he was hit roughly on the head once more for good measure. His assailant smiled in the night, and glanced around for witnesses, but then he rushed quickly and quietly as fast as he could down the mountain. He needed to hurry if he was to catch up with the caravan before the child woke up again.

He would never know just how fatal that one mistake had been. Kidnapping the sworn ward of Seijuro Hiko was something that wouldn't go unpunished. Yet even Hiko would admit years later that the man had planned everything perfectly. He had run down the river, keeping on the stones. There had been no trail to follow. There had been no signs of a scuffle. The only signs that something was amiss was the water bucket and the sword that was hidden in the water's depths.

Even that was explainable though. To Hiko who had just gotten into his first heated argument with his ward, the child had decided to leave. He had left and not wanted to return, and the tossing down of the items had been his idea of parting ways with the master. It would be nearly three weeks before anything was settled again. It would be nearly two weeks before Hiko even realized the truth as to what had occurred, but it would be only one week before Kenshin Himura committed his very first murder.

It had all begun when the great swordsman had taken his pupil to town for supplies. They had passed by a caravan that contained many people traveling down the road. Up until that point they had been speaking pleasantly for quite sometime. Kenshin had found early on that his master was full of proverbs and knowledge about the world. He greatly enjoyed listening to the man, conceited though he may be.

In turn, the master found that Kenshin was full of questions and a pure outlook on everything. Despite the fact that his past had been riddled with violence, or perhaps in spite of it, Kenshin was looking at everything as though the world was as innocent as he was. He was painfully naive and he was even more curious. The combination made for interesting moments in their conversation.

Though when that caravan started by, their conversation abruptly came to a stop. At first Hiko had assumed that it was because he wanted to talk without the ears of the people listening in, however it was soon revealed that the boy didn't wish to speak even after the procession had gone by. He had fallen quiet, his eyes directed to the ground. He didn't say a word, and it was easy to tell what he was thinking of. Or at least, that is what Hiko would boast about later. Everything was easy when one was trained to the master level of Hiten-Mitsurugi-Ryū .

"You were thinking of the day I met you?" He prodded gently, trying to ignite a conversation out of the child. The boy was stubborn though. He simply shrugged noncommittally and kept moving. Hiko stared after him, his eyebrows tight as he tried to read his pupil further. It wasn't just the night that they had met, it was the very essence of the slavers that had bothered Kenshin so much. The sight of people in the caravan had been horrifying. His child like soul was captured by those men in that moment. He was tormented despite the smile that he kept planted on his face each day. "Do not think of such things..."

Kenshin ignored him though. He had no patience for coddling. The two moved on, and every once and a while Hiko would try to pry the boy out of his shell, but he was as a clam refusing to let anyone see his tender inside. He stayed clamped up and quiet for the rest of the walk into town. Once there though, things did not get much better.

There were still men from the caravan inside the tavern that they had decided to stop and eat at before continuing on their journey. The men were laughing and joking as though they owned the place, and it was clear that they were quite a bit inebriated.

"That one wench! She was a looker!" They were cooing and calling, and Hiko could tell from the dark look in his young ward's eyes that he had been used to similar noises when he had been in such a situation.

"Shall we leave?" He asked gently. He hardly knew the boy, but he knew somethings couldn't be pushed. Usually when it came to things that bothered the kid he would simply tell him to suck it up – be a man. Yet for something as sensitive as this. Not even Hiko would dare tease him. If the simple walk by the caravan was anything to show about it, the boy was hardly left unscathed from his time with those people who had all been slaughtered one by one.

The child didn't say anything, but he looked up at Hiko, there was an apology on his lips and his eyes were filled with sorrow. It was the first time the master had ever seen the boy like that and he knew that some wounds took more then salve to heal. He nodded faintly at the child before standing up and moving towards the owner. Their meal to go would settle for now. The owner however was dreadfully sorry and was trying to apologize to him. For nearly five minutes he was tied up with the man.

The whole while his stony gaze was constantly fixed so that he could keep his ward in his view. The child was sitting there, every muscle in his body tense as he tried to fend off the demons of his soul. The men kept laughing and hooting louder and louder and the child's small hands were clenching painfully in his lap.

Then all of a sudden, and quite out of no where, a man tripped over himself. Hiko moved with the god like speed he'd been the master of for years but even that wasn't enough to stop the inevitable. Kenshin, so trapped in his own nightmares, was of no mind to notice the man. By the time the man had begun his decent, the boy was already doomed to fall with him.

He yelped in surprise, falling backwards and crashing to the ground. Chairs and tables flipped with them and his head struck the tatami mats roughly. He was unharmed physically, more shocked then anything else, and dazed only slightly. Yet when he looked up and saw the men staring at him he bit his lip and looked away awkwardly.

"Hey wait a second...aren't you that kid from the blocks....?" Kenshin's hair fell into his eyes as he awkwardly shook his head. Not even a baby would believe such a feeble attempt at a lie. Hiko was moving closer, and he roughly pulled the man off his apprentice. The boy looked up at him thankfully, but the crowd was still staring.

"I heard that those guys were all murdered by bandits!" One of the men hissed. "Why aren't you dead?"

"Kenshin, it's time to go." Hiko snapped over them, the boy looked up at him with big doe eyes. The master almost blanched in surprise. The child looked as though he he were completely and totally at a loss as to what to do. The order was repeated, harsher this time, and the boy leaped to his feet.

"Hey...were you sold?" The child froze. A hand on his shoulder, followed by an arm. A man he couldn't remember the name of was pulling him towards him and sneering at him all the while. Hiko whipped about, anger in his eyes. "Is he your master?"

"Ah-" the boy didn't know how to reply. He didn't know how to explain that the man was his master but not in the way that the other was assuming he was.

"Kenshin. We're leaving." Hiko could never tell the child just how close he was to killing the man who was staring at the boy as though he were another pay day. The boy didn't see the way the man was leering at him and it made the master's blood churn.

"So you got a new name while you were at it hmm?" The boy frowned, his fingers trailing the hilt of his sword that he'd been given weeks before. The man glanced down and caught sight of the blade and scoffed. Looking up at Hiko he rolled his eyes. "What kind of owner gives his slave a weapon? Or do you use it to beat him into submission...the bitch carrying the rod?" The child flinched and that was the last straw for the master. His blade whipped out and with aim that could only be from the years of practice he had on the weapon, he roughly pulled the child to his side and shot the sword forward.

"No-" the boy had started shouting something, but it didn't stop the death that the man had been requesting since he had first started tormenting the child. There was a hushed silence in the room. The child was staring at the blood, his eyes were wide with shock. He looked sick...he felt sick. He couldn't move, and when the coins were tossed for the owner of the establishment, he barely took note of it.

Hiko roughly turned him around and shoved him towards the door. He pushed him forwards and kept him moving, ignoring the stares behind them. He couldn't care less about it. He kept pushing the child farther and farther down the streets. For the rest of the day neither of them spoke to each other or attempted to speak to each other.

When they made it home that night though, everything was different. Hiko didn't even know where to start, and when he was about to settle down to make the food he couldn't stand the way Kenshin's eyes were glaring at him. He'd been like that since the incident in town. They were not their usual shape of innocence and light, they were pure and simple angry and hurt orbs that led to his soul. Hiko shook his head slightly.

"Get me some water for dinner." He tossed the bucket to the boy, and he wasn't all to surprised when the boy refused to catch it. It clattered to the ground, and he sighed. Turning to the child their eyes met and Hiko knew that this needed to be discussed sooner rather then later. "Kenshin. Water."

"Why did you kill that man?" It was something that the child had been dying to ask and Hiko knew that now that there were no observers he could speak freely. It had been why the boy had been so silent. Nothing else was as important as that question and he could wait until he was able to speak freely before asking.

"I've told you the first rule of our style."

"Your style." The boy corrected harshly. Hiko's eyes narrowed at the boy's insolence. "I am neither the weak nor in need of protecting!"

"Oh, then you were prepared to take care of him yourself?" The scoff stabbed the boy deep in the chest and his heart pounded furiously at the man.

"You didn't have to kill him!"

"Why are you defending a slave driver?" The question wasn't precisely what he'd meant to ask but the startled look on the boy's face was enough for the man to know that there was something else on the boy's mind.

"I told you the dead are just bodies. They're nothing. You didn't have to kill him. You didn't have to make him nothing." Hiko sighed, shaking his head and looking at the fire he was tending to.

"Go get some water."

"No, tell me why you killed him."

"I told you already!"

"I don't believe you!" The boy snapped back furiously.

"Then you've called your master a liar and a fool. Now either get me some water or get off this mountain! Help me or be a burden to someone else!" He hadn't meant to throw his ki at the boy, but when he had it was to late to undo the damage that had been done. Kenshin had backed up to the wall throughout his tirade and now his eyes were wide with fear and his hands shook slightly by his sides. He looked absolutely and completely terrified of him, and Hiko wished he could make his fears and worries dissapear. Yet he couldn't do anything about that now. The boy's shaking hand reached down and went to the bucket and then he shirked back and out of the hut before either of them let out the breaths that they were holding.

Hiko spent the next three hours staring at the fire before him. The face of his pupil of only a few months was glowing in his mind. The boy had never looked so scared. Even when he had been faced with death at the hands of the bandit he hadn't looked scared. Then he'd simply looked dumbfounded as though he couldn't believe what had just happened. Yet the fear, the beads of sweat that had climbed onto the child's brow and had slipped down his cheek had been his doing. Hiko had terrified the child completely.

He wouldn't be surprised if the boy didn't return after such an encounter. The boy had taken the water bucket with him, but that wasn't saying a lot. After five more hours though, the man sighed heavily and moved out the door. He walked slowly yet surely down the well worn path towards the water, and when he saw the bucket laying there he shook his head. He picked it up, filled it with water and returned back to his home.

His apprentice had decided to leave, and there was no turning back once you left that particular mountain. He sighed and tried to push away the memories of training with the boy. For the first time in years he had found something worth fighting for, fighting with, and yet whether by choice or accident he had pushed the boy away.

The days passed and for Hiko things moved slowly. He worked quietly about the house, but found that he reminisced most frequently. The boy's appearance hadn't been on purpose, but it had been welcomed. He shouldn't have killed that man that had been speaking so crudely to both him and his apprentice, but he couldn't help himself. The man was hurting the boy. Whether the child would ever admit that or not was his own choice. Yet to Hiko, the boy's very soul was being broken with each word the man said.

For Kenshin though, another story was being told entirely. He woke up the morning after his kidnapping to find his wrists bound behind his back and his mouth gagged. He gasped quietly in his bounds and struggled roughly to get free of them. He hated being bound. He hated being tied up. He looked about him wildly and flinched slightly. The men from the tavern, and the people from the caravan.

He was back again, and for the first time in months he wondered if everything was just a dream. He wondered if all the wonderful moments up on the mountain with his master had been nothing but a far of imagination of a time that never could be. He was slapped roughly against the back and he groaned before he was dropped unceremoniously onto the ground. He hit it with a thud and shook his head trying to keep himself awake.

The world spun before his eyes and everywhere he looked were slavers and slaves, the prestigious and the damned. He felt like he was a farm animal again, only being poked and prodded before being set loose on a pasture. He wondered where they planned to take him this time, and he wondered if his master would even bother looking for him. He shut his eyes. No. His master wouldn't look for him. His master wouldn't even know he was gone. He had made the ultimatum, and by him not returning home that night, he had failed in his ultimatum. He had left that man forever, and all those memories were for naught.

The usual way of things was easily ingrained in his memory, but there were somethings that could never be forgotten. He could go through the actions of being a slave. He could go through the actions of being subservient, but he knew something that he hadn't been able to recall. He had tasted freedom for the first time since his family had been taken from him. He had tasted what it was like to be a regular child. He had tasted happiness.

It was small and faint, but he had found happiness on that mountain. He had started to feel the pain from loosing his family start to heal. He had started to feel as though everything was going to be good again. He couldn't forget that. So even if they tied him up and held him before others. His heart and soul were elsewhere.

It was the second night in that place that he finally resolved within himself the exact truth that was so carefully written on his heart. He wanted to return to that mountain. He wanted to go and he wanted o protect the world by the blade that his master had begun to instruct him on how to use. He wanted to return to that life with his master. He wanted to go back...even if he had to beg. Even if he was turned away. He had to go back because he had to try.

That night he made his first escape attempt. He had waited until everyone was asleep and he had slowly started to make his way from their camp. Then he moved silently through the weeds. He moved like a wraith, always slinking and sliding through the grass until he made it to the road. A hand clamped down on his shoulder when he touched the dirt on the road though. He was roughly pulled back, and he gasped slightly before his world went black.

He woke up the next day completely bound to a post. His gi had been removed and he was staring at the woods before him. It appeared like they had made their way to their final resting stop while he was knocked out. Now he was stripped before the punishment squad. The first hit didn't really bother him all that much, he'd taken worse from others. Yet as they kept coming he slowly started to feel his soul wither away.

He closed his eyes and could only hope that someone, somewhere was looking for him like he was looking for them. Each strike fell, each slash landed, and each time it did he tried to remember his training. He tried to remember the steps to each move. He tried to recall the heat of the day as he practiced. He tried to remember the weight of his sword. He tried to do all those things, and through his reminiscences he found that the beating was dissapearing as he remembered what it felt like to have a hearth and home.

His second attempt he tried something a little different. He waited until he was released from the post and he stubbornly walked to go about his tasks as he'd been ordered to do without complaint. He didn't look at anyone at all, he just kept formulating the plan. He needed a sword. Yet his sword was lost. He remembered letting go of it in the water. He didn't have his own sword so that meant he'd need to get one from someone...

He had never tried his luck as a pick pocket, but that night, the fourth night since he had been taken away from his home, he successfully took a sword from one of the guards. At first he wasn't sure what to do with it, but when he made his break for the trees he knew that he would defend himself until the last. At least until he made it to the mountain...then maybe...just maybe Hiko could take care of the rest.

He was breathing heavily as he ran, he hadn't an clue on how long he had run, just that he was running. There were people following him, but he moved quickly and as quietly as he could. He danced through the trees but it wasn't enough. He was surrounded before long. Taking a deep breath he pulled the sword from it's sheath and held it before him. In the countless hours of practice he had learned only two things. How to stand and how to strike ahead. He knew nothing else and he couldn't hope to learn much more until he returned to the mountain...

He struck forward when he was attacked, but the blade hit the other's and he was repulsed. He was to small to leave a good enough blow and for a terrifying moment he thought that he would be killed. When he woke up though, he was back on the post. There were more lashes, and there was more planning. He was released after two days and once more he made his escape attempt.

This time though the guards were before him. He didn't even make it out of the encampment. He looked around, all the other slaves for sale were watching him. They were going to make a spectacle out of him and he hated them for it. The men surrounded him and he struggled to keep his emotions in check. He had to be strong. He had to keep thinking ahead. He had to move. They struck, and he dodged it. The many hours he'd spent running evasion exercises had been brutal and though he'd not seen the point in it then, he was slowly realizing that they were useful.

For each swing of the sword that Hiko had shown him in the past he had ducked and dodged and rolled away with ease. Hiko had told him quite simply that he was to small to be a samurai yet. He needed to grow in strength. He needed to get bigger. So he had been trained in nothing but staying alive for nearly all of the months he had lived with the man. Even after he'd been allowed to touch a sword he had continued the art of "running away." He barely even noticed he was doing it so well against these men.

They struck out in numbers and yet he dodged them all. He was faster then they were and though they had size and strength on him he had speed and grace. He ducked under their blades and he leaped over their clubs. They were nothing compared to the brutal attacks of his master. He had never given much thought to it, but his master had been right. Running away was saving his life even now.

Even if he couldn't leave the encampment, they had him trapped there after all, he still avoided each and every strike until finally they had given up on weapons and they all moved in and attacked with their fists. He dodged the first punch and he dodged the second. He had flipped towards an opening and suddenly without realizing it, a sword was in his hand. He hand flipped so perfectly that in his landing his hands grasped the blade as he pushed himself to his feet. He looked at them and he raised the blade. He raised the blade and he prepared himself for a true fight.

Before he had only run away and then fought. Now he would do both. The attacked and as before he moved and dodged and ducked and flipped and turned. Now though he used that one attack that he'd been given. That one bit of memory that Hiko still had left in his body. He slapped the sword forward and attacked back before he dodged. He countered his opponents and for the first time he started to feel empowered. The slaves were staring in awe, they couldn't believe that he, a scrawny eight year old, was defending himself so soundly against all of their slave drivers. It was a phenomenon to behold.

He struck forward to someone who had been disarmed at some point and then there was blood. He dropped the sword in horror. It fell from his grasp as the man stumbled to his knees. His eyes had rolled to the back of his head and he fell to the ground with a thud. There was no mercy for him then. He was attacked ruthlessly, and he didn't bother to defend. All that was on his mind was the body of the man he'd killed. He had just taken a life. Hiko's words filtered into his head and he felt his heart break in two

"Why are you defending a slave driver?" why indeed.

The post was the worst that night. He was beaten so badly that he could barely lift his head up anymore. He wasn't to be untied for two weeks. He wasn't to be given any food and water was only to be given once ever three days. They didn't want him to die...they wanted him to suffer for the pains he caused, and Kenshin Himura didn't stop them. Because he believed that he deserved the punishments for killing a man without even blinking.

Seijuro Hiko had been staring at the water for the thousandth time that week. He had been staring at it for so long that he could have sworn his mind was playing tricks on him, and yet...there it was....he moved quietly and swiftly to the river and reached into it's depths. The sword that was pulled out was unmistakably his errant apprentice's.

That wasn't what bothered him. The sword could have very well been thrown in when the bucket was lost. No, what bothered him was the clothing that was caught between the scabbard and the hilt. The bit of clothing that almost looked like it was placed there intentionally so as it would scream something to Hiko.

The man stared at the blade in dumb silence. Then suddenly his mind recalled the events of that day with spectacular clarity. Kenshin had never before said that he was unhappy. In fact, he looked more and more happy each day that he spent on the mountain. It would make no sense that after one fight the boy would just up and leave like that.

He most certainly wouldn't have left his sword behind. That was a mistake. A blade was a form of protection that was greatly needed in those times. If there was one thing that Hiko had taught the boy it was that. Never go anywhere without your weapon. Before he was even allowed to draw it from it's sheath he was given a sword to go to town with. That was just the way things were, and the boy knew that. Especially after the deaths of those three women that he mourned for.

They had died to protect him because he couldn't wield a blade properly. It had been the boy's one need. His one security blanket. The sword was his protection, and it being thrown away meant only one thing. He hadn't left on his own violation. The bucket now made sense. It had been tossed aside and looked as though it had been kicked. Such a deed would not have occurred for the child to do if he was trying to run away.

That only left one possibility. He had been taken by someone. Someone had been on the mountain. His home...the child's home...Kenshin's home. Someone had been there and had taken him away. Away from the one place that Hiko had promised the boy protection whenever he needed it. The master felt his anger swell in his chest. He was seven days behind the people who had committed the crime, and he needed to start now.

The clothing that was between the hilt and sheath was the first place to start. It wasn't his apprentice's and he had a sick feeling that he knew exactly who it came from. The clothing was familiar, and when he racked his brains some more he realized that it came from the same uniform that the men in the tavern were all wearing.

It was all he needed. There was no signs of a struggle around the river bed, so that indicated only one thing. He had fought him in the river and he had been carried off in the river. Quickly the man followed the river down, he knew where it led but there had to be something he cold follow.

He rushed down the river until it met the town and his eyes looked around the junction point closely. He almost smiled. There was blood on the vines of a thorn bush. Someone had tried to rush their way through them carelessly and had bled on the vines. He stepped forward and inspected it, not in the least bit surprised to see a bit of his apprentice's gi. His fists clenched. Not only kidnapped but injured was far more then he was willing to let slide. He looked around and sure enough the sloppy entrance to the road and kicked up some dirt. It was angled west. So that's where he was heading.

Conveniently enough, that's where the caravan they'd seen only a week earlier had been heading as well. He walked along the road until he met the next town. From there any hopes of finding the trail would be thrown off. There were to many people walking through it. He stopped by the tavern and he sat inside, listening quietly to all the world around him. Someone in there would know of the caravan and the slavers. Someone would know about something useful. After all, a red haired child was a rarity in Japan, and he would be easily spotted.

Three days of waiting and he still hadn't overheard anything. He was getting impatient, but the wait was worth it. On the fourth day someone wearing the uniform that those slavers had worn walked in. he was barking about something or other and was walking in for a drink. Hiko settled himself down and listened closely to the man's words.

"Still that kid got what was coming to 'im, can't believe it though..." one of the man's companions said as he slumped next to him on the tatami.

"He murdered that Hirotoko, he should have much more then a couple punishments!" Hiko's eyes narrowed. If they were talking about his apprentice, and he hoped to the gods that they weren't, then that meant that for the first time the boy had tasted blood spilled by his own hands.

"A couple? The kid can barely move after that beating that he got, and he barely eats or drinks anything. Kid's got more then a couple punishments. Besides, when they sell him he'll be the biggest pay day yet. What with that hair and his age, not to mention he knows how to use a sword if only a little. Some feudal lord would probably take him in and get him to be a body guard or something like that. He'd give us the most money since we sold that Ayane girl to the geishas." That was all Hiko needed to hear. He stood up sharply and silence fell over the tavern. He tossed a couple of coins onto next to his plate and he left. He couldn't listen to them anymore or he would kill them.

After about four hours the men left the tavern and started to make their way back down the road. Hiko followed them quietly and watched their movements like a hawk. He neeed them alive so that he could let them show him the way to wherever his student was, and even though their days were numbered, he was going to make sure that he found his student.

Kenshin Himura was weak and starving and dehydrated. He was light headed and his stomach was throbbing painfully in his gut. He could barely keep himself focused let alone awake. Sleep was the easiest thing for him. Yet as time passed he felt more and more pained and more and more exhausted. His skin was burning from the prolonged exposure to the sunlight, and the bugs were starting to crawl on him like a dead thing.

He felt vile and he felt dirty. He wanted nothing more then to leave this place but he didn't know where he was. He didn't know how to get home, and he was so completely and totally broken down from the days and days of being strapped to the post that he was starting to loose his senses. The slavers said it was to dangerous to let him off the post, and he had to agree to that. The moment he was off he would be planning his next escape. The moment he was off he would be running. Still, that didn't stop him from hoping. Hoping for a fleeting moment that he'd be released long enough to start running. He just wanted to go home. That's all he wanted.

He wanted to get ridiculed by his master and he wanted to train by the river. He shuddered. Remembering the river he remembered the fight there. The surprise of seeing a man on the mountain and then the attack. No. He didn't want to be near that river ever again. He just wanted to feel safe again. He wanted to sleep on his own futon...

One of the slaves came over to him and held a cup of water for him to drink up to his face. He looked at her dazedly and she gently allowed the soothing liquid to slip down his throat. He drank it slowly and laboriously, he felt to weak to do anything else. She left when it was empty and he thanked her internally. It was a kind gesture. Yet then she was back again, and he stared at her once more. She held up the cup and he drank. He was never allowed to have a second cup before...but he had not the strength to argue.

He sipped at the water and he drank and drank until it was empty. Now he was getting even more thirsty then he had been before. His body was begging for more water. He looked at her pleadingly for the first time and she left. Then she was back again and he was drinking more. More and more and more until finally he felt satisfied. Tears were starting to form in his eyes but he tried to send them away.

"Don't cry you'll only get more thirsty." She chided him softly and he nodded. She returned none the less with another glass and he drank it down. "I will try to find you something to eat alright?" He nodded to her and she left.

She never came back with the food, and he gave up after the second day of not seeing her of such a kindness occurring once more. Still though, the water was helpful, and he had regained some of his senses. He was finally awake enough to look around him, and slowly yet surely he began to work the binds behind his back. He struggled against them for hours now instead of the simple acceptance from before. He struggled rougher and rougher until his wrists were bleeding and then using all of his strength he heard a snap and felt the bonds break. He was so startled by that revelation that he barely knew what to do with himself, but then he struggled to his feet, and slowly made his way towards where the nearest guard was.

His hands took up the rope that had been used to tie him, and he stared at the back of the guard. Closer and closer and closer he was until finally he jumped with all his might and through his hands around the man's neck. The rope caught him, cutting off any shout of protest, and soon the strangulation began. The boy held fast to the rope and he tugged it harder and harder until there was an eerie noise that cracked into his ears. The man fell limp and the boy released him. He was dead...broken neck. The child didn't think on it to much though. He grabbed the man's sword and he made a dash for the woods...

There was the mountain just in front of him and all he had to do was find the river and make his way up and his master would be there and he would save him from the world. Either that or send him away and make his hope all the more futile. Someone stepped out in front of him and without blinking he drew his sword and he slashed in the one attack he knew. The man fell to the ground dead. He kept moving though, never stopping to think about what he was doing or what mountain he was climbing.

He kept running faster and faster and each time someone saw him he killed them. He hadn't realized it then but by the time he had reached the foot of the mountain he had massacred nearly half of the slavers that had imprisoned him in the first place. The search for him had been called off.

"Let him run up the mountain...there he shall find an even worse fate then we. Byakku lives there...and he will be sent back down to us when he has been sufficiently broken." The master slave trader announced, and the others agreed instantly.

The boy tripped and stumbled the whole way, he could barely see and in his weakened condition the delusions of home were wrapping themselves around his mind. All he could see in front of him was the path that led to Seijuro Hiko and the little hut by the river. He found a river and that meant that it had to be his river. He tripped through it and he walked awkwardly as he moved. He hallucinated trees that he recognized and in his hunger he smelt the smell of Hiko's miso soup.

The hut up ahead materialized itself as the same one he lived in, and he ran for it, eyes wide and heart pounding. He threw open the door and reality crashed down on him just as his throat choked out the first words he'd spoken to anyone "I'm home-" The man before him was not Hiko. The house around him was not his own. The land he stood on was not familiar, and tears started pouring from his face. He took a step back in shock and horror but a hand roughly caught his arm.

"Well...sent up here from the slave camp hmm?" He shook his head, his fingers twitched towards his sword in it's sheath, and the man before him laughed. "A runaway then!?" The sword was grabbed forcefully from his hand and it was thrown with a thud in the corner. Kenshin yelped as he was thrown as well. His head cracked against the wall and he slumped to the ground. "My name is Byakku...and I am going to be the one who breaks you into submission..."

Seijuro Hiko followed his prey for the longest time, and when they walked through the woods he did too. It didn't take long and he was happy for that, but when they got to the encampment, he froze. There were dead bodies everywhere. Even his prey were frozen in shock. Blood splattered on the ground and there were slaves trying to pick up the men and move them to where they were being directed too.

Each person was killed in the same exact way and it made his blood begin to boil. The one attack that he had taught his pupil was the one way that each of these men had been murdered. He looked about though, there was no child laying dead anywhere. His eyes caught sight of a post though. A post where there was blood stained on every side of it and on the ground there were signs of a body laying there for the longest of times.

He stepped forward. Now he was angry, and now he wanted to know just where his student was. All eyes swiveled around to look at him as he emerged from the trees. Several guards were rushing forward from their hiding spots and were brandishing their swords towards him. He deflected them all without even a though and knocked them all back.

"Where is the boy?" He asked so everyone could hear him. The slave women were looking at each other in surprise and then instantly they began speaking quietly to themselves about what was happening. The slavers though looked terrified. "The boy with red hair, where is he?" A man stepped out of one of the buildings and looked at him with dark eyes and a sick expression on his face.

"Who are you?" He asked at long last. Hiko's eyes narrowed in on the bit of fabric that was missing from the man's sleeve. The missing fabric that he had in his pocket at that very moment. This was the one who had kidnapped his pupil. His face contorted with anger.

"My name is Seijuro Hiko and you kidnapped my student now where is he?! The gods help you if he's dead!"

"He's on the mountain!" One of the girls screamed out at long last, and he looked at her for a long moment. "He was running there, he didn't turn back or anything. He just ran up it!" Hiko glanced at the mountain. His mind could only formulate one reason as to why the boy would go up it, and that reason was enough to make him clench his teeth in anger.

"We don't know if he's alive or dead, he went up it two days ago." The man who had kidnapped his boy had said. He looked up and clenched his teeth. Every muscle in his body was tight with anger and hate. He was furious, and he could see the hopeful looks on all the slaves faces. When he finally relaxed again there was more blood in that place then he had seen in a long time. He shook his head and he walked up the mountain.

Each and every slave owner had been killed. He gave all the women and all the others directions to the road and then he left. He had one last life to save before he could go home. He walked up the mountain slowly and carefully and he kept his eyes focused on his surroundings. When he came to a river he wasn't surprised in the least to notice some of the rocks had been overturned as though someone had tripped over them.

He followed the sloppy trail and up the river he went. In his head he only thought about Kenshin. Only Kenshin and nothing else. He walked slowly and carefully and he kept his eyes peeled for any sign of a flash of red or an appearance of life. So when he smelled food he realized that the boy must have come across the hut before him.

In the child's broken state that hut could have been as close to home as he could have gotten to and the swordsman walked towards it with an increased speed. He needed to know if his student was alright. He needed to know if he was okay. He knocked on the door, but when he heard a crash and a child like moan of pain that he had heard countless times when he was training with the boy he thrust the door open and stared at the gruesome sight before him.

There was his student, tied to the floor with blood pouring from his hairline. His eyes looked dull and his body was emaciated. He looked horrible and pale and weak and suffering more and more each moment that Hiko took the sight of the child in. Then there was the man that was old and decrepit looking and when he met Hiko's gaze it was the last thing the man saw before he was killed. Hiko shot forward, passed the dead body of the man he'd killed and towards his student who was shaking whether from the cold or from fear.

"Kenshin?" He whispered softly, his hands reaching out to untie the boy's bonds. The child's eyes were staring up at him and he looked so lost and so confused that the man felt his heart breaking each passing second. He wanted to see the vibrant child that he had brought home with him that day again. He wanted to see the smile of the boy that he had been raising the past few months. "Kenshin are you alright?" He asked though he knew his answer. The boy was staring at him, his mouth moved but no words came out. Hiko slipped his hands under the child and picked him up with far more ease then he had months before.

He carried him from the mountain. He carried him passed the slave encampment. He carried him to the road and through the town. He carried him towards their own river. He carried him up their own mountain, and he carried him straight into their home. The boy had stopped shaking but his hands clenched the cloak of the man who was holding him. He was crying softly and Hiko didn't try to stop him.

He brought him inside their home and lay him down on his futon and he gently started to treat the wounds on the boy's body. The sunburn had scorched his skin and the constant physical abuse had left gashes on his arms. Through it all he didn't say anything. The only time he protested was when Hiko was leaving to get some water to wash the boy in. He called out with a hoarse voice and a broken sob for his master and the man turned and stared at him.

"Don't go..." The boy whispered silently. "Please don't go..." The master nodded despite himself and moved forward.

He wrapped his arms around his ward and he hugged him. It was something he had never thought of doing before, and yet he had to. It was instinct that drove him, and the boy hugged him back. The child needed him to be there and to not leave. He would work on dispelling the boy's demons but for now....for now he would let him be scared and let him be comforted.

For four more years Kenshin lived on that mountain. Each day he fought against the demons that he had experienced throughout those weeks in hell. He learned how to wield a sword to protect the weak and he learned how to fend off nightmares. Hiko was still conceited and he was still brash, and yet there was an understanding and an awareness that hadn't been there in the beginning. He knew that Kenshin had his limits. He knew which memories were to sore for him to bare to speak about and he knew that somethings would never change.

Throughout it all, Kenshin remained that pure hearted boy that he had been all those years ago, and yet that only meant that he suffered the deaths of the lives he'd taken all the more. Their faces were engraved into his heart and he would never forget them.

News of war filtered up to their mountain home, and soon Hiko noticed the change in his pupil. The boy was angry, he was dissatisfied, and he wanted nothing more then to fight against the people who were making others suffer. His demons were facing him and Kenshin wanted to kill them all. He wanted to eliminate the world from those who caused others pain.

"If you go down there you'll just be a murderer!" He had shouted at the boy, and the look on the boy's face was enough to show that he hadn't considered that. Yet he wouldn't say anything about it. He just said that some people needed to die for others to live good lives. Hiko had never been more wounded then that moment. The years of trying to heal the boy's soul had been destroyed in that one dreadful second. He closed his eyes and gave the boy his answer. He could leave if that is what he wished for.

The fact that he did brought back horrifying memories for him. He knew though that Kenshin was well prepared to kill anyone who tried to take him someplace. So he no longer considered the boy to have been taken away. Yet the fact that the boy left broke his heart in two.

It didn't take long for him to catch news of the "Demon of Kyoto." The legendary Hitokiri Battousai who was renowned for his battou-jutsu. He didn't react to it though. He knew that his pupil was following his heart, and if that meant that the boy was going to destroy his own soul then so be it. Hiko couldn't defend the child from his own stupidity.

Months went by, the rumors died down, and he wondered whatever became of the boy. Not so much as one letter or notice had been sent. Not so much as one word of communication. He wondered faintly if someone had killed his foolish apprentice. He had been so surprised then to find that one morning nearly a year after the boy had left, he found something in his door jam.

He had been out, and when he'd returned there had been a letter waiting for him. Gingerly he opened the letter and as he read he felt his heart sink into his stomach. The boy that he had raised was loosing his way in the world and he was slowly sinking into a depression that rivaled the one he'd been in as a child coming home from those slavers.

Tomoe. A name that Hiko never forgot for the rest of his life. His foolish apprentice had gotten married. He'd fallen in love. He wanted nothing more then Tomoe's happiness...and he had killed her because of it. The letter concluded itself with only three words. Three words that wracked the man's soul and made him hurt more then ever before. He wished that he could take back what he'd said to the boy. He wished that he hadn't told him that would become a murderer. For those last three words haunted him completely. You were right.

The seasons changed, and the years passed. One year, two years, ten years. It made no difference. He stayed on the mountain and made pottery and sold them in Kyoto. He never received another letter from his apprentice, and only when he heard that the war was won did he allow himself to smile a sad smile. His apprentice had won the war but he had lost his soul.

The days trickled by and Hiko gave up on ever seeing the boy again. He knew that the boy was alive, but it made him feel little better. Then...suddenly...one day....a swordsman appeared on the mountain. He withdrew his blade and struck out with blinding speed, but Hiko jumped to avoid it. It was slower then he remembered his student's best at, but it was fast enough for him to recognize who it was.

"So it is you..." He mumbled quietly to himself when he saw the boy with the cross shaped scar on his left cheek and the flaming red hair. No longer a boy though, now he was a man. A man that was begging him for help. He sighed and listened and trained the man. He relished in the thought of being with his apprentice one more time, and yet he knew that it was pointless to assume that he would see him anymore after this.

He visited Tomoe's grave with the boy and he sighed slightly when he gave his final goodbye to the man. It only made him all the happier whenever he saw him again. Kenshin made his visits at least once a year. He had cut his hair at some point, and the scar on his cheek was fading. For the first time he appeared to be finally happy and content.

They shared sake with each other, and they talked about the seasons and the snow- just as all good sake drinkers should. Hiko enjoyed speaking with his former apprentice just as his former apprentice enjoyed speaking with him. It didn't surprise him when the man's son wanted to learn his technique, but he knew that Kenji would never be the same as Kenshin. He taught the boy anyway, and he allowed the boy to learn. It wasn't the same, but it eased his soul to know that Kenji wouldn't be going off to fight in any wars like his father.

The last thing that Hiko remembered ever saying to Kenshin was only two years before he received news from one of the man's friends of his death. Hiko had been saying goodbye to him and Kenshin was leaving to return to Tokyo where his wife and son were waiting for him.

"Kenshin!" He'd called out, and the man turned to face him. He didn't know why he was saying this to him, but he needed to tell him. "The name Himura was not your own...neither was Kenshin. Both were names I gave you." The man nodded to him, confusion on his face. "The name Himura was my family's name before I became Seijuro Hiko the 13th." Shock played on the man's face and he turned fully to face his master. "Now and for always I have always considered you my heir. Whether in Hiten-Mitsurugi-Ryū or in life." Hiko nodded slightly and then turned and walked into his house.

"And you have always been my father, whether in Hiten-Mitsurugi-Ryū or in life as well!" Were the last words that Hiko ever heard from the boy he considered a son.

Windstar: I hope you liked this. I know it's a one shot but hey, deal with it. I'm not going to continue it, obviously, it's a stand alone. I hope you enjoyed it and remember:

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me other then the unfamiliar story play out. Everything else belongs to the author and creator or Rurouni Kenshin.