I must be seeing things.
I stand in front of the altar in my master's home. There are the plaques for the Ni'itsu, which anyone would expect, and those for the line of Hiten Mitsurugi masters, which I would expect, and something which no one would ever expect.
He has laid my swords from the revolution, and the small treasures of my childhood, on his altar.
It is with a mix of familiar old pain, and wondering joy, that I barely touch the tip of my finger to the hilt of the wakizashi.
So many bitter memories, but so much gratitude.
"You kept me in one piece, more than once, old companion, " I murmur to the blade, and indeed, it may have been my curse, but it was definitely my skin's salvation.
Between my small size and quickness, and the tactical advantage of the sidearm blade, I had come unscathed through many fights that should have seen my end.
And farther behind the blades--no, it can't be. The stone blossom, the feather, and the lock of hair from my tansu.
"Why, shishou," I wonder aloud.
"Why did you see fit to enshrine any piece of my memory? I was just a deshi, a baka deshi at that, and in the end I abandoned you. Why these blood-soaked blades? Could you even see past them to the child who treasured a rock, a feather, and a lock of hair?"
I expect no answer, but that's of course when I got one.
"Because those blades also held the spirit of a young man who wanted so much to serve others. He may not have chosen the best course, but he truly meant to honor those blades.
"Because those blades protected the part of him who would become a true disciple of peace.
"Because I would not forget the sweet and wondering child who could find blossoms in a stone, catch a piece of the sky, and believe there was hope even where he could not see it.
"Because, baka, baka deshi," he said, but it sounded like 'dear, dear child', "I would not surrender you to the corruption of the Bakumutsu and the demon of the Ishin Shishi.
"You were mine first, and no one said those damned patriots could take you."
I stare at him in wonder.
"You. . .you valued me?"
He snorted mildly.
"No, idiot apprentice, I did not."
My heart fell. I had just surprised myself with how much I wanted to mean something to my shishou, and he had just reminded me how foolish I was to do so.
I swallow and turn to face the altar. I can face my bloody past more easily than Master's disinterest.
"I treasured you, Ken-ch'en.
"Now go get us some water and we'll have some good warm sake."
I will never, never be able to predict my shishou.
And that delight paints a smile on my face.
Owari
OK, maybe that one should've come with a Danger: Cavity-Creating Syrupy WAFF Ahead warning. Blame it on Nemesis Jedi, who wondered, in a comment to Slice of His Life, how Kenshin might react to seeing his blades and momentoes on Hiko's altar. I was waiting around for a delayed flight one evening, and this little characterization bunny started jumping through my head. This is not part part of the official Adoption universe: in that reality Hiko has never offered Kenshin any overt evidence of warm & fuzzies, so at best, Kenshin has a subconsicous feeling that his master does not completely dislike him.