Rurouni Kenshin

The Silent Sword

by Moguera

 

Disclaimer: In no way, shape, or form do I own Rurouni Kenshin.

 

Prologue:

 

            The world is a place of noise.  Anyone with their ears intact cannot deny this.  Even in the depths of the oceans and down to the center of the Earth itself, there is no place where some sort of sound cannot be heard.  At any time in any place, there is always some kind of noise, be it the chirping of birds, the rumble of thunder in the distance, or the stirring of grass in the breeze, there is always sound.  Even in the darkness of night those sounds that have disappeared are replaced by new ones.  Silence is an unseen abomination of nature.  It is only present, when something is truly and terribly wrong.

            So of course, it was no surprise then that it was silent that night when it all began.  In a quiet country house in the outskirts of one of the many towns dotting the landscape of Japan, everything had gone quiet.  The lights in the house had yet to go out and inside, the occupants had failed to take any notice of the silence outside; a mistake to say the least.  Not far from the house and outside the limits of the town was a forest.  There was nothing truly remarkable about this forest save of course, that it had gone silent.  As the night grew older, the reason for that silence became painfully clear as a man seemed to materialize out of the darkness itself, making his way, silent as death, towards that house and its unsuspecting occupants.

            Looking at this man, one would have been amazed at how it could be possible for one like him to move undetected anywhere.  His hair was an eye-catching shade of red that one would never think could blend into the darkness so quickly.  It was grown long and tied into a ponytail behind his head.  The man’s clothes were dark red, the color of dried blood, over white, colors that could fade easily into the night.  His most distinctive feature was the cross-shaped scar on his left cheek.  The man’s eyes were the color of amber, and held the promise of silent death within them.  At his side he wore two swords, one, the katana, the classic sword of a Japanese samurai and the other a wakizashi, also a possession of many who followed the warrior’s art.  The man moved so quickly that he barely seemed to have the substance of a shadow as he made his way towards that fateful house.

            The house itself was fairly large.  Strangely enough, all the hallmarks that would declare that anyone of some importance lived there were curiously absent.  However, the man of the shadows knew well enough of the significance of its inhabitants.  Once he reached the house, the man stopped just outside the circle of light cast from the windows of that house.  Carefully, he made his way around the perimeter, looking, probing for some kind, any kind of weakness.  Finally, the man found his weakness, a back door left ajar, practically an open invitation for him to come in and finish his grim work.  The man was not the kind to refuse such invitations and slipped into the house with all the silence of a phantom.

            Barely five minutes later, the man exited that same house as silently as he had come.  The lights in the house continued to burn brightly.  It wasn’t until morning, that anyone bothered to notice the silence that hung about the place.  When someone finally entered to discern what had happened, he was shocked to find three corpses.  And in one corner of that house, hidden away in a closet, he also found the shaking figure of a child, shocked and frightened beyond all reason.  His silence was the price he paid for surviving that night.  For those who met the Hitokiri Battousai, also known as Kenshin Himura, rarely departed for anywhere except the afterlife.

 

            The boy, who had not spoken a word since, was taken in by the same kind man who had found him.  Two days later, he woke up to find that the boy had disappeared.  Weeks passed, and no one ever heard from him.  Not that they would have heard from him had he come back, for it was widely believed that the horrors that had been visited upon him that night had left him speechless for the rest of his life.

 

Weeks later:

            Life in Kyoto went on as it always had.  Many of the citizens hardly seemed bothered by the fact that elsewhere, a revolution that would soon change the face of Japan was occurring.  Few people believed that this revolt would make its way to the streets of Kyoto and were happy to live their live as they always did.

            Seijuro Hiko XIII slowly made his way back towards his home.  He had been living for years now, just outside of Kyoto, making his living as nothing more than a humble potter.  A huge bear of a man, Seijuro Hiko was handsome and looked young for someone who was over thirty years old.  His youthful appearance and muscular physique drew the eyes of more than a few young ladies whom he passed.  Not that he returned their stares for he was quite used to being good looking.  The white mantel that he wore trailed behind him dramatically.  The only thing that suggested that he was human not some god among men was the fact that several large jugs of sake were slung over his shoulder, clunking together hollowly.

            As he walked down the street, Hiko soon noticed that he was being followed.  Looking back carefully, he saw a small figure slipping ineptly from shadow to shadow.  Whoever it was that was tailing him was neither skilled, nor very experienced.  He judged his small shadow to be a boy of about five years of age, awfully young to be alone in the streets.  He could tell from a few brief glances that they boy was thin and underfed.  Hiko understood quite well what this young child wanted from him.  The man slowed his pace to allow the kid to close the distance.  He did so gradually, so as not to raise the boy’s suspicions.  The boy foolishly took the proffered opportunity, moving faster to come even closer.  Hiko came to a complete stop and turned away from the boy, pretending to eye the contents of one of the many shops that lined the street.  The boy took advantage of the perceived distraction and struck.

            Hiko was surprised, for someone so young and weak; the boy was incredibly fast, closing the final distance between them in a few short seconds.  However, catching him only slightly off guard would not be enough for the child to get the better of Seijuro Hiko, master of the Hiten Mitsurugi style.  With speed seemingly impossible for a human, much less a man of his size, Hiko spun about and caught the fleeing thief by the collar of his ragged shirt before the boy could get away the wallet he had lifted from Hiko’s pocket.

            Again Hiko found himself surprised.  The boy did not struggle to escape, nor did he make a single sound.  Instead, as Seijuro turned the kid to look at his face, he could see the child studying him, watching and evaluating.  If the boy was afraid, he did not betray it.  In fact, the only thing Hiko saw in those sky-blue eyes of his was curiosity as the boy analyzed him from head to toe.  Even as he was looking the huge man up and down, the boy handed back Hiko’s wallet distractedly, as if he had done nothing wrong.  For some strange reason, Seijuro Hiko found himself very interested in the child.  An idea formed in his head.  Since that blockhead of an apprentice he had had last time was long gone, Hiko decided that he had to find someone else to inherit the Hiten Mitsurugi.  And, from the look of things, he had found the perfect candidate.

            “You’re a strange person,” he observed.  The boy did not answer him.  He met Hiko’s gaze squarely with one that was equally intense.  “How would you like to learn swordsmanship from me?” he proposed.

            The boy considered it a moment before nodding.  “Do you speak?” asked Hiko.  The boy shook his head.  “Hmm, so you’re mute.”  The boy merely shrugged as if to say, “If that’s what you call it.”

            Seijuro set the kid on the ground and began to walk off.  “Follow me,” he said over his shoulder.  Without hesitation, the boy followed Seijuro Hiko into his home.

 

Thirteen years later:

            Seijuro Hiko was more than pleased with his selection of apprentice.  He had found out that the boy’s name was Takezo.  After looking into the matter further, Seijuro discovered the truth behind the boy’s past.  Takezo’s family had been murdered by none other than Battousai the Manslayer, whom Seijuro knew to be his previous dumb apprentice Kenshin Himura.  Takezo had apparently watched the whole thing.  Seijuro figured that the boy must have been at that perfect age when he could understand exactly what was happening, but not why; just right for being traumatized.  The revolution had ended ten years ago and now the government that Himura had fought to create was now a reality.

            Takezo had turned out to be much more than a prodigy when it came to swordsmanship.  The boy was sharper than the sword he wielded.  Takezo could learn techniques almost instantly, able to perform flawlessly after seeing a single demonstration.  Despite this, Seijuro had yet to teach the boy the final techniques of the Hiten Mitsurugi style.

            Takezo had been learning from Seijuro Hiko for thirteen years now.  He was a dedicated student, but his nature at times seemed almost flighty.  Whenever he was in town, running errands for his master, Takezo would often take detours and disappear for hours on end.  Once he had vanished for a whole day.  At first, Seijuro didn’t begrudge his student a few hours of privacy, but as his periods of elusiveness increased in frequency and length, Seijuro began to get worried.  One day, Seijuro followed Takezo secretly as the boy went to take care of his errands.  Hiko was impressed to see that the young man finished his job first thing.  On the way back, Takezo entered a carpenter’s shop.  When Seijuro took a peek at what his student was up to, he was amazed to see that Takezo was taking lessons from the carpenter.  On several occasions when he followed his student, Seijuro saw him learning things from the carpenter just as quickly as he learned swordsmanship from Hiko.  After a while, Seijuro decided to talk to Takezo about it.  Seijuro was quite lenient with him, understanding that Takezo was probably using extra lessons to fill up the void in his life that had been left when his parents were slain.  He even paid for formal lessons in a few areas of interest.

            Another interesting observation that Hiko made was how much his new apprentice had grown to resemble Kenshin.  In fact, the two of them could have been identical twins if it weren’t for the fact that Takezo’s hair was black and his eyes a constant shade of ice-blue.  Hiko had often found it quite eerie that Kenshin’s eyes were capable of changing color depending on his mood; lavender when he was his normal friendly self, blue when he was particularly serious or tense, and amber when Kenshin was feeling downright murderous.

            Despite how far he had come, Takezo remained completely mute.  Seijuro was not sure how to solve that particular problem.  Other than the fact that he was incapable of human speech, Takezo seemed like a completely normal person.  He could read and write easily, though he refused to use writing as a means of carrying on a conversation either, and there were no other problems.  Seijuro figured that one day he would have to arrange a meeting between Takezo and Kenshin.  Perhaps the shock of recognition would be enough to awaken his protégé’s voice.  However, he wasn’t sure when he should do it.

            The opportunity nearly snuck up on him.  One day, after dispatching Takezo to see to his chores, Seijuro was minding his kiln when who should come up behind him but his own dumb apprentice.  Kenshin Himura had come to finish his training, wielding a reverse-blade sword of all things.  At first, Seijuro was furious that his dumb apprentice should come back after so many years just to learn the final techniques of the Hiten Mitsurugi style.  If it weren’t for the fact that Kenshin required them for his fight with Makoto Shishio he probably would have never come back for them.  Takezo had been training with Hiko for thirteen years straight now and he had still not taught the boy the Kuzu-Ryu-Sen or the Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki.  He refused to teach Kenshin.  However, after talking with both Kenshin and his close friends who had followed him from Tokyo, Seijuro decided to change his verdict on the situation.  Later that night, Seijuro sent Takezo to a place where he knew the boy would not have a chance meeting with Himura.  Takezo was not ready for such an event.

            After the entire incident had passed and Shishio’s revolution was no more, Seijuro was surprised to find Takezo sitting in the practice yard, staring at his sword.  Upon seeing that he was being observed by his master, Takezo came up to Hiko.  Seijuro watched curiously as Takezo held up his sword and flipped it so that the dull edge was leading rather than the razor sharp edge.  Hiko understood perfectly, Takezo wanted a reverse-blade sword.  Seijuro reasoned that at some point, Takezo must have observed Kenshin’s dedication to the cause of not killing and his use of the reverse-blade sword.  It must have intrigued the boy.

            The next day, Seijuro sent word to an old acquaintance of his, a sword smith living in the countryside outside of Kyoto.  The master sword maker was surprised but willing to forge a reverse-blade sword for Seijuro Hiko’s apprentice.  A month later, the reverse-blade sword was delivered.  As Takezo continued to study under him, Seijuro Hiko came to a realization.  It would soon be time.

 

One year later:

            Hiko approached slowly, almost reluctantly as Takezo practiced alone as he usually did.  For the first time in his life, Seijuro Hiko was entertaining some very strange doubts about the level of skill displayed by his student.  What if he is too strong? worried Hiko, What if I can’t give him the motivation necessary to learn the final attack?

            However, neither would Takezo find the motivation to complete his training if Hiko continued to hold off.  It was just a risk that he would have to take.  A desperate gamble.  “Takezo,” he said as he came.

            The boy looked up from his training.  His face, including his eyes, was completely devoid of any form of expression.  Seijuro knew that Takezo was not devoid of emotions, nor did Takezo pretend that he was.  Rather, he let his emotions guide his sword in battle, but never let them show on his face.  It was an effective method, but one that Hiko could manage in any case.

            “It’s time,” said Seijuro.

            Takezo merely looked at him questioningly.  Hiko knew the unspoken question behind that face.  Time for what?

            “It is time for you to learn the final technique of the Hiten Mitsurugi style,” said Seijuro, “It is time we finish what we started that day you decided to pick my pocket.”

            Takezo smiled amiably and nodded.  His face was the picture of innocence, as if he couldn’t understand Hiko’s grim mood.  Honestly, sometimes he seemed so naïve for someone who watched his parents murdered in cold blood.  After observing Takezo for a moment, Hiko decided that it was time to begin.

            So he taught Takezo the Kuzu-Ryu-Sen.  Takezo didn’t flinch as the nine simultaneous attacks landed feather-light blows on all nine of his body’s vital points.  Like he had done with Kenshin and like what his master had done with him, Seijuro held back considerably, simply trying to demonstrate the principle rather than the power behind the Kuzu-Ryu-Sen.

            For a long moment, Takezo simply stood there, silently, as always, contemplating the attack that he had been shown.  He was showing a greater degree of caution than when he had learned any of the other techniques of the Hiten Mitsurugi style.  But then, the Kuzu-Ryu-Sen was different from any other attack used by the Hiten Mitsurugi style, than any sword style ever created.  No other style of swordsmanship taught a technique where one blade suddenly became nine.  Impossible to block, impossible to dodge, the Kuzu-Ryu-Sen was a technique like no other.

            Finally, Takezo turned and faced his master.  “Are you ready?” asked Seijuro.  Takezo nodded, but Hiko didn’t notice.  In truth, he hadn’t asked his apprentice, but rather himself.  Hiko nodded.  “Then, you must attack me and not hold back.”  Takezo nodded again.  Setting himself for the attack, his face slipping back into its expressionless mask, he took up the stance necessary to launch the strike.

            Hiko also set himself for the attack.  With a final breath, he threw his trust into his strength and charged.  For a brief instant, all his doubts were forgotten, forgotten in the exhilaration that he always felt as he watched his blade flash so quickly that it seemed to become nine separate blades at once, nine blades that converged on one opponent, each seeking out its own target, nine blades that would strike unerringly.

            Then, his doubts returned tenfold when the force of his Kuzu-Ryu-Sen was met with the awesome power of Takezo’s.  For a terrible second, Hiko was sure that he would be overcome.  But then, the power of a true master of the Hiten Mitsurugi style, combined with the weight of his powerful body, finally overpowered Takezo and sent the apprentice stumbling back from the force of the blow.  After a few faltering steps backwards, Takezo sat down hard.  It was all that Hiko could do to stop himself from sighing with relief.  However, he knew that he couldn’t allow Takezo the chance to practice the Kuzu-Ryu-Sen, or then Hiko really would find himself overcome.

            “You now know that the only way to counter the Kuzu-Ryu-Sen is with the same attack.  However, if your opponent is stronger than you, you will still fail because his Kuzu-Ryu-Sen will overpower yours,” explained Hiko, “There is however, a technique that can defeat the Kuzu-Ryu-Sen.  That is the Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki.”

            Takezo nodded.  He pondered the information he had been given by his master.  After a moment, his slid his sword back into its sheath.  Seijuro Hiko nodded back at his apprentice.  “You are correct, the Battoujutsu technique when used properly, can counter the god-like speed of the Kuzu-Ryu-Sen, by accelerating the blade to beyond god-like speed, the Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki.”  Then Hiko raised an eyebrow.  “But the reverse-blade sword is not suited for Battoujutsu.  How then shall you work around it?”

            Takezo, of course, did not say anything.  Instead, he smiled cryptically.  Hiko’s eyes narrowed.  “Are you ready Takezo?”  Takezo nodded, his smile vanishing as his face slipped back into the same expressionless countenance that he always wore when about to go into combat.

            Seijuro Hiko let his mantle fall to the ground.  He would have to fight unencumbered.  There was no other way to do this.  Hiko set his sword and tensed for the strike.  “Very well then.”  This was it, the point of no return.  There was no turning back now.  Seijuro Hiko leapt forward, his blade becoming nine and converging on Takezo, who met the charge head on with a charge of his own, sword still in sheath.

            His left foot hit the ground…

 

 

Author Extra: These aren’t exactly Author’s Notes.  These are little bits of information on Japanese culture and history that have been played upon in the previous chapter.  Today’s Author Extra is why it is so difficult to learn the Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki.  Granted, this does not mean that the technique itself is real, but it is interesting to know why it would be so difficult for swordsmen to grasp.  When Kenshin learns the technique from Seijuro Hiko, Hiko tells his apprentice that the key to the technique is the will to live.  Samurai are known for their resignation to death.  In fact, their willingness to embrace death is legendary.  For a Samurai, there is no greater honor than dieing on the field of battle in the service of his lord.  So, for most swordsmen, possessing such a strong desire for life would be all but inconceivable.  Because the key to the Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki runs counter to the code of the Samurai (Bushido), it is nearly impossible to understand and therefore, difficult to learn.