The Eternal One

Please see my bio for author’s notes and disclaimers!
The Eternal One
Chapter 2

He had woken up that morning in the arms of a mother who would never again open her eyes. His father, his brother, and his sisters – they had all gone away somewhere where his mother told him he could not follow, and now, with his mother refusing to wake, he was all alone.

And he knew that morning the moment he woke up on the thin, filthy futon his family had always shared and his mother wouldn’t move even when he called out for her and shook her bony shoulders that she had gone to the same place the rest of their family had gone, wherever that may be.

Eventually someone passing by on the street outside heard him crying and came to get him, forcing him to come when he refused to be moved from his place. He was young, but far more intelligent than his years. He knew what even his eldest sibling had had trouble grasping: everyone in the village hated he and his family because his mother was a foreigner. He knew even with a child’s simplicity that it would be better to stay in his home beside his mother, hungry and all alone than to go with the strange woman who yelled at him and grabbed him up roughly in her meaty arms. The woman spelt strongly of alcohol and dye and he didn’t like her large, purple-ish face.

She was a spinster, and one of the local daimyo’s servants, and grudgingly took him into her home when no one else would. She didn’t like him, but she fed him and gave him a blanket and a place to sleep on the floor near the fire, and she rented him out to people who needed chores done around their homes and fields.
One day he was outside with a stick trying to keep the birds away from the crops when the daimyo, returning from a trip to the capitol with a group of his most trusted samurai, rode by and caught sight of him.

Shinta would never forget that first time; how he had been pressed to the ground, dirt in his mouth as his kimono was shoved up over his hips and something far too large was shoved into him. He had cried and pled and struggled until he was out of energy, wondering what he had done to deserve such pain, and why the men traveling with the local lord just stood around laughing and watching as he was punished for being interesting-looking.
Not one of them tried to help.

And when the daimyo finished with him the others took turns kneeling behind him and did the same impossibly painful thing as the first man, although it was beyond Shinta’s comprehension to understand what it was or why each and every one screamed and collapsed atop him before they were finished.
When all sixteen of them had taken their turns, one of them laughingly pulled him onto his horse and took him back to his house with him.

XXXXXXXXXX

His death would be slow and painful – or swift and painful, depending on how difficult a time the kittens had in keeping him subdued – if his presence was known of in the small, crowded flower shop. Fortunately for him, it was only a small matter to turn an eye here, cloud a mind there. He wanted time with his kitten and he intended to have it right under the eye of the man’s teammates and none would be the wiser until after he was well on his way home.

Perhaps he could even succeed in persuading the dear man into a little play time, if he could keep the other redhead from attempting to maul him for long enough.

He caught sight of a flash of red from the corner of his eye and immediately ducked behind a display of lilies, scanning the shop quickly to ensure there was no one around to bother him before he slid out before his love.

“It’s been a while, katzchen.” He purred, rounding on the object of his obsession.

But the boy who stood before him was not the ever-addictive Aya Fujimiya, and though there were many tantalizing similarities, they were not enough for either man to be confused with the other. The boy was shorter, slimmer, and far more delicate. More, Schuldig hated to admit, pretty, despite the cross shaped scar on his cheek. His hair was longer than any the telepath had ever seen on a male, eyelashes longer and thicker.

“Can I help you, sir?” The stranger asked, tilting his head to the side and regarding him with larger, innocent eyes of deep amethyst.

“Who are you?” Schuldig snarled, immediately hostile. “I’ve never seen you before.”

He flashed a large, lovely smile that never reached his those large, innocent…sad…eyes. “This one is new to the team, that he is.” He stated pleasantly.

“The…floweshop…team?” He asked with his own pleasant smile.

He had no doubt the ruby-haired young man was a fellow assassin as he watched the boy see the danger in his own eyes, watched his pretty face slowly become a blank mask.

“What else would this one be referring to?” He asked politely.
Schuldig narrowed his eyes.

“Where’s Abyssinian?”

“There is no one by that name here.” The boy answered, turning back to his work.

Schuldig grasped his arm tightly and buried his fist deep in the boy’s long, ruby colored ponytail, yanking his head back harshly.

“You do not want to anger me, lieblich,” He hissed, thrusting his mind violently into the boy’s. He only got the merest glimpse of darkness and the ache of solitude before he was shoved out and blocked as if an iron door had slammed in his face.

He had expected anger or challenge in the boy’s dark, deep eyes, but the amethyst orbs were completely mild. Resigned. Schuldig pulled his hair again, hard enough to be sure he hurt him, and the boy didn’t so much as wince.

Furious that his scariness was being so blatantly ignored, the German man pulled his gun and shoved it with bruising force under the boy’s jaw.

“I could kill you right now, lieblich, and no one would even notice.”

“Nor care.” He murmured back unflinchingly, unconcerned. He could no longer hide that Schuldig was hurting him, but it was as if it simply didn’t matter.

“How did you lock me out, little one?” He demanded.

His eyes hardened. “My thoughts are my own.” He answered simply with no trace of fear.

Schuldig released him with a shove, staring at him as slowly the knowledge began to dawn on him that this small slip of a boy may prove to be more dangerous than even he and his team were willing to handle.

“Another time, lieblich.” He stated with a smooth smile, shaken to the core.

“One final word of warning. It will go badly for you if you make it a habit to get in my way. Remember that.”

The pleasant, polite mask slipped back into place as, with a very insincere smile, the boy reached up to fix his abused ponytail.

“Have a nice day, then, sir.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Omi was one very, very frustrated little chibi.

Nothing, recently, was going very well.

The news of Krittiker’s spy had been upsetting, however there hadn’t been a single mission since Kenshin had joined the team. This was even worse, as it made the clever young boy suspect that there was some rather nasty surprise being set up for his team.

As for their newest teammate, Kenshin continued to remain a mystery to them all. The most anyone had been able to get out of him was on his first day when Ken had shown him around, and that was barely even worth mentioning. In the shop he was friendly and helpful toward the customers, yet did not participate in small talk. As a roommate, he was quite and rarely seen.

They had had the same sort of problem with Aya when he had first joined the team, and Omi was praying that they could find some way to win the trust of the new redhead as they had the other.

Omi had spent the last hour preparing a traditional-style Japanese dinner because he had noticed in the short time since the small man had joined them that those kinds of dishes seemed to be what the lilac-eyed young man seemed to prefer (it was all Kenshin made on his night to cook.)
But as Kenshin came downstairs from his room and began to silently fix himself a plate it became clear that he planned to spend yet another meal alone in his room.

“Kenshin,” Omi smiled, pulling out a chair for the other boy. “Why don’t you join us tonight?” He asked, consciously letting his hope shine in his eyes. He wanted to be friends, really he did. Krittiker went too far using its people, as he knew better than most. And Kenshin was nice. “You never eat with us, not even when it’s your turn to cook. Come on, we don’t bite.”

“Aya does.”

Omi shot Yohji a glare, “accidentally” hitting the back of his head as he passed by on his way to Kenshin. “Please?” He pled, pouring on the innocent chibi act
The delicate boy looked genuinely surprised. “I…this one was unaware you wished his lowly presence amongst you.”

“What’s with that, man?” Yohji asked with a laugh, rising. Kenshin blinked at him in confusion as he slung an arm around his slender shoulders and led him to the table. “Why don’t you talk like a normal person? Why do you put yourself down every time you open your mouth?”
Looking very lost, Kenshin sank down into a chair. “This one…I…have no answer for that.”

“And all that dono stuff.” The lanky blonde continued. “I mean, not only are you too formal, but you’re ancient, too!”

“Ancient. Yes…” Expression thoughtful, he took a small bite of his food.

“And you’re so serious!” He added, ignoring that he had gained glares all around the table. Yohji Kudoh was definitely not one to recognize the time to stop.

“So many complaints!”

“Oh! No no no no no!” Omi hastened to assure him. “Not complaints!”

Ken surprised him by putting in his input. Omi reminded himself to reward the jock later. “Weiss is a family, Kenshin.” He said, meeting his new teammate’s gaze unflinchingly. “We’s be more than happy for you to join us, but if you don’t want to, then we at least want you to understand before you report back to Krittiker how very important we are to each other.”

“I see.” The redhead answered with a quiet smile. “You are all very close, then?”

“Very.” Aya answered, gaze intense and slightly threatening.

The smile became just a little larger. “How very fortunate for you! Cherish your bond always.” Still smiling, he pushed back his chair and rose, going upstairs and leaving his mostly untouched plate of food.

“Isn’t it his turn to clean up tonight?” Yohji asked around a mouthful of food.

Omi shot him a frown, sure they had said something wrong. He should have waited and tried to catch Kenshin alone so that the other boy wouldn’t feel like they were ganging up on him. Shit.

He rose and went to the cabinets, taking out a tall glass into which he placed some of the homemade ice cream he and Ken had made just that weekend. Ignoring his friends, he opened a can of root beer and deposited its contents into the glass and then, armed with his offering of sweets, followed his new teammate upstairs.

He hadn’t met a person yet who could withstand the dual attack of the cute chibi act and a sugar rush.

He found Kenshin up in his darkened room sitting in a chair by the window and staring outside as he toyed idly with the ends of his long, gleaming hair.
He gave no indication of being startled when Omi spoke, which was testament to what a fine assassin he must be to have such a keen awareness of his surroundings. The team hadn’t yet had the opportunity to see the small man in action, but Omi couldn’t bring himself to agree with Ken’s opinion that the young man was too small and gentle to be a very good fighter.

“Kenshin…” Omi leaned against the windowsill as he handed the dessert to his companion. “We really do want to get to know you. Yes, it’s true that we don’t want you to tell Krittiker anything that would cause us to be split up, but it’s more…I, for one, don’t really feel comfortable with not being close to everyone in the house. Weiss is all I have.”

Kenshin seemed to take an eternity staring at the treat Omi had handed him before taking a tiny bite of it, seeming to take no enjoyment from it whatsoever.

“I understand.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Desperate, Omi kneeled beside his chair. “I can’t speak for the others, but you’re going to be with us for a while and I, personally, would be thrilled if you could become one of us. Please. Will you be a part of my family?”

Kenshin seemed hardly able to breathe under the weight of the request. “It has been a…a very long time…since this one has been around so many people.”

“Well, you’re just going to have to get used to it, mister, because I refuse to give up!” Omi gave his best chibi face, eyes large and smile warm.

“You do not know what it is you ask…” He gasped out.

“Please, Kenshin. Please try. If Aya, of all people, can do it, then anyone can!”

Kenshin offered a weak smile and lowered his head to his dessert, expression thoughtful.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was very late at night when he was pulled from his bed and shuffled out into the dark yard. There were many men out there with the man who had bought him from the purple-faced spinster, speaking quietly amongst themselves, and the vague shapes of carts and wagons could just barely be made out in the dim light. Shinta was sleepy and cold, but more than that, something cold had settled deep in his stomach and he knew something horrible was about to occur.
“-Most pliant, obedient little thing you’ve ever seen in your life.” His master was saying as he pushed him forward into the circle of torchlight.
One of the torches knelt before him, shining the torch in his face, and he couldn’t help but to draw back, blinking owlishly in the sudden light.
“Exotic little thing.” The man chuckled, reaching under Shinta’s kimono to grope him with a large, rough hand. Shinta couldn’t stop a small gasp of pain as the a thick finger slipped into him where he was already hurting horribly, had been almost constantly for the past several nightmarish months. “Tight, too.”
“Yeah, got real lucky with that one; entire family wiped out by cholera. He’s much stronger than he looks – he can take a lot more than you’d guess.” He gave a deep, knowing laugh and Shinta closed his eyes. “And he’ll do anything you want, no questions asked. Little whore loves it; he was made for this sort of thing. Pretty young boy’s better than a woman any day – after all, you want enough intelligence in them to make it interesting, don’t you?”
“How much have you taught him?”
“Not much; he’s entirely open for any kind of training. So what do you say? You want him or not?”
Terror gripped him as a bag that clinked with the sound of coins was passed over.
“I’ll give you a third now, just to try him out, and the rest afterwards if I decide to take him. But I can already assure you I’ll take him. Houses in Kyoto and Edo would pay a lot for a treasure like this.”
His master’s grin was frightening in the torchlight as he tucked the money into his kimono and shoved Shinta forward.
“Go ahead, boy.” He leered. “Play pony for the nice man.”
He felt tears in his eyes, his throat closing up, but obediently he knelt in the correct position on the ground.

XXXXXXXXXX

Good morning, everyone.” Omi greeted cheerfully as he came down the stairs into the kitchen. “Breakfast smells wonderful, Kenshin.”

The redhead gave him a small smile over his shoulder before returning to his cooking.

“You are way too cheerful for this early in the morning, Omi-chibi.” Yohji growled around his cup of coffee, long fingered hands wrapped around the cup, face buried in the steam. “And you, Himura. Damn it, how in hell do you manage to make coffee that’s more addictive than nicotine?”

“Everything Kenshin makes is yummy.” Omi yawned, taking a seat and pulling his own mug of steaming coffee close to him. “I’m just glad we finally have someone else here who can cook.”

“I can cook!”

“Scrambled eggs, ham sandwiches, and take-out don’t count, Yotan.” He giggled.
Aya grunted an almost-amused agreement from behind his newspaper and cup of tea. Yohji grumpy and Aya more antisocial than usual; either they were fighting again, or the exact opposite was true and neither had been getting enough sleep
lately.

“Where’s Ken?”

“Can’t keep track of your own sugar-daddy?” Yohji sneered. Abruptly he gave a yelp and jumped – Aya kicking him under the table.

“He went for a jog.” Their leader stated coldly, completely ignoring his lover’s injured glare.

An evil look crossed Yohji’s face as he leaned in to leer at Omi. “Come to think of it, he’s been doing an awful lot of extra exercising lately.” He drawled.

“Almost as if he’s working out some kind of…frustration?” He chuckled, deep and suggestive. “I take it you two haven’t played doctor yet? No bumping uglies? No - .” he jumped as he was kicked again, but managed to control his hiss of pain enough to begin to hum stereotypical porno music.

“Just because you and Aya-dono choose to spend every night engaged in athletic activities doesn’t mean that that is the only way to form a relationship, that it doesn’t.” Kenshin stated from the stove. “Sex…is not what defines a relationship.”

“Ooooh. So you’re an expert now.”

Kenshin didn’t answer, but when he came to set a plate of pancakes on the table he leaned over Omi and whispered: “Tuesday they were making strange noises until three in the morning. This one has had to go downstairs and sleep on the couch every night since then in order to get any rest at all.”

Omi began to laugh, changing it into a cough when Yohji gave him a strange look.

Blushing, the chibi ducked his head over his breakfast.

Kenshin had been making an obvious effort to be more friendly, and Omi was in the process of trying to think of something nice they could do for the quiet man to thank him for his effort. He had meals with them now and even joined in gentle banter on occasion – which was great improvement butt he wise chibi suspected the small, long haired man was still holding something back of himself.

Omi didn’t expect some kind of heart-to-heart where all of Kenshin’s secrets and greatest fears were exposed, but he did find himself wishing the delicate man would talk about himself a little, if only so that the men of Weiss could feel as if they knew him.

They didn’t even know his real age. Omi had thought the new boy to be close to himself in years, yet Kenshin wasn’t required to attend school. And as for anything else even remotely personal – favorite color, hometown, what kind of music he liked…they were all mysteries, too.

Still, Omi supposed he couldn’t complain. Some improvement was far greater than none, after all.

The back door opened and Ken slipped in, carrying with him the cool sharpness of the autumn morning. His eyes were bright, face flushed from the cold and from exertion, and Omi felt an instant swelling of…love? Really?

“Looks like I’m just in time.” He smiled, coming around to plant a quick kiss on the top of Omi’s head before plopping into the seat next to him and placing his hand on the young man’s knee.

Unfortunately, Omi was wearing shorts, and the action made him jump for more reasons than the obvious.

“Ken! Your hand is like ice!” He exclaimed before he could stop himself.

Yohji blinked and looked up from his meal.

“You should wear gloves when you go our jogging!” Omi scolded, lifting Ken’s hand and beginning to rub it between his own, completely missing the look that crossed his boyfriend’s face.
“It’s barely even October, Omi.” Ken stated.

“I don’t care – cold is cold. Wait!” He jumped up and ran to the counter, returning a moment later with a mug of coffee for his teammate. “Here, drink this, and make sure you eat your fill!”

“Mother Omi on the rampage.” Yohji muttered, pushing back his chair and rising, stretching his eyes up above his head so that his shirt rode up and exposed his well-toned abdomen. “Think I’ll go take a shower.” He decided, leering at Aya.

“Care to join me, lover?”

“Don’t you ever get tired?” He snapped. But he stood and followed, a slightly plesant expression on his face.

It was nice to see him happy.
Omi shared a warm but shy smile with Ken.
Both missed the sorrow on Kenshin’s face as the small man rose and began clearing the table.

XXXXXXXXXX

To Be Continued

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! It’s always a risk reading a new fic with such a vague summery. Thank you, brave readers!

A word on Kenshin: I have always seen Kenshin as the most beautiful, tragic creature in the history of anime and manga. I’m trying to convey through this the way he “feels” to me…I hope I didn’t go too far. Please review and tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is most welcome!