Archiving Fanfic- RuroKen
Apr. 20th, 2020 11:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kenkayaA/N: Another oneshot I wrote for RuroKen Week 2015 on Tumblr... everything I wrote for this event is also posted as part of a collection on my AO3 and FFN accounts.
Day 2: Slang/Jargon
Author: Kenkaya
Series: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: Angst/Drama
Type: Oneshot, character study
Rating: General, PG
Pairings: Himura Kenshin/Kamiya Kaoru
Summary: Sessha wa rurouni… This unworthy one is a wanderer…
xxxxxx
xxxxxx
Sessha wa rurouni…
Those were among the first words he spoke to her on an empty Tokyo street, chill dawn mist fogging the air between them. She was confident and vivacious. Later, after the false Battousai had been discredited and his own past came to light, he would learn she was also incredibly kind.
Sessha wa rurouni…
He repeated those words to her on a mild May evening. Fireflies danced around them as he drew his arms around her and said farewell. He had to leave, had to clean up the frayed tangled strings left behind by the war he fought for. She was crying, hiccuping his name while he walked away. That was when he knew the world she opened up to him (a world of warmth, peace and acceptance… of family) was not one he was ever meant to have.
Sessha wa rurouni…
This unworthy one is a wanderer…
But, her determined heart proved him wrong. She followed him to Kyoto, faced him in his sword master’s home with a resolute expression, and fought alongside the Oniwabanshu at the Aoiya. He saw then how strong she was. The young woman who held out her hand to him had true strength: strength of mind, body, and spirit. And she welcomed him back without a second thought.
Tadaima.
I’m home.
She was pinned to the wall of her beloved dojo- the dream she inherited from her samurai father- a sword through her heart. The polished wood behind was splattered, tainted, with dark ocher red. His eyes met hers: a vacant blue that didn’t see, would never see again. Only then did his gaze fall on the crude copy of his cross-shaped scar carved deep into her left cheek. The mark bled sluggishly, red drips trailing slowly down her jawline as the image blurred. Tears fell from his eyes; the sakabatou clunked against the ground beside him. What use was the blade (everything) anyway if it (he) couldn’t even...
Sessha...
This unworthy one...
He still was.
xxxxxx
xxxxxx
Day 2: Slang/Jargon
Author: Kenkaya
Series: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: Angst/Drama
Type: Oneshot, character study
Rating: General, PG
Pairings: Himura Kenshin/Kamiya Kaoru
Summary: Sessha wa rurouni… This unworthy one is a wanderer…
xxxxxx
xxxxxx
Sessha wa rurouni…
Those were among the first words he spoke to her on an empty Tokyo street, chill dawn mist fogging the air between them. She was confident and vivacious. Later, after the false Battousai had been discredited and his own past came to light, he would learn she was also incredibly kind.
Sessha wa rurouni…
He repeated those words to her on a mild May evening. Fireflies danced around them as he drew his arms around her and said farewell. He had to leave, had to clean up the frayed tangled strings left behind by the war he fought for. She was crying, hiccuping his name while he walked away. That was when he knew the world she opened up to him (a world of warmth, peace and acceptance… of family) was not one he was ever meant to have.
Sessha wa rurouni…
This unworthy one is a wanderer…
But, her determined heart proved him wrong. She followed him to Kyoto, faced him in his sword master’s home with a resolute expression, and fought alongside the Oniwabanshu at the Aoiya. He saw then how strong she was. The young woman who held out her hand to him had true strength: strength of mind, body, and spirit. And she welcomed him back without a second thought.
Tadaima.
I’m home.
She was pinned to the wall of her beloved dojo- the dream she inherited from her samurai father- a sword through her heart. The polished wood behind was splattered, tainted, with dark ocher red. His eyes met hers: a vacant blue that didn’t see, would never see again. Only then did his gaze fall on the crude copy of his cross-shaped scar carved deep into her left cheek. The mark bled sluggishly, red drips trailing slowly down her jawline as the image blurred. Tears fell from his eyes; the sakabatou clunked against the ground beside him. What use was the blade (everything) anyway if it (he) couldn’t even...
Sessha...
This unworthy one...
He still was.
xxxxxx
xxxxxx
