Hello there, everybody!

*smiles* I was groping in the dark when I wrote this one, so there may be a few inconsistencies (as always). There may also be some similarities with episode when Toshimichi Okubo was assassinated.

This is for all my friends, especially Benj, who always takes care of me. Thank you, Kuya. Very much. ^_^
Oh. I don't know whether to classify this as semi-dark or sad. Probably both.

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Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin belongs to Watsuki Nobuhiro and other parties. The characters, except for those that I created, are not mine. Please don't sue me.
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( ) = Thoughts
/ / = Flashbacks

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RavenMoon presents
A Rurouni Kenshin Fanfiction

When Silent Rivers Cry
<Part 1>


Each time on my leaving home
I run back to my mother's arms,
One last hold and then it's over.
Watching me, you know I cry,
You wave a kiss to say goodbye,
Feel the sky fall down upon me!
All I am,
A child with promises
All I have
Are miles full of promises of home.
If only I could stay with you,
My train moves on, you're gone from view,
Now I must wait until it's over.
Days will pass, your words to me,
It seems so long; eternity,
But I must wait until it's over.
-Enya


Kyoto
Tokugawa Era, 1858


"Okaasan?"

"Hm?"

"What of the war?"

"...Can we not talk about something else, dear?"

"..."

There was silence in the kitchen, save for the repetitive sound of a knife slicing through cabbage.

"When is Otousan coming home?"

The slicing stopped.

"I...I..."

He heard her gasp and saw her hand fly to her mouth, even with her back to him. He watched her for a few moments, until her gentle shaking stopped and her soft cries silenced. When she spoke once again, her voice showed only a slight trace of her previous weakness.

"Otousan be back soon enough," she said, as she continued chopping the vegetable. "Soon enough."

She set the cabbage aside and began with the carrots.

"Okaasan..."

A small, warm hand stopped her from her work.

"You're still crying."

He looked up at her. Her face was calm, but her deep, blue eyes said everything.

"Okaasan?"

A solitary tear touched the back of his hand. Slowly, he felt her grip on the knife slacken as she fell gracefully on her knees before him like a flutter of cherry blossoms.

He gazed at her, and gently, he cupped her face with both his little hands, wiping away the tears that ran down her pale cheeks. She closed her tired, sad eyes at his touch, and slowly nestled her head on her son's shoulder.

"Aoshi-chan..."

"Don't worry, Okaasan," he whispered as he hugged her back. "As long as Otousan isn't here yet, I'll be the one to protect you."

***

It was morning. Aoshi stood outside the gates, watching boys his age chase each other across the street.

"Aoshi-chan?"

He turned around to see a man standing before him with a happy smile.

"Okina-san."

"Look," he said, showing the little boy what he had brought. "I went fishing a while ago, and I got a large catch. How's this for your lunch?"

Aoshi gave him a little smile in return. "Arigatou gozai masu, Okina-san."

"Daijoubu," the man answered. "Shall we go in, then?"

"Iie."

Okina gave him a confused look. "Iie? Why not?"

Averting his gaze from a passing peddler, Aoshi looked up, eyes calm.

"I'm out here because I'm protecting Okaasan."

The man furrowed his brows. "Protecting her from what?"

"From the war."

Okina's happy demeanor dissipated as he stared at the young boy.

"Aoshi-chan, where is your Otousan?"

"He hasn't come back yet."

"I see..."

A piece of newspaper flew past them, trying to tell everybody of the country's state with the sound of fluttering sheets.

"It's not a war, Aoshi-chan."

"Then what is it?"

"It's...change."

"If this is change, then what is war?"

Okina opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. After a few more tries, the old man gave up.

"Children your age don't seem to be worrying about it, Aoshi-chan."

The boy watched the same group of kids from a while ago run as an old woman with a cane trailed behind them, screaming.

"That's true," he said. "But it is foolish to believe in what just seems to be a big blanket of phony happiness rather than to see what really is happening."

Okina's eyebrows shot up.

(What depth for an eight year old boy...) Aloud, he asked, "Where did you get that idea?"

"From the newspapers," Aoshi answered. "And from Otousan...when he was still here."

The old man hid his shock. He had never before seen any child like him...

***

Low murmuring came from behind the shoji. Outside, Aoshi sat on the porch. "...affects him greatly, Okina-san. I don't know why he knows so much..."

"He is different from the other boys."

"I know. And he doesn't have many friends..."

There was a long, tired sigh.

"Aihana...unfortunately, your son has been born in the wrong place and the wrong time. Ever since the Black Ships arrived, Japan's been falling in a downward spiral. The government is very unstable, and anti-bakufu movements are gaining momentum. I will be blunt with you; in the other side of Kyoto, a lot of towns have already been burned to the ground, and I doubt that Minister Naosuke's stern repressive measures will be able to quench the rebellion."

There was a long pause.

"Burned to the ground? But my husband...he's also there..."

"...Gomen nasai, Aihana. But I doubt that you...that you will ever...see him again..."

A long silence came and it remained unbroken.

From outside, Aoshi clenched his fists.

***

"Extra! Extra! Minister Ii Naosuke has been assassinated! Masterless samurai of the Satsuma and Mito clans are said to claim responsibility!"

There was subdued murmuring in the street, where the loud boom of the newsboy's voice echoed.

Amidst the crowd, a young boy stood, staring, with arms wrapped around a pail of tofu. The group of children his age from two days ago still ran past him, their oblivious laughter carried by the wind, the same wind carried people's words to his ears.

"Assassinated? Kami-sama..."

"Serves him right, dealing with the barbarians without our consent."

"People should have thought of that earlier."

"Shut up, kisama! Don't you have a heart?"

"For the nation, yes. But for the Minister? I don't think so."

The afternoon was beautiful, but nobody seemed to notice. The tension around was easy to feel, like the ropes of the country which were about to snap.

/It's not a war, Aoshi-chan./

/Then what is it?/

/It's...change./

/If this is change, then what is war?/

The boy suddenly felt cold; he felt something in the air - it was as if a storm was brewing.

***

The house was quiet. The kitchen was empty. Placing the tofu on one of the counters, he silently watched light filtering from the window as it ever so slowly shifted from cerise to indigo.

"Aoshi-kun?"

The boy's eyes suddenly widened. Did he just imagine that? That voice...

Turning around, he saw a familiar figure, slightly hid by grayish shadows, clad in Shinsengumi uniform.

"O-Otousan?" He whispered.

With a smile, the man walked up to him and carried him in his arms, holding him close to his heart.

"Aoshi..." his father said. "It's so nice to see you again."

Instinctively wrapping his little arms around his neck, the boy soundlessly nodded his head, burying his face in his father's shoulder.

From behind, Aihana stood unspeaking, with a small, sad smile on her lips.

***

Night had long settled in. Though the sky had been clear earlier that afternoon, dark, forbidding clouds had already started to form in the evening heavens, blocking out the light of the stars and of the moon. The wind had slightly picked up, sending dried leaves and fallen sakura swirling from the ground.

Inside the house, the dinner table had already been cleared, and the family had engaged themselves in lively conversation: there's going to be a western play to be held here in Kyoto? In a month? You don't say... But I think kabuki will still be better and --

"I heard that Minister Naosuke has been assassinated."

The lively chatter dissipated, and for a moment the room fell silent.

"Yes, the Minister has been assassinated..."

"Is that why you came home, Otousan? Is it because everything...everything is falling apart?"

Aihana averted her gaze from her son to her husband, watching his jaw slightly clench.

"Masataka..."

(My son...) he thought, not hearing his wife softly call out his name. (My dear son...in his eyes, I see innocence and wisdom. He knows what is happening around him, yet at the same time, he knows not. He reads my mind as well as my heart...Aoshi-kun...why must you have to face all these?)

Outside, thunder rumbled.

"Otousan..."

"So I guess that surrounding you with feigned happiness is useless."

"You yourself told me it is better to believe in a painful truth than in a blissful lie."

Masataka smiled in spite of himself. He had taught his son well -- a little too well for that matter.

"That's true, Aoshi-kun," he said. "You want the truth, then I shall give you the truth."

A warm hand closed over his. Turning from his son, he met the deep blue eyes of his wife, clear and firm, yet soft and worried.

Understanding her unspoken plea, he took her hand and squeezed it. "Aihana, it's no use shrouding him with fibs. Let him know what he wants to know."

Though still unsure, Aihana obediently sat back to her place.

"Aoshi," Masataka continued. "The fighting is expected to reach this side of Kyoto by tonight. A faction of the Shinsengumi is at this very moment trying its best to hold the Ishin Shishi back in the outskirts of town, but I doubt it if it will. The royalists are sure to burn this place to the ground once they've entered it, but I will do my best not to let that happen."

There was a brief pause, and the man continued in softer tones. "I asked permission from my Captain if I could at least see you tonight...if ever something might...just in case that..."

There was no need to finish the sentence.

The leaves rustled noisily as a gust of wind passed. Inside, the candle flickered violently when nature's breath somehow filtered through the closed shoji. Masataka watched the reflection of the flame dance in his son's eyes, eerily yet beautifully blending with the sapphire.

"Aoshi-kun," he said, his voice slightly breaking as he reached out. "Come."

Without any objection, the boy approached his father and sat beside him, feeling his strong arms wrap around his shoulders and pulling his slight body to his.

Reaching out once more, he motioned for his wife to come, and also wrapped an arm around her.

He felt no tears wet his gi as she rested her head on his shoulder. He felt no shivering from his son as he snuggled closer. They were strong. He knew that. Yet he felt their uncertainty and though unexpressed...fear...

No more words followed. Nobody even cared to stand up as the wind once again blew and the candle died out.

***

"Down with the Bakufu! In the name of the Emperor, we shall kill you all!"

Echoing screams filled the air, followed by the clashing of steel and the sudden bursts of flames. Aoshi heard his father's footsteps vibrate through the wooden floor and felt his mother rise beside him as he lay in the futon. He stared with wide eyes as he saw, through the blanket covering him, his father's silhouette move out of the room, with both swords in place.

"Aoshi-chan, are you awake?"

He made no move to reply.

Slowly, the boy felt his mother remove the blanket over him, and felt her whisper in his ear.

"Aoshi-chan, awake and stand."

Aoshi turned to face his mother, still keeping his silence.

"They have come, son," she said, her voice soft yet cold. "But they will never take us helplessly in our sleep."

There was an explosion from outside, and the place rapidly became warm, but the mother and child did not so much as flinch.

"Aoshi."

Without waiting for any further persuasion, the boy kicked off the covers and stood up.

Smoke was quickly filling the room and the flames started licking at one side of the closed doors.

"We're in this together, hai?" Aihana asked, caressing her son's cheek.

"Hai."

Taking him in her arms, the woman stood up and led him out to the fiery corridor, calm and unshaken.

***