At first, Yahiko ran blindly. His thoughts were too loud in his mind for him to really notice where he was going. And even if he were to pay attention, he would have had a difficult time. The afternoon class let out at early evening. By now it was late evening, and the snow was falling pretty heavily.
The young teen had really thought that he had found a home. Nothing could equivocate to the home he had with his parents, but this life came very close. Kaoru, despite what he would say, was very much like an older sister. Kenshin could have played uncle or big brother. And Sano could have been a cousin. He was happy there, learning the Kamiya Kasshin style, becoming strong so that he could honor his family name and memory. He had a place there.
It was all a lie. Yahiko saw that now. Kaoru was only dealing out charity because she felt sorry for the boy. She'd heard that he'd become a pickpocket to pay his mother's debt and pitied him. How dare she! He could have gotten out of that situation on his own. He didn't need any charity. He didn't need any pity. He could be strong all on his own, damn it!
"Why are people always giving me charity?" the teen asked. His mother had told him never to accept charity. He remembered the conversation very clearly. He was swinging around a stick he'd found, pretending it was a sword. In his mind's eye, he pictured it as his fathers katana, it's mirrored blade shining in a garden. His mother came in and sat down by the futon they shared, offering her lap as a seat. Complying, Yahiko sat on his paling mother as she told him, "Yahiko-san. I want you to know something. When you grow up there will be different types of people you meet. Our current circumstances will make them see us in certain lights." The child nodded and looked over to his stick sword. He really wanted to play with it. "Yahiko-san. This is important." That made the boy pay absolute attention; she rarely took that tone. "I want you to understand that these people you will meet will try to do things. Some will nod, appropriately appalled. Some will look down their nose at you, uncaring about what you are going through. And some will offer you what is called charity. Yahiko-san, listen to me. You must never accept charity. It is given by people who see your circumstances and feel sorry for you. They pity you. Never accept any help that they give you if they are of that mind. Yahiko-san, the Myujin line is a proud line. Our family has been noble samurai for generations, and we must uphold that honor. That means we must never accept what people who pity us call 'help'. It is charity in disguise. Accept help only from those who mean it."
"And Kaoru didn't mean it," Yahiko muttered bitterly. Tired of running, the boy slowed down and looked at his surroundings. The sun must have almost been down, because the clouds were black and all he could see were the white flecks of snow that covered him. He must have been running for a while, for he was out of breath and sweaty. The snow had long melted on his head, leaving his wild dark brown hair matted and wet. His clothes were in a similar condition, and Yahiko realized that he had better get out of the cold before he caught one. Lamps had been lit, and Yahiko realized in what part of the city he was in. He had once lived here, a long time ago. Nothing had changed. Oh, now there weren't nearly as many people because of the snow, but the feel of the place was still the same.
His breath little clouds in the cold air, Yahiko started walking to the place he always would run to as a child.
"Oh, my!" came a voice as Yahiko walked into a building. A woman of middle age came out to greet him. Her kimono was faded, the white silk of his memory now almost gray. The flower pattern had vibrant colors; but now they were almost pastel in nature. Her hair had gray streaks at the temples that hung down past her shoulders. The rest was bundled up in a neat, well-maintained style. Her face had aged as well. There were laugh lines around her eyes and a crease that went right down her forehead. Any other signs of her age were hidden in soft make up.
"Oh, my!" she said again. "You're soaked right to the bone! What on earth were you doing out in weather like this?"
"Come on, Akemi-san," the teen said, grinning. "I haven't changed all that much. Except I have gotten taller!"
Pausing in her fussing, Akemi-san squinted, looking at the boy. Her bright brown eyes widened in surprise.
"Myujin Yahiko! Is that really you?"
"In the soaking flesh!"
"Oh, look at you! Look at you!" Akemi-san walked up to her and smacked his shoulder lightly. "And you're still getting dirty! Oh, my! You really did turn into quite a catch! Look at you!" Akemi-san threw her arms around the boy, now her height, and hugged him tightly, repeating herself over and over like she always did.
"Oh, my," she said again as she broke away. "Look at you. Whatever are you doing here? I haven't seen you in years, Yahiko-san. I had thought you wouldn't need to come here ever again!"
Yahiko stiffened at the comment. "So did I," he said softly. "But I'm here now, aren't I?"
"Yes you are, yes you are. And soaked to the bone no doubt!"
"Akemi-san."
"You always got dirty, you did, Yahiko-san," Akemi went on. "You always got dirty. I had to keep a spare set of clothes for you all the time. If I'd know you were coming back I would have made something."
"Akemi-san."
"As it is, I'm not sure if I have any clothes that would fit you. The clients that come by are a little, well, taller. I don't think I have anything for you. Oh, my! Look at you! I can't get over how much you've grown. Why, you were still half my height when I last saw you. I-"
"Akemi-san!" Yahiko finally got in. "Is it still open?"
Akemi-san froze, looking at the teenage boy. Her brown eyes saddened, and her entire disposition became more sedate.
"… Yes. We move our workers to another room during the winter months. It became policy after…"
"I see…" A memory flashed across his memory. One of him sitting by his mother, her skin whiter than the snow that was falling outside. There were two men, watching impatiently behind him. And he watched her shallow breathe.
Akemi-san was also remembering. She remembered a little seven-year-old running out to her, crying hysterically as she tried to comfort him. Not long after came two men, telling her that the boy was theirs.
The two stood there in silence, each remembering.
"Anyway," Yahiko said finally. He reached into his hakama and pulled out his purse, handing it to Akemi-san. "I want to spend the night there."
Akemi-san blinked. "Yahiko-san, I can't accept this… There's no one there to tend to you. You're a little young for that at any rate. And you're soaked! Spending a night there could make you as sick as-" Her words halted in her throat, unable to finish the sentence. Myujin-san was too honorable for a line of work such as the one Akemi-san ran. But she was a proud woman, determined to work out problems on her own.
"Please," Yahiko said in a low voice. "Take. It."
Akemi-san narrowed her eyes as she started to realize why the young teen was here. How like his mother he was. And probably his father, too.
"Alright," she said. "I'll take it. Alright." Yahiko handed her the purse and she accepted it. "But one thing first." Her voice was stern, much the same tone that Myujin-san would take with him when she wanted his attention. The teen, almost out of reflex, turned to her, his eyes attentive. "You are very proud, Myujin Yahiko-san. But there is such a thing as too much pride. It blocks and turns away people who are honestly trying to help you." The teen blinked as her words struck a cord with him. Akemi-san then put on a bright smile. "Now, before you refuse anymore, here are some towels. You mother's spirit would have my head if I let you catch a fever. Here are some towels. Besides, I want to see how fine a catch you are when you're dryer! I'm sure you'd make a fine husband!"
"A-Akemi-san!" Yahiko stuttered as he felt his face flush.
It had changed. That was the first thing he noticed. The futon was on the adjacent wall now, instead of the opposite wall. The low table where he and his mother had shared their meals was gone. Yahiko remembered the games he used to play on that table. He would arrange his blocks so that they looked like a katana and wakizashi. He would take fighting stance on that table when his mother wasn't looking. And when she was she'd tell him it would be safer to do so on the floor. But not for Yahiko, he wanted that raised position, so that everyone could see that he was a fine swordsman and respect him for it, just like his mother did. In place of the table was a flower decoration, wilting in the cold room. The floorboards looked newer, and the shoji had been repaired. Yahiko lit the candle in the room with the one he was holding, sitting down in a corner in his wet clothes.
It was smaller than he remembered. That was the second thing he noticed. But then, he had gotten bigger. It was a tiny little square of a room that he had lived in after his father's death. But for a five year old, it was the perfect size. And behind the flowerpot was what the child Yahiko had found so fascinating. The room was too small for an engawa and amado, his mother explained, so they had put a mini-amado in instead. Behind the flowerpot was a hole, about the size of Sanosuke's outstretched hand, in the wall. Even now the floor had a white dusting around it. The hole was what let the cold air in, and ultimately what killed Yahiko's mother. The boy himself was a strong lad, and his mother made sure that he was well covered at night, often sacrificing all the blankets to him so that he would be comfortable.
The wet teen took one of the towels Akemi-san had given him and toweled off his hair. As Akemi-san said, there was nothing to change into, and he didn't want to sleep in the futon. That wasn't his bed, it was someone else's. It wouldn't be right. So Yahiko dried himself off as best he could and placed the towel inside his gi so that he would be dry for a little while, at any rate. He placed the candles as close to himself as he dared. Tossing and turning in his sleep was not uncommon, especially lately, and the last thing the teen wanted to do was to start a fire. Hoping that these provisions would keep him warm, he looked about the home he had lived in for two years of his life.
"Okaa-san. I'm home," he said. His tired body relaxed against the wall, the weary child fell asleep before he could say more.
In his sleep Yahiko dreamed. Again. But this dream was different from the visions he had been waking up to. These memories were laced with a different color entirely.
"Yahiko-san," his mother said to him. "I am glad that you honor my words to the character." The teen noticed that she was not the sick, pale mother that lived in this small room, but the dark skinned lively one that he so cherished.
"Okaa-san," he said. "I'm doing everything you told me to. And I thought I finally found a home close to the one you provided. But I got betrayed! I didn't think being honorable would be so lonely."
"Yahiko-san," Myujin-san said gently. Yahiko had almost forgotten his mother's voice. It was generally soft, but firm. With simple words, she could convince the boy of anything. How he had missed her silvery voice.
"Yahiko-san," she said again. "You do me great honor by following my teachings. But I do feel that you have forgotten one of my lessons."
"Never, Okaa-san!" Yahiko protested. "After you died I repeated all of your lessons over and over in my head! All I ever wanted to do was honor you and my family name. I wanted you to be proud of me."
"Yahiko-san, I want to point something out to you. Look." And with that she gestured beyond the dreaming boy, who turned obediently and saw another memory.
"Yahiko-san, sit with me," his mother said. Her skin was pale again, her kimono a bright green with blue rivers across it. Her obi was a different shade of blue and looked like a waterfall. Obediently the six year-old-complied. Many of the other women in the establishment marveled that the boy would listen to his mother. He was polite to the other women, but never did as he was told without an argument. But to his mother he always followed with undiverted attention. It was said that he was a lot like his father in that way.
"Haaaaaaaaai, Okaa-san?" the little boy asked. His red brown eyes were intent. Yahiko remembered that he loved staring into his mother's eyes. They were so beautiful; and if he looked long enough, he could remember when they were happy.
"Yahiko-san, I want to tell you something. It is very important. Do you understand?"
"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAI, Okaa-san!"
"Very good." His mother gave him a small smile, pride showing in her face. "I want to teach you about something, Yahiko-san. What do you think the Myujin line stands for?"
"Strength!" Yahiko answered loftily.
"Hai. Strength to do what, Yahiko-san?"
The boy looked down, his face etched in thought. "The strength to beat up people!!"
"Hai. You are very smart. What type of people, Yahiko-san?"
The boy faltered, thinking again. He looked up to his mother when he came up with an answer. "All people?" he asked carefully.
His mother's pale face became very stern. "No!" she said with such vehemence that Yahiko shied away from the disapproving tone. The wave of anger passed quickly, but the firmness in her voice did not. It was an odd combination to see a soft face and a stern voice. "Yahiko-san, the Myujin line stands for the strength to defeat enemies. Do you understand that, Yahiko-san?"
"Hai," the boy said meekly. "But who are my enemies?"
"Your enemies are those who insult our name and have no pride to the people who deserve it."
"Ano," Yahiko said as he mulled over the statement. "I don't think I get it, Okaa-san."
"Few people do, Yahiko-san," his mother replied. "Do you know the difference between pride and arrogance?"
"Pride is good and arrogance is bad!" Yahiko said, happy that he remembered that lesson.
"Hai. Let me say something else about arrogance. Arrogance is when you have too much pride."
"Anoooooooo," the six year old said, swaying slightly.
"Yahiko-san. Pride is a good thing. You may have pride in your family name and heritage. You may have pride in yourself. You may have pride in what you do. But Yahiko-san, never have so much pride that you think you are better than others. That is what arrogance is."
"This is all very confusing," the child said.
"It is to a lot of people, Yahiko-san. It is all right to be a little confused. Think of it this way. Are you proud that you are Myojin Yahiko?" A nod was her reply. "Are you proud that you will grow up to be a swordsman?" Another nod. "Do you think that you will be the best swordsman in the world?" A vigorous nod. "That is arrogance right there."
Yahiko cringed. "You mean I was being bad and didn't even know it?"
"Hai. Oh, don't feel bad, Yahiko-san. Arrogance is something that can sneak up on people, and often they don't even realize what they have become."
"So I'm forgiven?"
"Hai."
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAI!!" The six-year-old Yahiko hugged his mother tightly, happy to be off the hook. His mother tickled him and he giggled happily; mother and child playing in perfect contentment. Yahiko couldn't help smiling as he remembered the conversation. He had been so scared that he had done something wrong. But if it happened to everybody, then his mother wouldn't mind it as much. And he still thought he'd be the best swordsman in the world. He just had to be sure not to be the BEST best. The lesson ended and Yahiko went off with his stick to continue practicing his swordsmanship. It took work to be the best, and as he played he tried to picture what his enemies would look like. But as he tried he realized something. Thinking on it heavily, he went back to his mother, who was arranging flowers.
"Okaa-san," he said seriously. "How do you tell the difference between someone who's proud and someone who's arrogant?"
His mother blinked in surprise at the question. "Ara, where did that come from?" she asked.
"You said that as a Myujin I have to beat up arrogant people, Okaa-san," the boy answered seriously. "But arrogance is too much pride. If I'm proud, do I have to beat myself up?"
"No, Yahiko-san," his mother said, a smile on her face.
"Then how can I tell if someone is proud and someone is arrogant?" the boy demanded. "I want to honor the Myujin name! But I can't if I don't know who I'm going to beat up."
Yahiko's mother's smile widened. "You are very wise, Yahiko-san. Most children of your age do not comprehend these things at all. Come," she said, offering her lap as she did earlier. The child complied happily and nuzzled up to his mother. "Yahiko-san. Do you remember what I told you about charity?"
"Haaaaaaaaai! Okaa-san!" the six-year-old said proudly. "We can't ever accept charity, 'cause we don't want any pity. We have to help ourselves and not let anyone else!"
"Very good," his pale mother said gently. "You have a good memory. Yahiko-san, the people who pity us will almost always be arrogant. They think that they are stronger than us, for whatever reason. Perhaps because they are of higher station, or they have more yen, or they are accomplished fighters. Arrogance comes from too much pride, do you remember that? Too much pride can come in any forms. For example, just this morning, you were too proud about your swordsmanship. Do you understand?"
"Haaaaaai," Yahiko said slowly. "People are proud of different things, ne?"
"So desu," his mother replied. "These arrogant people think about their greatness and elevation from other people so much that they do not notice others. And if someone is pointed out to them, perhaps you and I, all they will feel is pity."
"And then they give us charity!" Yahiko exclaimed, elated that he was catching on.
"Hai, Yahiko-san. Do you understand now?"
"I think so," the six-year-old said. "People get arrogant 'cause they have too much pride. Then they see us and try to offer us charity 'cause they pity our cir…cucim…"
"Circumstances," his mother offered.
"Cucimstances," the boy continued. "They say that it's help when it's really not… Anoooooo." He looked up to his mother's pale face. "If they say it's help, then how'll you know which help is which?"
Yahiko's mother chuckled. "You are full of questions today, Yahiko-san. All right. This can be tricky, so pay close attention. The arrogant people who pity us and offer us charity are never sincere. They hand out yen or advice as if it will solve all our problems."
"Will it?"
"No, Yahiko-san. The charity they offer may help our immediate problems, but that is all. Immediate problems can be solved on our own. Help is the solving, or at least reducing, of long term problems."
"Like what?"
"Well, let me think of a good example." Yahiko's mother paused as she tried to word her next explanation. "Akemi-san offered me a job. That was help. I have known her for a long time, and she has never been insincere. The job I have does not fix all of my problems, but it does take a way a few. I have a roof over your head and good yen coming in, so I can support you. I still have the problem of your education-"
"But you're teaching me great!" the boy protested.
"I am happy that you think that, Yahiko-san. But do you see what I mean? Some of my problems still need to be worked out. But Akemi-san is helping me. Other people have offered me money, but that helps only immediate problems. And that I have never accepted. Do you understand now?"
"I think so," the child said. "I'll have to think on it a bit more."
"You do that, Yahiko-san."
"Okaa-san," Yahiko murmured as the memory faded from site. Tears were streaming down his face. "I've tried really hard. I have. I thought I was doing the right thing."
"You were," his dark skinned mother said gently. "You have honored my words and given your father and me great reasons for pride in you. We have almost become arrogant, we are so proud."
"Demo," the teen cried. "Kenshin and Kaoru were really trying to help me. They gave me a home and freed me from the Yakuza and taught me swordsmanship and everything! They were there for me and supported me and look what I did, what I said! I've done you and Otou-san and our name great dishonor. I wanted to honor you and looked what I've done! How can you be proud of me?" Yahiko's fists were shaking in shame, his cheeks wet with his grief. "Some son I am!"
"Now you stop right there!" his mother said in a firm tone. "You have not dishonored us!"
"Yes I have!"
"NO YOU HAVE NOT!!" It was the first time Yahiko had ever heard his mother shout, and the teen snapped to attention.
"You are so like your father," she said in a quieter voice. "You give your all at everything you do; and when you make a mistake, you think the world has ended. Yahiko-san that is what you have done. You have made a mistake. A bad mistake, yes, but it is a mistake. Now you must correct it."
"How can I correct it?" Yahiko demanded. "I've been thinking and feeling this way for months now. How do I undo all that damage?"
"You have already started," was her reply. "You are sorry for what you have done. That is the first step. Yahiko, you are a feeling person, like your father and like myself. Everything affects you very deeply, and like your father you express it almost immediately. That may be why you and Kaoru-san are always fighting. She is also of a similar disposition. Yahiko-san, what do you think you can do to repay Kaoru-san and Kenshin-san for what they have done for you? How can you undo the damage you think you've done?"
The youth blinked. "I don't know. I've taken them for granted for so long…"
"You will think of something, Yahiko-san. Even if all you can do to repay them is apologize, they will know how you feel."
"But Okaa-san-"
"Ssshhh. You will do fine. Now wake up."
Just shy!