A Look into The Training Days of Himura Kenshin

/*/

"YAHIKO!" Kaoru roared, face screwed up angrily as she stomped around the dojo, stalking her student quarry. Kenshin trailed meekly, quite certain that he'd have to break up a messy situation indeed if Kaoru didn't find Yahiko soon: she was rapidly turning red with rage, and the pressure was building as she kept it stoutly in.

"Kaoru-dono," Kenshin said in a gentle, placating tone, keeping a good distance behind the rampant young woman. "Sessha is sure that Yahiko is fully aware that he is late for his lessons, de gozaru yo. It is certain that he's gotten sidetracked-sessha knows he'll show up soon, that he will!"

Kaoru turned on her heel, focusing the Rurouni in her angry glare. She said nothing, but even the hardened hitokiri in Kenshin had to shiver at that particular blue glare.

At least I *HOPE* he shows up soon, Kenshin thought, his emotions taking on a considerably panicked tone. The dojo-and I-will not survive this mad tirade much longer...

"YAAAAHIIIIIKOOOOOO!"

"What, Busu?" growled the elusive student, slinging his bokken over one shoulder.

Inwardly, Kenshin gave a relieved sigh.

"YOU'RE LATE!" Kaoru shrieked, pointing her shinae at the boy. "HAVE YOU GOT A GOOD REASON?"

"Of course I do," Yahiko grumped, rolling his eyes. "I was helping Tae and Tsubame take leftover food to the poor quarter of town."

Kenshin was just about to comment on how thoughtful that was of Yahiko when the irate teacher flew at him, shinae raised high.

"NOT AN ACCEPTABLE ANSWER!"

*Twenty minutes and two rolls of bandages later*

"I hate you," Yahiko calmly informed his master, who blushed, despite herself.

"I already said I was sorry," Kaoru growled under her breath. "It's not my fault I lost my temper; you always disrespect me, and I happen to be a PMS'ing swordswoman, so-"

"Too much information, Kaoru-dono," Kenshin murmured, tightly tying a knot over the length of bandages. "There you go, Yahiko. You'll heal nicely, de gozaru yo."

"I wouldn't *have* to heal if Busu wasn't such a pig-headed, irritable, short-tempered, ugly-"

"Hey now," Kaoru said warningly.

"-obstinate, *stupid* girl." Yahiko finished with a snarl, exchanging eye- daggers with Kaoru.

"Well, it'd be easier if my student wasn't such a stubborn, rat-faced-"

"Sessha thinks that is enough," Kenshin said, irritable at all the hostility that was flying around. Yahiko turned on him, pouting.

"Y'know, Kenshin, it'd be easy on *all* of us if YOU would just teach me!" he accused, to which the Rurouni colored.

"But sessha-"

"You have such a *cool* fighting style," Yahiko continued on, dreamily remembering examples of Ryu Tsui Sen and the like. "And I learn really, really quickly!"

"Sessha does not believe you to be *ready* for the kind of training being a Hiten Mitsurugi deshi requires," Kenshin said evenly. "It is not simple, Yahiko. Sessha hardly survived it, himself!"

"Really?" Yahiko and Kaoru chimed, eyes wide. They sensed a story-which is good, because Kenshin was about to launch right into one. He took a long sip of tea, eyes closed thoughtfully as he dwelt on times long past. With a sigh, he pulled a tattered and dog-eared book from his gi: it looked fairly ancient, and the pages were curled and thick, as if from the effects of time and water.

"Really, really. This is the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu Master's Handbook. It was written by Sejuurou Hiko the First, and has been passed down to each succeeding Shishou since him. Hiko-sama gave this to sessha before he left Kyoto, just on the off chance sessha might take on an apprentice. Let sessha tell you, Yahiko, of his own experiences with this little book, and then you may decide if you want to be versed in sessha's style."

"I do!" Yahiko said immeadiately, cutting Kenshin off. "I know already that I do!" Kenshin smiled, and, to Yahiko, at least, it looked a bit wicked.

"We shall see. Sessha's own training when he was about your own age...ten years old, or a little younger, if sessha remembers correctly..."

*/*

Hiko scowled deeply.

Today, he decided as his scowl deepened even more, making it look suspiciously like a grimace, was *not* a good day.

It took several things for Hiko-sama to constitute a day as "good". These things, listed in no particular order, were: a full bottle of sake, money in his pocket, a good night's sleep, and silence. Silence, for Hiko, was golden: he prized it, and had made his home high in the mountains simply because he wanted *silence*.

But, because of an odd twist of fate, Hiko was lacking in all these things.

The sake bottle was only half-full (or half-empty, as he noted with a grim glower) because he had found comfort in his drink quite often in the last couple of days.

His "guest" had clearly outgrown his clothes-which was hard to tell in itself, seeing as the weedy bugger looked no taller-and had required new ones, which was the cause of Hiko's money-less pocket.

And the lack of sleep had been due to this said "guest" having a nightmare and wetting the bed.

*MY* bed, Hiko sullenly corrected his train of thought.

"Shishou-sama?" squeaked a little voice, and Hiko sighed, taking a long swig off his sake jug.

Ah, yes. And that would be the cause of his lack of peace of quiet...

The little redhead boy-his first and only apprentice-sat up sleepily on the bed, rubbing the last dredges of slumber from his large violet eyes. He was a tiny thing, though about ten years old, and had hardly the right physique for a Hiten Mitsurugi swordsman, but Hiko still had his hopes for the boy.

The frail redheaded child had single-handedly buried at least fifty men and women from his slain caravan-lugging the dead bodies and digging the graves himself. Such was a goodly accomplishment for a man by himself, much less a boy.

Hiko's first thought had been: If he can do this much with a bunch of dead people, Kami only knows what he could accomplish around the house!

And so, he had taken in the strange little orphan, giving him a name and a purpose. Kenshin, future master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu.

"Future" being a term used loosely, seeing as Kenshin had yet to begin his first day of training. In the three days since he had become the boy's guardian, Hiko had been supremely unimpressed with Kenshin. Sure, he had a neat proficiency for burying people, but, other than that, he had little or no skill in virtually everything.

Hiko had tried teaching Kenshin to cook, and had lost two clay pots (dropped) and a pan (burned beyond recognition) in the endeavor. Of course, the second lesson had gone off rather better-he had managed some grossly misshapen rice balls and a weak, spicy miso soup. Even so, Hiko was sure he would never get over the obstacle of having to pick long, vibrantly red hairs out of his food.

The boy shed like a cat.

Kenshin had mastered very little in the three days under Hiko's first step in teaching: domestic skills that even a skunk needed to know to survive. Hiko took it as perfectly dumb luck that the boy wasn't already dead; it was hardly skill that had kept him alive thus far.

He did try, though, and so Hiko kept attempting to teach.

It might have been that Hiko was a bad teacher, but it was more likely that Kenshin was just an exceptionally bad student.

"Shishou-sama?" Kenshin squeaked again-he had a very delicate voice for a young boy-looking quite embarrassed.

"What?" Hiko growled, offering a chipper morning glare to his student.

"I'm really, really, really sorry!" the deshi said, looking as if he quite truly meant it. He stumbled off the futon, tripping over the nightshirt he was wearing, and landed in a smart bow/face-plant.

Hiko wasn't sure which one had been the intention, but he accepted the bow with a snort.

"For what?"

Kenshin's face turned a delicate shade of red, vying his hair for vibrancy.

"Uh, for...wetting the bed. I really didn't mean to, really, so I'd feel better if you'd forgive me, really I would-"

"If you use 'really' once more in that sentence, I might have to hurt you."

"Okay." Hiko drew himself up from his seat, smoothing out his mantle and beginning to look for that book he had set away. It was a very old book, passed down from each Master to their student at the end of their learning period.

"Go ahead and get dressed," Hiko said gruffly. "We're going to start your training immeadiately."

Kenshin's face lit up in pleased surprise; he quickly scrambled to his feet and dove to where he had neatly folded his clothes the night before. Hiko did manage to find that book, and he fondly looked down at it, remembering his own past training days.

SO YOU WANT TO TRAIN YOUR BAKA DESHI, said the book cover in fading ink.

Hiko's frown quirked, becoming what would one day be known as his signature grin.

Today might be more interesting than he had previously thought.

And Hiko smirked.

*/*

Hiko scanned thoughtfully over the first page in the book, just making sure he had gotten all the details right. He nodded, tightening the ropes with his free hand. Kenshin, for his part, looked pleasantly confused.

"Shishou-sama, why is there a pot on my head?" the little redhead asked, swaying slightly at the weight of this said pot. Hiko had strapped it firmly to his head with ropes that ran snug under his chin and the back of his head. It was not going anywhere until Hiko untied it, Kenshin decided.

"Because," Hiko replied shortly, looking over the directions for a third time.

"Because why?" Kenshin innocently asked.

"Because I said so."

"Because because you said so why?"

"Shut up."

Kenshin did so, closing his open mouth with a snap. Bored after the twenty seconds of silence, he wiggled his toes in his tabi, putting his hands behind his back as Hiko instructed him to.

"Shishou-sama, why are you tying my hands behind my back?" Kenshin asked, again the curious little boy.

"Because." Hiko growled, his temper fraying.

"Because why-"

"*Don't* even start it, kid." The dark-haired giant sat back on a stump, reviewing the book and his handiwork. Yes, the pot was securely in place, and the boy's arms were rendered useless, being tied behind his back so. "Now then, let's start. What is Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu known for?"

Kenshin found himself suddenly on the spot; flustered, he stuttered a weak reply of "Sharp swords?" which earned him a very deep glare from his master.

"No, baka. Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu is known for its *speed*. Amazing speed, as it is. With this said speed, you will be able to out-step any and all of your opponents-which, since you will be ahead of them, will give you an edge. Today, we will work on training your limbs and get them into shape for running, dashing, and jumping."

Hiko smirked rather suddenly, and Kenshin's panic-reflex rose unexpectedly.

"Let's start with a running exercise, shall we?" he said, pulling the cork from the very full pot. Confused, Kenshin sniffed at the unexpected sweet smell; he tripped slightly without his arms to balance him-he was terribly clumsy to begin with-and a sticky golden substance sloshed from the open pot and dribbled into his hair.

He blinked, recognizing it.

"Honey?" said the boy. "Shishou-sama, why did you strap a pot full of *honey* on my head?"

"You'll see," Hiko replied, sounding very malevolent. He stood up off the stump, kicked it, and dashed a considerable distance away before resettling himself on the grass.

To Kenshin's horror, a billowing cloud of writhing, buzzing, gold-black bees erupted from the kicked stump...and zeroed in on him.

And then he realized, with a new sort of appreciation, that he was covered in honey, had a pot of the stuff strapped to his head, and had no use of his arms to protect himself from any and all stings.

"AAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!" Kenshin squealed, taking off like a tiger with its tail aflame.

And Hiko smirked.

*/*

"Kenshin!" Kaoru exclaimed, her eyes wide. "That is cruel and unusual!"

"Yeah!" Yahiko agreed. "What other nasty stuff did he do to you?"

*/*

It had taken the better part of two weeks for Kenshin to heal after the bee incident-but, as Hiko was the first to point out, his speed *had* increased dramatically. The only downsides of this being Kenshin's sudden phobia of anything that looked remotely like honey, and the fact that he screamed uncontrollably at even the slightest buzzing sounds.

But he was faster, so all was well in Hiko's mind.

After the two week sojourn, they started some, ah, less *risky* training. They started on a strict body-building regiment, which would have been all fine and good if Kenshin had had any sort of body to build in the first place. It was a bit of an understatement to call him a skinny chicken, though nobody would dream of calling him such in later years. Now, though, the boy was not only very short, but built like a reed.

Having become very fed up with the fact that Kenshin could hardly lift forty pound weights without breaking into a sweat, Hiko had implemented the second Secret Training Technique: The Meal and Squeal plan.

Step one, increase the size of his meals and caloric intake.

Step two, work him until the little bugger squeals.

Repeat.

This didn't work out quite like the book had outlined. Such mishaps were starting to become a trend, Hiko decided. Instead of bulking out muscularly, Kenshin just gained weight about the middle until his irritated Shishou had to become even more strict about his training, making him sweat off the extra pounds.

Poor little guy. This whole training thing was really not working out well for him.

Hiko reflected about this as he sat by the big cherry tree, reading intently from SO YOU WANT TO TRAIN YOUR BAKA DESHI. He took a sip from his sake dish, his jug tucked protectively under one arm.

"Four hundred nine, four hundred ten, four hundred eleven...can I stop now, Shishou-sama?" Kenshin whined thinly, huffing loudly. Hiko threw a glance at the boy, who was struggling pathetically with his push-ups, his thin white arms shaking as he pushed himself lower. Maybe it was because he had his huge Master's heavy legs slung over his back as added weight; Hiko gave him a long, cool look, deciding that he could do another hundred or so.

"Keep going," Hiko replied briskly. "Strength in the arms-especially the wrist and forearm-is essential for inflecting a sufficient amount of damage onto the opponent, baka deshi. Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, being the deadliest form of kenjutsu, requires intensive training in the upper body. Another four hundred push-ups are in order, I believe."

Kenshin gave a tiny squeak of dismay before collapsing into a gasping, barely-breathing heap, eyes swirling.

"Oroooooooo..."

"What did I tell you about using that nonsense word?" Hiko demanded. "Make it *six* hundred more!"

And Hiko smirked.

*/*

"He didn't let you use 'Oro'?" Yahiko asked, sounding sympathetic. "What a beast."

Kenshin looked as if he might cry.

"Sessha did not like his training, de gozaru, but it *was* imperative to shaping him into the man he is today. Eventually, sessha learned to cook, to survive on his own, and to efficiently wield a sword."

"If *that* is what you have to go through to learn Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu," Yahiko said in a clandestine whisper. "Then I think I'll stick to a pansy- school like Kamiya Kasshin!"

"Are you sure?" Kenshin pressed with a small smile. "Sessha could train you, if you feel up to it."

"Uh, no thanks..."

"Positive? Sessha believe we have some honey in the pantry, de gozaru yo..."

"Oh, very sure," Yahiko affirmed with a nod, getting to his feet. "So, Busu...I mean, uh, Kaoru-sensei, could we start today's lesson? Right *now*? Come on, come on; you have laundry to do, don't you, Kenshin?"

Kenshin's smile grew; he stuck SO YOU WANT TO TRAIN YOUR BAKA DESHI back into his gi and went out into the yard as the two kendo practitioners hurried off to the dojo.

He was fairly sure that Yahiko would never dream of asking for training again-instilling fear really was the easiest to stop such requests, Kenshin had found.

Now he could peacefully wait out the next several years until Yahiko came of age, and Kenshin would have to give him the same abstinence talk that he, himself, had received from Hiko.

Sitting down next to the washtub, Kenshin opened SO YOU WANT TO TRAIN YOUR BAKA DESHI to chapter eighteen: The No-Nos and Dangers of Sex.

And Kenshin smirked.

/*/

A/N: The stuff I've been writing lately has come out kind of depressing, so I wanted to play around a bit with some humor. This fic was based on two fanart pictures by Laine, which inspired me greatly.

I always did wonder why Yahiko was so keen on Kenshin teaching him, and then gave up asking. Now, we have a reason, ne? ^_^

~Imbri