Halle-freakin'-lujah. FINALLY ff dot net has section breaks as part of their format! No more frustrations when the html won't save right. I'm so happy I might cry. *sniff* And with that immature outburst out of the way, here is the start of a relatively short fic that I've been chipping away at for a year or two. Pitiful. It took watching the latest two live-action Kenshin movies to get my muse ticking again. Hopefully the writing style won't vary too much as the story progresses. Currently in keeping-Japanese-to-a-minimum-unless-absolutely-necessary (or I just think it sounds better ;) ) mode.

A cloaked man swept through the forest, booted feet passing silently over the dry pine needles that blanketed the ground. An unornamented sword swung gently at his side, its presence suggesting he was more than just an ordinary traveler passing through the tree-studded mountain. He moved with the ease of one who had walked this particular path many times before, stepping over the occasional fallen log and avoiding pinecones even as his austere expression scanned the tree line−or more accurately, scanned the branches of the trees that stretched high above him.

It was obvious he was looking for something; obvious as his expression darkened with each passing step that he had yet to find it. The man stopped abruptly at a seemingly nondescript pine, running a hand along the tree's trunk. The knobbed contours of the bark were rough, but the roughness suddenly gave way to an inexplicable patch of smoothness.

The hand fell back at his side and he bent to the ground, gaze sweeping the perimeter of the tree. His eyes locked onto something, and he reached out to pick up several chips of bark that lay on the ground directly beneath the tree. Expression thoughtful, he glanced to the apex of the tree, absently rubbing the bark between his fingers. His eyes moved to the next tree, then to the next. The bark dropped from his fingers and he stood, moving with more purposeful strides now in the direction his gaze had gone. Several minutes and almost a mile later, he stopped underneath the boughs of an enormous cedar. The trunk was almost ten feet across, and the man took a moment to appreciate how many years it had taken to reach that girth. He threw his gaze skywards then, craning his head in order to see all the way to the top of the behemoth flora.

Deep as the man was in the forest, the midday sun still pierced the canopy with zealous intensity, and he threw a hand across his forehead to reduce the sudden influx of light. Squinting against the glare, his dour expression turned into a satisfied smirk as his eyes made out the crouched form of a boy in the limbs high above.

The man's eyes moved to the boy's face, noticed he was staring at something. He followed the gaze, saw a tiny object resting just in front of the boy's feet. The boy lifted his hand slowly, moving it towards the object−the man could see now it was a bird, the barest suggestion of white-spotted feathers underneath fluffy grey down marking it hardly more than a fledgling. The creature hopped sideways a bare inch and drew its head further into the downy feathers ringing its neck. The boy edged closer, hand still raised towards the chick.

The sound of wings beating furiously drew the man's attention, and his eyes flicked above the boy's head. Another bird, this one undeniably mature, was poised for attack, uttering a shrill screech as it descended swiftly, aiming at the pillow of red hair that crowned the boy's head.

Well, now was as good a time as any to announce his presence.

"Kenshin!"

The call spiraled up through the thick branches of the tree, strident tone demanding acknowledgement.

The boy lifted his head in alarm at the sound, noticing as he did so that a very irate bird was heading straight for his face. Eyes wide, he scrambled backwards, then thought to look down and ensure he wasn't about to crush the tiny animal behind him.

The little bird had begun hopping crazily when it heard the panicked voice of its mother, and the red-head hastily checked his footing, avoiding what would have been an ill-placed step. He was teetering precariously on one leg now, and the fledgling's parent had circled to make another dive at him.

The man watching the spectacle down below, none other than Hiko Seijuurou the XIII, master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, heaved a long-suffering sigh. He could already see where this was headed. With a resigned motion, he reached towards the sword at his side. Pulling it from his waistband still sheathed, he looked up again at the chaos unfolding in the tree. The chick was still hopping erratically on the limb, and Kenshin's arms windmilled as he danced around the tiny obstacle while trying to regain his balance.

Kenshin finally lost the battle with gravity completely−Hiko hadn't doubted he would−and as he began a rapid descent to the forest floor, the swordmaster adjusted his position, holding his sheathed sword out lengthwise. He braced himself for the impact, and as the plummeting red-head's gi caught neatly on the tip of his sheath he raised his arm slightly, minimizing the jolt.

That done, he promptly lowered his wrist, letting the boy fall to the ground, where he sprawled unceremoniously with a soft thump. Kenshin looked up, surprise lining his features. A tentative smile crossed his face when he saw who stood above him.

"Shishou . . . I was−I was−"

"Not doing what you were instructed." The Hiten master interrupted. "I've been calling you for the past ten minutes, how long did you plan on ignoring me?"

Kenshin shook his head furtively. "I wasn't ignoring you, I didn't hear you!"

"Apparently you didn't hear much of anything." Hiko muttered, thinking of the enraged bird defending its young. "Well, your horrendous skills of awareness aside, that was a god-awful way to get out of that tree. Did you think you'd be able to fly if you tried hard enough, or were you just testing my desire to keep you alive?"

Kenshin took the question in all seriousness. "No, shishou, I just lost my balance."

Hiko stifled the urge to roll his eyes. "And why did you lose your balance?" He found if he didn't talk Kenshin through his mistakes like this, the boy was slow as molasses picking up on what he had done wrong.

"Well, the baby bird was in the way-" Kenshin began.

On second thought, he was slow as molasses regardless of Hiko's brilliant teaching techniques.

"Did the bird shove you? Even touch you?"

"N-o-o-o-"

"Then it didn't make you lose your balance." Hiko waved a hand at him. "Go on, I'm waiting."

"I guess I−I overcompensated." Kenshin's mouth scrunched in concentration. "I tried to stop myself from stepping, but my body was already going that way, so I tried to change direction, and I went too far the other way. And the bird did keep hopping," He added. When Hiko looked at him flatly he gave a shrug. "Then I fell."

"And so remorseful about that fact."

"I am, shishou! And I was going to land right, really, if you hadn't got me-"

"You probably would have broken your neck." Hiko finished. "That was possibly the worst attempt at landing I've seen in my life. You were closer to splitting your head open than you were to landing on your feet."

Kenshin scowled. "I'm still working on it."

"Which is why I decided to catch you," Hiko said with a magnanimous air. "Don't expect me to do that come next year. You'll have to reap the consequences of any idiotic maneuvers you decide to perform then."

"Hai." Kenshin sighed. And here he'd thought he might be able to impress his shishou, even though he'd been caught taking a break from his training.

"But we'll work on that later. For now, I need you to run an errand for me."

Kenshin got to his feet, brushed at the assortment of pine needles and twigs that had lodged in his hair and caught in his clothes. "An errand?"

"Mm, I want you to go into the village and sell a set of saucers I finished to Suzuki Kenta. His daughter's getting married. Then you can pick up some tofu for us on the way back."

Kenshin gave a moue of discontent. Sometimes it seemed he did more errands than training. "But shishou, I thought you were going to show me a new technique today!"

"Were being the operative word. After seeing that ballet you put on up there, I've decided it's far too soon."

"But−but−I wasn't −you weren't−"

"No use sputtering about it, I've already made up my mind." Hiko threw a glance skywards. "It's already the middle of the day, so get going. Before I decide to turn tomorrow into an all-out sparring match."

Kenshin blanched. Sparring matches with his shishou weren't one of his most cherished aspects of training. In fact, it was pretty low on the list of favorites. Possibly at the very bottom. Or not even on there at all. It wasn't that sparring wasn't helpful. No, by the end of each match he knew every single flaw in his technique, every misstep, each under tempo swing of his blade. Being brought face to face with his shortcomings was bad enough but he'd noticed they seemed to provide no end of amusement to his shishou. For Kenshin, sparring was just a study in humiliation.

One day though, I'll beat him. It was the promise he doggedly told himself after every spar, even though every time he felt doubt creep into his resolve. Shishou wasn't just good, he was amazing.

"I didn't know you wanted to spar so bad. You could've just asked, you know."

Kenshin started, realized he'd let his thoughts drift. "No, I'm going!" He rushed passed Hiko before he could say anything more, moving so fast that he disappeared from sight almost immediately.

"Kenshin!" Hiko didn't expect a response, and he wasn't surprised. The possibility that Kenshin was already out of hearing range didn't even cross his mind. Kenshin had a bad habit of tuning everything out when he was focused on a task.

Everything.

From the almost purposeful way the boy ignored anything but the task at hand, Hiko could only assume Kenshin thought it a desirable quality. That was something he'd have to overcome though, if he ever expected to master any sword style, let alone Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. A swordsman could never become so focused on something he failed to notice the bigger picture. Become too intent on dispatching one enemy, and the other might do you in from behind.

The Hiten master made a disgruntled noise and stuck his sword back in his waistband with unnecessary force. "Baka, you don't even know what I want you to bring yet." He threw a baleful glare aimed at the tiny ball of feathers that had persuaded his student to shirk practice, then set off at a ground-eating pace to overtake Kenshin.

Thanks for reading! Please don't forget to review. Critiques, tactful criticisms, generic comments, accolades, all will be cherished.