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A Life Worth Living	By : yenie Category: Rurouni Kenshin > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 4549 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Title: A Life Worth Living

Authoress: Misanagi

Warnings: M/M� yaoi� N/C� child abuse� blood and gore

Disclaimers: If this series were mine, it�d be all sex and
no killing. Everyone�s happy. ^.^

Authors Notes: Am currently under the influence of a certain
Corona Light with Lemons in it *mmm*. Don�t worry; I punched F7 before
uploading this. I made this chapter longer so everyone can be happy. And no, I
do not have a high tolerance for alcohol. Mwahahaha! Thanks fer the reviews! It
was a booster.

Chapter 2: Walking among the Dead

Darkness engulfed his being. It was
so hard to breathe. Voices were calling out his name. Who are they? he thought. They seemed so familiar yet he could not
remember who they were. The voices began to get louder and louder until he
couldn�t hear himself think.

Where was he anyway? He opened his
eyes, not realizing that it had been closed the whole time. He was in a forest,
filled with century-old oaks and cedars towering his being. Then his eyes
rested on the ground.

His eyes opened in shock and
terror. The supposed land filled with green shrubs, grass and brown earth were
stained with blood. Human blood. And with it, hundreds of bodies had littered;
all lifeless bodies with blood draining out from their beings.

Who
are these people? What happened?

He tried blinking his eyes, making
sure it wasn�t all a hallucination. But he was dead wrong. He looked about and
there were hundreds of people, women and children weren�t spared as they lie on
the ground, helpless and clutching to each other for futile hope. He
desperately tried to look for somebody, anybody, who was still alive.

The stench of human flesh rotting
and the blood eventually overwhelmed him. He closed his eyes and covered his
mouth, trying not to throw up. Then he felt wetness on his cheek. It was still
warm, and it came from his hand. A chill ran up his spine.

Oh,
gods! Please tell me this is not what I�m thinking�

He removed his hand and slowly
opened his eyes. Blood. It was blood on his hands. It was someone�s blood on
his hands. His hands trembled. He couldn�t speak. He couldn�t breathe.
Everything became blurred in a red haze. Then he heard it again. Voices!

He looked around, desperately
wanting to seek other people. But his body trembled more when he realized that
the voices were coming from the corpses. Their faces were bloodied. Some were
slashed and disfigured by slashes, most probably from swords. But what made his
blood ran colder than ice were the lifeless eyes of its owners. It was all
white except for some veins running through the eyeballs. And yet they seemed
to know where he stood.

They were calling out his name�
they were calling out his name�

He sat up from his sleeping mat.
His body was trembling. Sweat poured from his face despite the cold winds this
night. He tried to catch his breath as his panicked eyes darted from left to
right, as if expecting something or somebody was there. His shaking hands
immediately went to where he put his walking stick.

A
Dream� that�s all it was. Just�a dream

He laid his stick on his lap,
somewhat comforted by its weight. He ran his hands through his sweat slicked
hair. His hair was now wilder than ever and he tried to tame it to no avail.

He looked around at the cave where
he took refuge in for the night. The fire had died sometime during the night.
He sighed and closed his eyes. He stood up and began to fix his belongings.

Ch!
No use trying to get some shut eye. Might as well continue walking.

He gathered his stuff and went out
of the cave. It was still late in the evening, yet the moon gave enough light
to keep him out of sight while still being able to see his path clearly. Come
to think of it, this looked familiar to the one in his dream. He shook his head
and continued walking. It was going to be a long night.

*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!

"Soujiro! Soujiro! Where are you, you lazy
bum?!"

A yell broke the boy from his slumber and
in surprise sat up quickly. Realizing what he just did, he gingerly eased pain
from his rear by lifting his hips a little. He heard someone screaming his
named and he hastily got up. His head pounded from panic and confusion. He ran
as fast as his legs could carry him towards the sound. Finally, the person who
was calling saw him.

"There
you are, you lazy bastard! I've been calling you all morning," an elder
female shouted at the boy in front of her. Using her cane, she used it to hit
the boy on the thigh. Biting back a cry of pain, he clutched his leg, feeling
it numb for a moment.

"Su-sumimasen,
Bajira-sama," Soujiro
bowed apologetically.

"Well, you'd better be," Bajira
snapped, feeling no remorse for the boy, "There are 60 sacks that just
arrived. I want you to put them all in the storage room before noon. If not, you won't have lunch. You
hear?!"

Soujiro
complied, "Hai, Bajira-sama." With that, he went out to start his
task.

The sacks proved to be heavier than
Soujiro thought. His body, still coping up with wakefulness, combined with last
night's events, moved slowly. Not to mention he hasn't eaten since yesterday
afternoon, if one considered stale bread and water to be a meal. It was a long
way from where the sacks were to the storage room. The consistent sores in his
body were also weighing him down. The sheer weight of the sacks on his
shoulders caused his wounds to reopen. Soujiro felt the blood oozing in his
thighs but he didn't stop walking. He was hoping he would eat today. As he
walked back and forth, he couldn't help hearing the two men's conversation on
the porch.

"...and Rizumo
asked me if he can taste some of that boy ass but I said 'No, that's MY whore
and I will keep him to myself!' bwahahaha!!! " it was Wakame's voice and
he knew they were talking about him.

"Yeah, make him do what he does
best. Spreading his legs for anybody!" Gensou laughed at his own remark.

"Just like his bitch of a
mother," Wakame and Gensou laughed at their own statements while Soujiro pretended
not to hear any of it, carrying his burden to the storage room. He had no idea
what time it was but the sun was surely rising. He was hoping he'd get his task
done before noon.

He hadn't noticed his other 'uncle',
Gensou, following him towards the storage room. As soon as Soujiro set the
heavy sack on the wooden floor, he was surprised by a taunting face full of
smoke.

"There you are, my favorite
nephew," Gensou's voice dripping with sarcasm," how are you
today?"

Soujiro just
blinked, at a loss for words. What would he say? What would he do?

"I-I'm fine, Gensou-sama,"

Concern mocked the older relative's
reply, "Are you sure? But it seems you are not well... let me have a
look-" With that, he flung the boy towards the piled up sacks and forced
the boy to kneel against it, his chest against the sacks.

"Tsk, tsk,
tsk. But you're bleeding! Let me take care of that..." Gensou pulled off
Soujiro's blood-streaked hakama. He stared at the bloodied and bruised thighs
before him, "Sugoi...I've always liked blood,"

Soujiro had
already let his mind wander off. Anything to make him forget all of this. Even
just for a moment.

A single thrust of pain pulled him back
into reality. His numbed nerves reacted against the assault. Immediately,
Soujiro cried out in pain, only to have his mouth covered by Gensou's hand.

"Nyah-ah-ah! I wouldn't mind you screaming, but we've
got neighbors. And letting them find out about this will be the last thing
you'll ever do!"

A single tear made its way down the
shounen's cheek, ending at Gensou's hand. 'Onegai... yamette~' his mind cried
for help. His soul yearned for warmth and tenderness.

'Mou~ tasukette... onegai.' In the end, he knew no
one would come to his rescue. He resigned himself to this but he always hoped
someone would actually help him. So much for wishful thinking.

He whimpered as the long fingers added
more damage to his body. Sooner or later, his body will give in and he will
welcome death with a smile. He couldn't kill himself. Yet.

Finally, Gensou
became bored of his playtoy. He took out crimson-covered digits from the boy
and turned him around. Soujiro's eyes were closed shut. Looking deeper into his
gasps and cries, one can see his lips move into a silent charade, 'Onegai...
onegai... onegai'

Gensou paid no attention and violated the boy's mouth with
the same fingers. Soujiro choked at the sudden invasion and gagged as he tasted
blood. "Come on, little whore. Suck it all off," Gensou cackled as he
felt the small tongue gently clean his fingers. He stared at the crying boy in
front of him. Beautiful... and absolutely hideous. This bastard child can never
be in their family!

Gensou took out
his fingers and grabbed the weakened boy's hair, pulling him up. "You did
well, bastard! It seems you have found your job!� He then released the boy,
landed his fist on the frail face and went out of the storage room.

Alone again, Soujiro trembled in one
corner. His tears stung his split lip. His body burned, scorched by the fiery
pain. Yet, he stood up and painfully put on his hakama. He had to get 30 more
sacks before he can eat. He hurried out to the door and as he went out, he
realized he was too late. It was already past noon.
He heard laughter inside his relatives' house. Aromas of food drifted from the
house and into Soujiro's nose and stomach. They sound happy and merry.

He slumped his
shoulders and mumbled a silent apology to his complaining stomach. Oh well, it
wasn't as if he hadn't experienced it before. He went back to work before any
one of them would see and taunt him.

Nobody saw
the trembling body, struggling with a sack bigger and possibly heavier than
him. Nobody saw the many times the boy had failed to carry himself, sending his
frail body to the ground, with the sack effectively pinning him to the ground.
Nobody saw the blood that stained the boy's clothes. Nobody saw the tears that
ran down his bruised face. Nobody saw the fine line of blood that stained the
grass from the storage room to where the sacks were. And even if they did, they
didn't do anything to help the boy ease his suffering.

*To be continued*

A/N: There you have it. I won�t reveal my other character
just yet. Maybe in the next chapter� or not� depends on yours truly. You liked
it? Think it sucked? Let me know!!! The more reviews I get, the faster my
updates will be! No, it�s not blackmail. It�s for the benefit of everyone.
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A Life Worth Living