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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.

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I�m
really sorry it took me so long. I was wondering if people would still want to
read this fic. Anyway, I�d like to give my 3^rd chapter a shot,
hoping this would please you. I live to serve!

Chapter
Title: The World is Never Fair

Author:
Misanagi

Disclaimer:
I just own the villains, nothing more.

Warnings:
Child abuse, angst... yaoi (m/m) in future chapters

�I didn�t do it...� the boy sobbed softly as another kick was
placed in his thigh. It added to the numerous bluish black ones already marred
on the pale skin. He closed his mouth as he felt the rush of blood in his
mouth. Staining the floor with his blood would be a bad idea right now.

�What did you say, brat?!� Bajira asked. Gensou grabbed the
boy by the back of his hakama and pulled the boy to meet their faces. Soujiro
cringed at the furious faces and bowed his head in fear. Gensou released him and
he fell back on the floor. He felt disgusted as he swallowed back his blood.
He prayed it would not come back up again.

He screamed as a large foot began to step on his right hand.
As the weight began to take its toll on the hand, Soujiro had been reduced to a
whimpering child. He would do anything to get his hand in one piece.

�I-I�m sor-ry... Bajira-sa...m...ma� the boy breathed out. It
hurt to talk. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to live... The foot was gone from his
hand and sparks of pain flew in his right hand and behind his eyes. Calloused
fingers grasped his chin and forced it upwards. His tired face met angry ones. No
more, please...I really didn�t do it. His knees were shaking so bad he
could hardly stand; it was Gensou�s grip on his worn hakama that kept him
upright.

�You�re sorry that you wasted one sack of grains, which was
two weeks worth?� Gensou smirked.

�H-hai...� the boy answered quietly. He didn�t even bother
telling them what really happened. That Wakame had been playing with that
stupid sword of his and had carelessly flung it around as Soujiro carried sacks.
The katana then flew from his clumsy hands and had struck right into the sack
the boy was carrying on his back. Wakame was the first one to recover from his
shock and surprise and went to Bajira, telling her that it was the clumsy boy�s
fault. When they got to the scene, they saw Soujiro among the scattered grains,
desperately trying to gather them.

Bajira was instantly furious. She never gave the boy a chance
to talk and began hitting her with her cane. Soujiro covered his head, afraid
she might crack his skull open. As much as he tried to explain his side, every
hit made his gasp in pain, unable to tell anything.

When the boy was in too much pain to move, Wakame grabbed and
flung him carelessly over his shoulder, not minding the soft whimpers. They
went back into the house, where they would discuss his punishment.

There, Bajira called Gensou and Senka, their younger sister,
to talk about Soujiro�s punishment. Gensou was amused about the situation, not
really believing Wakame�s story of the boy�s clumsiness. The sack had a clean
cut through the cloth, as if a knife had struck it; not a rip that would have
been caused by someone dropping it. But he�d rather not tell it. He was too
fond of the boy�s pain to let it go.

Senka had been quiet though, feeling pity for her nephew.
Soujiro�s father was Senka�s favorite elder brother. When she heard that her
oniisan had an illegitimate child with a woman their family did not approve of,
she had been happy that her elder brother had finally found happiness. But her
family did not let them go easily. They had killed Soujiro�s father with
poison, drove the woman away and had kept the boy to pay for his father�s sins.
Senka did not approve of her siblings� treatment to the boy but could not do
anything. To rebel against them would be sure death. The only thing she could
do was tend to the boy�s wounds as discreetly as she can. It was usually late
at night or during the afternoon when everyone except Soujiro would be taking
naps. She would be with him when the boy couldn�t even lift a finger to clean
his wounds. Or after Wakame had been brutal with him and left the boy crying
the whole night.

Right now, she looked at the trembling figure on the hard
wooden floor. It was already stained with Soujiro�s blood. No doubt that as
soon as the boy would gain consciousness, he would be forced to clean the mess.

Soujiro�s punishment for ruining a sack of grain would be a
week of hunger. No one was to feed him anything except water for the next 7
days. And that would not affect the work load he has. He would still toil and
work just as much as he would when he was fed leftovers.

Soujiro came to and stood up painfully. He grimaced at the
blood under him as it stained the wood. He went outside to get a brush and
water and began to scrub his blood off the floors. His right hand stung
whenever he moved it too much and began to awkwardly use his left hand. He
cradled his right hand against his body, wary of potential dangers that can
further injure his hand. Naturally, because he was unused to using his left
hand, it took him more effort to clean up.

He went back towards where grains are scattered about. He
gathered the ones lying on the grass and threw them away. The ones still inside
the sack were secured and brought to the storage.

He then went to the well and began to take off his clothes.
Dressed in his loincloth, he began to painfully scrub the blood off his hakama.
He was hunched over and anyone could practically see the bones jutting out of
the body. His skin was hideously covered with purple and black bruises. Others
were a strange shade of greenish yellow.

This wasn�t the first time he got punished for someone�s
fault. By the time he was old enough to understand that the world was never
fair, he never tried to defend himself. It would lead him to more pain. There
was more misery and hopelessness that in the end, he would rather have made the
mistake himself. At least that would have made sense why he was being punished.
Everybody was ALWAYS against him. He had no one to trust except himself.

When he was satisfied that most of the blood had come out, he
laid them out to dry while cleaning himself as gently as he could. He also
drank from the bucket, to relieve his hunger pains. When he had finished, he
quickly dressed up in his hakama, noting the quickly dropping temperature.
Winter was fast approaching. And he didn�t like winters very much.

His hakama was the only clothing he has. And it certainly
wasn�t doing a job enough of keeping its wearer warm. Soujiro would usually
stay at the storage room, which was doing a better job of keeping the interior
warm than his quarters. Thankfully, his relatives didn�t mind much that he spend
cold and bitter nights on the storage. They wouldn�t want a sick, good for
nothing trash lying and coughing on his futon while his relatives do all his
dirty work. Then Soujiro would then use the thick, rough sacks, which had been
discarded as blankets. He would pile them together using thick hide and a large
needle. Despite the coarseness of the fabric, the boy didn�t mind as long as he
felt warm.

It was now turning dark and he had to go back in the main
house. He prepared the table while Senka-san cooked. The wonderful smell of
food reached the poor boy�s nose and stomach. He closed his eyes at the aroma.
How nice it would be to eat Senka-san�s food. But he knew better than to hope.
Here, he learned that food is a privilege and not a right. To eat food, let
alone delicious food would be like meeting his parents.

Sound behind him brought him back to reality. His relatives
were already making their way into the dining area. Soujiro tried his best to
shrink into a corner, hoping not to get noticed. But the entire time, Wakame
taunted him with food, making the boy realize he had been hungry than usual.
His stomach complained and growled as he continued to stare sadly at the feast
before him.

Senka looked at her nephew, sitting in the corner, hugging
his knees to himself, waiting for them to finish. She was stricken by the
resigned look on the boy�s face, etched with hunger. Suddenly, she didn�t feel
hungry at all. She was angrier with herself than her elder siblings for not
doing anything. What can I do?

She looked around at the table, her face falling in misery as
her elder sister and brothers slowly finished all the food on the table. She
had been hoping she could sneak some food to Soujiro later that night. That�s
it! I�ll give him my share... but before she could finish that thought, a
foreign chopstick went to her plate.

�If you�re not eating that, little sister, I�ll take it.�
Wakame leaned over to her side, grabbing the fish before she could even reply.

�As usual, our dear little sister�s wonderful skill has
brought smiles to our faces,� Gensou commented as he sipped the last of his
miso.

�She would be a great asset to her future husband,� agreed
Bajira.

Senka smiled shyly and looked down. She had not considered
about having a husband, yet.

When they were done eating, Bajira went up to the boy in the
corner, his head rested on his knees, which were pulled close to his body and
his arms around his shins. She used her cane to tap the boy�s legs. It fell on
his right hand and caused him to yelp and sit up. He immediately pulled his
hands against his body.

�Oi, yarou, you can clean up now,�

With that, they left and went out of the dining area. Senka
looked at him and gave a sad smile before following her siblings.

Soujiro stood and carefully fixed the bowls and plates. He
went out to the cleaning area and began to wash them. After storing them to
dry, he went back and took a rag and cleaned the table. Afterwards, he looked
around to see if any of his relatives would be near. When he didn�t hear any of
them, he went towards the trash and began to rummage the container, hoping to
find something edible.

On one side was half-eaten bread. It didn�t look too bad so
the boy grabbed it and hobbled towards the storage shack. Inside, he had
already prepared a corner which consisted of a worn out sheet over a thin layer
of hay and his improvised blanket. He sat down and looked at his food for the
night. Some parts had a dark blue color. With nimble fingers, he began to take
out the mold-infested parts without taking too much of the good part with it.
Experience had taught him that eating the dark-colored part would make him
sick.

The first time he did, he threw up for the next couple of
days and was accompanied by fever. He vowed never to eat those again.

After making sure all the bad pieces were gone, he ate it
slowly, savoring the taste. Making sure that he got even the last of the
crumbs, he stood up and tore a long strip from one of the sacks. He tied it
gently but firmly to his right hand, hoping the throbbing would stop. And this
was his good hand, too.

Ignoring the ebbing pain, he got his makeshift blanket and
pulled it close to his chest. He curled his legs, as the blanket was too short
for him. He would dread the week that lay before him. He had never encountered
such a punishment. Usually, it was just mere beatings, or if Wakame was pissed
off, Soujiro would spend agonizing days in his futon, bleeding, crying and in
tremendous pain in the days after. He shuddered at the mere memory. The man was
a sadist, torturing and violating the boy nonstop until he fainted from the
pain. And the more he cried out, pleaded for mercy, anything, the more the
monster would slam into him even more, enjoying the pitiful whimpers and futile
attempts to get off the heavier man. The other adults didn�t seem to mind it,
or just ignored Wakame�s sick obsession. Soujiro shook his head, willed the
tears away and struggled to put the memory at the back of his mind. He then
shifted and lay on his side, facing the wall and slowly counted the lines on
the wood until he fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N:
Done! I�ll reveal the mystery man in chapter5 and his past. I�ll introduce a
supporting character with a very important role, too! Ah, yessss, the plot
thickens!

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A Life Worth Living