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The Kamiya Dojo
The first hint of dawn was just spreading across the horizon when the first occupant began stirring within the Kamiya Dojo. Closing the shoji silently behind him, Himura Kenshin stretched lazily, lifting a fist to muffle his yawn. 'Morning already, is it?' He made his way down the engawa, stopping briefly in front of each shoji to make sure that the occupant's sleep remained undisturbed, before continuing on towards the main gate.

Vanishing footprints on the dewy ground followed him across the yard. This was Kenshin's favourite time of day. Just before dawn when the birds still slept soundly in their nests and the world of serenity wrapped around him like a warm blanket on a cold winter's morning. He pulled that blanket tighter around himself even as he stretched his ki across the grounds and even a little ways past the sturdy walls.

He did this every morning; pacing the perimeter of the grouds to assure himself of... well, he was not sure exactly, but the act gave him assurance and that was enough for him at the moment. The days since their last 'adventure' had grown long, and they had settled into a semi-routine of peaceful living that had Kenshin craving more. It was as if by practicing every day, he would eventually learn to master this mundane peace that came so easily to everyone else.

Having reached the main gate and double-checking the locks once again, Kenshin turned back towards the main house, intent on beginning breakfast. The other occupants of the dojo would soon be rising, and he thought it would be best if he at least started the meal before Kaoru awoke. Not that he disliked her cooking, rather, they only had one loaf of tofu left and it was far too early to go into town to fetch another one, that it was.

With that in mind, he paused mid-path and changed directions towards the well. He knew there was half a bucket left inside, but fresh water was always best for cooking. Untying the rope, Kenshin gently lowered the well bucket into the well. Thank goodness he had remembered to return the second bucket to it's place beside the well last night; he would hate to have to go looking for it while everyone was still (mostly) asleep.

Water fetched, he returned to the main house. Skipping over the second step - it creaked something awful on mornings such as this - Kenshin wound his way to the kitchen, mind running through mental lists of recipes and ingredients. Spring had come quickly to Tokyo that year, and with the change of seasons had come a change in the menu. Pots and pans found themselves upon the stove in record time, fresh water finding itself on route to boiling while the old water found itself neatly placed as dishwater for washing later.

Savoury smells had just begun drifting across the room when he felt the other occupants begin to stir. Perfect squares of tofu were tilted into one of the pots, careful to keep from excess splashing. Picking up the small teapot, Kenshin poured out the teacups, taking his own while waiting for the tofu to fully cook. Steam flowed nicely up from the rice, and he let his mind wander a bit while watching it.

Peaceful, quiet, full of good smells and good food... it was going to be a good day.

He hoped.
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Rurouni Kenshin, the story that touched the hearts of millions around the world. The story of a boy that wanted to change the world with his sword, only to find after commiting countless acts of murder by the age of 15 that he was doing anything but that. Now a man at the age of 28, he wanders around Japan helping those in need with his Sakabotou, or just his understanding heart, to atone for his sins he made during the Bakumatsu. The story of a man finding comfort in those he cares for, for they love him for who he is, not who he was. The story of Rurouni Kenshin....
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