The Rivers Ran Red
Disclaimer: RK is not mine. Oh, and the song belongs to Train. You'll find it on the Spiderman 2 soundtrack.
A/N: Watching the Kyoto arc, I had this idea to do a character introspection piece. It was supposed to be a one-shot. But then I thought, 'what if I did it for several people and combined it?' I have a feeling this will be a multi-parter in which each of the parts stands alone. So, here it is, part the first. R&R. Btw – anything in italics is a flashback. And when everything's in italics and you get stuff that's not in italics that's what the person is thinking
Ichi: Leaving it Behind
And when the world is on its knees with me it's fine
And when I come to the rescue I get nothing but left behind
Everybody seems to be getting what they need, where's mine?
Cause you're what I need so very but I'm anything but ordinary
Rain. The chill it brings invades bones, sneaks under doorways, permeates a room. It is the subtle reminder that winter is not quite defeated. She still has some tricks up her sleeve. But all this means nothing to the man.
He walks, the hem of his kimono darkened by the ever falling rain. The water drips of the strands of his dark hair. It stains his face and makes it look like he's been crying.
Nothing could be farther from the truth.
He moves silently, footsteps make no sound against the forest loam. He leaves no trace of his passage.
It's been a long time.
Almost too long.
A small clearing, four stones, haphazardly placed. Years of exposure to the weather have done little to mark them.
The last time he was here he had brought her with him. He had needed to, to show her their final resting place. They would have wanted that. And, truth be told, even if he hadn't wanted to bring her she would have insisted anyway.
Ignoring the wet, he sits, allowing the silence of the forest to seep in. This was the place he had always found the most peaceful. In years past he would come here, reeking of death, bloodstained and scarred. Here, he found that his troubled heart could be at peace. Amidst the chaos that had invaded his mind, this was the focus point. The moment of clarity.
Hannya…
Beshimi…
Hyottoko…
Shikiji…
Memories and faces of long ago, still as familiar as here and now. He had been wrong not to come earlier. But then again, he had been wrong about many things.
The sound of the gattling gun rang in his ears, he bit his lip to keep from screaming. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. His kodachi unsheathed he ran, and ran. But even before he entered the room he knew it was too late.
How could he have been so foolish, so naïve?
The room was splattered with blood. The stench of death hung in the air. He was too late. His comrades, their broken bodies, scattered on the ground. He had done nothing to save them.
He had been unable to save them.
He, their leader, had led them to this. Unknowingly pawned them off to their deaths. The guilt suffused him, overwhelming him.
'It's my fault! If only I had seen it sooner. If only I had realized that we were just pawns in this game. If only…'
It was too late for 'if onlys', just like it was too late to save Hannya and the others. A single tear ran down his cheek, mingling with the blood that stained his face.
'Why didn't you take me too? I have nothing left to live for now. No hope, no honour. I should have died with them.'
He couldn't even take his own life.
He would have to seek out death instead.
For years he had sought death, sought and never found it. He had looked everywhere. In the back streets of Kyoto. On the meandering highways. Always seeking, never finding. Oh, he hid his death wish well. Determined to be the strongest, to avenge his friends, to finish the battle that had been started. All the time knowing that it was him, the battousai, who could give him what he most desired.
An end to it all.
He sat in front of a flickering fire, felt the heat warm his bones. He knew that nothing could melt the numbness that surrounded his heart. He hadn't eaten in about a week. But he had gotten past the need for food. Hunger was nothing to him. Pain was nothing to him. His body was scarred by countless fights.
It still wasn't enough.
A twig snapped.
"You can come out now."
His voice was cold, emotionless, "If you're going to attack me I suggest you do it now. I won't be sleeping tonight."
Four men emerged out of the shadows. "How did you-"
"It doesn't matter." He watched them, firelight flickering in his eyes, "You'll all be dead by tonight."
His hands were stained with blood. Call it what you will, he knew it was still murder. The men he had faced may not have been innocent, but he had not been given the authority to judge between life and death. He knew that. He also knew that there was no way that he could possibly atone for the lives he had taken. Not even if he gave up the rest of his life.
He was not an idealist like Himura. Then again, he had never slayed as many as Himura. But even in his killing, Himura had been idealistic, hoping and fighting for what he believed to be a better Japan. There was nothing righteous about his killing.
"So…will you break your promise to me, Battousai?"
His face was dark, silhouetted by the light in the doorway. His thick, red hair hung into his eyes making them unreadable. "Yes, I made a promise. But you are not the man I made that promise to."
"I will be the strongest, Battousai."
And if not, then you will kill me, and finally, finally I will find release.
He unsheathed his kodachi. Tonight, it would be settled. No matter the outcome of the battle, he would die tonight. "Draw your sword, Battousai."
"No. I have another promise to keep. I promised Misao that I would bring you back to her. I don't need to draw my sword to defeat you, Aoshi. I won't draw my sword until you release the hatred in your heart. Until you are restored, all I need to defeat you are the things in this room."
Misao.
He would not think of her now. The bright-eyed girl that he had practically raised. He had been her older brother when all her family had died. What would she say if she saw him now? Would she recognize the man he had become?
Himura had been wrong that night. He had needed to draw his sword in the end. That, at least, was something to be proud of. But he had been right about everything else. The will to live would always be stronger than the will to die.
And he had kept his promise – he had brought him back to Misao.
It had been a long time since he'd really walked the streets of Kyoto. It felt like he had been dead for so long. It was ironic that this was the most alive he had felt in a long time – now that he was battered, bruised and closer to death than he had ever been. All of them were worse for wear. They had been incredibly lucky.
Either that or incredibly stupid.
As for Himura…only time would tell. Sanosuke was carrying him, despite the fact that he, himself was barely able to stand. The swordsman had taken quite a beating in the fight against Shishio. And he had triumphed.
They approached the street leading to the Aoiya. Not for the first time he wondered about the reception he would receive. The other three – Himura, Sanosuke and Saitoh – they were the heroes. He, on the other hand, was the wayward son. Returning to a home he had spurned and friends he had betrayed.
Would they hate him? Blame him? Curse him?
His steps faltered slightly, allowing the other two men to overtake him.
There they sat, amongst the ruins of what was the Aoiya. Smiles cross their faces when they see the arrivals. Friends, family, rushing to meet the conquering heroes. Hugs, laughter and tears. Himura was rushed away to receive medical attention. Kaoru, fussing over Sanosuke. Yahiko, bragging about how he had defeated a member of the Juppongatana. He had a growing realization that he didn't belong here. He didn't belong with these people. They were happy and he had nothing but regret.
"Oi, Shinomori!"
Sanosuke's voice, rough and grating. "Are you just gonna stand there or what?"
He had to force himself to move his feet. But he had taken no more than two steps when a warm body rushed into him, embracing him. He looked down into the eyes the girl who had never really given up on him. They were bright with unshed tears.
Misao…
He wishes he had brought something, anything, to give them. But really, the dead ask for nothing more than to be remembered. He remembers them as they were. His friends, his family, blood brothers in life and in death. He remembers the laughter and he remembers the tears.
'But my story isn't ended yet.'
No. He received a gift, a new lease on life. A new family.
He finds himself thinking of a certain pair of blue-green eyes.
'Beshimi, Hannya, Hyottoko, Shikiji…I will never forget your loyalty. I truly am sorry for hiding behind your memory for so long. I have tainted your memory with the blood that I shed.' He bows deeply, bangs brushing the forest floor. 'Please, forgive me.'
The past remains in the past. And the future, well, that is a mystery yet to behold.
The sun breaks through the grey, suffusing the clearing with light. Somehow, he knows all is forgiven. Then, and only then, can Shinomori Aoshi smile.
'Thank you…'
A/N: My memory of the events in which Hannya and the others died is a little foggy so please forgive me if I've gotten it mixed up. And I've also taken a few author's liberties with the conversation between Kenshin and Aoshi when they fight. It probably was a whole lot more dramatic then I'm making it. Anyway, hope you enjoyed. Next up…and young man by the name of Seta…
© Abi
2004-09-28