The Extent Of Things
Disclaimer: Ownership of Rurouni Kenshin and characters belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki and not I. I only own some doujinshi and a wallscroll. However, that drool trail following Aoshi belongs to me.
(Excuse me if there's something wrong with it: the characters' personality and etc. I'm just too tired. After some brain rest and inspiration, I'll put up an edited version.)
The outcome of their mission came out terribly wrong.
Shinomori Aoshi had reviewed the plan in his mind over and over again, trying to figure out what went wrong. The plan was flawless, he thought desperately, they were there to just spy on the warehouse at the edge of the Kyoto city and report their findings to the head of police. But things weren't supposed to end this way. He looked down at the still figure in his arms, and quickened his already fast flight to the Aoiya.
~*~
Kashiwazaki Nenji, also known as Okina by others and as Jiya by Misao, had little to worry about other than settling himself on the nearest chair. But tonight, his old bones and instincts were tingling with as much action as it did during the Bakumatsu period. Instead of sleeping the night away like he usually did, he found himself pacing the dining hall of the Aoiya, worrying over the absence of their present okashira and their former okashira. He knew he shouldn't be worried about them; after all, he trained them himself. Besides, it was only a simple spy mission, nothing dangerous; there had been more life threatening situations.
The other members of the Oniwanbanshu were also awake but dressed in their yukatas. It seemed as though they had caught onto Okina's restlessness and couldn't sleep themselves. Unusually silent, some sat while some lounged in the empty booths; all were reluctant to speak.
Okon fidgeted and stood, uncomfortable with the thick atmosphere of suspense. Everyone looked in her direction as she interrupted the stillness. "I-I'm going to make some tea," she said quietly. She looked around. "Does anyone want some?" There were some nods.
Omasu stood also and silently headed towards the kitchen, to help Okon with the tea and also escape the tension.
There was a sound of the back kitchen door being roughly shoved open before Okon and Omasu reached the kitchen. Everyone paused. Then relief filled the air, realizing how foolish they were in worrying about their comrades.
"Okina!"
The strangled shout drew their attention back to the kitchen and they hurried towards it.
Okon and Omasu, who were closest to the door leading to the kitchen, slid it open.
Standing in the kitchen was a bloody Aoshi, his breath coming in harsh gasps. His gi was wrapped around the still figure in his arms. Streaks of blood and dark smoke decorated his bared arms and on his face. Blood had drawn paths down the figure's limp arm and painted the dark blue onmitsu uniform a dark violet. It was impossible to determine whether the blood came from him or the figure.
Aoshi composed whatever was left of his icy mask and control to glare at them. "Get a doctor," he ordered sharply.
The rest of the Oniwabanshu stared at him and he repeated his command louder, this time failing to hide the trembling waver behind it. They jumped to attention. Okina shouted orders to get water boiling and clean rags while Shiro ran off to get the doctor.
Okina approached Aoshi, who had his head turned down and away. Okina feared the worst. His old eyes searched for any signs of the other companion, hoping that it wasn't her in the tall man's arms and that she was outside resting before coming in.
"Aoshi . . .," Okina breathed as hope threatened to choke him.
The taller man pushed past him and headed towards the stairs.
Okina sharply sucked in air. Trailing from the crook of Aoshi's arm was braided hair and holding the hair in place was a cracked golden hair clasp.
~*~
It wasn't supposed to happen.
The words repeated themselves in his mind, over and over again, and in different forms. But they were all the same; shouting his failure as an Oniwanbanshu, failing to protect those close to him, failing to look at other possibilities.
His hands, clean from blood, crept to his head and around his ears, trying to shut out the words. His fingers clutched his dark hair and he curled over until his forehead touched the smooth cold tatami mats. Then when the words continued with their torture, he began thumping his forehead rhythmically against the mats, trying to dispel them.
Someone tapped on his thin paper door, momentarily saving him from his downward spiral towards self-blame.
He composed himself as best as he could, straightening his yukata and gathering his aloof cold exterior. "What is it?"
The shoji door slid open with a quiet hiss. Aoshi watched as Okina's shadow slid along the floor and up the opposite wall.
"The doctor has finished examining Misao."
Aoshi's head twitched, as if he almost wanted to turn around. There was a lengthy pause as he waited for Okina to continue.
"He's downstairs drinking tea. He's ready to give out her condition."
Without waiting for Aoshi, Okina turned away.
There was a pause before Aoshi followed silently. As he neared the kitchen, he could hear the doctor's loud voice.
". . . wonder she's still alive."
There was a collective sigh from the Oniwanbanshu in the kitchen. Aoshi stayed outside of the shoji doors of the kitchen, his hand paused over the doors. Fighting his reluctance, he quietly entered.
The doctor continued his prognoses. Whether he noticed Aoshi's presence, he gave no indication.
"Yes, she's a healthy girl. It was only a concussion and luckily, there are no breaks in her skull. However, with a nasty blow to the head like that, I won't know the full extent of her injuries until she awakens."
"What do you mean, doctor?" Omasu asked.
He took another sip from his teacup and sighed before answering. "She might be disoriented, have amnesia, or lose her mind all together." He held up his hands to calm down the group as they gasped in alarm. "But it is more than likely that she'll have a mild case of amnesia and be a bit disoriented. Now, to her other injury. That wound to her head was a small part. It seems that her eyes are in a worse condition than her head. What I would like to know is how she received such an injury," he demanded, looking around the group questioningly.
"Gunpowder." Came the soft answer.
"Eh?" The doctor adjusted his spectacles at the man leaning against the doorway of the kitchen. "Yes, I know what it was that caused it, it was on her face. What I want to know is how. Did this gunpowder explode in her face and if so, how far from her face was it?"
There was a pause before he answered, "I don't know."
The doctor opened his mouth to berate more but seeing the anguish in the faces of the group, he stopped, recollected himself and continued, "The damage to her eyes is severe and it's possible that she might be blind. The child will awaken in a few days. I'll return tomorrow when you are closing. Feed her these," he pulled out small packets out from his medicine chest and handed them to Omasu, "to relieve her pain and fight infection. Mix a pinch of these in with five parts of water and these with three, separately. Give them to her two times a day. Also, change the bandages on her head twice a day and apply this ointment near the wound, not on. When she awakens or she worsens before then, summon me."
Okina and the group bowed. As Okina led the doctor out the door, he noticed that Aoshi had already slipped away. Okina sighed, hoping he would find the young man before the silly boy did anything foolish to himself.
"Okina, I understand that what you do is dangerous but you must consider the safety of the young one."
"She is happiest when she protects this city, doctor. That conflicts with the worry I have for her safety."
"What she needs is a husband to control her. Only then will she be in less trouble, and then the only reason I have to come over is to birth her babies."
Okina chuckled. "I fear her husband will need to be of equally strong of spirit to 'control' her. Besides, she'll only have one man."
"Oh, I see. That silent young man." The doctor shook his head. "Well, I know of men, strong men might I add, who are more than interested in a single woman. Give me the word and I send them to you."
"You think I haven't tried? But I'll keep your offer in mind. Good night, doctor."
"Good night, Okina."
Okina leaned on his cane, wearily watching the doctor toddle off home. Perhaps the doctor was right, the retired ninja thought. Maybe Misao needed to get married so that there would be reason for her to reduce her activities as okashira. He really wanted grandchildren to spoil. Then he shook his head. The girl was too independent, therefore reducing the number of potential husbands. Okina doubted that there would be many men who would like an independent woman. The old man narrowed his eyes as he stroked his beard, turning to walk further into the Aoiya. Speaking of men . . .
Entering the kitchen where Okon and Omasu were cleaning up, he asked them if they had seen Aoshi. The women stopped their cleaning to exchange looks before shaking their heads. When they asked if everything was alright, Okina waved away their questions, saying that it was nothing to worry about but have his tonbo's ready if he needed them. He wandered away, leaving the women flabbergasted.
He stopped in front of Aoshi's room, not really expecting him to be there as he raised his hand to slide open the shoji. Okina let out a sigh, staring into the empty room. Of course the silly boy wouldn't be here, he thought slowly sliding the door close. Then something in the room caught his attention causing him to slide the shoji open again.
Littered across the floor of the dark room were Aoshi's onmitsu clothing, bloody and beyond saving. They were thrown about as if in a tantrum, scrunched against the wall from where they had fallen. Okina's old eyes found the sheath holding the double kodachi there but instead of neatly leaning against a corner wall, it was partially buried underneath the discarded clothes.
Okina thoughtfully caressed the bow ribbon on his chin, pondering where the tall man would go, as he slid the door shut. From the mess of the room and his kodachis, it looked like Aoshi hadn't packed up and left. After spending a few moments wondering, he gave up, tapping his cane against the wooden floors. Eventually the boy would return to his room and he'll be there when he did. For now, he'll watch over Misao.
~*~
A/N: I'm stuck here and I don't know whether to post it or not but, as you can see, I've decided to post it. Let's see . . . oh, yes. Any grammatical errors and not-making-any-sense stuff are done due to lack of effort to review it. If there are any, give me any criticisms and comments. They are extremely welcome.
And as to my other fic, I've seem to lost – no, misplaced - the outline of it in my mind somehow. But! It will be updated.