Rain. He could feel it on his face; millions of tiny cold droplets mingling with his blood. Blood.......it was everywhere. He could smell its strong stench, feel it matting his hair and soaking his clothes. And pain...an all-consuming fire rending his body and twisting him into convulsions. But he could feel it getting duller and duller....as if he was going further and further away, into an unknown world where pain could trouble him no longer. Memories of a certain rooster-haired lad flitted through his mind, and his eyes grew strangely misty. *Sayonara, Sanosuke-chan.. please forgive me...*
"Damn this weather," muttered Natsumi, pulling her shawl more closely around her. She felt chilled to the bone, and her wet fringe hung limply in her eyes, making her path rather difficult to see. *Mou, why did I ever go out to collect herbs tonight? Old Kuno-sensei said he smelt rain....I should've listened to him, dammit.....*"aaackkkkk!!!!"
She shrieked as she tripped and fell over something in her path. Cursing in a way fit to make a sailor blush, she picked herself up, brushing her kimono to rid it of some of the dirt and.......blood?!?!?!? She quickly turned to look at the "thing" she had tripped over...
"Oh, Kami-sama," she whispered, putting a hand over her mouth. The sight of blood was no big deal to an experienced doctor like herself, but she had never before witnessed anyone who had been murdered. The man who lay at her feet, in the tangled growth, had been riddled with bullets. He had surely lost too much blood.......noone could have survived such a thing......yet , even though she herself didn't know why, Natsumi stooped and checked his pulse. Her heart leapt when she felt a throb in his wrist; faint, erratic, but a sure sign of life. Then, with amazing strength, she carried him over one shoulder, and stumbled off towards the nearest house.
Captain Sagara sat up and rubbed his eyes. A shaft of light streamed through a window next to his futon, casting shadows on the plain wall nearby. He blinked. Light......it seemed like something from a distant memory....something which he had last enjoyed a long, long time ago. He rubbed his eyes again. He had been having strange, dark dreams , he decided. Dreams of being shot, and being in pain for what seemed to be an eternity. Dreams of fever, delirium, bitter medicines, splitting headaches. But...wait.....he remembered a person in those dreams. He remembered a soft voice and gentle hands stroking his forehead, coaxing him to sleep and forget about the terrible pain. He remembered hands pouring water and medicines into his mouth, and applying salve that soothed the pain. And raven-black hair and deep brown eyes........he remembered those too...
"So you're awake, I see," a familiar voice said from the doorway, only it didn't sound very gentle now. "Took a right long time about it, if I may say so. Many a days I had half a mind to throw your sorry self out the door. I'll bet you've only been playing sick all this while, trying to get my sympathy and free board and lodgings."
Captain Sagara stared at the woman standing in the doorway. Dark, silky black hair framed her fair face and fell to her waist. She was wearing a plain doctor's robe over her deep purple kimono, and she held a tray with an assortment of odd-looking things on it. So this was the woman who had taken care of him...
"Now what are YOU staring at me for? You men are all the same.... annoying, useless rascals, always looking to take advantage of a kind soul," she said, irately, walking swiftly into the room to kneel by his futon. She felt his forehead and neck, and for a moment Sagara thought he saw a smile flicker across her face. But she bent down and quickly began unloading all the items from her tray. "These are to heal your wounds; mix the brown herbs with the black powder in hot water and drink it. Also, drink a mixture of orange herbs with red powder; I know it tastes bitter but you'd better drink all of it, or ELSE." In a similar tone, she gave half-a-dozen other instructions to him, then stood up and walked out of the room before he could even open his mouth. Sagara looked down, bewildered, at the roots, powder and herbs in front of him. Shrugging, he dunked the brown herbs into the hot water together with red powder and began drinking.
As the days wore on, Sagara's strength increased, and so did his interest in the woman who took care of him. It wasn't so much her beauty that intrigued him, but rather her patience, compassion and kindliness, masked by a sharp tongue and an irate, brusque front. Her skill in her career also wasn't to be trifled with; only a week had passed since he had first awoken and he was already feeling as good as new. Soon she began sitting down with him for hours at a time, talking with him to ease his loneliness.However, neither of them ever alluded to their past, and the other never asked.
One day, while Natsumi was out collecting herbs, Sagara entered her room, broom and dustpan in hand. True, she had only asked him to clean his own room and the kitchen, but he decided it wouldn't hurt to do a little extra in return for all the help she'd given him. As he folded up her futon, he saw something tucked under the pillow....it was a very artistic sketch, of herself, a fair-haired man, and a little girl of about seven, also with raven-coloured hair. Nani? he wondered. This must be her family....but why doesn't she live with them? Her husband and daughter....are they....?
"Kisama!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Natsumi's voice exploded from behind him. She snatched the picture from him, stuffed it into the sleeve of her kimono, then faced him, eyes blazing and hands at her hips. "What..WHAT do you think you are doing in my room, baka!?! Did I not EXPRESSLY tell you to sweep ONLY your room and the kitchen?!? Are you deaf, or is your brain so sadly lacking in intelligence as to be unable to process the simplest of instructions?!"
Sagara started. Her eyes were pools of fiery anger, but there was something else in them that pierced him; moved him with compassion and a longing to understand her. She was hurt....grieved beyond words.
Without even thinking, he bent to embrace her, to hold her to him as he had held five-year-old Sanosuke when he had skinned his knee on a rock. He half-expected her to push him away and slap him, but instead she clung to him, letting the tears flow freely.
"Natsumi...."
"You don't know how it feels, do you? You don't know how it feels to lose the person you loved most in your life....and your only daughter..."
"I'm sorry, I...."
"The fire....such a terrible fire...I saw his remains.....charred and blackened.........and she.......they never found her...she must be dead, too..."
He could think of nothing to say; everything seemed trivial in the face of her loss. A husband and a daughter both lost on the same day.....he could only imagine her devastation. He merely stroked her back, offering sympathy without words, as she wept on his shoulder, letting out her grief and pain.
As suddenly as she had broken into tears, she pulled away, gathering what was left of her composure. "I don't know what got into me...bawling like a little girl at the mere sight of a picture," she said, quietly, looking away from him. "You'd better go away, Sagara....you're bad for my mental health."
He fixed his eyes on her steadily. "Natsumi.....I never told you this before. I once had a young member of my troop, who was dearer than a son to me. He trusted me in everything I said; he truly believed in the Seikhoutai as I did myself. But....we were betrayed....all of us. The look of confusion on his innocent face when the Ishinshishi came to execute us was more than I could bear...."
He paused to steady his voice. "I threw him down into a ravine where he couldn't be seen. I thought he'd have a better chance of surviving that way, than if he faced our pursuers....but.....even then I honestly doubted that he could have survived the fall. And if he did, how would he survive alone, in the wild? I, his protector, the only father he had ever known, had failed him."
The familiar wave of grief and guilt flowed through him, yet, surprisingly, he felt a if a huge weight had been lifted from him. Natsumi looked at him, and he knew that she understood him just as he understood her.... For a moment, all barriers broke and all pretences dissolved, and they shared each others' burdens as only people bonded by grief can.
After a long while, Natsumi managed a small smile and brought out the picture from her sleeve. "Takani Megumi...my only daughter....isn't she beautiful? I sketched this picture the day i began teaching her about medicine.....the look of wonder and excitement on her face was so lovely, I wanted to capture it forever. I wanted to have a lasting memorial of the love shared between the three of us................I have searched for her high and low for her ever since then, keeping this picture always beneath my pillow......through all the lonely, despairing nights, it was the only thing that gave me strength, and reminded me of my family.."
"Well, who knows?? As soon as I get well I intend to scour the whole of Japan for Sanosuke......and if you come with me, why, we might find your Megumi too. Nothing is ever beyond hope, you know."
She looked doubtful. "Travel? With you? What will people think?"
"Well, if you insist, I don't mind making it such that what they think of us will be the truth..."
She narrowed her brows "Out!" she bellowed.
"Now, now, Natsumi..."
Her finger pointed firmly at the door."Out!"
"Why??"
"I want to pack my stuff, that's why."
He grinned, probably for the first time in weeks. "So you ARE coming along...."
"Damn this weather," muttered Natsumi, pulling her shawl more closely around her. She felt chilled to the bone, and her wet fringe hung limply in her eyes, making her path rather difficult to see. *Mou, why did I ever go out to collect herbs tonight? Old Kuno-sensei said he smelt rain....I should've listened to him, dammit.....*"aaackkkkk!!!!"
She shrieked as she tripped and fell over something in her path. Cursing in a way fit to make a sailor blush, she picked herself up, brushing her kimono to rid it of some of the dirt and.......blood?!?!?!? She quickly turned to look at the "thing" she had tripped over...
"Oh, Kami-sama," she whispered, putting a hand over her mouth. The sight of blood was no big deal to an experienced doctor like herself, but she had never before witnessed anyone who had been murdered. The man who lay at her feet, in the tangled growth, had been riddled with bullets. He had surely lost too much blood.......noone could have survived such a thing......yet , even though she herself didn't know why, Natsumi stooped and checked his pulse. Her heart leapt when she felt a throb in his wrist; faint, erratic, but a sure sign of life. Then, with amazing strength, she carried him over one shoulder, and stumbled off towards the nearest house.
Captain Sagara sat up and rubbed his eyes. A shaft of light streamed through a window next to his futon, casting shadows on the plain wall nearby. He blinked. Light......it seemed like something from a distant memory....something which he had last enjoyed a long, long time ago. He rubbed his eyes again. He had been having strange, dark dreams , he decided. Dreams of being shot, and being in pain for what seemed to be an eternity. Dreams of fever, delirium, bitter medicines, splitting headaches. But...wait.....he remembered a person in those dreams. He remembered a soft voice and gentle hands stroking his forehead, coaxing him to sleep and forget about the terrible pain. He remembered hands pouring water and medicines into his mouth, and applying salve that soothed the pain. And raven-black hair and deep brown eyes........he remembered those too...
"So you're awake, I see," a familiar voice said from the doorway, only it didn't sound very gentle now. "Took a right long time about it, if I may say so. Many a days I had half a mind to throw your sorry self out the door. I'll bet you've only been playing sick all this while, trying to get my sympathy and free board and lodgings."
Captain Sagara stared at the woman standing in the doorway. Dark, silky black hair framed her fair face and fell to her waist. She was wearing a plain doctor's robe over her deep purple kimono, and she held a tray with an assortment of odd-looking things on it. So this was the woman who had taken care of him...
"Now what are YOU staring at me for? You men are all the same.... annoying, useless rascals, always looking to take advantage of a kind soul," she said, irately, walking swiftly into the room to kneel by his futon. She felt his forehead and neck, and for a moment Sagara thought he saw a smile flicker across her face. But she bent down and quickly began unloading all the items from her tray. "These are to heal your wounds; mix the brown herbs with the black powder in hot water and drink it. Also, drink a mixture of orange herbs with red powder; I know it tastes bitter but you'd better drink all of it, or ELSE." In a similar tone, she gave half-a-dozen other instructions to him, then stood up and walked out of the room before he could even open his mouth. Sagara looked down, bewildered, at the roots, powder and herbs in front of him. Shrugging, he dunked the brown herbs into the hot water together with red powder and began drinking.
As the days wore on, Sagara's strength increased, and so did his interest in the woman who took care of him. It wasn't so much her beauty that intrigued him, but rather her patience, compassion and kindliness, masked by a sharp tongue and an irate, brusque front. Her skill in her career also wasn't to be trifled with; only a week had passed since he had first awoken and he was already feeling as good as new. Soon she began sitting down with him for hours at a time, talking with him to ease his loneliness.However, neither of them ever alluded to their past, and the other never asked.
One day, while Natsumi was out collecting herbs, Sagara entered her room, broom and dustpan in hand. True, she had only asked him to clean his own room and the kitchen, but he decided it wouldn't hurt to do a little extra in return for all the help she'd given him. As he folded up her futon, he saw something tucked under the pillow....it was a very artistic sketch, of herself, a fair-haired man, and a little girl of about seven, also with raven-coloured hair. Nani? he wondered. This must be her family....but why doesn't she live with them? Her husband and daughter....are they....?
"Kisama!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Natsumi's voice exploded from behind him. She snatched the picture from him, stuffed it into the sleeve of her kimono, then faced him, eyes blazing and hands at her hips. "What..WHAT do you think you are doing in my room, baka!?! Did I not EXPRESSLY tell you to sweep ONLY your room and the kitchen?!? Are you deaf, or is your brain so sadly lacking in intelligence as to be unable to process the simplest of instructions?!"
Sagara started. Her eyes were pools of fiery anger, but there was something else in them that pierced him; moved him with compassion and a longing to understand her. She was hurt....grieved beyond words.
Without even thinking, he bent to embrace her, to hold her to him as he had held five-year-old Sanosuke when he had skinned his knee on a rock. He half-expected her to push him away and slap him, but instead she clung to him, letting the tears flow freely.
"Natsumi...."
"You don't know how it feels, do you? You don't know how it feels to lose the person you loved most in your life....and your only daughter..."
"I'm sorry, I...."
"The fire....such a terrible fire...I saw his remains.....charred and blackened.........and she.......they never found her...she must be dead, too..."
He could think of nothing to say; everything seemed trivial in the face of her loss. A husband and a daughter both lost on the same day.....he could only imagine her devastation. He merely stroked her back, offering sympathy without words, as she wept on his shoulder, letting out her grief and pain.
As suddenly as she had broken into tears, she pulled away, gathering what was left of her composure. "I don't know what got into me...bawling like a little girl at the mere sight of a picture," she said, quietly, looking away from him. "You'd better go away, Sagara....you're bad for my mental health."
He fixed his eyes on her steadily. "Natsumi.....I never told you this before. I once had a young member of my troop, who was dearer than a son to me. He trusted me in everything I said; he truly believed in the Seikhoutai as I did myself. But....we were betrayed....all of us. The look of confusion on his innocent face when the Ishinshishi came to execute us was more than I could bear...."
He paused to steady his voice. "I threw him down into a ravine where he couldn't be seen. I thought he'd have a better chance of surviving that way, than if he faced our pursuers....but.....even then I honestly doubted that he could have survived the fall. And if he did, how would he survive alone, in the wild? I, his protector, the only father he had ever known, had failed him."
The familiar wave of grief and guilt flowed through him, yet, surprisingly, he felt a if a huge weight had been lifted from him. Natsumi looked at him, and he knew that she understood him just as he understood her.... For a moment, all barriers broke and all pretences dissolved, and they shared each others' burdens as only people bonded by grief can.
After a long while, Natsumi managed a small smile and brought out the picture from her sleeve. "Takani Megumi...my only daughter....isn't she beautiful? I sketched this picture the day i began teaching her about medicine.....the look of wonder and excitement on her face was so lovely, I wanted to capture it forever. I wanted to have a lasting memorial of the love shared between the three of us................I have searched for her high and low for her ever since then, keeping this picture always beneath my pillow......through all the lonely, despairing nights, it was the only thing that gave me strength, and reminded me of my family.."
"Well, who knows?? As soon as I get well I intend to scour the whole of Japan for Sanosuke......and if you come with me, why, we might find your Megumi too. Nothing is ever beyond hope, you know."
She looked doubtful. "Travel? With you? What will people think?"
"Well, if you insist, I don't mind making it such that what they think of us will be the truth..."
She narrowed her brows "Out!" she bellowed.
"Now, now, Natsumi..."
Her finger pointed firmly at the door."Out!"
"Why??"
"I want to pack my stuff, that's why."
He grinned, probably for the first time in weeks. "So you ARE coming along...."