All That Within by Charlene

Standard disclaimers apply

The heat weighed scorchingly down upon their backs, making it seem like their light packages weighed a thousand times more. Each step was trod with less vigour and energy than the last. It didn't help either, that both travellers were silent and that the stillness, broken only by the fatigued crunch of gravel, was almost suffocating.

At last, the girl—a fairly young and underdeveloped specimen of her gender, spoke, a tinge of desperation seeping inadvertently into her words, "I wonder how Himura and the others are doing." The girl's eyes stole a glance at her partner's face and darkened with disappointment when they saw his expression.

She immediately quietened, and hardly another word was exchanged between the pair for the rest of the journey.

When, finally, shadows fell upon the pair with merciful coolness softening and gradually dissolving the sun's glare, they stopped in a small clearing where the man built a fire swiftly, and bade the girl sit down. She dropped to the ground gratefully, barely stifling a huge yawn that escaped her lips. The twilight thickened, cool shadows caressed their sleeping forms as the trees whispered their secrets.

Misao half grimaced as she felt her head throb. Even as she opened her eyes, the memory of the previous day materialised in her sharp mind. Was it morning…? No, it was still dark, except for the silvery pools of light the full moon made on the ground next to her. She inclined her head to check on Aoshi, and was relieved and a little amused to find that he was sleeping, his back against a tree, his kodachi resting gently in his limp grasp.

A secret smile crept to her lips. She had not seen him sleep before her so peacefully since she was six. Fully awake now, she rolled over so that her back was on the ground and she was facing the sky fully. Her gaze traced the moon's silver outline idly. I wonder if he'll ever be able to love me…

No?

Maybe?

Yes?

Yes.

Hot embarrassment flushed her cheeks as she snapped herself out of her dream. Baka! she inwardly berated herself. Watashi wa honto ni baka! Sixteen years old and still holding these mindless fantasies. Still childish, still immature.

Dissipating the disconcerting thoughts with a vigorous shake of her head, Misao rolled back over onto her stomach and studied the hard flat soil. "I would really appreciate it if you could get Tomoe's journal from the temple and bring it here, to Tokyo. You don't know how much this means to me, Misao. The outcome of Kenshin's battle with Enishi depends on this…"

Poor Kaoru. It was tough, loving a warrior. Always worrying, always anxious. It had come as a shock when her letter had arrived, because it had never occurred to her that Himura had ever had a wife. She could just imagine how her seventeen year old friend must've felt. How would she feel if she found out Aoshi had been married before? She squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to explore such a painful possibility.

But what had his now deceased wife been like? She couldn't help wondering whether she was like Kaoru, fun-loving and excessively…well, violent. Kaoru had mentioned her name, Yukishiro Tomoe. But no matter how she tried, she could not draw any clues from the name alone and her guesses made either no sense, or too much sense to be true.

Pouting sulkily, she twisted around to rummage through her travelling package to find something to do. It contained some clothes, other necessities, kunai…and the journal. Of course! she chided herself for being so dense. She had Tomoe's journal!

Eagerly, she grabbed it, gripping the yellowed pages with relish. She was vaguely aware of a twinge of guilt in some distant part of her mind, but, being the weasel girl she was, ignored it as best her conscience allowed her to. She flipped it open, choosing to ignore the cloud of dust that billowed up in the cool night air, thumbing the brittle pages enthusiastically.

…I saw him for the first time today. He was very young and small-built, hardly the man I imagined him to be. The first thing I noticed about him, though was the scar. They told me Kyosato had given him that, as a mark of his desperate frenzy to hang on to his life. They told me to observe him from afar, never too near, for he was the Battousai. He was drinking sake with a rather uncouth loudmouthed man. He was handsome, in a strange boyish way, and I could hardly believe he was the one. They said he was, though, and I believed them, for I had to. I observed the two from a dark corner of the restaurant, until the moon rose high up in the sky, and the sound of crickets resonated through the restaurant. Then I went home.

Misao frowned, re-reading the words again. Who was this man Kyosato who had given Himura his scar? Kaoru hadn't mentioned a Kyosato in the letter. She wrinkled her nose. What a boring entry. Nevertheless, she skipped a few pages and read on.

"…he had just come home, and was washing in the back room. I had been waiting up for him, and didn't sleep. It seems I hardly sleep anymore. Always I am waiting for someone, or doing some embroidery, or busying myself with something else. I went in to meet him, and as I entered, he barely lifted his head to acknowledge my presence. I got him a cloth, and he took it silently. I could smell blood in the air, thick and poisonous. He did not say a word. At last I could bear it no longer. 'Are you going to keep on killing like this? Night after night?' My voice was very soft and very clear and I was sure he had heard me. But he gave no answer."

"…the sky was very blue, and it was cool. We went down the worn down path toward the market, which was bustling and full of people and noise. It was the first time in a long while that I had been around others. We saw some fish, and we bought two for the dinner that night. He bought me a round mirror too. It was the first time he had ever bought me anything. I smiled at him as I took it, and I think he understood."

Misao closed the book gently. She gave a great wide yawn, and set it down beside her. She had no idea Himura's past wife had been so dull. She stretched lazily like a cat, and was about to roll over to continue sleeping, but something made her stop and throw the battered book another glance.

The soft silver moonlight seemed to ripple as it pooled upon the pages. The air was suddenly unbearably thick. Misao felt the hard unwelcoming ground beneath her, and sighed. "What have I got to lose…" she murmured, as she reached for it once again, bringing it to her. This time she opened it from the back.

Empty.

A few pages.

Still empty.

She flipped until black spidery strokes filled the pages, where she stopped and started reading again.

"I told him about my past last night. I told him about my family, o-tousan, o-kaasan, and Enishi-kun in Edo. I told him about my fiancee. About how he left, how much I missed him, how much I wished for someone to hate—a face, a name! My smile vanished with him, when he left. My being dissolved. I told him I needed so badly to hate someone, something, or else I'd go insane…and he took me close. I was scared, when he did that, not knowing why I did not pull away, only knowing what he said, what he did. I cried in his arms, I cried and cried, all the hate inside me burned a deep hole. It was the first time I had ever cried in front of anyone since I was ten. I didn't cry, when I heard Kyosato had died. I never cried. It was never real for me, his death. And even less so his killer. He told me his past, while we huddled together under a blanket. I had never felt as close to him as this. He told me that he realized he had taken innocent lives, that he knew he was merely a murderer, nothing else because no matter what he fought for, his hands were still stained dark crimson. I wanted to tell him that even if all the families of his victims never forgave him, there was still but one. And that one was all that mattered. He said that he would protect all the happiness I had lost, and I felt something within me flicker to life. It was the first night I had slept fitfully since his death. But there was an air of finality when I opened my eyes. I felt it as I got up, I thought it as I dressed. I know it as I write. No one is going to die for me again. I am not going to see, taste or smell anymore blood. Should I leave a letter behind to explain everything? No. What is there to tell? All that was to be told had been told already. I can still hear him breathing. The snow is falling lightly outside, it is time. I must go."

That was it. That was the end. Misao stared disbelievingly at the expanse of white space after the last few words. What happened? What happened after that? She turned the pages frantically, her eyes scanning desperately. "Yukishiro Enishi, the brother of Kenshin's ex-wife, has come back for revenge. Tomoe, Kenshin's ex-wife, had been killed in an accident, and Enishi was traumatized. He has come back to kill Kenshin…" Kaoru's anxious words came back to her.

With a great quiet sadness, Misao let the book fall close. She had loved so entirely, knowing all the while that he was her fiancee's killer. And she had paid, oh how she had paid. Misao placed her head upon the journal and ached for the woman she never knew.

"Misao." She jolted awake, squinting as the light stabbed at her eyes. "We must leave if we hope to make it there before evening." A plethora of perceptions swamped her as she stumbled to her feet groggily. She remembered. The sun was still low and the sweltering afternoon heat was still mercifully at bay.

She rubbed at her eyes as she grabbed Tomoe's diary and stuffed it back into her package. She could feel the question in the air, unvoiced. "I was scared it would get lost," she offered lamely to the watching Aoshi. He nodded.

They set off again, this time faster than ever, for Tokyo was almost in sight by now. No longer were they making their way through thick undergrowth and wild grass and gravel, but they were now on a cleared pathway, which had obviously been used several times before. It was as quiet as the day before, maybe even more so.

But Misao didn't seem to find the quietude the least bit uncomfortable. For she now walked with a sort of glimmer about her, a knowing that bounced with each step she took. Aoshi seemed to find this amusing, slowing his step a little to find out what had raised his companion's spirits so. Glancing down at her small perky face, he was pleasantly surprised to receive a sunny smile.

Misao, meanwhile, felt his curiosity in the air, loved the heady feeling of it, and strode on, the knowledge that a love that had existed in Tomoe's heart had always existed in hers, warm in her small chest.

OWARI