Kaidan
By hye-kyo
Disclaimer: No, RK isn't mine.
Author's Notes: A sketch, very very rough. Some things might not even make sense. This is inspired by reading too much Lafcadio Hearn and watching too much J-horror. This is a one-shot. Read and review!
The horror story had impregnated the air with a resounding stillness. She had listened, and belatedly wished she had not, to one of the oba-san telling an old legend. It was one of those summer nights when they play a round of hyakumonogatari kaidankai. She had leaned against the paneled doors, the broom in her hand, as she listened closely to the tale of the forbidden love of two people that ended in brutal death. A tragic, horrifying love story.
The story took hold of her, making her flinch her eyes now and then at the sight of any movement, wary, moving with trepidation through the bamboo groves as she collected the used towels. His death was brutal; the man believed his own death not enough compensation for the death of the woman he loves.
The air was damp from the steam coming from the mineral hot springs. For an autumn night, it was rather humid and moist, the air clinging to the skin like sheen films of sweat, making the clothes unbearably uncomfortable.
She went about her duties as a cleaner, gathering used towels, removing trash, taking the bins outside where the garbage is collected every morning. She gathered her kimono with one hand, pulled the hem up, thinking what a burden wearing one was.
This summer she was going back, as she had convinced herself drudgingly, that she was going to resume studying, finish the year left and start working for a firm that pays enough. Yet, the idea of college was something she does not look forward to, perhaps the bad memories were too much, but nevertheless, since it was a step she could not probably skip, she had to deal with it.
She turned to the east entrance, made one sweep of the surroundings with her eyes and decided that it was spotless. There was only the trash that she has to dispose of. She took the entrance, rounded down the halls to the baths and gathered the bins in her hand.
The west bath she left for last, knowing it was the closest to the post where the cart picks the trash every morning. She made one turn towards the south end, almost skipped it to go to the west bath since guests rarely go there and since it was often the subject of the legends, and stepped inside the bath area to find a man by the grove.
The old lady said, in hushed tones, that the man who took his own life one winter night continuously haunted the onsen looking for his love, for the onsen was built atop the mountain, in a clearing, where the two deaths had been many many many years ago. There are a lot of variations on the story, but amidst all those speculations, all those variations in the legend, one thing remains consistent: the onsen is haunted.
"Excuse me?" she asked, her voice quivering slightly.
The man, as the moonlight shone through the thin flimsy clouds, was slight in built, his hair long and bloody red, long and reaching down his back, tied rather too tightly atop his head. The man was wearing a navy gi, she noticed it doesn't look like the yukatas she leaves in the rooms of the guests every morning for those were white for males and yellow for females. The navy gi had that sheen on it, something perhaps brought by the moon, for it seemed to emit a soft glow.
"Excuse me sir…but uhmm…it's already late and the area is restricted until tomorrow morning…it's dangerous at night with the bears hunting…you better go inside sir and—"
The man abruptly turned around. His amber orbs fixed on her, he took a step closer.
Transfixed, she opened her mouth to speak but no words came out.
"I am Himura Kenshin," he said, his mouth seemed not to have moved. In a fluid movement he was standing close to her, his hand underneath her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes.
"Kaoru…Kamiya Kaoru," she croaked her name aloud unwittingly as the man's thumb stroked her chin lazily.
He smiled slightly, a little smugly and he leaned forward to whisper, "Be my bride."
Her eyes widened as her heart palpitated. The soft murmur of his voice reverberated in her ears as his face came closer and closer still…
She woke up to the sound of the morning bells being rung. She got up, felt an ache shot through her head and groaned. She looked around, felt like something had happened that she should remember. But no matter how hard she tried she just could not remember.
She sat up, started arranging her beddings for she would stow them in the cabinets and almost shrieked when she saw dried droplets of blood. She furrowed her brows. Monthly cycle? She frowned. Perhaps she should keep count of when to expect it, now she stained the sheets.
She removed the sheets, gathered it to one side and started folding the beddings. She would have to help fix breakfast for the guests.
After putting away the beddings, she looked at herself in the mirror and found a little swelling on her lower lip. She furrowed her brows again, perhaps she scratched it or something. And as expected, there were matching stains on her sleepwear. She removed it, put on a fresh one and went to the nearest bath house to clean up.
There was a new guest that morning. A man with auburn hair and golden eyes. She crinkled her nose when she saw him, feeling something very familiar about the man. Perhaps she had seen him somewhere, but with his features, she knew that if she had seen him before she would most likely remember him.
But she doesn't. So that probably meant she had not encountered him before.
She watched as he bowed politely to the old lady who was now giggling and flirting unceremoniously as she led him to his room. She was asked to carry the bags but seeing that the man had not brought much except for a little black pouch, which to her seemed like a wallet, she found no reason to stay longer.
"Kaoru dear," the old lady said, "Do you mind getting Himura-san a change of clothes?"
She wrinkled her nose and nodded. She bowed politely and caught him looking at her just before she left. He smiled, a little malevolently, which made her furrow her brows even more.
She was cleaning the west bath when she chanced upon him, or rather he chanced upon her. She took a little step away from him which he matched as he stepped closer. She frowned, made a face and took a turn around him but he caught her wrist.
"Excuse me?" her brows shot up.
"You are unafraid now. I wonder why," he said smugly, his drawl lazy, telling her that he had all the time in the world to vex her.
"Would you please let me go sir," she tried to break free but his hold was like steel, an iron grip on her wrist. She could now see the red imprints on her wrist when he loosened his grip a little.
He smiled, brought her wrist up to his lips and kissed it.
She flushed and in a rush pulled her wrist back and hit his face. She was heaving when she saw the reddening on his cheeks.
He only smiled, lifted a hand to touch his cheeks and said in a voice that made her knees buckle beneath her, "You will come to me soon." And he turned around, his every step elegant, as if rehearsed, fluid and was gone.
She collapsed on her knees and brought her wrist up to look at it. There was something profoundly familiar with the man, yet entirely foreign. She knew he was dangerous and she knew she should get away from him.
The next day she found herself cleaning near the south gate. She had avoided going near the men's baths, afraid she'd encounter the man and volunteered to take care of the baths at the south instead. One of the oba-san quickly accommodated her request, knowing no one would volunteer going to the south end because of the legends.
She knew, though she was scared of course, that legends are merely legends and that haunted or not, she is going to clean this bath area. Besides she would not need much time since the area is rarely occupied. She was gathering a couple of unused towels when she heard a rasping sound behind her. Immediately she calmed herself, took in a mouthful of air and whispered in a sing-song manner, "Legends are merely legends…"
"What if they are not?"
She froze. And as if time was in slow motion she felt her whole body being jerked around, the greens and woods blurring in her eyes, only the amber stays burning through her as a mouth crashed against her.
She remembered going into the woods one night in her university days, a summer after she started working here as a part-timer. She went back to the university to file her LOA, drank half a beer bottle, she was not the drinking type, with her best friend and tried to find her way into the dark back to her dorm room. She stopped at some unknown intersection, groped through the dark only to find herself back in that same intersection. She suddenly remembered the feeling, hazy, drunk, lost, as the mouth molded against her own, her throat dry and her limbs going limp with every caress of the tongue, every deepening of the kiss.
The kiss lasted an eternity and by the time she could finally breathe again the sun had shifted in the sky and everything was bright. She found herself on her futon, warm, and felt the rays against her face.
"Good morning."
She shifted, she knew the voice, she could feel the shock going through her, from her feet to her neck, paralyzing her, yet she felt safe, surprisingly safe.
"Good morning," he whispered, an arm around her waist and immediately she found herself standing, across a room, an old room watching the man talking with another person.
She turned around, saw that he was not there and stared back at the two talking people. She walked closer, found that they were not talking but fighting and that one of them was the red-haired guest at the onsen. His scar was different, almost incomplete in a sense and she wondered when this is. The whole thing did not make sense but somehow, everything felt unexpectedly sane.
She blinked, a cloud gathering and the moment she blinked again and then there was snow, snow everywhere, and blood and she could see the redhead man with blood on his face, from his chest, from his stomach. It seemed as if there was blood everywhere. She felt tears down her cheeks. And there she was, right before her eyes, a dagger in her chest, tears on her face, the very same tear-stricken face she has now.
"Don't cry," he whispered, a caress to her ear and she turned around, trying to find the source of the voice and she could see the man holding a sword, readying to strike his own flesh, his own beautiful flesh.
"Now do you see?" this time she did not turn yet she felt herself involuntarily turning. Her blue eyes meeting amber ones. And she could almost feel his mouth against hers as he murmured the next words which would make her more confused, "I apologize for making you wait."
She woke up to find herself on the tatami floor of her bedroom. She rubbed her eyes, it was almost dusk, warm orange light peering through the shoji. She held her head, felt a sting coming and closed her eyes once more.
Dream? She took in a deep breath, turned around and felt warmth she knew her body didn't emit on the side of her futon. It was almost caved in, a weight against it probably a couple of minutes earlier before she woke up. She knew it wasn't her, for the scent was different, the feel was different, the warmth was different.
She sat up, scanned her surroundings and took in another sharp breath. She stood up, went to the door, slid it open a little and took in the scent of dusk. She leaned against the door. Nothing in her dream made sense to her.
"Nothing still?" she almost screamed had it not for the mouth covering her own. She opened her eyes wide to see the most intense amber orbs she had ever seen. His kiss was drugging, unforgiving, and he sent her flat against the wall, a hand on her abdomen, another on her two hands above her head.
The kiss ended as abruptly as it began and she took in a mouthful of air, sweat beading along her forehead and neck. She felt fear, and excitement?
"Still nothing makes sense to you?" he asked, his voice deep, sensual, as if beckoning her to come.
And it struck her when she felt her own body moving towards him, as if she was doing it on purpose, as if she was wanting to go to him all along. She thought of stopping herself but could not. She felt too tired, too weak to stop. And he felt warm.
"I don't even know you," she said, feeling herself being stripped off of her yukata.
"You do," he smiled, a smile that caused her to moan. He smiled again, pecked at her lips and watched as she removed the remaining of her clothing.
"I can't stop," she said, almost crying, she wanted him so badly.
"I know. You should not. Do not." He said, as he traced her body with his eyes.
"Who are you?" she felt it hard to speak, it was as if his eyes alone could make her scream. She could feel the caress of his gaze, felt her whole body trembling and almost collapsed on the floor had he not caught her in his arms.
"Me?" he asked, stopping before claiming her mouth once again, "I am your destined." And he brought his hand up to show her a red thread tied to his finger and without thinking she brought her own up as well and saw the very same thread on her own.
She abruptly opened her eyes, her chest heaving, her whole body trembling. Another dream? She sat up, scanned her room with nervous eyes and saw that she was still wearing her yukata. She almost sighed, had it not for the sudden knock on her shoji.
"Kaoru," it was oba-san.
She felt tears on her eyes, her chest heaving more. She swallowed hard, stood up and realized her knees were trembling and she collapsed on the floor.
Oba-san quickly slid open the door, let out a concerned shriek when she saw her on the floor and helped her to her mattress. "Are you alright?"
"Yes…" she tried to control her breathing. There were tears on her eyes, "Thank you."
"I heard you screaming…a name…" oba-san's brows were furrowed.
"I had a dream."
Oba-san was more or less relieved when she heard it was a dream. After some reminders, change your clothes, drink water, pray to Kami, oba-san left.
It was then that she wondered why she said it was a dream and not a nightmare. And she could not remember ever screaming a name. And if she did, whose name?
A/n: So what do you think about it? Too sketchy?