I am the worst kind of person. Here I am, starting a new fic when I already have two more uncompleted works already published. I know that I owe you all an update for Solitude, but I couldn't focus on my projects for that until I got this out of my head and onto some paper. I am so, so, so sorry. Hopefully you all will enjoy it and bear with my atrocious update schedule.
As always, a huge thank you to my readers and reviewers. Your feedback makes my day!
Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin. If I did, I would be demanding not only an animated Jinchuu Arc but a live-action one as well, because I'm greedy like that.
"And it rained upon the earth forty days and forty nights."
-7:12
It's everywhere.
It's seeping into his clothes, into his hair, into the ground; anywhere but back into his skin. The rain is torrential and roaring like gunfire off of the lids of metal trashcans. It makes his already aching head throb and distorts the gray-scaled world around him. It's hard to hear anything over the rainfall and his own ragged breathing so it's impossible to tell if he's been followed. It's a miracle that he'd managed to outrun them as long as he has to begin with.
The only thing that he can focus on is the sound of the pouring rain, the pulsating blood in his ears, and the loud groan of hunger his stomach gives. Between the hunger pains and the blood loss from his arm, it's difficult to keep steady. The world tilts on its axis, off and spinning like a top. His vision swims and he staggers, smashing against the rough brick wall and collapsing onto a pile of trash behind a dumpster. He struggles to push himself up onto his arms but the effort makes his abdomen scream in protest and he falls back down, hard, onto the pavement.
The freezing rain feels like shards of glass against his back as he tries to catch his breath. It comes in short, broken gasps that puff out like smoke from his split and bleeding lips. The small portion of his mind that is still coherent enough to form thought shrieks for him to move, now, or you're going to die! But it's a small enough thought that it's easy to ignore, and he instead focuses his hazy amethyst gaze on the way the murky red dripping from his arm bleeds into a rusty pink in the puddle beside him. The pavement is like ice against his cheek, the cold creeping into his veins and freezing his blood. It's not a pleasant end, he supposes, but it's one that he feels is well deserved.
The wind raises a din and the rain continues to pelt down on him like blades of judgment. In silent concession, his eyes fall shut and he dreams of wilting camellias.
Genesis
Kaoru tugs uselessly at the thick woolen scarf tangled around her slender neck in a vain attempt to stave off the chilling wind. Usually she revels in the rainfall and the cathartic renewal it brings, but tonight it is miserable and relentless and she curses under her breath about the luxuries of automobiles and takeout. Granted, the walk to the store is not far by any means. It's only about a block down the street from her flat; her morning jog easily covers over three times the distance. However, with the rain battering down the way it is, she is less than enthused about having to lug home groceries.
On her way down the street she passes a small yatai that stubbornly refuses to close despite the weather and the scent of fresh oden that floats on the cold air makes her stomach grumble jealously. Even though she's lived alone since she was seventeen, Kaoru's cooking skills are tremendously underwhelming. The memory of this morning's charred fish and half-cooked rice make the idea of sitting down at the food stand an incredibly tempting one, but a quick reminder as to why she's pinching so much to begin with gives her the willpower to continue on.
Only a little more until I have the down payment, Kaoru thinks, patting her stomach. The wind nips at her face and tugs at her umbrella, so she quickens her pace as her mind wanders to the small building that she's put all of her hopes and paychecks into. If suffering through her own abysmal cooking skills for a while is what it takes to realize her father's dream, she thinks determinedly, then so be it.
A particularly strong gust of wind bellows down the street, tearing Kaoru's attention from her thoughts and her umbrella from her hand. It dances away from her reach and down a side alley where it tumbles along the pavement until finally settling in a dirty puddle beside a dumpster. The twenty year old clicks her tongue in an annoyed fashion, running a hand through her hair. In the few moments that she's been without her umbrella, it's already soaked and sticking like cling wrap to her cold-flushed cheeks.
"Wonderful." She mumbles.
The umbrella is a loud pop of yellow against the rain-drenched backdrop of the alleyway, so it's easy to spot amongst the piles of trash surrounding it. Kaoru makes it over to the umbrella in a few short strides and scoops it up, shaking it out to get the off the grime and—
Blood?
Kaoru stares at the rusty red stains splattered across the canary yellow plastic, confused because that can't possibly be— and then the smell hits her. Beneath the saturated smell of ozone there's a lingering stench of copper. It's a smell that she is intimately acquainted with from being clumsy in the kitchen and careless during kendo practice. It's dulled from the rainfall, but there is no mistaking it.
"What in the—"
She looks down towards the puddle that she had just retrieved her umbrella from and sure enough, it's tinged red and reeks of metal. Kaoru's heart nearly stops when she notices a pale, slender hand sticking out from behind the dumpster.
"Oh my God!" She cries, dropping her umbrella and rushing over. She shoves some garbage out of the way and tosses a couple of trash bags behind her before she can clearly see who is beneath the rubbish. Her hand shoots to her mouth in shock.
The man is young with tangled auburn hair that falls free from the thick piece of string tying it back at the nape of his neck. He's dressed in a pair of tattered denim jeans and a patchy brown coat with a deep purple scarf, all of which are soaked through with water and blood. Between the mud and layers of clothing, Kaoru can't tell where the source of the bleeding is coming from. She's careful as she turns him over to examine his face. It too is covered in blood, dry and crusted beneath his nose and down his chin and over his eye. If it wasn't for the short, shallow rasps of his breathing, Kaoru would have thought he were dead.
"What happened to you?" She asks, trying to help him sit up. The man makes a weak groan of pain, but otherwise is unresponsive. She furrows her brow, concern knotting in her gut.
"Don't worry, you're going to be alright. Help will be here soon," Kaoru rattles, frantically feeling around for her cellphone and swearing when she realizes it's on her coffee table at home. She looks down at the wounded man, biting her lip. It's a half an hour's walk to the ER and from the man's state, she doubts he could make the walk even if she carried him. In comparison, her home is barely five minutes away. Her decision takes little thought.
"I'm gonna get you out of here, but you're going to have to walk for a bit, okay?" She says, trying once again to get the man to sit up. He makes a weak, wounded sound as she gets him up and his good arm around her shoulders. "Okay, on three. One, two…three!"
The stairs prove a feat equal to scaling Kilimanjaro with the weight of the stranger on top of her. Despite the slouch of unconsciousness Kaoru can tell that even at full height the man wouldn't be much taller than her five-foot frame but even then he's far from light; she can feel the wiry muscle coiled beneath the fabric of his drenched jacket. She can feel the violent way he shivers too, and it only spurs her on as she struggles to get him up to her apartment and out of the cold.
"Hang on, we're almost there." She says, fishing into her pocket for her keys. He's coughing to the point of fits and Kaoru curses her nervous, trembling hand as it takes her three tries to actually get the key in the lock. After a couple of moments twisting the key this way and that, the old deadbolt groans and she pushes the door open with her hip, maneuvering them both inside.
The man collapses onto the couch and Kaoru runs to slam the door shut from the groaning wind, flipping the lock back into place. The small apartment goes quiet again save for the muffled sounds of the storm and her guest's labored breathing. She presses her back to the door, hair dripping into her eyes as she watches the rise and fall of his chest. The air in the room feels heavy, as if a miasma has diffused around them. It fills her nose with copper and her bones with a restlessness that she's unable to read, and it stills her. It's the quiet drip of the water from his jacket sleeve onto the floor that stirs her from her trance, and Kaoru hurries to grab the first aid kit from her bathroom.
When she returns a moment later with the kit and an armful of towels, his breathing has slowed to a fretful slumber that furrows his brows beneath his soaking locks. Kaoru frowns and fills a bowl of water in her kitchen before finally settling down on the floor beside him and taking to the task of cleaning the caked-on blood from his face. Kaoru is gentle as she dabs at the gash above his right eye. It's an aggravated cut that has just barely begun to scab over and like the split on his lip it begins to bleed again at the lightest of attentions.
Kaoru is surprised to see that beneath the blood and dirt, the man is actually fairly handsome. He has a regal, almost feminine build to his face with high cheekbones and bowed lips, but the solid line of his jaw and the point of his chin hints to a subtle masculinity. He looks to be about her age, maybe even younger, but she cannot pinpoint the exact number with confidence. Her eyes drift towards an old bandage plastered on his left cheek. It looks out of place on him; a foreign, dingy brown against the alabaster of his skin.
She reaches for the bandage and lets out a surprised shriek when his hand clamps down around her wrist, cold as ice and just as rough. Kaoru looks to his face to see the two blooming violets of his eyes staring at her, wide with an almost animalistic panic.
"It's alright!" She says quickly, holding up her other hand to show him the dirtied towel. "I want to help you."
His eyes are unblinking, shifting from her own to the towel and back again. He holds her gaze for a long moment, one that makes her feel small and bare and awkward, before they finally slide closed again and he relinquishes her wrist with an almost relieved sigh.
"Forgive me," He rasps. "One was startled, that I was."
Kaoru sits beside him, stricken speechless by the velocity of his demeanor's shift. She regains her wits, shaking her head with a nervous laugh. "I should be the one apologizing. I mean, I don't blame you for panicking when you woke up. I probably would too if I woke up in a strange place."
"You are very kind," He says, eyes fixed on the back of the couch. "But you did not need to assist this one, that you did not."
"Well it's not like I'm just going to leave you in some alleyway to bleed out!" She argues, gesturing to his bloody clothing. "Speaking of which, can you sit up a bit? I want to see your arm. It looks like you've been bleeding pretty heavily but I can't see it with your jacket in the way."
He stares at her with mild shock and then down at himself before quietly acquiescing. With a bit of difficulty he is able to sit up to shrug out of his coat and untangle the scarf around his neck with his good arm. The thin cotton shirt beneath it is just as drenched as the rest of his clothing, and Kaoru scolds herself for blushing at the thought that she was right about his musculature. It clings to his skin to show off the cut lines of his abdominal muscles and she quickly averts her eyes to his arm to inspect the damage.
A long, angry-looking cut trails from beneath the short sleeve of his shirt down across his bicep. The skin around it is pink and puckered, speaking of an old wound that has been denied the chance to properly heal. It looks like a cut from a blade, but Kaoru avoids asking about it when she notices the way he pointedly avoids looking at her as she examines it. Instead, she grabs the rubbing alcohol from her kit and sets to work.
"This might sting a bit." Kaoru warns before pressing the cloth to his arm. If it actually causes him any discomfort she cannot tell, for his face is schooled into a careful mask that betrays nothing save for his wariness. She risks a glance up at him from the corner of her eye to see him watching her. They're bright in the dim lighting of her living room and she bristles under their intensity. Kaoru looks down to the first aid kit and pulls out a gauze roll. "You know, you can relax a little. I don't bite."
She feels him jump somewhat, as if surprised. "Forgive me," He says again. She looks up at him and offers him a teasing grin.
"There you go apologizing again. Is that all you can say?"
His eyes look almost melancholy, offering her a small, hollow smile of his own. "No, but it seems like it's all this one is ever able to do, that it is."
Kaoru frowns slightly at the feeling that she's somehow encroached upon something terribly personal. They fall into silence again as she slowly wraps the bandages around his bicep.
"By the way, I'm Kaoru." She offers. Names should be safe, she assumes.
The man looks at her with those eyes again, and his smile is a little softer when he responds, "This one is named Kenshin. Himura Kenshin."
"Kenshin," She repeats, trying out the roll and slide of it on her tongue. It falls from her lips comfortably, as if she's said it a thousand times already. Kaoru's grin widens, tying off the bandages. "It's nice to meet you."
"The pleasure is mine, Kaoru-dono." Kenshin says, bowing his head respectfully.
Kaoru smiles, and she decides that for all of the hesitation in them, she rather likes his eyes. Collecting the towels before standing up, she heads to the bathroom to deposit them in the hamper. "I'll run you a bath so you can clean up a bit while I cook something, okay? I'll leave some fresh towels and a change of clothes on the sink." She calls.
"That really isn't necessary, Kaoru-dono, that it isn't!" Kenshin protests, coughing into the crook of his elbow. "You've already done more than this one deserves, that you have!" She appears behind him, leaning over the back of the couch to eye him skeptically.
"Don't give me that. You're coughing up a lung and you're covered in mud, blood, and who knows whatever else was in that alley! You need to get cleaned up and out of those clothes before you catch your death."
"Oro? But this one couldn't—"
"You can, and you will! Now wait here while I go find you something to change into."
Kenshin opens his mouth to refute, but at Kaoru's fixed glare, he closes it meekly. Satisfied that he'll comply, Kaoru ducks into the guest room to dig through the boxes of her father's old clothes.
The spare room is more of a storage locker than a guest bedroom, piled high with boxes and pieces of furniture that have no other place in the rest of the flat. Kaoru manages to find the boxes of her father's clothes stacked in the corner behind her grandmother's bureau. It takes a few minutes to figure out which box has all of his winter clothes, but once she finds it she pulls out a sweater and a pair of pajama pants.
It's a good thing that Father was never a large man, she thinks with amusement. Despite his muscle, Kenshin is as thin as a rail. I hope these fit him.
Kaoru runs her thumb over the fabric of her father's sweater, frowning. It's been almost four years since his passing, but the loss still feels raw. The sweater in her hands had been one of his favorites, a gift from her for one of his birthdays. It was a little stretched around the collar, well worn and soft. She hopes that he doesn't mind her lending it to someone she had just met, but then again it was he who was the one who had taught her to always protect and care for those who couldn't for themselves. With a small smile, she bows her head and seals off the box before returning to the living room.
Kenshin sits on the couch, shifting restlessly as his eyes drift around the apartment. It's a simple place with a cream carpet and light blue walls, aged ink scrolls dispersed between the small clusters of picture frames. On any other piece of furniture that he isn't occupying lays a handful of clothes and other odds and ends. The coffee table is covered in books, takeout menus, outdated magazines, and a somewhat outdated cellphone. The shadows in the corners of the room seem to creep into focus like diluted watercolors. It's a cozy enough place, he figures, but it feels cold. Like one day someone had just simply walked out and had taken the warmth with them. He eyes a wilting orchid plant on the windowsill with sympathetic eyes.
"Here we go! I know they may not fit perfectly, but they're better than nothing, right?"
Kenshin turns his head to see Kaoru-dono standing at the other end of the couch, presenting him with the bundle of clothing in her hands. She's smiling at him again, the indigo of her eyes bright in the dim light. It's strange, he thinks, how a girl who seems so happy and welcoming can live in such a lonesome home.
He takes the clothes from her and she trots off towards what he can assume is the bathroom, which is confirmed when he hears the groan and creaks of the plumbing roar to life. Kenshin hears her shout something to him about the shower's handle being finicky, but he isn't entirely sure what she says because it's soon muffled by the sound of the bathtub filling.
Kaoru-dono returns to his side soon after and grips his arm securely to help him off the couch. It's a bit of an effort, but after a few seconds Kenshin is up on his feet. He sways a bit but catches himself enough to wander down the short hallway towards the direction he hears the running water coming from. She calls after him cheerfully to take his time and that she'll have dinner ready for him as soon as he's out.
Really, this woman is too generous.
Kenshin finds the bathroom and locks the door once inside. The small room is humid from the bathwater, steam swirling around the ceiling and condensing on the mirror above the vanity. He looks at himself in the mirror and finally understands Kaoru-dono's concern. He looks ghastly standing there in his soaked clothing, his skin ashen and smudged with what dirt his hostess hadn't gotten off already. The dirty bandage on his cheek stands out in stark relief against his pallor. The bags under his eyes are a dark, dusty purple that has even Kenshin questioning how long it's been since he's had a decent night's sleep. His hair is in no better shape; his auburn bangs are caked with dried blood from the split above his eye and it makes them stick to his hunger-sunken cheeks.
Shrugging off his jacket had been remarkably easy in comparison to trying to pull off his t-shirt. It's soaked through and clings to him greedily and his arm burns with strain when he tries to lift it over his head. Luckily his pants are much easier to deal with, and soon after depositing the clothes in the hamper as told he's standing in the shower area fidgeting with the knobs.
At first the water spurts out in a freezing downpour that makes him jump, but after a couple of seconds it's coming down in a near-scalding stream. He takes the bar of soap from amongst Kaoru-dono's toiletries and lathers his hands before thoroughly scrubbing his hair for the first time in much too long. Satisfied that he is no longer at risk of his hair matting, he proceeds to wash the rest of the gore from himself before shutting the faucets off and climbing into the tub. The water is close to boiling and it stings his open wounds, but the heat feels so wonderful on his stiff muscles that he only lets out a relieved sigh.
In the warmth of the bathwater, Kenshin's mind begins to pick up speed again. It runs through the last few fuzzy memories over and over again, trying to remember if anyone had followed him; the last thing he needs is someone to come looking for him. Unease sits in his stomach like a coiled snake at the memories of the fight that had left him in such a state. If he had only had his sword—his hand fists against his legs, split knuckles stinging.
There is no purpose in pondering the what-ifs; he can hear Shishou saying in that thundering baritone of his. All one can do is accept one's reality and learn to work with it and if at all possible, around it.
And he is right, of course, although Kenshin would rather bite a hole through his own tongue before adding to his master's already inflated sense of self. There is no purpose in cursing the fact that he had been caught without his trusted blade. The only thing Kenshin can do is to hope that he never sees those lowlifes again. And if he does, be ready for them.
Kenshin sinks down farther into the tub, closing his eyes. How long has it been since he's had the luxury of a soak? Too long, his muscles all but shout at him. His back and shoulders have been tense for so long that to feel them loosen seems almost uncomfortable. He reckons that sleeping on benches and propped up against trees will do that.
Kenshin opens his eyes again to stare at the ceiling as he rests his head back on the edge of the tub. The steam of the bath floats along overhead, curling like tendrils of smoke in the yellow light of the fluorescent bulbs. The smell of Kaoru-dono's jasmine soap hangs in the thick, humid air and makes his head feel light. In the haze of the floral perfume, his mind drifts to lighter memories, more recent memories—such as the ones involving the benevolent young lady he hears singing somewhat off-key to the radio just down the hallway.
What kind of young woman brings not only a stranger, but a man into her home, alone, in the middle of the night? It's a terribly risky thing to do, especially in a city like Tokyo with all of the crime that's been cropping up lately. He wonders if she does this sort of thing often; going out later at night by herself, with no one to greet her at home or wait for her safe return. How long would it take someone to notice that she had gone missing? A day? Two days? A week?
He thinks to the girl from earlier that night, screaming and crying as the group of thugs tried to tie her up. What would have happened had he not shown up and fended them off, had managed to give her an opening to escape? A sickening feeling rolls in his stomach. He knows exactly what would have happened: She would have been beaten, raped, sold to the traffickers who have begun to fester in the underbelly of Tokyo.
Kenshin remembers the girl's tear-rimmed eyes as he tore the cloth gag from her mouth, wide and terrified. Then, his mind replaces the girl's chocolate brown eyes with a luminous indigo, substituting her free-flowing locks with a long raven ponytail. The image makes his stomach lurch and he jolts up so quickly that he feels the cut on his arm reopen, water splashing everywhere. The blood from his arm spirals through the rippling water like a drop of ink. He watches it spread until it's diluted completely before he tries to stand. He decides that he's had enough of his soak.
He towels off with one of the soft lavender towels that had been stacked on the counter and slips on the clothing that Kaoru-dono had given him; a rose red sweatshirt with a stretched out neck and a pair of charcoal grey sleep pants that faintly smell of mothballs. The sleeves are a little long and he has to double-knot the drawstring on the pants, but that's almost expected given his short stature. Overall, though, nothing is too bad of a fit and he soon exits the bathroom to the smell of burnt fish.
The apartment is now lit with a couple of lamps, making it easy to see as Kenshin follows the scent down the hall to the small open kitchen. He spots Kaoru-dono bent over a smoking pan, frantically trying to correct her mistake and he can't help himself from smiling. She's changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that's almost comically large on her. The kanji for 'bad', aku, is emblazoned across the back of it, and he almost snorts at the visual oxymoron.
It's amusing to watch her bustle about the kitchen, and he's surprised to notice that somehow the lonesome atmosphere of the apartment has all but evaporated around his hostess' lively attempts at cooking. She's like a candle, flickering and excited and casting her warmth in all directions. It's a nice change, he thinks.
After a minute of standing there he figures that if she hasn't noticed him yet then she won't, so he clears his throat.
"Kaoru-dono?"
"Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap," Kaoru mutters, frantically trying to pry the two scorched fish from the frying pan with her spatula. She had called Doctor Oguni to explain the situation that had unraveled on her way to the store, but in the midst of their conversation she had managed to completely forget that she had dinner on the stove. She frowns down at the charred mackerel and grabs the bottle of soy sauce from the counter. "Maybe if I add some of this…"
"Kaoru-dono?"
Kaoru spins around on her heel to face Kenshin, who is fresh from the bath. He's looking at her quizzically, something akin to mirth in his blue-violet eyes. Embarrassment floods her cheeks as she sees him eye the frying pan in her hand. She laughs sheepishly. "I'm sorry about dinner, I was on the phone and got a bit distracted."
Kenshin smiles and raises a hand, shaking his head. "No trouble at all. This one is sure that Kaoru-dono's cooking will be delicious."
"I doubt it," Kaoru blushes, turning away to add a few more shakes of soy sauce before putting them on plates. She turns to set it on the table and gestures for him to take a seat. "Let me get you some rice."
True to form, when she opens the lid of the rice cooker she sees that the rice is overcooked to practically the consistency of okayu. Her scowl only deepens when she tries to scoop some into the bowl and it comes out as one large, steaming clump. What a first impression to give, she thinks, a woman who can't cook to save her life.
"I'm afraid I'm not very gifted in the kitchen." Kaoru apologizes, turning around to set the serving bowl of rice on the table. "I even managed to screw up the—" Her eyes widen like saucers when she turns and sees him all but devouring the charred fish. She fills a bowl of rice and sets it down beside him, which Kenshin wastes no time in digging in to. By the time that Kaoru even sits down with her own bowl, his dishes are picked clean.
"Wow, nobody's ever eaten my cooking like that before." She muses. "You must have been starving." She means it as a joke, but she can tell from the embarrassed flash in his irises and the hollowed appearance of his cheeks that it's probably true. Guilt settles heavier in her stomach than her mediocre food does.
"This one apologizes for his manners," Kenshin says, bowing his head with bashfulness. "Regular meals are not exactly…common for a wanderer, that they are not."
Kaoru frowns and immediately sets to refilling his bowl, piling it high with overcooked globs of rice. Kenshin's eyes widen and as his mouth opens to protest, but she cuts him off. "Nobody in the Kamiya household goes hungry! As long as you're under my roof, you're going to eat as much as you like, you hear me?"
Kenshin still looks like he wants to argue but the promise of food must seem like too good of an offer for even the humble man to refuse, because all he says is a quiet "Thank you," before picking up his chopsticks.
She smiles, settling back down to continue eating her own food. Taking a bite, though, she grimaces. Too much soy sauce. She pushes her plate away to focus on her rice instead.
"So I was on the phone with a family friend of ours who is a doctor. I told him what happened and he offered to come by tomorrow to give you a proper checkup." She says, taking a bite.
Kenshin looks up from his bowl and blinks. "Oro?"
"His name is Oguni Gensai. He was a good friend of my father's from their days back in the military. Oguni-sensei was a medic and my father had a penchant for getting himself hurt during training," Kaoru grins wistfully. "So being a regular in the medical unit, naturally they became friendly."
"Your father was part of the military?" Kenshin asks, curiosity piqued.
Kaoru nods. "He was, before I was born. He was a member of the Ground Self-Defense Force. That's why he had come to live in Tokyo; he was part of the First Division of the Eastern Army that's stationed over in Nerima. My family is originally from the Kanagawa Prefecture."
"I see."
"Mm. Oguni-sensei was in the medical service, and his retirement happened to be around the time my father's service was up. They stayed in touch, so I've grown up with him being like a grandfather to me."
"Ah. So what did Oguni-sensei say to this situation, if one may ask?"
Kaoru grinned, picking at her rice with her chopsticks. "He said that I was truly my father's daughter."
"One would imagine him to be a man of incredible character to raise such a gracious daughter, that he must be." Kenshin smiles. Kaoru blushes and straightens her posture with pride.
"He really was." She beams. "He's the one who taught me the importance of protecting those around me when they themselves cannot. That if I can, I should do everything in my power to help."
"Is that why Kaoru-dono decided to help this one?" He asks.
Kaoru nods. "It is. I can't sit by and watch others suffer if I can do something about it. It's not how I was raised."
Kenshin smiles again, but somehow it seems troubled. "Kaoru-dono is truly a very kind person. A very trusting one as well, to welcome a stranger such as one's self into her home so openly." He meets her eyes and she shifts, somewhat uncomfortable under his serious gaze. "One cannot help but feel concern for you, however. Tokyo is not a very safe city, and neither are its residents."
Kaoru huffs. She doesn't need a lecture on misplaced trust; she had already gotten it from Oguni-sensei when she had called. You are a kind soul, my dear. Just like your father, he had told her, but you must exercise caution when you take on endeavors such as this. Not everyone is safe. After her insistence that she did not need him to come and stay as well, he had relented with the promise that she'd lock her bedroom door tonight.
"I can defend myself just fine," She argues. "And it's not like I'm just going to let any old heathen come slinking into my home. I like to pride myself on thinking that I'm a pretty good judge of character." She eyes his concerned face, irritated expression melting away as the corners of her lips quirk up. "And my gut tells me that you, Himura Kenshin, are a good guy."
Kenshin bows his head again, his bangs falling in his eyes. They're still damp from the bath and slightly curly as they dry, and Kaoru can't help but to think that it's a lovely shade of red. After a moment he looks up again, bearing a modest smile of his own.
"Kaoru-dono really is too kind." He says.
She puts her chopsticks down with a smile and begins to clear the plates from the table once it's evident that Kenshin has had his fill. She sets them in the sink and fills the basin to allow them to soak before turning on the electric kettle for after-dinner tea. It's a surprisingly comfortable silence that they sit in as she waits for the kettle to heat up, the pop music from the radio on the windowsill floating quietly through the room.
"So how is your arm doing?" Kaoru says at last, setting a cup down in front of him. Kenshin perks up, looking at the tea and then to her as she sits down across from him. She nods towards his arm, which he rubs with his left hand.
"Much better after Kaoru-dono's treatment, that it is, although it started bleeding a bit in the bath." He admits, taking a long sip. Kaoru sucks her teeth.
"I figured it would since I only used a gauze roll. Let me re-bandage it." She gets up to grab the first-aid kit that she had thrown on the kitchen counter and goes to kneel down next to him. "Just slide your arm out from the sleeve and I'll do it. How are the butterfly sutures holding up on your eyebrow?"
Kenshin waves her off. "They're still good."
Kaoru is glad to find that his skin is no longer cold to the touch. It's actually a rather comfortable heat, like standing close to a fireplace. Momentary concern has her wondering if it's because he has a fever so she looks up at his cheeks to look for a telltale flush. Satisfied to find none, her eyes settle on his left cheek as she winds the bandages around his bicep.
"Why don't you let me change that bandage? If you keep that old dirty one on there it's going to get infected."
Kenshin's hand shoots up to his cheek and he turns away. "Do not worry yourself with this."
"Why not?"
His eyes dim a bit, as if lost in thought. Kenshin's thumb strokes across the bandage and he hums. "Because there is no worry of infection. It is a wound long since healed." He explains. "Rather, it is more of…a memory now, so it is."
She stares at him for a long while before she nods and averts her eyes. "I see. Well then, you can put this on after I go to bed if you wouldn't like me to see." She says quietly before rummaging in the small kit. He raises his brows when she thrusts a large, new bandage in front of his face. He looks at her with genuine surprise and she offers him what she hopes is an encouraging smile. "I mean, we all have things in our past we'd rather not talk about, right?"
Kenshin simply stares at her in what appears to be disbelief. Kaoru shifts her weight uncomfortably from one knee to the other as she waits. Just when she's ready to put it away and apologize, he slowly reaches out to take the bandage from her. His eyes are obscured by his bangs again, but she can see that he's smiling.
"Yes. Something like that."
Kenshin lays on the couch later that night after finally being able to convince Kaoru-dono to stop apologizing for the inadequate state of her guest bedroom. It's been so long now since I've needed that room that I just use it like a closet, she had explained. He had laughed good-naturedly and taken the large stack of blankets and pillows from her with the assurance that the couch is still a vast improvement from his usual sleeping arrangements.
Curled up in a slew of comforters, he watches the ceiling fan spin lazily overhead and the shadows it casts on the walls. The storm has settled down to a steady patter of rain that muffles the sounds of the city nightlife that Kenshin is so used to falling asleep to. To be honest, he finds it difficult to fall asleep with a full stomach and comfortable surroundings. It's not something he's accustomed to and from what experience has always taught him, new things are bad things.
Kaoru-dono is far from bad, he chastises himself. Compared to this unworthy one, she is like a bodhisattva.
It's strange to think that such a soft, compassionate person has such calloused hands. He noticed them when she was re-bandaging his arm after dinner. The bath had warmed him enough for him to feel the gentle scrapes of her hardened skin against his, and it makes his curiosity towards the young lady grow.
He turns over to his left side so as not to aggravate his newly bandaged arm and groans quietly. His stomach aches from where one of the thugs had kicked him in the solar plexus, so he has to stop and inch himself over slowly. He pauses when a picture catches his eye on the side table. It's in a simple frame, relatively small in comparison to the ones hanging on the walls around the room.
It's a picture of an older man with a strong chin and lively blue eyes, his arm wrapped firmly around a young girl with matching eyes and equally vibrant smile. Kenshin immediately recognizes the girl as a younger version of Kaoru-dono. So this must be her father.
He leans over and lifts the picture up to look at it more closely. In the photo she has her arms wrapped around the man's midsection, beaming at the camera with just as much enthusiasm as the man she's holding. On the bottom-right corner, he sees a note written in marker—Father's birthday, '08. Belatedly, he recognizes the rose-red sweater that her father has on as the one he's currently wearing. He looks up from the picture and down the hall towards Kaoru-dono's room before he gently sets the frame back down. Idly, his fingertips graze the fresh bandage on his cheek.
Much too kind, he thinks, turning over.
Sleep does not find him for a few hours yet, but when it does, he dreams of orchids and rain.
Japanese Vocabulary
-Yatai- A traditional Japanese food stand.
-Oden- A Japanese dish that's popular in the winter, containing several ingredients (like eggs, daikon, fishcakes, etc.) that's stewed in a light, soy-flavored dashi broth.
-Okayu- a thick rice porridge