"The house is bent on his demise. To get out alive - and maybe save his new ghost friends - Kenshin must kill its heart." Adventure/Horror/Supernatural/Romance (KxK), rated T, no beta. Set in canon timeline, second year of the Meiji. Warnings for gore, violence, swearing, possible disturbing content. Inspiration from Seiken Densetsu 3 (Shade Level) and various folklore. Standard disclaimer applies (I own nothing but the plot and setting).
With our concept making apparatus called "mind" we look at reality through the ideas-about-reality which our cultures give us.
Sliver
01
It was watching him.
The going was slow because he couldn't see much -- like a shroud of smoke resting in his eyes, he saw only muted shapes against the darkest blue. Chairs, tables, as well as various objects and other hazards were strewn about in his path as if a whirlwind had materialized eons ago, and no one had survived to put the place back in order. The stench of mold was so thick he had to take small breaths to breathe at all. Still, he did not relent. He even paid no mind to the steady drips at first, until he realized he was the source. Mindlessly he paused to squeeze the water from his long hair, as well as wring out his sleeves and what was left of his hakama. He felt a little lighter, even if he was still chilled to his very bones, and even though the splatter of water sounded like jeering laughter.
Despite his trepidation, he kept walking. The eyes followed.
Through the haze of darkness he thought he was in a long entranceway, because the dark stretched on to infinite depths. He saw no doors nearby, only debris. Step, step. Everything was so old, so damp and rotting -- so sunken in decay that he feared he would kick through the floor with one misstep.
The deafening silence, the oppressive dark and the rancor all slapped at his senses. They were lying to him. They told him he was alone, when Kenshin knew it was not so - the tingle in his head whispered of energy thrumming just out of his sight. He felt a flickering presence, something too vague to be substantial or even located but definitely there. Malice hovered just out of his physical senses, and the eyes, the infinite eyes were still upon him. The sensation of being watched was so strong he could almost swear the presence of another behind him, stepping just within the shadows. But when he turned and squinted through the haze, he was alone.
Because he could not see past his outstretched arm, he walked forward with his left hand brushing the wooden walls lightly, ignoring the filth and jagged wood chips biting his hand. Step, step. He encountered a shattered chair and walked around it, replacing his hand. He had to force himself to walk lightly, slowly, and the effort was wearing him out even faster. He wanted to run, preferably in the other direction, far from the relentless gaze and threatening silence. Step, step.
Spirits, he had thought, almost amused. It was not unheard of for spirits to claim an abode, or for ancestors to return to Earth. Yet this place felt like more than just the resting ground of ghosts, due to the tension in the surfaces around him. It was as if it the very house was alive, like every splinter was immobile but breathing, their minuscule eyes on him, always observing. The ceiling, invisible in its cloak of pure black, the walls, mocking…
And yet, no faraway sounds reached his straining ears. He could not even hear the thundering of the rain outside. All he knew was the hiss of silence, the creaking beneath his steps, and the pounding of his own treacherous heart. The heavy silence was almost solid, crushing against him -- yet still he did not halt his careful steps. Kenshin suspected he had encouraged his own haunting. Why else would this place demand his presence, then mock him for it?
Oh, he was going crazy. Kenshin resisted the urge to snort and instead focused his straining eyes. What a way for an ex-assassin to go, if not by murder: delusion. Fitting. The poisonous air got to him and he sneezed, making the whole house seem to jump at the foreign intrusion in sound.
I'm really insane, he thought darkly.
But… he wasn't a fool. He knew that wielding this new blade, this sliver of metal that would never drink blood, would not help him against the army of hounds and men. And in the end, the choice hadn't been his – the house had decided for him. It was evil, he knew, and yet he walked further within.
He sneezed again, the air around him now slowly shifting aside like an afterthought, as another jab of pain announced itself in his palm from a sliver embedded in his flesh. At least he was done with the hounds, he reasoned to himself, squinting uselessly. Step, step. They were nasty things, a breed he was not familiar with and did not wish to be. Even if they found the house, they'd definitely be put off by it. Maybe the men as well. Animals were sensitive to the ethereal, were they not? It would be a small comfort to have one less threat to worry about.
Step, step. He moved further inside the endless indigo.
For the moment, he was still weak. His aches awoke anew at the thought. He began to hasten his stride, favoring his injured right ankle, intent on finding something like a sleeping room for some dry comfort. He needed rest. Step, step, step - his plan was abruptly cut off by a crrrrunch and his right foot sinking through the rotten woodwork. Kenshin hissed and, being practically sightless, forced his foot out of the reasonable gap - but not without acquiring a new wound above the already injured ankle. His nerves were running short, and those coupled with irritation almost made him swear aloud at his own stupidity. He had been careless. The jagged wood slid out easily through his sodden sock, leaving a blooming petal of red in its wake. He threw it aside and tested the foot. Painful, durable. Not what he should be worried about.
He resumed his careful pace after that. He prayed he'd find – or more likely, stumble across – a shrine, if there was one within this strange place. He might appease these spirits, get rid of this anxiety clenching his heart, and perhaps dispel the ever present sensation of eyes upon him.
Kenshin smiled, and it felt strange to his facial muscles. Him, at peace? He imagined his smile must look like a grimace.
Cautiously navigating between the obstructions, he shivered, following with a sneer of disgust. While he was dreaming: a shrine, then a blanket. He was fighting back the trembling of his limbs by sheer will, and he knew there was a high risk of falling ill. He needed – many things, but above all, warmth. Should he live, he needed warmth. He had promised he would live, and he would uphold his word.
Step, step.
He finally reached the end of the entranceway, though noting that crossing the distance had taken a lengthy amount of time - the dark and silence had made it impossible for him to judge the corridor's length before traversing it. Slowly a blurry shape before him manifested into a grand spiraling staircase, closely flanked by one door on either side. He approached the iron stairs further, and with a bit of trouble saw that they also descended to a level below. Now he was left with three choices – climb upstairs, climb downstairs, or explore the rooms on this floor. He inspected the closed doors. They were the Western kind that swung open from hinges, and the knobs were nearly invisible underneath the filth. Then he glanced to the floors above and below - eternal black. The darkness there – pure black now, not blue - was like a door, blocking his view and any intent to carry on any further. Best tackle what came first, he decided quickly.
He stopped in front of the room on the right. Hunched, one hand on the sword's hilt, he gripped the knob and threw the door open. There was the same blue darkness -- a flurry of dust -- and flecks of bright cerulean gazing back at him.
He reeled back, holding his nose from the assault. Kenshin frowned at the pure black in front of him. Okay, he had imagined that. He steeled himself. The unease the house inspired was making him see things, no doubt - this place was getting to him. As he hovered by the doorway, his face twisted into another expression of disgust. He'd had enough - the house was clearly mocking him, but he had no tolerance for this ridicule. He would merely scavenge for some blankets and try to rest. He'd explore the house tomorrow in the light, then leave this place far, far behind. Yes. Despite his eternal courage, he couldn't wait to get out of here.
Kenshin cautiously stepped in, wishing not for the first time for some flint and tinder to rid himself of the sensation of walking into a monster's mouth. Though barely possible, his vision was now more limited than before, and even when it had adjusted he could only make out the outline of objects immediately close to him. He put a hand on the wall to –
He whirled around, sword at the ready.
Kenshin's heart beat madly. He clenched the sakabatou. Despite his chill, sweat dripped through his bangs. Nothing moved. He straightened, slowly, every muscle and nerve of him ready and waiting for some change, but -- nothing. Well, nothing new. Almost expected but faint, the fluttering presence in his mind's eye were still very much there. But…
He slowly raised his hand again, sliding it down the wall.
It was slightly warm and wet to the touch.
He could not resist a shiver. Perhaps he had walked into a demon's mouth – the wall, for all its wooden stern texture, reminded him of a tongue.
Taking a breath as deep as he dared, he pushed thought and emotion aside like he had done many times before. Much calmer now, he stretched out his senses again as he ventured into the room, feeling as though he was being submerged in an intangible but opaque cloak the further he stepped inside. He kept close to the wall without contact, senses still searching. No harmful presence except the ever-present malignant essence of the house itself. He tested the space around him with his feet before taking each step, and soon was surprised to feel the brush of fabric against his shin.
Kenshin bent down slowly, blindly feeling for the cloth. It was an adult-sized sheet, rough and slightly sticky, but a godsend to his cold form. It wasn't wise to sleep in a strange house without clearing it for safety first, and for sure he knew that -- but in the name of all things divine, he was exhausted. Kenshin nodded to himself as he made up his mind. If something came in the middle of the night, he'd take it from there, since his mental scan did not reveal anything he didn't already know. He picked up the long cloth and shook it, having to turn his head from the gust it conjured. The room held no draft, so it probably had no windows. It did not feel very big either, and suggested use as a storage area. Less dampness, more dust. So Kenshin felt around until he found a sturdy wooden crate to lean against, far enough away from the door but still facing it, and squeezed out more water from his garments. He could not bring himself to close the door – I need all the light I can get, he reasoned with himself - but maybe he was just terrified of being swallowed.
He tore off his damp clothing and wrapped himself up, almost numb. Dimming, his mind did not recognize the absence of the watching eyes, and he fell into a fitful stupor seconds after letting his shoulders drop. Kenshin dreamt of his arrival.
~x~
He ran.
The heavens roared as the rain continued to pour, dripping from his bangs into his eyes, plastering tendrils of hair to his jaw, and slipping beneath his sodden garment. The weight of the water slowed him down, forcing his feet to sink into craters of mud he should have easily missed. He would be able to see the forest soon – hopefully the terrain would impede his pursuers more than it did him. At least the oncoming darkness was sure to offer him a slight advantage.
Through the veil of raindrops he heard the snapping of jaws. A hundred malicious auras exploded in his mind, clear in their intent to shred him limb to limb. They did not bark, wasting no breath, intent on simply killing him - eighty hounds gaining. He was fast, but only slightly faster than maddened dogs on a good day. In this rain of judgment Kenshin almost feared for his life.
The torrents of water in his vision cleared slightly and he finally spotted the murky foliage ahead, giving him incentive to force more strength from his legs, and leaped through the brown landscape. If he reached the forest he could lose them, no longer in their sight and their noses long before useless. He could spend the night among the drenched leaves and… take tomorrow from that point on. He had to live to see it first.
The trees approached, leaping closer in his vision, the dogs close enough now that he could sense the men behind them. Air burned in his heaving lungs. Only a few seconds more and --
He slipped, his right ankle landing just wrong in a disguised puddle. He felt his leg twist sideways and his knee went first, sinking through. A hound leaped upon him. As the rest of his body fell, he unsheathed his sword and managed to twist and block the assault of jaws aimed at his throat. The others behind his assailant were piling on more speed at seeing their prey go down.
The blow cracked some teeth lose but did not slice through. Kenshin had a split second to curse before he pushed himself back up again, running even faster. Ah, of course. This was why he was running in the first place.
This blade could not kill. The hitokiri was no more. Only Kenshin leaped between raindrops.
A lurch. Kenshin grit his teeth as jaws clamped on the flying folds of his hakama, though he continued to run. It ripped easily, but slowed him down fractionally. Still - he would make it. He must make it. He was almost -
One second later he was slipping through the trees, thick trunks whizzing by him as he leaped upward through the branches. Finally. The dogs below him gave a few menacing growls, but Kenshin only accelerated. Air, water, leaves, and branches all slapped at his face and body but still he did not relent. Instant by instant he could tell he was managing to put more distance between his pursuers, and the hope and relief blooming in his chest helped him keep up his godlike pace.
The land and trees blurred as they flew past him and he was moving so fast he would crash if he hesitated for one second. His fingers were going numb, his nails were ripping off, and his legs were sore from the abuse. His burning lungs heaved for his attention. Half his left hakama leg was gone. And he ran.
The bellows and shouts of the men encouraging the fiends slowly died off as he raced ahead, leaping from tree to vine to ground then tree again. And at last, clearance – the mental blank said they had lost sight of him. He smoothly changed directions, slightly westward toward what must be the centre of the forest. He would find a sturdy branch, well hidden from view, and wait out their search –
A flash of gray, standing out beyond the drops.
He spotted it the moment he landed on a branch, but he had to grip the trunk to keep his momentum from throwing him over. He sensed no threat in the immediate area, so he tensed to leap toward it. As he approached, dropping to the ground, several things happened at once.
First, the grey spot came into view as he broke into a clearing. It was a stone wall – and beyond it, barely visible over the top of the stones, was a strange tilted roof.
Second, his weak ankle finally gave out. He fell forward on the same knee, seeing the brown muck on the cloth showing tendrils of red underneath at the same moment that he braced for impact and fell hip first to the soggy ground, the hilt of the sakabatou burrowing into his side.
Last of all he realized an unimaginable pressure on every surface of his body. It was nearly painful in its intensity, overriding every other physical sensation. In his mind's eye he saw a dark blue fog submerging the entire clearing, thick with something like malice.
He lay stunned for mere moments, mind too fast, too numb, to stop and ponder any one thing. He tried to move backward.
The pressure turned into a tug.
He pushed himself up with difficulty, finding it hard to think or even breathe with the sudden contempt in the air. Kenshin calmed his heart, ignored his pains and forced himself to see.
There was no fog, only a grey mist as the rain continued to extract revenge. He could have imagined the whole thing if it weren't for his violent trembling – not simply due to the chill of the rain - and the still-present sensation of being pulled toward the house.
Away from one devil and into the mouth of another - the sudden contrast to his situation would shock him if he paused to think about it. He didn't. Kenshin gave in to the surreal pull and approached the gates cautiously, still weary of it all. The sensation alleviated the closer he got. A house, here? He had thought this forest bereft of human inhabitance. And, as he eyed the chains around the lock, perhaps it was not inhabited at all. They were completely rusted through.
He paused for a second, but a far off flicker in his mind reminded him of his earlier pursuers. He had to decide now. Still, the sensation of the fog did not leave him.
Rain battered against him.
This was madness. He could survive in the trees. Kenshin turned to leave and took one step - when he was instantly dragged to the ground, face pressed against the running earth as he heaved for breath. Something had just physically pinned him down. He raised an arm with much difficulty, but against the great strain he managed to get up again, and lurched back to the house. The pressure evaporated the closer he got. Despite the rain, the smell of damp wood filled his nostrils as Kenshin leaned his forehead against the wooden gates.
Alright, so turning back was no longer a choice. He had no strength for this tonight. He'd suffer the strange house, and resist this malevolent spirit once he was rested and satisfied that those dogs were very far away. Drawing his sword, he slashed the chains – and got stuck. He frowned. This sword had always proved above par due to its maker's skill. Working it free, he slashed at the same indent, and cleared the sword through.
The chains held.
Kenshin gave himself no time to be astonished at the sight of the rusted metal, completely and visibly detached, holding together as if still connected. He kicked at the hacked pieces and they tumbled to the ground in muted clanks. Quickly, with numb hands, he sifted the chains out of the lock and pushed the gates open just enough for him to slip through – and he was safe.
Safe, Kenshin almost laughed.
Heaving under the pounding rain, he pushed the gates closed again and bolted them. Then he turned to observe the night's lodgings.
It was a house built like those from the West, three levels high. The roof he had glimpsed over the wall was black and bent from the middle, leaving a circular window in the space between the slopes. Many larger rectangular windows stared back at him from the first two levels. Directly in front of him was a large wooden door, easily three times his size, reinforced with iron planks. No steps lead to it or engawa shrouded it. Though he did not know much of architecture, Japanese or otherwise, he knew the house was odd in every sense.
He walked toward the door slowly, rain forgotten. He felt as though each step was being placed for him. Kenshin stopped in front of the door, gripped the massive iron handle, and pulled it open. He stepped inside.
Overwhelming silence, the scent of mold, but foremost - a forced sensation of terror so strong it held Kenshin immobile for a moment. If he was one to hear warning bells in his head, there would have been gongs going off. Instead, he felt tension in his gut and the return of the abnormal pressure almost pushing him to his knees. The weight and abnormal fear slowly released him as he braced himself, but still the tension held tightly. Taking a breath, he strode deeper inside and shut the door, which emitted a thud that sounded too much like finality. The sound of rain suddenly cut off seemed like an explosion to his senses. He turned to observe the inside -
That was when he felt the unmistakable sensation of eyes.
~x~
Kenshin started awake, disoriented. Cold. Nothingness. Was he at the inn? In the entranceway? Something, almost a physical substance, pressed upon him. No – he was in the storage room with the living walls. But… the dream was so vivid, and the events so recent, that he had trouble remembering that time had passed since he had entered the house.
He fought back a wince and rolled his shoulders, eyes looking about uselessly. Still no good. A thorough scan indicated he was alone as always. The pressure was invisible, and with a mental frown he classified it as the darkness of the room. As he shifted to stand, cold air hit his chest and Kenshin remembered he had discarded his clothes. He felt around until his hand met damp fabric. He grimaced in the dark. Well, he'd live with this cloth for now, and let his clothes dry out in the sun once he found a secluded area. Traveling through the rain-battered land was certainly going to be an adventure.
Discarding the thought, Kenshin placed the cloth around him as well as he could and decided to don his hakama. Tying it blind was a trying experience, but afterward he only had to suffer through carrying his wet gi. Now ready, he traversed the cluttered room still bathed in the dark.
It wasn't until he'd reached the door that he realized it. He'd left the door open. It was now most definitely closed. Before any thought could set in – not here not this room, alive - he sought for and gripped the knob, twisting it violently,
And swung the door open.
As before the hall held only slightly more light than the storage room. Still, even the outline of the spiral staircase was a welcome sight after not having any at all. Kenshin hesitated at the doorway for barely a second. Explore, or leave?
A shiver wracked his form. It was not wise to stay.
As he slowly began to retrace his earlier path, he frowned at the darkness. Wasn't it morning? His internal clock placed the hour at a dawn, if not later. He had slept a considerable amount of time, if the stiffness in his back was any further indication. Yet…
It was as dark as before. Kenshin had seen windows on the façade of the house – where was their light? He kept his emotion down to mere curiosity as he slowly treaded down the corridor, avoiding the hazards. He felt a few floorboards give way beneath him, but quickly stepped away before they could break. He didn't need a repeat of that. Kenshin would place his hand against the wall when he could, some deep part of him relieved at its sharp coldness.
At last he approached the entrance, and when close enough he saw that two doors faced each other on either side of it. Kenshin frowned again. He must have missed them when he'd been overloaded with sensations upon entering the house. No matter now. Stopping in front of the massive door, he felt for the iron handle and pulled.
It did not move.
He gave another tug, to no avail.
Kenshin brushed the panic aside as soon as implication set in. Calm yourself. I can play this game. He inspected the door – there were no bolts or any kind of locking mechanism, but the door was most definitely not moving. Kenshin released his grip and instead went for one of the doors, the one to his left. It opened with difficulty, the door sagging and digging into the doorway. Still, it gave way after a vicious tug, and the first thing he saw left him truly blinded. It was a window.
Indescribable relief flooded him. He had suspected he would be buried within this gigantic tomb, bereft of light, trapped… Kenshin sighed and came to stand before the window.
Through the thin, grubby glass he could see outside. The tops of the trees were slightly visible over the stone wall that encircled the entire house, a bleak green against the lightening sky. The grass inside the wall was a deeper green, and proved the only sparse vegetation within. Dawn had indeed arrived. Though drab, the light was considerably more than -
Then he realized that no light shone through the glass.
This room was as dark as the entranceway, only devoid of any furniture, or truly anything at all. No grey light washed upon his own form. Kenshin placed his fingers against the glass – it was lukewarm. He pushed against it, but it not shift. He wiped the grime on his makeshift shirt and pulled the cloth over his elbow, then smashed it against the glass.
Nothing, except a jolt of pain up his arm and a now bruised elbow to add to his collection of injuries. The glass had not even rattled.
Kenshin's lips thinned and he stepped out of the room. He made his way – slightly quicker now, but always careful – toward a broken chair he had encountered. He picked it up by the seat, ignoring the falling bits of wood and dust, and carried it back to the room. Covering his eyes with one arm, he smashed it against the window. The wooden pieces went flying, but the glass held with not even a crack to show for his efforts.
Apprehension began to sink its claws. His fears were confirmed – he would not be allowed to leave –
No. He had not survived the wars, Tomoe's red life, and a new era only to succumb to this.
Bold and alive with the spirit of indignation and anger, he left to the other door. This one gave no fight and opened easily, only to reveal the same condition as its sister. The view from the window was exactly the same as before – from the same side of the house, even. The very same sets of stone stood before him in defiance, the same shape of the trees beyond. Kenshin knew this was normally impossible, but surprise eluded him. He pushed at the glass and expectedly it did not move.
Finally Kenshin stood, arms dangling uselessly at his side, wet gi flopping to a dirty heap on the floor. Where did he go from here? This was not the end – he'd find a way to escape even if he had to slice down the door to do it. Besides, maybe there was more than one entrance to this place. He must have just missed -
A new thought came to him. Something was indeed missing.
The evil pressure was still there, as distant as before but always identifiable - he could still sense the very tendrils of the house's living will. But the unnerving feeling of eyes peering at and through him from every particle of dust had vanished. Come to think of it, he had not felt them inside the storage room either.
And he felt no more or less at ease, even though the eyes were gone. He did not know what to make of it. If he truly considered the house alive as he had been imagining – and really alive, thinking through the wood and breathing through the dust, not just accommodating spirits – then this might mean it had lost interest in him. Or, it might be that it knew he had no chance of escape, therefore did not bother with him. Kenshin sighed softly, glancing at the window again. Who was he to guess the motives of a living house?
I have walked into the mouth of Hell after all, he thought. He gripped the sheath of his sword, thumb feeling the ridges in the worn mantle. It comforted him somehow. Well, he had a purpose – now he needed something to work with. Leaving the gi behind, Kenshin made his way to the staircase once again. He reasoned that perhaps there was an overlooked exit in the storage room, or somewhere else in the house that he had not yet explored.
He was getting better at navigating the entranceway. Now twice familiar, he could maneuver through it a lot quicker even with his limited eyesight. He arrived at the storage room, door still ajar, and when inside he placed a hand on the wall. Cold seeped into his calloused palm.
This time he felt indifferent to the fluctuating chill. His eyes did not have much to adjust to, so he lost no time to feel around. He maneuvered to the far end of the room, once tripping over a barrel but catching himself. Once he arrived at the wall he had arms out and hands searching for any telling indents, but of course there was nothing at all. Even unseen, his expression did not change. He did not have room for disappointment, and there was much left to excavate. He was far from defeated, he thought with gritted teeth. But…
It felt as though the silence itself was judging him, waiting for his next move.
After a moment's decision Kenshin left the room again and went to the opposite door, slowly treading around the staircase through the blue. He barely saw the edges of the door but approached it as cautiously as always. His hand rose to the doorknob as the sound of a child's laughter reached his ears.
It wasn't until he had gripped the knob that it registered, and he looked down the staircase with wide eyes, ears waiting. He was not unnerved, but his heart beat madly anyway.
For perhaps three minutes or so, no further sound came. Kenshin was almost convinced of his deranged state of mind and went to open the door when he heard it again, distinctly echoing from the floor below. High pitched, brief, delighted. He debated mentally with himself on the likelihood of a small girl residing in such a place and sought for her with his third eye. Nothing.
Yet another giggle fluttered up to him. Kenshin dropped his hands, slowly advancing to the steps. A ghostly trap, or a girl at play? He could not make sure any other way, and any trap set for him was bound to snare him soon enough, he thought bitterly. He no longer had any doubts about the house's intentions. What did it matter where he chose to fall first, if he was to surpass the trap anyway?
One hand on the stark cold railing and another hovering over his sword, he began to descend. He made it five steps into the abyss and could go no further.
Something tugged at his clothes. A presence established itself behind him in his mind's eye.
He turned calmly and stared at it. It was a boy. Kenshin was level with him on the steps despite his height, and they close enough that he could see shocking sharp hair and a tightly lipped mouth. He regarded the black mass, trying to discern its motives and feeling time slip by with a cold caress until it chose to speak.
"You're not ready to go down there yet," The boy said, shoulders rising. The motion brought attention to a form behind him – no doubt a bokken strapped to his back. "You wouldn't have been able to get in anyhow." His tone was condescending, arrogant, but grave.
After a moment - "So why stop me," Kenshin said, voice deep and merely inquisitive. This was a surprising turn of events.
The boy's barely-visible expression grew fierce. "I just don't want it to be easy for him, that's all."
'Him'? So whatever was going on here, there were opposing forces at work. Kenshin nodded, as if he even had a chance of understanding. He made to climb back up - showing a haunted dark his back for extended periods of time went against all his training – and the boy vanished.
Kenshin did not even blink as he passed the boy's step and stepped off at the previous floor. He considered the encounter with bemusement. An odd sense of relief fluttered within him - he was bereft of human company, perhaps, but this spirit had not emitted any malignant ki. He did not pause to hope for an ally, but the boy might perhaps become useful, even if only to keep him sane.
However, the boy's words hinted at a deeper mystery than Kenshin cared to solve. He wished now only to leave. Kenshin allowed himself a minute sigh in the echoing quiet, the laughter long silent. Not that his wishes mattered, as usual. It seemed as though the house would not be content to let him leave until he had thoroughly immersed himself in its secrets.
The boy's physical presence may have vanished, but his ethereal one had not. Kenshin titled his head to the side and called out softly, "How do I get out of here?"
There was a flicker to his left by the storage room, and the boy appeared again – now too far away to look like anything but a solid mass of darkness. The mass shrugged its shoulders. His voice carried strangely in the void.
"You're at his mercy," he said, "And you've already got the tsukumogami against you. You're going to perish here like all the others."
All the others? Kenshin was not impressed. He glanced in the direction of the entranceway then looked back. "But is there a way out."
The boy fidgeted, clearly hesitant. Apparently he wasn't used to someone casually dismissing their impending doom. "Well - yeah, one…"
Voice like steel, Kenshin glared at him. "Child, you must tell me. I will not die here."
He felt a flare of anger in the boy's fuzzy ki. "Who's a kid?! For all you know I've been dead for millions of years!"
Kenshin blinked, and his sternness diminished again. How strange, to be reassuring a headstrong boy in a possessed house. It calmed him. He allowed himself an imperceptible tilt of the lips at the outburst, for the boy's manner of speech was fairly recent. How long had he been here? What were his circumstances – and those of this place? He shouldn't push those issues, but… his voice nonetheless softened. "Ah, perhaps. I'm sorry to have underestimated you. What is your name?"
The ghost boy mumbled something so low Kenshin didn't catch it. Voice louder, he said, "To get out you'll have to kill the tsukumogami, then him. That's the only way."
Hm. Kenshin nodded slowly again as if he understood, though he was trying. "Apart from… whoever you speak of, are you the only one here?"
His spectral acquaintance now seemed amused, and gave a chuckle. "That's for you to find out. But I'll give you this hint – start up there." And he made a motion to the floor above them. Kenshin looked to the gaping black hole that the stairs ascended to and sensed nothing from that level.
"Well, see ya. Looks like you'll survive a while longer – you seem like a lot more fun than the last poor idiots." And then the boy was gone, only this time truly so.
Kenshin stood still for a few minutes, wondering the meaning of the boy's words. More fun? Was this nothing but a game to the spirits? His fury rose slightly of the thought of being a toy, having to play with his life like this. He would not be toyed with, not anymore, and he would escape. There was no question about it. However, to do that he must go along with this game – at least for the time being. What irony. But what was he playing with?
Before venturing above he decided to finish what he started – beginning with the room on the left. He went back to it and thrust the door open to reveal the same black he was quickly becoming tired of. Standing still he searched with his senses, and walked inside when he found the room devoid of any presence. A hand against the wall revealed a slight warmth – though dry - that left him strangely nonchalant. He would not be quick to fall to this house's tricks, especially now that he had every reason to believe it malignant. Without hesitation he walked the perimeter of the room, which revealed itself almost bare save for what felt like a stack of smooth wooden slabs - a bookshelf, he remembered - at the farthest wall. With a sweep of the arm he found most of the shelves full of thick bound books. He gave a few books an experimental pull, but they did not so much as budge. He furrowed his brows and let his fingertips ghost over the spines, mind simply accepting this as another oddity, when he felt heat shock his fingers. Kenshin frowned more deeply – this heat was more intense than the warmth of the storage wall. He replaced his hand on it. Curious, he felt the surrounding books, and found three more radiating the strange heat. He gave an small tug – and they moved. He pried one loose and sifted through the pages by feel. They flicked by easily, unobstructed. Nothing slipped out, and nothing more than the heat present even in the pages proved anything was amiss. He replaced it and tried the others. Same results.
Kenshin sighed and felt the bookcase for anything else, but nothing else was amiss. He searched the rest of the room as well as he could, but when nothing else interesting turned up he gave a mental shrug and left, keeping in mind the place of the enchanted books. They might become useful once he had some sort of light to read them.
Once he had slipped out of the room back into the dark blue haze of the entrance hall, he realized something else he had missed – he was beyond famished. His stomach knotted itself painfully to remind him, and he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. Kenshin rubbed it absently, wondering of the chances of there being any fresh rations in this dead place. Before starting upstairs, perhaps there was something to be had in the storage room?
~x~
His search was fruitless. There was nothing at all. He sliced through the wooden crates, barrels, and other boxes with ease, but each and every single one of them fall apart with hollow thunks. He scavenged through them in the dark, fingers once again numb. He could not remember what it was like to be comfortably warm (though his hakama felt slightly drier), his knees protested the harsh floor, and his ankle still throbbed. His mood was quickly turning to the worst. He was fighting back a surge of fury – of all things, to die like this, he couldn't --
"Don't despair," A voice soothed him.
And he was calm. Kenshin turned to it to question the boy when he realized that it was not the same voice, and that without even a trickle in his mind's eye, he was completely alone.
So the boy really wasn't the only one. There was perhaps hope after all – the spirits here did not seem malicious, and were willing to offer aid. Still, he could not cast off the sinister essence of the house, so he was not fooled. He was in danger every second he remained in this place. Simply because the souls lost here helped him did not mean he could expect fair play. Treachery – war - had definitely taught him this.
However, he decided to trust the new spirit – after all, the ki had not even registered in his mind's eye because it was so subtle and unthreatening. Intent was not something spirits could easily mask, though their auras themselves were vague.
Only one destination left now. He brushed his gritty bangs back with resolution and cautiously left, traversing through the two separate darknesses. He paused at the spiraling stairs again, one foot resting on the iron step, testing -- then began to climb. He was careful to lift his weight and keep his steps perfectly silent, even though he suspected it would not help him much. Kenshin half expected another tug to hold him back, but he climbed undisturbed, closer to the dark void. As he approached the second landing he noticed the void there did not clear as he approached – it really seemed almost solid. He proceeded through, head first, and became blind. Still his movements did not falter, and he felt around for the landing and stepped off. The second both his feet were on solid wood, vision returned to him almost like a blow to the senses. The light, though still gloomy, hurt his sensitized eyes. With a grunt he squeezed them closed, hand waiting on the hilt of the sakabatou. Finally the burning cleared and he released the railing. He opened his eyes again slowly.
He was in another hallway, though this time doors lined the entirety of it. The light was indeed greater, and though a dim blue, it was sufficient enough that he could see the bare farthest wall. There were no windows to provide the light. Behind him, the staircase continued to spiral upwards into yet another level that was shrouded in the same solid darkness. Kenshin rolled his shoulders for kinks and looked to the battered Western doors – there were maybe twenty on each side. He was no doubt expected to open them one by one.
He gave a small sigh as his stomach churned, reminding. Well, he'd get nothing done if he simply stood here all day.
With resolute steps he walked the short distance to the first door on his right, and stopped to listen. No sound came forth. He settled into the ready stance and pried open the door. As it swung inward he saw nothing but an elevated table and the according chairs. Something trickled against his skull, but there was nothing. Kenshin breathed in – the air was clear of dust, but still acidic – and walked inside. He waited.
Without a noise the door shut itself behind him.
The light was the same as the hallway, but he did not need it to know he wasn't alone. He felt the pressure of evil energy in his head as flurries of it manifested themselves into physical forms. A second later, still airborne, three shapes lunged themselves at him.
Leaping back, his sword was out and cracked the wolf's skull before it could land a claw on him. He had no time to watch it evaporate before he whirled and stopped another wolf by smashing his blade against its forepaws. A screech of pain tore from its throat and almost cost Kenshin his life – the noise was so intensely painful he nearly froze and caught the third enemy's blast of ethereal fire. He jumped back in time and landed on the table, knees swiftly bending to propel him over the heads of the two remaining attackers before they could even twist to face him. He landed with his back almost touching the door, kicking off it and narrowly missing the jaws aimed at his throat – they got his left shoulder instead, sinking in and ripping off flesh as he kicked the wolf loose with a grunt of pain. His blood squirted onto his face but he ignored it as he fought off more flailing claws. Using his uninjured arm he jammed the hilt into the wolf's eye, this time ignoring the shriek of pain and the flurry of released energy, dodging quickly to the left to avoid another magical projectile. Not wasting a second he turned to face the last enemy, eyes widening as he saw a strange lady with her mouth forming silent words. Heeding the warning of his instincts, Kenshin flew forward and lashed the blunt side of his blade against her neck, crushing it and killing her before she could release another blast of fire. She followed the others and vanished in a rush of hot energy, searing Kenshin as it whirled against him and finally vanished.
All was still.
He was truly alone now. Kenshin released a shaky breath and inspected the sakabatou. Of course it bore no blood, making chiburi unnecessary. He flicked it anyway, and sheathed the reversed blade.
His shoulder was roaring and stinging where the tainted cloth was sticking to it – he bit his lip and pressed it against the wound to quench further flow. Only experience helped him keep his cool - he had never battled enemies not of this world before, never even knew it was truly possible. He thought darkly of his ethereal attackers. Wolves that had run at him on their hind legs, with elongated and muscled forelegs, and small black eyes lacking of any intelligence save the urge to kill… he had been lucky there had been only two, or else he would not have gotten off so easy. The last one was human in appearance, but her features and garb were not native to Japan - though if she was a spirit, he guessed that hardly mattered. Kenshin remembered the blasts of fire and saw that the spots they had struck were indeed charred and burnt through. Had she been a shaman, or evil priestess of some kind? He'd never paid much attention to the tales in the slave line, though now he wished he'd listened for at least knowledge's sake. Clearly this was only the beginning of what he (whoever the he that the boy-ghost mentioned was) or the house had in store for him. Was the whole structure thriving with these monsters?
And he had killed them – or whatever term of extinguishing could be applied to these specimens of existence. He hadn't even intended it. Kenshin clenched his fists. Of course, it did not count – they were malicious spirits, not human lives, and even then he had used the blunt side of the sword. His new vow did not factor in right now. The real question was - how could insubstantial energy die from a solid blow?
Ugh. All these questions were giving him a headache. Before he could finish mulling them over there was another small weight sitting in his mind, patient and unassuming. It made him whirl around the second he registered the presence.
"You look weary, stranger."
Kenshin's eyes grew wide, and his hand immediately sought his sword.
The speaker sat atop the previously-barren table, legs tucked neatly beneath her. She wore the garb of a doctor, long black hair loose at her back, dainty lips painted red. Kenshin relaxed his stance, feeling the ease of the air, and watched her watch him back. Yet another 'friendly' ghost? As with the attackers and the boy, her form was solidified and she looked as alive as he did. She carried a serious, traditional beauty. Her hands were clasped politely in her lap, but her eyes were fixed on his. He felt no threat from her.
Her lips pulled into an amused smile. "You look weary, stranger," she repeated.
Her ki reminded him of the boy's, but it was even fainter. He took a chance and set his face firm. "Will you help me?"
She blinked noncommittally. Her eyes were the same black of the void between the levels. "You look weary, stranger," was all she said.
Kenshin's eyes narrowed.
This seemed to amuse her more, her expression shifting to seductive glee. Then - a sweep of her arm before her made a roll of binding appear, alongside a small bucket of steaming water and a white rag.
"You look weary, stranger," she said, and Kenshin somehow understood that as an invitation to clean himself up. He stepped closer, and as he did so he saw the woman glare at his clothes. She shot a look at the space on the table beside her, and now there lay a set of clean clothes. Kenshin was slightly embarrassed but most of all grateful. She peered at him again and summoned a roll of thread, a jar of liquid, and a needle. He opened his mouth to thank her, but before he could form the words she flipped her hair back and simply disappeared.
He trusted this spirit's intent, and Kenshin lost no time shedding his makeshift shirt. He grabbed the rag – it was completely solid and not an illusion as he had momentarily entertained - and dipped it into the thankfully hot water. He squeezed the water out and washed off the grime and dried blood from his injuries, focusing first and most tenderly on his raw shoulder. After a brief inspection he tentatively picked up the regular sewing thread, and the scent from the jar clearly identified the liquid as undistilled alcohol. He allowed himself a grimace at the prospect of what he was about to do, then went about arranging the thread as best he could. He dug and tugged the needle through the raw skin, sewing himself up awkwardly and biting down on his sheath to resist the great pain. It was a sloppy job but after quite some time he managed it mostly one-handed, tying it closed weakly and applying another dose of alcohol to cleanse the wound a final time. When it was done he was sweating and his shoulder was on fire, but at least the urgency was over. He could ignore this pain. He bound it very tightly, reminding himself to limit its movement in the future before proceeding to the rest of him.
Peeling off his tabi – where had his sandals gone? - and hakama he cleaned his other wounds and bound them when needed. The water was turning a murky, reddish brown - but it was still warm, so he scrubbed the rest of himself as well as he could, not caring about the dark water dripping on the floor. Shivering but grateful, he finally picked up the clothing. Kenshin sighed in relief at seeing a pair of tabi and zori underneath the kimono, hakama, and gi. He quickly dressed into the strangely clean clothes as he inspected them. The hakama was black and the gi was a deep blue - he grunted cheerlessly at the thought that he might blend in with his surroundings - while the tabi and armguards were black as well. Since he was at it, he tugged his hair loose from the tie and ran his fingers through it before tying it up again.
There. Presentable and ready to face the army of darkness. His face was grim though the thought amused him. He was prepared.
Now that he was finished, Kenshin stood in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do with the cast-off artifacts. He decided to leave them as they were, and checked himself over quickly for any last-minute pains. Aside from the expected injuries and tenseness, nothing. He pulled at his shoulder ever-so-slightly, and immediately winced in regret. He'd need to grip the sheath in battle to keep his arm from thrashing around. Kenshin frowned and bent his knees, hand over the sword…
And drew it with startling speed, whirling about in the familiar kata. He paused, holding his position, flipped the sword and launched into another one. His shoulder did not protest too much as it was though it was an effort to keep it still, and it impeded his movements slightly. He forced himself through another set, accounting for his now rather useless arm. He grit his teeth. Kenshin finished by leaping through the air and landing on the table, barely disturbing the objects resting on it. He was slightly out of breath, but only because his ankle did not particularly agree with him. His condition wasn't as it could be, but ah well. It would have to do. He leaped off and calmly went to the door to leave, realizing that he was no longer cold. He was not warm, simply… not chilled. He was never relieved of the house's presences in his mind's eye, so he was by no means comfortable.
Now… walking back out into the hallway, he stared at every door in turn. Would each room reveal helpful spirits once rid of the ethereal monsters, and where was the source of that omnipresent evil energy? Where could he consider "safe", so he may rest? No way to make sure but to try them all. Kenshin was dismayed at the task before him but walked toward the opposite door nonetheless. Again he stopped to listen, and again he threw the door open, waited, and strode inside always ready for battle.
Nothing happened. The door remained open, and the room was empty save for two laid-out futons on the far right. He checked out the room before relaxing his stance, though still on guard. Almost disappointed, Kenshin went over to inspect the futons and crouched warily, expecting another trap. The traditional futons looked ridiculously out of place in this mostly Western-styled house. They were free of dirt but smelled musty. He was not tempted.
He left it and tried the adjacent door, entering cautiously. It was completely barren of anything at all and was dimly lit as always, but nothing pulled at his senses. He waited then turned to leave – to find that the door had closed so silently he hadn't even noticed. Kenshin's eyes narrowed. He was quickly learning that this meant there was something in store.
He was not disappointed. A rough voice said, "So you're the new guy."
Kenshin turned and took in the sight of this new ghost. He was tall and oozing arrogance, grinning at him with some dark cheer. His ki was mildly threatening, burning with battle lust more than anything else.
Kenshin nodded. "It appears so."
The man smirked, and the effect was enhanced by the dark bandana hiding his eyebrows. His hair was wild and mostly stood up away from his head, and he wore the loose garb of a fighter. His style was also further denoted by the multiple bandages wrapped around his torso and fists. Kenshin had no delusions.
"How're you liking it here so far?" He asked, hunching over with his hands in his pockets, lower body leaning against the wall.
"I find the hospitality rather lacking," Kenshin said smoothly.
The ghost burst out laughing and propelled himself off the wall. "Yeah, you're not meant to be enjoying the stay. You've got his panties in a bunch, so I've gotta take care of you." He cracked his knuckles. "If you know what I mean."
Kenshin said, "And I take it I have no choice in the matter?", though he was already sinking into his stance as he spoke.
The man grinned at him darkly, hand reaching out to grasp a massive weapon that suddenly appeared beside him. He pulled the coverings off it in one fluid motion, revealing a great blade Kenshin had only heard of. The zanbatou should have been hindered by the small room – only the space around them seemed to have stretched drastically.
"No." The man said with a grin, and launched himself forward.
Kenshin was ready, and waited for the exact moment to pull his sword from its sheath. He waited until the zanbatou fell to the right angle, then fluidly drew it out, slicing through -
"Stop!"
-air. It was Kenshin's iron resolve that kept his sakabatou from crushing her neck, for he held it immobile with tense control only a hair's breadth from her. She stood with her back to him, roughly the same slight height and build as him. Aside from that, long hair flowing from a high ribbon and outstretched arms shielding him was all Kenshin could see.
The man had just managed to halt his great blade as well, which Kenshin silently praised him for. The look on his face was one of extreme surprise.
"What the – Kamiya! Are you insane!?"
The girl jutted her chin in defiance. "Absolutely not - I'd come back anyway. You two must stop!"
Kenshin kept his stance, judging. What was going on here? He could feel that the man's battle lust had not eased. Kenshin narrowed his eyes further and kept himself still, waiting for acknowledgement and clarification.
So did the man, apparently. He held his pose. "Not gonna happen. You going to stand there all day, Kamiya?"
"As long as I have to, Sagara. I know you'll keep attacking if I step aside." She said angrily. The blunt edge at her neck or the zanbatou before her didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. Kenshin's eyebrow twitched.
"You know I have to, girl." The man hissed. The muscles in his arms tensed from holding the blade up. "Besides, he'll go like all the others."
Her shoulders rose, shaking. "No! I think he's – I think he could really do it!"
The other man – Sagara? - growled. "Bullshit. Now out of the way, girl." And within that moment he had moved to stand beside her, taking another swing at Kenshin. The girl yelped and dove out of the way, leaving Kenshin to swiftly redirect his sword and flip away. The zanbatou landed heavily where he once stood, burying through the wood. The man barely gave a grunt as he lifted it out and swung again at Kenshin, who had jumped behind him. Kenshin sprung and landed on the massive blade, crouched with his narrowed eyes coldly assessing.
The man seemed surprised, but didn't give in to the extra weight. He simply unearthed the zanbatou from the wall and flung it away. Kenshin dropped smoothly to position in front of the cast aside weapon, and his opponent smirked.
"Not bad. You're a fast bastard, I'll give you that."
Kenshin raised a brow but did not retort, clenching the sheath tightly. He held the sakabatou in his other hand steadily. "How do you intend to fight me now?"
The ghost cracked his knuckles again and stretched his legs. "I was a fist fighter before I got involved in this mess. Don't you worry, I can still take you on." And he crouched into a battle stance as well, fists at the ready. One second later he again threw himself at Kenshin, teeth bared and punches already flying.
Kenshin dodged out of the way of each one, deflecting a few with the flat of the blade close to the hilt. He frowned and dug his feet in as he was slowly being pushed back, but the barrage of strikes from the ghost did not cease. Kenshin swiftly dodged to the side and jumped over his head, managing to strike Sagara in the head with the hilt as he flew over him. Sagara took the hit relatively well as it did not stop him from trying to catch Kenshin as he landed. Kenshin dropped out of the punch's path but had to leap away to avoid a kick. The other man was not fast by any means, but he was certainly a powerhouse.
Still, Kenshin had had enough. He sheathed the sakabatou and again launched himself over Sagara's head, giving a much more powerful boost to prepare for an aerial strike. He was moving too fast for Sagara to even think of defending himself.
"Ryu Tsui… Shou Sen!" Kenshin cried as he dealt the blow, crashing the blade down on Sagara's shoulder. In the same motion he swiftly brought the sword up again and punched the sharp edge to make it crash against the bottom of the opponent's chin with even more power. As he landed, Kenshin almost expected to hear the crunch of bone - even with the sakabatou, it was a near-fatal strike. Sagara's eyes widened. His fists were frozen in their motion, chin jutting a little further than normal, and he flickered in and out of sight before dropping to the ground and completely vanishing.
Kenshin rose fluidly and sheathed his blade, frowning as he searched for the ghost's aura. It was definitely gone, so he turned to face the girl. She was seated haphazardly against the wall, her eyes huge and mouth gaping…
His own eyes widened. Her eyes – her presence – he recognized it now. It was her who had startled him upon first opening the storage room, and her voice that had encouraged him.
They gaped at each other for another second, then Kenshin came back to himself and dropped to his knees in front of her. He didn't really know what to say, however.
The girl coughed and nervously rearranged herself. "Um, wow. No one's ever killed Sagara before."
Kenshin blinked.
She fidgeted some more, and Kenshin saw she was rather pretty - and around his age. Her garb was formal and unassuming, letting her eyes draw all the attention. They were incredibly striking. "I'm Kamiya Kaoru," she offered.
Kenshin did not know what name to give her, and wondered if she knew of Battousai. He decided to go simple. "Kenshin," he slowly returned, including a polite tilt of the head. "I am sorry for what transpired earlier."
A grin lit up her face. "Ah. Your name suits you, you were really impressive! Earlier…? -Oh! Don't bother, I would've been alright anyway. It's not your fault."
Kenshin again didn't say anything.
"…So, um," she spoke nervously, "I…I guess you have some questions?"
Kenshin nodded, relieved that some of his questioned might be answered. "If you are ghosts, how come you are solid?"
Kaoru smiled, tilting her head so that her bangs trickled against her face. "We're not ghosts, exactly. Just souls, or projections of them. Within the grounds of this house lie our attachments – our true bodies, I guess you could say - and until that object is destroyed we will continue to be. Blows that would kill us had we been alive simply extinguish our manifestation, and we have to 'rest' to be able to project ourselves again. Sagara will probably come back soon enough, since he was really tough in life."
Kenshin mulled this over. "I see. It is only a temporary death, then."
Kaoru shrugged, and smiled a bitter smile. "If you could call this life, yes. Anyhow, I'm not sure why we are solid when projected. We just… are."
He frowned. So what of the monsters? Would they revive as well? There was much else to ask. "So what is really going on - what is this place? And what did you mean, I could 'do it'?" He asked almost eagerly, leaning in slightly.
The girl's smile turned a little guiltily, and her hands nervously clenched in her lap. "Well, that's a lot of questions, haha. Um. Look, I can't say too much or else… well –" she sighed, "The tsukumogami is an artifact spirit that possesses the house itself, making it alive and aware. So that's responsible for the traps after you." Kenshin mentally nodded at his earlier perceptions. "But he's actually the one pulling the rest of the strings. He got the house under his control somehow, and he's hiding somewhere here - I don't know where – playing with you. Well, he was, but since he's sent Sagara after you, it means he's afraid of you now. I don't know why. Anyway, he'll be after you more actively. So to get out, you must kill him and the tsukumogami both. Then you'll be free."
Kenshin frowned. She had said - "How would that help you?"
Kaoru sighed, fidgeting even more. "Ah, there's a bind on that. I got off relatively easy, but I still can't talk about it."
More questions were born as others were answered. Kenshin rotated his good shoulder and checked himself for injuries while thinking it all over. "Then what – who – is 'he'? And what exactly happened to you, if you are not truly ghosts?"
The girl sighed and dusted imaginary flecks off her lap. "I can't talk about him much more than I already have, but I know why we're still here. It's because we can't go far from our attachments, which he keeps. He did this to us, and he even controls us, to an extent. He can restrict us by placing binds. Take Sagara: he was an okay guy, but he's in an obedience bind. He was ordered to kill you, so he can't control himself. The opium woman is off pretty bad too, what with being chained to that room and the speech bind. That's the kind of stuff he can do to the unwilling. But then… then there's the spirits who willingly serve him. You must be careful of them."
Kenshin looked about the room. If the house was alive… listening?... he wasn't sure it was quite safe to be speaking of this up here. He could always sense the house's energy. "So what is the point of this? Trapping me here – what does he intend to do? And why did he do – whatever it was – to you?"
Kaoru now looked completely dejected. "What I know is that he's collecting people, and using their souls. The past people to be trapped here have all become spirits just like us. I don't even know how long we've existed this way, for time has no meaning… But you, I think you could stop him. You're the first to escape from the monsters, and you haven't fallen to the illusions." She looked up at him with a firm stare and a tight mouth. Kenshin's breath caught slightly. Her eyes burned into his own. "To be honest, you have to. I mean, you want to get out of here, right?"
Of course. Kenshin sighed and offered her a small tired smile. The expression was too foreign. "Yes. I will do my best to help you as well. I'm afraid I will need your assistance, however. There is still much I do not understand."
The girl's face lit up, and she was strangely excited as she clapped her hands together. "Yeah! That's – I mean, of course, it's no trouble. I'll stick around, tell you what I can. Er. You need food, I assume."
Kenshin blinked, and gave an embarrassed grimace. "Ah. Yes… that I do."
"Well then!" Kaoru said, and practically leaped up. Kenshin got up much slower, with more grace. "I'll show you where I found some preserves. They should still be good."
Kenshin gave her another small grin and thanked her, and her face returned it much wider. It was getting slightly easier to smile.
He followed her as she led him out of the room, out again into the haunted hallway of the house and down through the black void.
To Be Continued
Quote is an excerpt from the Principia Discordia.
A/N; This is my first Rurouni Kenshin fanfic ever, so I'm still learning the personalities and dynamics of the cast. (Kenshin's is especially tricky, considering the time period and setting I've thrown him in.) Hopefully that'll smooth out as we go.
However, please be patient with updates (this is not my only current work in progress) while I fight off life and figure out specific details. I'm trying my best, but I am still only one person with only one point of view so things might not make sense, intentionally or not.
Thanks, and see you again soon - hopefully. (…Just a hint, concrit would be awesome.)