Dilemma
Chapter 1: Rain
Why did rainy nights more often than not draw out memories - specifically solemn ones - from the recesses of minds? Kenshin and Kaoru sat in silence despite each other's company, virtually as if they had agreed to ponder individual thoughts. The full moon would have appeared brilliant and beautiful had a clear night sky worn it as its pendant; at the moment however, it only escalated the somberness the rain and intrusive clouds rendered.
"Kenshin?" Despite the long-due breaking of the silence, Kaoru's first word in almost an hour did not seem abrupt.
"Mmm?" Kenshin replied, still appearing in reverie.
"Do you think my father would be proud of me?"
It was a childish question, really. Kenshin of course had not a clue as to what Kaoru's father was like. It was a question intended for an old friend, lover or family, who would have shared the grief when the person in question never returned. Despite such, Kenshin told her what she wanted to hear.
"Of course Kaoru-dono. He would be so happy and proud to see the person you've become."
The same reply would have come from any kind stranger; Kenshin was sincere in his reply though, and Kaoru was content.
"I wonder what he would think of you, Kenshin." Kaoru continued wistfully.
Kenshin could not answer that. He should have been the one to ask such a question. Indeed, what would Kaoru's father think of Kenshin? Kenshin frankly did not wish to think about it. Would he be happy to know that his daughter was living with the Hitokiri of the Bakumatsu? Would he be happy to know that living in the dojo that embodied the sword which protects life, was one who had quenched countless lives? Needless to say, Kaoru's father had also been in the same war, and consequently, killing had inevitably been in order. But would it matter to him that they would have battled on opposite sides, for the master of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu had been called upon to protect the then-current government?
Such thoughts never really dawned on the two under the humid rainy night. Just as Sano and Kenshin set their differences aside in terms of their pasts in war, the fact that Kaoru's father was indeed against the forthcoming Meiji era did not seem to matter to anyone.
An awkward silence fell upon the air around. Kenshin stood abruptly, and held his feet for a few seconds before turning towards the shoji.
"Oyasumi."
Kaoru did not even have a chance to return the words. She stared, a trifle puzzled at his action, at the again-shut shoji. She wondered if it was her fault for bringing up the subject, if it made Kenshin uncomfortable. But it was not brought up to imply something that Kenshin apparently thought about himself; she was genuinely curious as to what her father would think of Kenshin. And her with him.
Without shrugging off the thoughts, Kaoru followed Kenshin's suit, shutting the shoji behind her as she readied for sleep.
Kenshin continued to be perturbed by the question Kaoru asked hours ago. Would her father be especially happy, knowing that despite participating in the war, despite killing against his will to create peace namely for his daughter, Kaoru had been in danger countless times in the Meiji era? Because Hitokiri Battousai had entered her life? Like so many times, Kenshin wondered if he indeed was too bloody and stained to be with Kaoru.
What Kenshin didn't have the knowledge to wonder, however, was if Kaoru's father would be happy – knowing that the man who was responsible for his death, for his daughter's loneliness and suffering, was living with and being loved by that very daughter.
- - Author's Note: This will be my first proper fic, and I have two choices – to make this short and relatively sweet, or drag it out into the lengthy angsty piece I would prefer it to be. I have some ideas in my head, cliché they may be, that can make the story long and on a broad scale, but suggestions would be very nice. Please read and review!
Why did rainy nights more often than not draw out memories - specifically solemn ones - from the recesses of minds? Kenshin and Kaoru sat in silence despite each other's company, virtually as if they had agreed to ponder individual thoughts. The full moon would have appeared brilliant and beautiful had a clear night sky worn it as its pendant; at the moment however, it only escalated the somberness the rain and intrusive clouds rendered.
"Kenshin?" Despite the long-due breaking of the silence, Kaoru's first word in almost an hour did not seem abrupt.
"Mmm?" Kenshin replied, still appearing in reverie.
"Do you think my father would be proud of me?"
It was a childish question, really. Kenshin of course had not a clue as to what Kaoru's father was like. It was a question intended for an old friend, lover or family, who would have shared the grief when the person in question never returned. Despite such, Kenshin told her what she wanted to hear.
"Of course Kaoru-dono. He would be so happy and proud to see the person you've become."
The same reply would have come from any kind stranger; Kenshin was sincere in his reply though, and Kaoru was content.
"I wonder what he would think of you, Kenshin." Kaoru continued wistfully.
Kenshin could not answer that. He should have been the one to ask such a question. Indeed, what would Kaoru's father think of Kenshin? Kenshin frankly did not wish to think about it. Would he be happy to know that his daughter was living with the Hitokiri of the Bakumatsu? Would he be happy to know that living in the dojo that embodied the sword which protects life, was one who had quenched countless lives? Needless to say, Kaoru's father had also been in the same war, and consequently, killing had inevitably been in order. But would it matter to him that they would have battled on opposite sides, for the master of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu had been called upon to protect the then-current government?
Such thoughts never really dawned on the two under the humid rainy night. Just as Sano and Kenshin set their differences aside in terms of their pasts in war, the fact that Kaoru's father was indeed against the forthcoming Meiji era did not seem to matter to anyone.
An awkward silence fell upon the air around. Kenshin stood abruptly, and held his feet for a few seconds before turning towards the shoji.
"Oyasumi."
Kaoru did not even have a chance to return the words. She stared, a trifle puzzled at his action, at the again-shut shoji. She wondered if it was her fault for bringing up the subject, if it made Kenshin uncomfortable. But it was not brought up to imply something that Kenshin apparently thought about himself; she was genuinely curious as to what her father would think of Kenshin. And her with him.
Without shrugging off the thoughts, Kaoru followed Kenshin's suit, shutting the shoji behind her as she readied for sleep.
Kenshin continued to be perturbed by the question Kaoru asked hours ago. Would her father be especially happy, knowing that despite participating in the war, despite killing against his will to create peace namely for his daughter, Kaoru had been in danger countless times in the Meiji era? Because Hitokiri Battousai had entered her life? Like so many times, Kenshin wondered if he indeed was too bloody and stained to be with Kaoru.
What Kenshin didn't have the knowledge to wonder, however, was if Kaoru's father would be happy – knowing that the man who was responsible for his death, for his daughter's loneliness and suffering, was living with and being loved by that very daughter.
- - Author's Note: This will be my first proper fic, and I have two choices – to make this short and relatively sweet, or drag it out into the lengthy angsty piece I would prefer it to be. I have some ideas in my head, cliché they may be, that can make the story long and on a broad scale, but suggestions would be very nice. Please read and review!