Standard disclaimer applies.

OH MY GOD! I'M ACTUALLY COMING OUT WITH A FRIGGIN' SEQUEL!

I know, I know, very shocking. Shall we continue?

There is, let's say, a sort of intrigue going on. I am going to be writing in the first persons POV, as I had in The Sound of Jasmine, and it will be completely up to you to figure it out who the person is that is narrating the chapters. Can you do it? Well, read the story and make a few suggestions, but might I say I doubt you guys will figure it out... (That's my 'hint hint' by the way)

Oh, and for those of you who have not yet read The Sound of Jasmine, I suggest that you do. This isn't one of those 'can't understand the second story if you haven't read the first story' type deal, but I'm sure a lot of this story will make more sense if you read the first one.

Anyways. Without much ado, here it is!

Wanderings of a Castaway

Chapter One: At Last

By: Luna

Dear Diary,

I usually never write in such things as a journal or diary, but for some reason, as doubts and fears and memories wash over me, I feel the ever growing need for some way to preserve my thoughts, my feelings, my memories; to make them last; to make them matter.

Oh, I know they will always matter to me. I will never forget them, even when I am old and gray and possibly still alone.

I will always remember the day I came alive; when those amber eyes of a lonely demon met mine from across a crowded tavern, and my heart was stolen at a glance. I'll always remember the almost... shyness of his actions around me, how he only smiled with those eyes of his, and maybe once with his lips...

I'll always remember that last night I spent with him, when the stars fell out of heaven and landed in my heart when he touched me. How the world seemed to still and crystallize in that one perfect moment when he kissed me, and how he whispered he loved me – not with his mouth, but with his heart, in that moment in time when we became one.

No, I'll never forget it. I'll never forget him.

Even now, I can't bear to say his name. It hurts too much, and then I feel too much.

When the house burnt down, and I had started to ride away with Sanosuke towards Tokyo... I felt the most horrible sense of foreboding, as if Fate were telling me to go back, go back. And then I was pulling at Sanosuke, crying, screaming, and murmuring: go back, go back...

But he wouldn't listen. He kept silent, riding forward and not saying a word to me, all those many weeks we spent on the rode. What if Kenshin came back to look for me? What if he saw that I wasn't there; that I hadn't waited for him like I told him I would? It'd break his heart.

But still, Sanosuke wouldn't listen. He'd just look at me, his eyes unusually hard, and tell me that the chances of Kenshin making it alive out of the war – especially with his profession – the chances were slim to none, and he wouldn't leave me for the world to fend for myself, even though I've been doing it since I was but a little girl. But...

What he said was true – Kenshin in all likely hood would not make it through the war – but my heart believed differently, and so I believed differently. I believed in Kenshin. He'd come back to me, I knew he would. I know he will. Sanosuke could talk all he wanted, and he could lecture all he wanted about how I should forget about the man who had stolen my heart and had yet to give it back to me. But I won't listen to him. And I won't forget him, either.

We arrived in Tokyo at what must have been the last, coldest day of winter. Or maybe just the beginning, but I didn't like it. It was lacking something; something solid and substantial, and I didn't need the ache in my heart to remind me just whom it was missing.

Kenshin. Dear God, Kenshin.

Where are you? Are you hurt? Are you safe? Are you thinking of me? Are you looking for me? I wish I could drive these thoughts out of my head and stop my heart from hurting, but I can't. All wounds need time to heal, and mine were freshly dealt. I needed time. Time to at least let them scab, then scar, so the reminder would never leave me.

Sanosuke didn't want me staying with him, for one because he was almost never home, second because with him gone I would be staying in his house all alone, and Tokyo was much more dangerous than what Namazu had been, and thirdly, because though my reputation in Namazu had not been sterling, he told me that I would not stay at his house like a mistress.

His choice of where I did stay, however, had not been any better.

I was to stay at a Geisha House in the Red Light district. He told me that though the house was, in nearly every sense of the word, a house of ill repute, geisha houses were one of the most protective. In my biased opinion, I think it was only protected so their girls won't run away.

The Mother was not, in my estimation, a nice woman, but she was letting me stay under her roof while Sanosuke paid for my room and board – and I, for one, had never heard of such an arrangement. To stay in such a place like a tenant and not sell my body like the rest of the girls... Sanosuke must be paying a hefty price indeed, and I wonder if such a thing is necessary. I care not a wit about my reputation, and it's not as if I stand out enough for people to actually take notice of me. If anything, staying in his house with the pretense of being a mistress was better than staying in a house and pretending I was a geisha.

But the girls here are... nice. They don't hide the fact that they are jealous with my arrangement, but they don't go out of their way to make me uncomfortable or do me physical damage, like I suspect most are very capable of doing. It took me awhile. I didn't like what they did, and I didn't like who they were, and I didn't appreciate being there.

But I did learn.

I learned how to defend myself when or if a male ever tried to do me physical harm or hurt me just for the pleasure of it. I learned how to play music, how to dance, and, my favorite, how to pick locks and pockets. Not surprisingly, that was a skill many girls here excelled at.

And then I learned their rules.

Their first rule: Never fall in love. It only led to disaster, as I've seen with my very eyes. The Mother pressed hot irons on girls' toes, again and again and again, because she knew her socks would cover the scars. Never fall in love, she said, because then it only put ideas in young girls heads and made them do rash things, most cases with the girl committing suicide because the customer who favored her never went through with his promise. That action lost money for the Mother, and that made her displeased and ill tempered.

Men didn't marry women like these. If anything, they bought the girls from the Mother and made them their personal whores.

Sanosuke told me I shouldn't think like that. He told me that they had no choice, that they were sold into what they were doing, and that some men really do love and marry the girls, and that I should try to like them, that I should respect them, even a tiniest bit, for what they go through every day; every night.

I do feel sad for their situation. I do feel that something better should be offered to them. Life is hard, and though some of the girls do prefer to stay in the House and be fed with a roof over their head instead of starving to death in the streets, I feel these girls should have a choice whether to leave or not. Whether to sell their bodies or not.

Maybe it was just because I never experienced what they had. Maybe it was because I have given myself but once to the only man I will ever share my body with again, and so I cannot understand. But at the moment, I care not at all that I can't summon enough warmth in this heart of mine too weighed down by grief to make a half hearted attempt at kindness.

I didn't like what they did, and I don't respect what they do.

Like them, I do not.


Excerpt from the diary of Kamiya Kaoru, 1866.
Here, our story begins, seven years into the Meiji Era, year 1874...

Silently, I watched the moving crowd shifting and moving and shaping constantly, nothing but the buildings standing still and unchanging. Something was tugging at me; tugging at my heart and telling my head that what I had been searching for all these many months was here, and in my grasp.

So I watched, a habit that I've had since the moment I figured out that I could speak for myself and act for myself, and learned the habits of the crowd and the gestures of the people, taking in their accents and their speech patterns and committing both to memory. I never let my gaze rest on one individual, for they were not what I was searching for.

I was just about to give up. I was feeling that twisting sort of helplessness that had started to form months ago every time I felt I wouldn't succeed. It twisted inside of me, churning in my chest and poisoning my mind with doubts. I was never going to find Him. I was never going to know why His face was imprinted on my mind, sketched, drawn, and painted only by the words that were described to me. Never knowing why that damned man meant so much to me when half of my life was grown up hating His very existence.

If He hadn't come along, my Mother would be happy. My brother and I wouldn't exist, to be sure, but Mother wouldn't have that sad and quiet haunting pain in her eyes, and she would smile more. If I never found Him, I would never understand why a woman such as my Mother would care for Him. If I never found Him, I'd never know why or understand why I myself would care for Him when I have never even met Him before in my life.

Was it because He was my father? Was it because, in some dark and hidden recess in my mind, I had drawn Him myself into a hero that I could look up to? That I yearned to look up to? Even though He had left my mother, did I still want to view His murderous self as some God to a boy who had nothing else to believe in? I wonder.

But then I saw Him.

He was the dark shadow that washed slowly over the bright, moving crowd, and though it could have just been me, the noise of the people dimmed a bit as a darkness they couldn't quiet ignore seeped into their bones and chilled their souls to the point of mind numbing fear. That was what I felt. Or maybe it was just the fear of finally finding the object of my obsession and being afraid to actually reach out and touch what I had thought was impossible for me to obtain.

He was just like the image painted in my mind. A stranger, yet not a stranger, forging His path out of a past unknown to me; a past forged by the darkness and the utter loneliness and sorrow that was marked in His sad, cold, yellow eyes.

He was a symbol to me, sliding through the crowd like a serpent with its slithering grace. Yet His presence was more beautiful than that of a snake. He was graceful and breathtaking, like a person's first face-to-face visit with a wild, seeking tiger. Breathless with fear. Breathless with wonder. His presence hit me like a physical blow, and I nearly staggered against the weight of my relief mixed in with my fear. This was my Father, I told myself. I need not fear of Him.

But I did, and I nearly turned tail and ran back to the people I left at home.

But I couldn't. I had to see this mission of mine complete, if only to see a smile that held no lingering sadness. I couldn't let down the beloved person I had left behind on my quest to make our small family's happiness complete.

I watched Him from my perch high in the alley I was hidden in. His swords along His side, a stark reminder of what He was or had been, along with a small wrapped package. His dark blue gi was worn and looked to have been ripped apart and patched back together several times, and the hems of His hakama were threadbare.

Keeping my eyes on Him, I moved from my post in the shadows and crept towards Him on silent feet; the years of needing to tread softly had been engraved in me, and were a part of me that couldn't fade away with time. I stood directly in His path, waiting for that dark aura to wash over me in an icy caress.

I wondered what His reaction to me is going to be. I had disguised myself, of course, but there was always a lingering chance that He remembered my Mother and would see her traits in me. The shape of my eyes, maybe, or even the curve of my lips. There were many ways to disguise myself, of which most I took, but there was always a chance. I wasn't sure which one, out of my brother and I, resembled Him more, but I wished to the Gods that it was my Brother. Mother commented on it once, so it must be so. I hope.

When a shadow fell over me, I knew He had stopped mere feet away. I kept my head down, my burning eyes glued to the ground and my lips pressed tight together, repressing the shivers of rage and fear that threatened to break loose. Gathering up my courage, I raised my chin slowly to look Him in the eyes.

He was not a very large man, but He wasn't that small, either. Even with His small stature, He dominated the area easily. He loomed over me with the darkness of a fallen angel, looking down that straight nose and simply staring at me with calm, cold, and frighteningly blank amber eyes of the demon He was known to be. I studied His face, for the first time seeing much of me, and that somehow helped dissolve some of the hard knot of fear lodged in my belly.

He was slim, though you would never have guessed by the tan hakama and the dark indigo blue of His gi draped over His form, somehow making Him seem larger than what He was. His hair was that deep, blood red my mother had always told us about, held high upon His head by a blue ribbon.

His lips were full and sensuous; His cheekbones high and smooth, the hideous cross-shaped scar on His cheek the only thing marring the beauty of His face. His eyes were narrowed and darkly lashed, and the frightening beauty of the man went past my ability to comprehend, and for a moment I could only stare up at Him dumbly, struck motionless by His presence.

When He went to move around me, I snapped out of it and pivoted on my heel. "Wait!"

But He wasn't there. He completely disappeared, and people were staring at me so strangely that I had to wonder if He had ever been there in the first place, and if my desperate mind conjured the image of the man I so desperately wanted to find. I walked off to the dark alley I had been in before and slumped against the wall. I knew I shouldn't let my disappointment overwhelm me, and so I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin as I prepared to once again look for the apparition that would make my family complete.

And froze when the icy hot touch of steel rested lightly against my neck.

I felt it then, that dark, smooth, gentle caress of fear that stopped me from trying to escape. He was here. I felt it in the way the air shifted and the way my mind reacted. The assailant spoke; a smooth, honeyed voiced that was filled with as much warmth as the snow a top Mt. Fuji. It was a low silken, oddly caressing and dangerously repulsive as the words slid over my skin. How could my mother ever had stood listening to this mans voice? It was smooth, yet hard. Deadly, yet oddly seductive. And I listened, utterly fascinated at the gentle sound, at the quiet command in His voice that demanded He be obeyed.

"What do you want, boy?" He seemed to whisper, yet His voice lacked that whispery sound. His voice was just low and... void. "I asked you a question. Why were you seeking me?"

Just to see you. "To find answers." Was my automatic response. "To know the truth." To know you.

This time, the barest thread of amusement laced His voice. "And you think you can find your answers with me?"

I dared to turn my head to the side and look at Him from over my shoulder. "You're the only one who has them." The only one who can give them.

Shivering, I forced myself not to look away when His hard eyes suddenly sharpened, his firm mouth suddenly tightened, and He took a step towards me. I kept my eyes to His as He searched my face, and I stiffened when I caught recognition in His eyes. Does He recognize me? After all these years, does He recognize the face of the woman He was said to have loved once in mine?

Holding His gaze, I felt an almost physical blow to my heart when an expression of such sorrow and misery banked in His eyes before disappearing, and I felt the blade slide off my skin with just the barest whisper of touch.

"Go home, boy. I travel with no one."

When He started to turn, against my better judgment I ran to His side and touched His hand. Mother always said I was impulsive. "But you did once! You did stay with someone once!"

I froze underneath the sudden molten look of amber flame scorching me, and I started to shiver uncontrollably. "What did you say?" My Father hissed. "Speak!"

I took a step back. "I-I'm not telling. Not unless you let me come with you."

He stared down at me for what seemed like an eternity, his face blank and his eyes terrifying in their intensity. Then... He sighed. "If you fall behind, you'll get left behind. If you get lost, I won't search for you. If you die, I won't mourn for you or contact anybody. Is that understood?"

I nodded, quick to agree with almost anything He said, and scrambled after Him when He started to walk away. I stared at His back, watching the graceful glide of each step, strained to hear every footfall even though I knew I wouldn't be able to. I watched the tail of His hair swing back and forth, breathed in deeply whenever the wind picked up those long locks and brought His scent of sandalwood and something else that I couldn't quite name. I wanted to take in everything about Him. I wanted to learn everything about Him. I wanted to love everything about Him. And...

I wanted to see in Him what my mother fell in love with all those years ago.

But then something else caught my attention, and I gave a shout as I ran ahead of Him to stand underneath the cherry trees just beginning to bloom. I yanked the tie that had been holding my hair up in a similar style like my Fathers, and laughed when the wind picked up the strands and brought with it the faint scent of blooming blossoms. I looked over my shoulder at Him and gave a small, stupid smile, not noticing the way He froze staring at me.

"My mother would love to see this. We wanted to travel to Hiroshima to go see the blossoms fall there, but the tickets were too expensive in Tokyo." I winced, not meaning to give away where we lived.

"Come on, boy, I'm not waiting." His voice sounded a bit hoarse, but it could have just been my imagination.

I ran after Him, feeling my old self start to emerge the more my confidence grew around Him. "My name isn't Boy! It's – ah, it's Sakajo!"

Kenshin was quiet for a moment before He spoke, and I stared at His back with a sulky expression. "Why would your mother wish to see the cherry blossoms?"

I shrugged, not seeing any harm in divulging a few facts about her. It was what I had planned to do all along, after all. Give little secret facts about my mother and brother – about myself too, until He was nearly caught up with all the things He missed.

"She said that something special came to her while at cherry trees." My brow furrowed as I frowned, placing my thumb and forefinger on my chin as I thought. "Or maybe she said that something special happened by cherry trees."

I shrugged again, smiling. "But you get the picture. She said that something special always happened to her underneath the blossoms of the cherry trees. Said that me and my brother – we're twins, by the way, were born underneath them, and we took our first steps underneath them, and... Well, again, you get the picture. Cool things happen."

He was frozen again, and I wondered if I had said too much. All well. He would find out soon enough, I suppose. "So, where are we going?"

Staring down at me, with those lonely eyes of His, I felt a sort of twisting; hard, quick, and painful, around my heart, and I wondered what it was exactly that made a man such as He so sad. I also wondered what it was exactly that made Him stare at me in such an odd, confused way, fear flickering up at the thought of him finding out my secret too soon.

But then He moved on, and I had to run to catch up with Him and my questions left to be answered some other day, when He liked me just a little bit more. But He hadn't answered my question, so I asked again. "Where are we going?"

He didn't even turn His head towards me when he spoke, his calm, determined voice hard, and... hopeful? He was so complicated; so mysterious, and I wonder how or if mother ever understood him. She must have though, because she loved him. Loved him enough to be haunted by him still.

When I heard his answer, I felt myself go cold, wondering.

"We're going to Tokyo."


Okay, I admit that it took me forever and a day to get the first chapter out, but hopefully it was well satisfying.

Can any of you guess who the person narrating is? Actually, as I read through it, I get the feeling that you can very acutely guess who it is... but I'm not telling until the end! And before you start calling out names, the person is NOT what one might automatically guess.

Here are some REVIEW REPLIES from The Sound of Jasmine's last chapter, so if the people who read the first story are reading this one too, well, here's a reply to it! Lol...

Kiwi-San

Here's the Sequel! Is it up to snuff?

Mad-4-Manga

Hmmm, does Kaoru have a baby... no? Ha ha, can you guess who it is?

Remini

Aw, geez, you're gonna make me cry. Thank you for your review! It really helped move me along in writing this, and I hope this one is better than even the first story.

HimuraLover#1

Thanks, Robin, for adding me as a favorite! It's music to my ears when I hear something like that.

hime-san

Thank you

Aya45

Do you really think it's the best? Though I absolutely love you for saying that, I personally didn't like The Sound of Jasmine very much. I've read so much better, and I don't think I'm very popular either to be considered part of the best. But now you're my absolute BEST for saying that! I hope you like this story too!

ash211

Thank you! I wanted to write something moving and heartfelt, and I'm so happy that others feel that way too.

FFX2player

Was the wait worth it? I certainly hope so.

Scarlet Rayne

MIND! Heck no I don't mind being added to your C2... um, I'm a little rusty here, so please tell me if there is anything specific I'm supposed to do when being added… How do you like this chapter? Honest opinion, please.

kalasin

Thanks, I was hoping it would be a genuine fic, a story line that hasn't been tried before. Nowadays, probably not, but I like to think so!

Spriggan

Well, thank you m' dear. I hope the way I develop my characters in this fic near perfect too... or as perfect as I think I can get it...

oogabooga

Hehehe...

Gypsy-chan

Thanks – you should know by now that out of a whole bunch of people I like on this stupid site, your opinion really is one that matters. Kenshin left that night because the war wasn't over, and he still had a job to do. And being Kenshin, don't you think that he would rather leave in the middle of the night than leave in the morning and watch the person he loved cry? He had a duty to do, and as the saying goes, Duty Calls...

Crystal Winds

Hehe, thanks dearie. Did you know that I didn't think I was writing a very sad story when I first started writing this? Nope, I had no idea until, like, the third chapter when someone told me how sad it was. But I agree with you one hundred percent – I totally dig sad, angsty stories... so I guess it was just natural that I kind of wrote one, huh?

burntsilent

Will a reunion take place? Hmmm… find out on the next episode of…. WANDERINGS OF A CASTAWAY! (That'sa mouthful, isn't it?)

battosaichick-

Well, if you liked this ending, you'll definitely like the ending to this story! Haha, just kidding.

Just call me Blue

Thanks for reviewing! I hope you didn't think the wait was too long...

Lady Dark Angel

You know, if I had a buck every time someone told me my story was sad, well, I'd be hundrenair. But thanks! lol

Kanzen ne Tsuki

Yes, yes, I'm evil… haha, thanks Tsuki-san! Truthfully, I like your stories better than mine. As I was reading over The Sound of Jasmine... you know, I just don't like it.

kik-ting

Was TSJ really the first RR you've ever read...? Wow.

PandaSong

Thanks, Sin, for reviewing! I do agree with you though. Most of the time, I just surf through the site for authors that I KNOW are good (probably bad of me) but even when I don't do that, there are a lot of stories that just sound so... bad. I don't think half the people out there realize that if you put a good summary up, people will want to read the story more if they hadn't.

I cant tell you how... annoyed, I guess I could say, when I read some summary that says something like "Kaoru is sad CUZ Kenshin left her and, like, something happens in the end." Some stories really DO attract people even with a summary like that, don't get me wrong, but in my opinion I think that if someone wrote out a summary like, "Weighed down by guilt, Kenshin leaves Kaoru to do (insert something or other) and thinks himself unworthy. Kaoru, through all her pain and rage, tells how she gets through the misery in the only way she knew how..." Well, you get the picture. Sorry to lecture you...

I do that a lot. Next time I write a reply to you, don't be surprised when all you read is Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah...

Julie Mae

I'm sorry if I made you cry! Truly! But you'll like this ending, I swear!

Monkeystarz

You just crack me up, you know that? I'm SO glad you've stuck with me this far...

Well, technically, I wont know if you've stuck with me this far unless you review this chapter. And since you like me SO MUCH I just KNOW you'll review... wont you? Hahaha, of course you will... holds a threatening axe while grinning evilly...

BLONDE GOTH

I hope you don't mind me asking but... are you in High School? Well, let me tell you, college doesn't get any better...

NARGIEGIRL21

Was it a good chapter? I hope I kept it up!

XxSilentxDreamerxX

You weren't blunt! Believe me, I've seen blunt, and you weren't blunt... I don't think. Sorry, weird mood.

gwkitty

Really? Thanks! I'm happy now!

Inuchic515

Thanks, that was what I was aiming for. Sometimes I read things that don't really go into a person's thoughts or feelings, and I wanted the readers (you) to really get an inside feel about their thoughts and feelings. So I'm definitely glad you think I did that!


You know the drill, folks! Read, review, tell me how totally AWESOME I am, and wait and read the next installment.

Love you all!

Luna

PREVIEW FOR NEXT CHAPTER...

I asked him to talk, and I couldn't believe that now he finally was. As I stood there, watching, watching him while he stood there with eyes that burned at the spot where a house once stood, then ashes, and now... nothing but grass and an old tree someone must have hacked at with an axe or saw or sword. I wondered what he was thinking. I wondered where we were. I wondered when he would speak.

His fists were clenched, his head bowed, and if he could, I was convinced he would have cried. Speak, I urged softly. And then he did.

"Once upon a time, I loved a girl named..."


Adieu!