Author's note: For policis, because drabbles are little snippets of fun and joy (most of the time).
Enishi.
.
Ever since he was a child, Enishi's had held a deep respect for the power of women.
Because his mother had died with his birth he had spend far more time at his sister's side than most normal boys would. He had seen that which women normally kept secret: the thousand of little ways that their hearts broke all over again every single day.
Big breaks like when their father made disappointing decisions to abuse his power as head of house or when another woman was found lying in the bed he once shared with their mother. But he had even seen how it was the little things that could truly disappoint a woman: the neglecting of her favourite flowers or even just the lack of acknowledgement when she had put extra effort into her calligraphy. Even just turning away from a gentle touch that only meant to smooth back your hair could put just a tiny little crack into a woman's heart.
He had seen the way her serene expression, that unwavering mask, had cracked when her fiancé had vowed to go off to war.
And yet Tomoe never showed any of her heart ache, her disappointments, her bone aching resignation to anyone but him. At first because he was little, then because he was special, and then when it started to dawn on him that Tomoe's life would never be fair she hid it from him too.
Yes, men fought wars and ruled lands but it took a woman to hold together a household.
Enishi didn't think their father would have survived the death of their mother if it hadn't been for Tomoe. On every anniversary, be it of their mother's death or her birthday, he overindulged in the sake and told long often repeated stories that Enishi doubted were true. Tomoe always listened, her face a mask of indulging patience, before carefully shepherding their father to bed. And still she made sure that there were presents to celebrate his birthday and not just their mother's death.
Enishi never knew his mother, had no leftover emotion to spare for her now that Tomoe was such a good surrogate mother, but he understood that she must've been like Tomoe. He understood this because she carried the burden of being his mother-figure and she carried it well. No complaints, no tears, no faked smiles but merely serenity and the scent of white plums.
He came to understand that it was the support of a woman that made men great.
So it was easy to conclude that it was a woman that he would need to take from Kenshin, the assasin who had taken everything from him, if he truly wanted to break the man down. And he yearned to make him break. He ached for the snapping and breaking of his soul into tiny little pieces that would never be recovered again.
Why beat a body when the soul could be wounded so much deeper and leave scars that would never heal?
Under a disguise that would serve him well enough now that the other swordsmen did not know he was even nearby, Enishi had gone to the dojo himself to see this new woman. This poor substitute for his sister that had taken a special place in Himura's heart. He had almost not believed his eyes when he had first seen her.
A loud mouthed, violent, often dirty sword instructor who did not hesitate to practise sword fighting until she was covered in sweat had taken the place of his demure sweet smelling sister. This is what Himura had chosen to replace his former wife with? A woman who could not hold her tongue in the presence of men and looked as if she barely knew how to hold a paintbrush? A woman who not only tolerated more men in her home than should be wise but let them tug her hair and had the nerve to hit them when they insulted her?
For heaven's sake the woman couldn't even cook.
Disgusted Enishi had left and wondered whether the man had fallen even deeper from grace than merely his rurouni status would imply. And yet, something that he had seen inspired him to order a realistic looking doll to take the place of the sword instructor's body. Something about what he had seen had forced him to find an alternative for killing her and he did not realize this until he saw Gein's confused look.
Of course the puppet master was all too happy to have a new excuse to experiment with his techniques and didn't question him further. Enishi drove the thought from his mind. What mattered was the reaction Himura would have to the sight of her dead body, not the fact that she wouldn't truly be dead.
Enishi focussed on his revenge and put any thought of Kamiya Kaoru out of his mind. She didn't matter; she was merely a means to an end.
A believe he firmly held even as he used the cover of smoke to take the woman with him. She turned and her hair stuck to her lips as she opened them to warn Kenshin. Her hair was long and black as that of his sister but thicker somehow, less elegant and fine, just like everything about this woman was less than his sister.
He felt no guilt as he pressed the drugged fabric against her mouth and took her with him. He would hide her far away until Kenshin had surrendered and withered like a starving weed and then he would release her. If even his poor sister could make such mistakes in men, surely he could forgive this dim-witted woman for making the same mistake? He would spare her life and not actively harm her for this reason alone.
He should've expected that she would try to escape.
Where Tomoe had been like water, flowing calmly from one room to the next, Kaoru was like fire. She burned with the passion that was locked inside her lion's heart and she used every single drop of that passion for the goals that mattered to her. Tomoe flowed with her surroundings, adapted and thrived no matter what was thrown at her but always adapted to what was expected. Tomoe would've accepted her imprisonment calmly and honourably and would have acted with dignity and grace only.
Kaoru came at him with a vase.
Of course she had no way to go and he felt satisfied in letting her know this was the case. It was petty of him, perhaps, but punishing her felt like punishing Himura and he needed these little bursts of satisfaction. His sister hadn't smiled at him since he had destroyed Himura so effectively and he couldn't figure out why. It clawed at what was left of his sanity and Enishi had half a mind to simply let what remained slip away.
Instead he took his time informing Kamiya Kaoru of the fact that she would not be able to escape and refused to give her back her clothes. Childish, but it made him feel better.
The day she came at him with a broken broom he was convinced his sister stopped smiling because she was still alive. That it had been a mistake to use a doll in her place and show mercy when it came to anyone dealing with the likes of Himura Kenshin. That Tomoe hated his lack of conviction, letting her substitute live. It was the only explanation for her eyes burned so bright and she was simply so very different, so unworthy of being even called a substitute. He wrapped his fingers around Kaoru's neck and squeezed until he could hear her wheeze and her body weaken.
Instead his body was the one that gave away. Coughing, vomiting, shaking, Enishi was left in total confusion and could only beg for his sister to give him an answer. Why, why, why?
The only answer he found was to a question he had forgotten he had asked himself before. Himura Kenshin had not fallen so deeply from grace that he would accept the affection of some poor excuse for a woman. Kamiya Kaoru hurt like only women could hurt, ached like only woman could ache and she had shown him a glimpse of what hid behind her passionate blue eyes. She was trying so hard to escape not for her own sake but that of Kenshin, for that murderer.
A man she believed who would feel better simply by seeing her smile. And for that, she would fight her hardest to be able to give him that.
Perhaps he had underestimated Kamiya Kaoru, perhaps there was a way for her to remind him of his sister after all. She had taken a young thief, a loud mouthed gangster and a broke wanderer and somehow turned them all into a family. Somehow her dojo had transformed into a home and not just because of the fact that she fed so many hungry mouths. It was the fact that she fed them and didn't complain. It was the fact that she wastired but never uttered a sound. It was the fact that she let them pull her hair and insult her cooking.
It was the way that she suffered as only a woman could and still made them great: a boy training to become a samurai, a gangster known for his heart, a wanderer with a home. Men that could be proud of themselves even if they ate every single grain of rice without a thought to spare for who paid for it, for who had given them that pride.
Well if it was up to him she would have one less mouth to feed, and soon. Already there were rumours of Kenshin's revival and Enishi felt revenge yet again burn through his veins. The emptiness, the doubt, it all disappeared with the realization that just forcing Himura through a living hell was not enough. He would send him to the true pits of hell and Tomoe would smile for him yet again.
Never mind that he couldn't kill Kaoru, he would kill Kenshin instead.
With this thought in mind he could yet again smirk at Kaoru's obvious relief at just hearing Himura's name, despite the pang of confusion that caused. He would never figure out what it was about the red-head that would drive even someone like his sister to be devoted to him. But it didn't matter, nothing would matter once Himura Kenshin lay dead upon the beach and Tomoe would smile at him yet again.
Only no matter how hard he fought how much injury he inflicted upon the revived Himura Kenshin, Tomoe refused to smile for him again. It drove him to distraction; tortured his mind and no powerful sword technique could release him from the agony of knowing that somewhere his sister was no longer proud of him.
It didn't help that from the sidelines, Kaoru had already given Kenshin her own smile to give. A smile so very different from the reserved tilt of lips that he knew of his sister but one that showed teeth and joy and let her eyes sparkle with happiness. All just because she saw him, just because Kenshin was there to collect her, to save her, no matter how unworthy that murderer was of any smile.
He fought that murderer until he could barely stand until he could feel his strength draining from him with every breath. Stubbornly he clung onto his sword and prepared to attack again when a gunshot ruined his opportunity. Kenshin was hit and afraid that his revenge would be taken away from him Enishi looked up.
And faced the back of a woman: tall, proud and protective. Arms spread as his sister's arms had been spread; head held high as his sister's head was held high, fingers holding even her hands open as if ready to receive whatever pain would come her way: Kaoru was the perfect image of his sister.
Enishi could not let her die.
He was no longer the helpless boy that he had been then. The lowlife didn't stand a chance against his powerful fist and for a moment Enishi basked in the crack of his nose snapping under the punch. Before he could move in for blood Kenshin stopped him, spoke of Tomoe, and whatever fight Enishi had been clinging onto drained from him.
His lust for revenge was gone and there was nothing left, nothing but hollow emptiness where once his sister had been. It was wrong, it was all wrong, because he didn't want to be thanked for saving Kamiya Kaoru for it wasn't her that he wanted to save.
When Enishi fell he had nothing left to cling onto: no death, no revenge, not even the smile of his sister. Enishi fell to his knees at Kenshin's feet but he did not know whether it was the man with the reversed sword who had truly defeated him. Was it not the memory of Tomoe, the reminder that she did not smile, that drained all fight from him? Was it not Kamiya Kaoru who had forced him to remember Tomoe's final act, that reckless sacrifice for the sake of just one man? That final act that revealed who Tomoe had truly been?
But perhaps she handed him salvation right after. Tomoe's diary was given to him by the calloused, far from elegant hands of a woman who could never be a replacement for his sister. Not after his moment of madness when he protected her had passed and never for Kenshin who still bore the scar Tomoe had given him. But perhaps she could be just enough, just a woman offering a smile and handing over a diary.
Just a woman doing her best to build a home.
He was reminded that it was the support of a woman that made men great. And perhaps the key to greatness for him lied in the writings of his sister. Just maybe she could guide him down the path of redemption and help him atone for his many sins.
Perhaps, just maybe, Kamiya Kaoru had made it possible for him to see Tomoe's smile again.