The usual disclaimers apply. I don't own RK and never have which is probably just as well really.
Author's notes: It's really amazing how fics can just come to you when you're occupied with other things. This is one of those, there I was happily walking my dog thinking how much better she is after the last chiropractic treatment and out of nowhere pops this fic. After months of utter silence, it seems that the RK muses have gotten jealous at the very idea of me dabbling in another fandom. All I can say is it's about time!
I hope you enjoy it. Please read and review I always read reviews that are left for me with great interest.
She leans against the door frame, her heart fluttering against her ribs like a mad butterfly against a pane of glass. A vagrant draft of cold air tugs lightly at her kimono and sends the hair about her face into a rippling dance. She grips the old timber with her fingers unconscious of the splinters digging into her skin. Snow darts in through the door way and settles against her skin as she presses herself hard against the worn timber. It settles on the tantou that dangles limply from her other hand. Gazing out past the lopsided door and through the swirling snow, she sees them. They are fighting in the marred, bloodied snow. For a moment she sees not Kenshin but Kiyosato standing there sword drawn, the snow swirling around him but she knows it's an illusion. She blinks and rubs her eyes then she remembers. The long strand of her actions trail through her mind like the long sweep of her own obi when she sheds it each night. Suddenly rather sadly she understands, she could not stop Kiyosato from dying. Some things are simply in the hands of Buddha alone.
Kenshin is fighting a strange desperate battle. The line between life and death is blurring and she can see his feet slipping in the wet bloodied snow. His breathing fills the tiny clearing, competing with the wind, which howls its way amongst the trees. His breathing is loud, ragged, and heavy. He is struggling but undefeated, his clothes are blooded and torn, and she can see the exhaustion with every breathless step. Each gasping breath fills her ears even against the softly falling blanket of snow. It fills her like some strange libation and rises through her soul like running water. She knows, in the depths of her soul that she cannot allow Kenshin to die. He is glitter of red and blue in her eyes, against the grey, white, and brown of the clearing. He has come so far, fought so hard just to protect her and he knows nothing of her deceit.
"I risked everything to bring about this man's death. But that's when..." She closes her eyes for a moment and feels the bite of the tantou in her hand. There is surge of life and love in her chest, and the butterfly beats its wings against her ribs. When she opens her eyes again, she sees them through the swirling, dancing snow. She sees the horrible slow crouching that says this will be the last blow and Kenshin is weaker still and breathless, his haori, and hakama awash with blood.
She pushes herself away from the door frame and past the drooping door. For her everything slows down to a strange trickle. Her geta slip in the snow as she runs, her hair flutters and the sleeves of her kimono ripple in the slipstream of her passage. Her flesh tightens around the smooth hilt of her weapon. The distance seems too far, the time too short but she runs her limbs jarring with each step. He fills her vision, the long blood red hair, the pale face, the deep blue haori, and those intense eyes. She slithers to a standstill between them her tantou up raised and time jump starts again.
She hears the sword crunching though her bones, see's Tatsumi's dark eyes wide with surprise. Then all else is a strange blood red blur. The grey sky, the white snow, the dark trunks that surround them all blur and flow into view. Then there is pain and the warmth and gentle strength of his arms. From somewhere distant she hears his voice, her name so sweetly spoken and an agonised why. His voice has lost its usual quiet gentleness and the rawness in his voice makes her fight through the waves of heat and pain. She opens her eyes and gazes up at his very blue ones brimming with tears.
Her body feels hot and oddly numb in spite of the snow. It hurts, a deep hot burning pain but he needs her for his eyes are agonised and the tears are slowly spilling down his cheek. Somehow, she finds the strength to wipe away his tears and smile. She has no regrets, he is alive, hurt, but alive, and he still has so much left to do. She wants him to understand, she looks up into his eyes.
"It's all right... So please don't cry."
And then the world slides away and the butterfly breaks free.
Haori the outer coat worn over other clothing.
Hakama the traditional samurai pants.
Tantou a dagger or very small sword.