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『握り締めた失わぬようにと 。』

"Nigirishimeta ushinawanu youni to."

[I grasped hold of it tightly so I won't ever lose it.]


Kyoto, Japan
Keio 3, 13th Day of the 10th Month
Friday, November 8, 1867

Kenshin woke slowly, searching the room for anything amiss, not quite taking in the shadows and sounds. Confused, heated, unfocused…Kenshin felt as if he were dragging his mind through a deepening bog. It set his heart on edge. What of - ? He needn't panic. One thing at a time, Kenshin told himself.

A candle flickered next to his head. His sword lay beside…and Tomoe's scarf. So… at the ryokan. That eased him a little. Kenshin reached out and drew the scarf in close, basking in its scent. Sharp twinges of pain raced through his shoulder and sides, saying he shouldn't move, but Tomoe… Even though the purple material long lost the fragrance of white plums, he could remember it, washing away his weary mind and heart.

Something slipped from his forehead. Kenshin tried focusing on it in the uneven light, but moving sent his sight all dizzy. The heat didn't help. Had Okami struck a fire beneath the floorboards? Winter was coming…

And where was everyone else? Kenshin didn't like this silence: no snores or shuffling of men beneath covers. Where was he? Kenshin chanced opening his eyes - one eye, noticing the scrape of bandages winding around his head - and saw the washcloth. The door behind. His eye trailed along the wall and spied a figure slouched in the corner. Head thrown back and mouth wide open. Only one person slept so vulnerably in all of the Shishi: Osamu.

I'm in the sick room, Kenshin thought numbly. He glanced at the washcloth again, only to curses the quick movement as dizziness threatened his senses. In the back of his mind, "I have a fever," repeated itself. How…? This was bad. If he could not focus…if he had taken ill… or injured, the pain. Katsura would, what would Katsura do? If there was only something he could do about the heat of his own skin.

The washcloth…must be water… an oke. There. Just next to the candle sat the small round wooden bucket. The water would be lukewarm, but that was better than anything.

Once again, Kenshin reach out with strained and stiffened muscles, his sluggish arms dunked the washcloth in and let it soak. Even the tips of his fingers grasped at slight relief of the water's touch. Wincing at the shock of moving his left shoulder, Kenshin lay back on the futon, pulling the cloth along and over this face. He relished the drips that sunk into his skin and hair. Soon, the steady drip-drip lulled Kenshin back to sleep.

A wail woke Kenshin followed by a flurry of robes and crying. "Himura-san…no…no…no…you can't be…wah! You can't be dead!"

Osamu clutched Kenshin's arm, head bowed as his hair tickled his skin. Kenshin tried to move but the man was too enraptured in his woeful imagination. Too bothered to move, Kenshin opened his good eye, seeing only the white cloth, now dry. It was morning as light filtered through. Kenshin felt exhausted despite knowing he'd slept a good while.

"Don't tell me that they're already preparing you for kamidana-fuji….wah-ha-ha! And didn't even wake me…!"

Kamidana-fuji…initial funeral rites…moistening the lips…the white paper…Oh Kami-sama. Kenshin groaned.

Osamu stumbled backward, slamming into the wall with a mix between a yelp and girlish scream. Heavy breaths followed. "Please don't haunt me, Himura-san."

Kenshin pulled the cloth from his face and turned to glare at Osamu, but the dizziness from last night came back in full force. It passed quicker though.

"Osamu-san," Kenshin said surprised his voice came out in a quiet husk. It also found it rather difficult to breathe.

The man froze and cautiously met Kenshin's single beholden eye. Then came the babbling. "I'm so sorry, Himu- I mean, Battousai-san. I promise never to touch you again or - "

"Osamu-san…"

"Or fall asleep on duty or forget directions again….so if there's anything you need - "

"Osamu-san…"

"Water? Do you need water? Maybe another blanket? Ah, you must be hungry. I can get Okami-san-"

"Osamu-san…"

"But you are injured…Fujiwara-senpai should see you first. Is that alright, Battousai-san?"

Kenshin gave up. He sighed. "Yes. Please."

"Really? Yokatta." Osamu smiled and stood. For all Osamu's pandering to Kenshin, he seemed quite at ease around him. "I'll be right back. You just rest and relax -"

But Kenshin didn't want to deal with the funny man's antics later. "Osamu-san…"

Osamu stopped mid-sentence, face blanking out under the force of Kenshin's glare. "…hai?"

"Don't... ever talk to me... again." His voice resonated anger, and while Kenshin was irritated, the fever left him more breathless, having to force out normal words.

Osamu blinked. "…Hai."

With that, he opened the shoji and fled. The shoji slammed shut with a light thunk.

Maybe it was a bit harsh, but Kenshin had every right to not be in the mood for anyone's company. It would forever amaze Kenshin how Osamu made it into the Ishin Shishi, much more into Katsura's accompaniment.

Now that he was alone and feeling slightly better than the night before, he took the chance to catalogue his injuries. The most obvious was the eye. Without seeing or touching it, Kenshin knew he had a huge black eye. His left shoulder ached the worst. A stab wound as well as a slice across the top, connecting old and new injures. With a tender hand, he passed over his chest, he could feel the blossoming bruises. What sort of fight had he gotten into? And his back…it itched horrendously. He considered getting up, but the mere act of sitting might send his head spinning yet again. It didn't help that a pounding in his skull developed while Osamu when on his idiotic tirade. Kenshin sufficed to lay still and maybe fall back asleep until Fujiwara came. Yet, the pain made that impossible.

Too many thought plagued his aching head anyway. He could not remember all the events of the night before. This was more than worrying. Conversations needed to be held.

"Battousai-san?" A voice whispered.

The presence waited and Kenshin half-wanted to be left alone, but he knew the voice to be Isaza, one of the very people he needed to speak with. Just as the man was turning away, Kenshin called out, "I'm awake, Isaza-san. Please come in."

Despite his desire to be as limp as a bonefish, Kenshin sat up. By Kami-sama it hurt. He didn't notice Isaza supporting with arm and hand until his brain decided to right itself.

"You should rest some more, Himura-san," Isaza said. Genuine worry graced his voice.

Kenshin shook his head, not daring any large movement. "No."

Isaza sat silent, Kenshin stilling under the Isaza's scrutiny.

"What is it you came for?" Kenshin asked.

Isaza chuckled. "Quite a few people heard Osamu-san scream like a girl caught with her kimono up a few minutes ago and then run downstairs as if an oni chased his tail. I came to see what happened."

Kenshin sighed. "I'm sure Osamu-san can give you the full story once he stops babbling like an idiot."

"He means well."

Kenshin nodded. "I know."

"Currently he's out running down Fujiwara-senpai. The old man went out to pick up some more supplies. He said to give you this in the meantime." Isaza gestured to a tray laden with a cup and packet of medicine. "It's just a painkiller. Fujiwara-senpai said if you sleep, he wants it to be of your own volition…not a drug. His exact words were: Natural sleep is the best sleep!"

Kenshin gave a grim smile as he recalled the old physician's happy tone. He acted like a child at Nishiki Market on dessert street every time he treated patients. It made things somewhat uncomfortable, as if he enjoyed his patient's pain a bit too much. Regardless, he was a good doctor or Katsura would not have him around. So Kenshin took the proffered tea, hoping his fingers wouldn't shake as he drank it down.

Handing the cup back to Isaza, Kenshin asked the only reason why he let Isaza in. "What happened?"

Isaza took the cup, setting it aside, and gave Kenshin a quizzical look. "What do you mean? Do you not remember?"

"I remember leading the ambushers away and splitting up with you. I remember having to spend most of the evening yesterday," He glanced at Isaza to see if he got his days correct. Isaza nodded. So he was only out for the night. Kenshin continued. "Fighting or running and hiding. They were relentless in their pursuit. But by sunset…after that, it gets all fuzzy."

Isaza pointed to kenshin's head. "I bet it has something to do with that cut on your forehead. Probably hit it when that Shinsengumi bastard pushed you off that bridge."

"I see…" Kenshin said absently. He suppressed the urge to touch the wound. "Did you get the message from Sakamoto-san?"

"Yes, and back to Katura-sama too. When you didn't return by sunset, I went back out after you."

Katsura had tasked them with ferrying message around Kyoto. It was a simple job, or at least, it should have been. The morning went well enough. Munitions and warehouses received their orders and updates were given in return. No fighting was supposed to occur at all, but when Kenshin and Isaza went to go meet Sakamoto Ryoma's messenger, they were delayed. Someone had known they were meeting. Kenshin couldn't remember the Shinsen's face he fought, but felt it was important. Who had known? Had the spy come from Sakamoto's side or their own? All he could recall was the overwhelming emotion of urgency. Nothing besides.

Isaza paused as if gauging what to say next. "I only caught the tail end of your fight. You both ended up in the river, hence your fever. After that, I brought you back here."

Kenshin vaguely recalled being forcefully woken to drink lots of bitter tea and Osamu's annoying voice. He thought that was a bad dream, but his main concern now lay elsewhere. "And the Shinsen?"

"Dead."

"Good."

"Katsura-sama was furious…you can expect a good lecture when you're better, but I really think he was just worried about you."

Kenshin didn't reply. He couldn't expect anything less. It was foolish, very foolish going out on mission when he was not up to full strength. Yet, he he was glad he went on the mission. With his injuries, it meant that if anyone else had gone, they might not have survived. It might've been a vain thought, but…still. The urgency. The fear. Something was deeply wrong.

Exhaustion and stress washed over him. "I should report to Katsura-dono as soon as possible."

"He's busy." Isaza said. It might've been a lie. It might've not been. Either way, Katsura was a busy man and Kenshin wasn't going to fight the issue.

"Plus," Isaza continued. "You need more rest. Fujiwara-senpai will have my hide if I let you out of this room for any reason other than what's necessary. Seeing Katsura right now isn't. He'll come see you when he's finished and you're not about to drop."

Kenshin shot a glare at Isaza, but even he knew that coupled with his tiredness, the effectiveness all but evaporated.

Taking the tray and oke, Isaza left. With no choice - his body being rather demanding today - Kenshin lowered himself down. Within a few minutes, blackness clouded his senses...

drip... drip... drip...

Wash your hands.

drip... tink... silently rolling across cobbled stones. Close your eyes. Turn away. Blood red sakura petals cascade around, billowing - drip... drip... drip...

There's work to be done. Flick your sword and imagine the red splatter flying away. "Clean up this refuse."

Slick with sweat or was it - you need more water. And scrub. Say, scrub! Still not clean. More water. More water. Your heart beats quick and fast. Not enough. Never enough. Just one more, he says.

drip... drip... drip...

Eyes stare back in a milky reflection. The eyes that you've killed, did kill, going to.

drip... drop... drip...

Falling to meet the cold ground. Now, wash your hands. Sleep...

...drip...drop...drip

"Where was Tomoe?"

"I'm here..."

Heavy eyelids blinked. Kenshin squinted in the light. Tomoe...? She knelt next to him, but -

"Himura-san? You awake?"

Brown gi. Male voice. Not Tomoe.

"Gomen..." Kenshin whispered.

"I thought it was strange, you calling me by my given name, but no need," Isaza Toru said. Toru. Tomoe. Toru, Tomoe. He must've mumbled her name out loud.

"Anyway," Isaza continued. "It's I, or rather, we who should say sorry. This is going to hurt."

Kenshin didn't have time to look on his other side as two hands squeezed at his shoulder. Kenshin wouldn't scream, but he wanted to. He grunted in pain and with wide eyes searched for his sword. Instinct. Isaza held Kenshin down. "No use fighting, Himura-san. We got you."

Fujiwara veered into view. "Your wound's infected. That Osamu-kun boy went green in the face once we unwrapped this shoulder of yours. It's a looker! Comes rainbow-colored too!"

That didn't strike Kenshin as something to smile about. Kenshin was far more upset about Fujiwara's lack of rousing him and talking with him, giving no forewarning to the agony he was thrust into. His breath came in shorter bursts than earlier, but managed, "Why...didn't you...wake me?"

"Best not to," Fujiwara said.

Isaza mouthed 'gomen' before cringing as he looked elsewhere, other than Kenshin's shoulder. From the look on Isaza's face, Kenshin was glad he couldn't see, but feeling was a whole other matter. He gritted his teeth, baring through what was now a rough cleaning.

"If you don't pass out, you can take a bath!" Fujiwara kept on.

"I don't like you," Kenshin seethed.

Isaza chuckled from above.

The initial pain faded now to a dull roar. Passing out seemed like a good idea, but the prospect of a bath was far more tempting. Between the heat and stickiness of fever and an excessive thirst hanging in his throat, Kenshin endeavored to stay awake. He licked his chapped lips.

"I'll take that anger as a symptom of the fever," Fujiwara said smiling.

"No, I really don't like you," Kenshin hissed. He really didn't. His distaste for this doctor hadn't quite reached the level of hate he felt for on particular Saito Hajime, but far exceeded his resentment for Seijuro Hiko's arrogance. There was something wrong with all three of them.

"Himura-san isn't one to lie, Fujiwara-senpai," Isaza interjected, still chuckling.

"Ah, all done." As Fujiwara's hands drifted away, Kenshin dragged his now free arm across his body, holding it there. He sat up, glad that he could without his mind flip-flopping inside his skull.

"Here, put this on." Fujiwara pulled out a large square of cloth and handed it to Isaza. Kenshin allowed Isaza to tie the it around his neck and place his arm inside. The sling helped alleviate the weight on his shoulder.

"Can you walk?" Isaza asked.

"You're not carrying me," Kenshin said. With the pain, he didn't want to add humiliation to the list of bad things to happen today.

"Fine, but if you fall," Isaza paused, seemingly contemplating an appropriate consequence. "Fujiwara-senpai will-"

"I know." Kenshin interrupted. He could see Fujiwara humming from the corner of his eye with all the joy of a man having just finished the best meal of his life.

Kenshin drew his knees in and shakily stood. He took a few steps. He'd have to take it slow as a normal pace might incur the wrath of good friend dizziness. What bothered Kenshin was the rapid pounding of his heart matching the pounding headache that decided to make itself known at the very tips of his temples. The shortness of breath hadn't gone away either.

"Be careful!" Fujiwara called as Kenshin and Isaza left the room.

They walked the winding corridors, barley meeting a soul. The mid-afternoon sun basked through cracks in the shoji, the cold held at bay by wood and rice paper. Most of the Shishi would be out and about. Only assassins and night bodyguards worked at night. Yet something still wasn't right. The same nagging feeling from earlier blanketed the ryokan along with the freshly fallen snow.

"Do you feel...we're being watched?" Kenshin whispered.

Isaza, who walked a step behind at Kenshin's side lest he fall, nodded. "What makes you say that?"

"Just a feeling," he murmured. There wasn't anything either of them could do. They were at the ryokan, the safest place at the moment, with walls on all sides. Kenshin didn't sense any strange ki fluctuations or anyone he didn't recognize. Nothing out of the ordinary. If Isaza felt the same too, then it wasn't a byproduct of his fever.

The bath itself was quick and refreshing. While Kenshin longed to stay in, the warm waters threatened with sleep and half an hour later, he sat in front of Fujiwara once again, enduring agony. He packed in herbs and mixtures and finished with a binding. Fujiwara left with no more than a few choice words on natural sleep and drugged tea, only then did he actually disappear.

"I'll stay tonight instead Osamu-san, if you like," Isaza said. Anyone occupying the sick room was expected to have, for lack of a better word, a caretaker. Kenshin didn't hate the notion, but he rather be left alone. The fever had yet to relent, but at least the infection was cleaned. No, what worried Kenshin was if anyone were around if anymore nightmares plagued his mind and released themselves into reality with his voice.

"I'll be fine alone," Kenshin replied.

Isaza reluctantly agreed and left to investigate the ryokan grounds and the Shishi still present, but Kenshin didn't think he'd come up with anything. A feeling was only a feeling after all. Not all of such things should be listened to.

Thoughts returned to Tomoe as he curled in on himself, clutching the purple scarf with a faint aura of white plums.


Author's Note

Japanese Words

1. Matsugo-no-mizu: lit. "Water of the last moment;" initial funeral rites where the lips of the dead are moistened.
2. Kamidana-fuji: the whole ceremony, including Matsugo-no-mizu, also consists of either paper or cloth covers the person's face in order to keep impure spirits out. The actual paper of cloth used, I could not find the name of it.
3. oke: wooden pail

The Title
『握り締めた失わぬようにと 。』or the romanization: "Nigirishimeta ushinawanu youni to." means "I grasped hold of it tightly so I won't ever lose it." It is lyrics from One Ok Rock song, "The Beginning."

Nishiki Market
The kitchen of Kyoto! It's over 400 years old…and closes at 9pm. If you ever happen to visit Kyoto, go to Nishiki Market and get some desert there. Of course, they sell more than just treats as it is a market, but Kyoto is known for its sweets. They are delicious.

If you want to try making your own Japanese treat recipes, I recommend Urasenke Midorikai Alumni Association (click on "Recipes" and then on "Wagashi"). [This is a shameless plug for the waning art of tea ceremony in Japan. The tumblr blog, "Midori Kai Musings" – run by a friend – has more information. Don't ask me. I just visited Kyoto for 4 days. I really should put a section for shameless plugs.]

Review Responses
Sacred Sword Heart: Likewise, I agree. Kenshin isn't invincible.
Mountain Wanderer: With the amount of reading and research I've been doing, I hope it's authentic...I just freaking love Japan and Japanese culture. I'm so happy that you enjoy this and that it made you laugh! By older woman, I hope you mean mature. I know I'm getting to be a quarter of a century old, but still, hahaha!