DEATH
(Once again, standard disclaimers. Not mine. Nobuhiro Watsuki. Yeah.)
Himura Kenshin had died three times in his life.
His first death was in the snow.
It was Tomoe that killed him the first time. Because Tomoe had been quiet grace and icy silence and he'd desired her more than anything else in his bloodstained world. Her rare, tender smile had been the only purity that Battosai could not drown in crimson sin, the only light he could find in the darkness of his own creation. He'd thought Tomoe was his salvation, his angel—the only person in the world who could slay the manslayer, kill the hitokiri. Her true objective was terrifyingly close to that—and he'd never realized until that day just how close she'd come to ending his life. Of course, that had all changed in the end, and she threw herself away to save him—but for all she saved his body; she hadn't been able to save his mind, or his soul.
In a strange way, he felt betrayed.
And that was the first time Himura Kenshin died.
Coming back to life was…easier than it should have been. It was shamefully easy to drown his guilt in blood, to put himself in front of some random Ishin Shishi and pretend it was Tomoe at his back, Tomoe where she should have been, where he could protect her. He recklessly threw her face and her name on whoever called out to him and killed everything that came at him, and he saw the faces of the Yaminobu every time, and every time he killed he thought of a different way, a different play he could have made, all the thousands of ways the fight could have ended with Tomoe still alive…
He made it rain blood in tribute to her, and he bore the cross-shaped scar as a mark of what he'd done, because it was his blade that tore her shoulder, her chest, her heart…It was his blade, and it was his crime, his sin, his death. Hitokiri Battosai lived while Himura Kenshin died, and that was how he came back to life the first time.
His second death was in the flames.
The death Shishio Makoto wrought upon him was nothing like the first—real, physical death, the collapse of body and flesh, rather than the sudden, irreversible ending of life, love, and heart. Though he'd danced the line of death and life more times than he could count, that was the first time he truly crossed it. Even more than the battle itself, it was the day of running and fighting and stress before it—and the week of desperate, harrowing training before that—and the month of bare-essentials travel before that—and the sheer agony of walking away at the very beginning, the horrifying amount of strength it took to turn away from his Kaoru-dono at the very beginning. It had all worn down on him, ground him slowly down to a sliver of the strength he should have had. And then he'd faced a shadow of his own creation, and was cut and burned, attacked with an explosive glove, and nearly died then—and stood up to throw not just Kuzuryuusen, but Amakakeru Ryuu no Hirameki—and then to be cut and burned again.
He couldn't hold up. He moved as fast as one, but he wasn't a god.
And that was the second time Himura Kenshin died.
Coming back to life didn't take much. All it took was a few words—they say your life flashes before your eyes when you die, and maybe his failing mind just picked out the proper phrases to make him stand again. All it took was Sano yelling his name, the sight of a beaten Aoshi out of the corner of his eyes, and Saito standing straight but leaning subtly on his sword and all he could think was that, if he failed now, these precious beautiful friends would die.
And then his mind seized and threw his Kaoru-dono in his face—crying in the fireflies, gasping his name, beyond hope or help—in the gentle light before the dawn, smile trembling and fragile but still there, a beacon of hope for him, just for him—and he knew he couldn't leave her alone. Not again. It was clear how the story went from there. He stood up. He endured. Because he was Himura Kenshin, and—dead or alive—he always, always won.
His third death was in the darkness.
And—again betrayed, always betraying himself—it was Kaoru who killed him. Because she died. She died. And it was his fault again—always his fault, always too slow, always too weak to protect the one thing that needed protecting. Enishi slapped him in the face with his failure, and left Kaoru's body with his scar cut into her cheek and his guilt thrown onto her shoulders and how could he do anything then, how could he do anything except collapse under the knowledge—
He failed again.
And that was the third time Himura Kenshin died.
He'd thought he'd come back to life when he stood up again and the chains on the sakabatou shattered and he ran out against the man with the gun-arm to save his young friend, his protégé, his son. He'd thought he'd come back to life when he fell asleep and dreamed of Tomoe and finally found the smile he'd been longing for for the last ten years. He'd thought he'd come back to life when he faced Enishi on a bloodstained beach and screamed out the answer he'd finally, finally found.
But that wasn't true.
He didn't come back to life until he heard his name on Kaoru's lips and watched tears pool in her eyes and fell into her arms with a quiet, mumbled, "oro" just for her. He didn't come back to life until he buried his face against her skin and held her tightly and finally managed to prove to himself that she was real, really alive, really his. He didn't come back to life until he took her home to Tokyo and sent Megumi and Sano away and Yahiko to bed and dragged her into his arms. He didn't come back to life until he pressed his lips against her hair and hands and skin and he didn't come back to life until he kissed her lips and dusted his hands over every part of her body and proved to himself that she was here and whole and his.
How had he ever lived without her?
Himura Kenshin had died three times in his life.
He came back to life only once, when he wrapped a small, not-fragile shihandai in his arms and heard her call his name in a voice sweeter than Seijuuro Hiko's sake and looked down to find a smile, so easily given and so precious he thought his heart might explode.
He had no reason to die.
And so many sweet, beautiful, beloved reasons to live.
…XxX…
A/N
Well, I finally got around to a sequel.
Also, yes, I'm unhealthily obsessed with Depression-Kenshin. It's my third-favorite version of him. Next to Badass-Kenshin and Battosai-Kenshin. But I hate writing action so the depressed one gets all the page-time.
Next time it'll be Aoshi/Misao or Saito/Tokio. My take on Tokio, that is.
I actually got a few people pissed off at me for my Tomoe-bashing last time, so I did try to be nice to her this chapter. I'm sorry, best beloveds. But I really hate her.
In any case, review, please, my darlings.
