Kaoru glided into the room, glancing back curiously over her shoulder as Kenshin slid the door to. She turned to face him, but his back remained toward her, hands braced against the lintel. He turned slowly and attempted a reassuring smile; it didn't fool her for a moment, nevertheless she smiled uncertainly back.
Kenshin's face blanched and his body jerked in a way that had Kaoru skittering back, searching for a weapon that was no longer at her side.
"Tea."
Kaoru released a heavy breath, trying to relax her defensive posture though her heart was still beating at twice its normal clip.
"This one will-"
"I'll make the tea. Stay here. I'm serious, Kenshin. Right here." Part of her couldn't shake the conviction that if she left the room for even the few moments it would take to prepare a pot of tea he would disappear and such an opportunity might never come again. That was his choice, she reminded herself. If he was not ready to share whatever burdened him then he would run, and maddening as she found it, still it was not her place to force his hand.
Kenshin was already halfway out the door when she brushed past him, turning back to catch his eye as she closed the door on him pointedly. She walked a few paces from the door before taking off at a scampering run, grateful that she had changed into her hakama for practice. She skidded around the corner to the kitchen, slopping hot water over her fingers, breathing in the crisp scent of the tea leaves in a vain effort to calm her suddenly frayed nerves. It wouldn't do to show him how very eager she was.
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Kenshin waited for the echo of Kaoru's running footsteps to fade in the hall before resting his head against the fragile rice-paper. He was grateful for this brief moment alone; a chance to gather his thoughts before he laying them bare for her judgment. He should begin with something lighthearted to test the waters; the story of his ill-fated juggling game perhaps.
Would she find that insulting? Consider it a reflection of some imagined lack of trust? He needed to ease himself back into the old memories piece by piece, couldn't bear the thought of plunging directly into the darker shadows. This was as much for his sake as for hers, and he hoped she was perceptive enough to see that.
He turned his head to look at his hand, resting just to the side of his face. So many little scars and rough spots, most with a story to tell, and he remembered most of them. There were some that were a mystery even to him, but he was pretty sure that curved one just above his wrist came from a-
Enough. He could heard her hurrying toward the room even now; it was plain from the disrupted rhythm that she half-expected him to have made off before she could return. That stung, that she would expect such cowardice of him, but then it was true that he had left her before with precious little warning.
Kenshin stepped away from the door and rested on his haunches in the middle of the room, leaning back on his heels with hands splayed across his thighs. Steady breaths and slow movements, just another exercise to complete, another struggle to overcome. One that would not be determined by strength of body but by strength of will.
When the door opened and Kaoru peeped hesitantly past, he was smiling again. Collected and at ease. She didn't smile this time, but he could read the relief in every line of her body.
"I spilled some I think."
Judging from the puddle behind her, quite a lot actually, but this once he didn't rush for a rag to clean it. This was the more important task.
He held out his hands to accept the steaming pot, arranging it fastidiously before him, dabbing at the moisture with his sleeve with hardly even a wince for the heat.
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Kaoru sucked on her finger surreptitiously, watching as he poured the steaming tea precisely into the cups.
"Did you burn yourself, Miss Kaoru?"
Kaoru yanked the offending digits from her mouth, tucking them beneath her knees. "Only a little splash."
He held out a hand and without thinking she offered him the pink fingers, wincing slightly-even his body heat aggravated the burns. Kenshin must have caught the movement for he released her hand quickly and offered a scrap of cloth she could have sworn he pulled from thin air.
"Burns are prone to infection; you should cover it." A shadow crossed his face and he winced at some unpleasant memory. In time, he might share it with her.
Kaoru wrapped the cloth loosely about her fingertips, accepting the cup of tea and setting it before her. She didn't care anything for tea at this moment, only what Kenshin might say next.
"Do you think it is true, Miss Kaoru, that a man is defined by the scars he carries? That he is, in fact, the sum of his memories?"
Kaoru blinked with surprise; this sounded nothing like Kenshin, but there was something in his tone that pleaded for an answer. She hoped the truth was satisfactory.
"Memories don't have to be scars." She thought for a moment longer, "And what would anyone be without their memories? That doesn't mean there isn't more to it."
Kenshin nodded softly and held out a hand; she reached out to take it, thinking that perhaps he craved the comfort of touch, but he flinched when she took it in her own.
"When I was a child I heard an old woman say that it was possible to read a man's past in the palm of his hand."
Kaoru glanced down, fingers feathering over the lines and callouses of his palm. "I suppose that's true. A little." She pressed her palm to his thoughtlessly, "Your callouses match mine almost exactly. I think it must be from the sword-work. The differences would come from…" She could feel the tenseness in his arm and pulled back regretfully.
Kenshin was looking at her with such an expression of shock on his face that she looked around to be sure the expression was directed at her.
"The differences would come from the different weapons we wield. And their purpose." He finished softly.
He leaned forward to take his cup and sip.
"If you agree that a man is the sum of his memories-"
"And actions in the present." Kaoru cut in; a vital point, she didn't want him to think of himself as the hitokiri any longer, he had come a long way from that man and deserved what peace he had found.
"And actions," Kenshin amended. "Then it follows in order to know the measure of a man one must know something of his memories."
"Kenshin, you have told us enough." Kaoru began softly, she hadn't meant to guilt him into sharing yet more of his past. That had always been a painful experience for him and she hadn't meant to confound it.
"I have not told you enough, but I will remedy that now."
His change of tense did not escape her and she straightened in anticipation, uncertain of whether she should protest again or accept the confidences he offered.
Secrets were heavy things, she had learned. She had also learned that sharing them could lighten the burden.
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Kenshin drew a breath, waiting for any final objection; part of him prayed she would interrupt again while another hoped that she would accept his confessions. When she remained silent he began:
He had seen illustrations in some of the precious manuscripts Master Hiko kept of boys playing at this game. The scenes depicted were of children his age tossing the knives in just this fashion, dancing gaily with the blades suspended just above their hands or quivering in the ground just near their feet while they gaped in open-mouthed dismay.
Master Hiko had vanished over an hour ago as he was sometimes known to do; it might be hours or days before he returned, and so Kenshin played at the game he had only ever read of.
It really wasn't so very different from any one of the dozens of exercises in grace and swiftness Hiko had assigned him with his practice blade. He wondered why his master was so set against this particular exercise. To his mind it was a wonderful teacher, if he was too slow to catch the blade then it would fall and if he moved too fast then he risked grabbing the sharp blade and laying his hand open to the bone.
The danger only added to its allure. He watched the sunlight play along the edge of the blade and laughed aloud at the patterns it cast against his skin. A little faster, toss it into the air just a bit higher, watch to be sure it doesn't fall off track. Someday he would show this trick to Master Hiko, when he was sure the man would be proud rather than disapproving.
He sucked in a breath as the cutting edge passed a little too close to his sensitive flesh. He had nearly been caught there, but his reflexes were swift and keen; Kenshin was determined that he would not be so easily bested.
He grinned widely, casting the knife upwards with a neat twist… "Foolish boy! What game do you play at?"
Kenshin jerked his head aside to see his master returned early from whatever task had occupied him. The blade fell again and he was too quick to reach for it. Kenshin cried out in shock as the smooth edge cut into the meat of his thumb and the blade tumbled to the ground.
Hiko started forward angrily, pulling the knife from the ground and wiping it carelessly on his own clothes. He flashed it before Kenshin's eyes as she boy sucked at his bloodied flesh.
"Does this look like a toy to you? Something for your amusement? It is a tool, Kenshin. It should be used only for its purpose and not as some idle diversion on a sunny day."
Kenshin nodded, but Hiko could see he had hardly heard the admonishment for admiring the blade.
"This is a weapon, boy. Not a child's plaything. Dolls and tops and cards are for playing with; this has another purpose. Do you know what that is?"
Kenshin sobered slightly much to Hiko's satisfaction. "To kill."
Hiko shook his head, "This knife is for skinning, but in a way you are right. The ultimate purpose of any blade it to serve as a weapon, and weapons are meant for killing. Still, if you cannot tell the difference between a toy and a tool after so long as my apprentice then I have failed you. I think if you were to clean every last weapon in this hut you might learn a greater respect for them"
Kenshin's eyes sparkled with eagerness, not the reaction he had been expecting, but he didn't think the child would be so enthralled with his task for long.
"You will hone or sharpen every one, and put a shine on them that I can use to see my reflection in the morning-"
"Yes, master!" He was off, clumsily tripping over his own feet in his haste to be about his duties. He chuckled softly at this sign of youthful exuberance, but even then he felt an uncomfortable weight settle in the pit of his soul; he had watched the boy for a few moments before he had approached and put an end to his play. There was talent there, and grace, as well as a certain recklessness he prayed he could temper before it landed the boy in over his head.
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Kenshin watched Kaoru take in the story, eyes sparkling alternately with mirth or fear, sharing in his joy with the simple game and his shock when his master appeared to curtail it, wincing in sympathy when he described the cut. She reached out to take his hand again and he offered it reluctantly.
She studied his pale skin, turning his hand this way and that until her nails traced just the scar he had described, "Is it this one?"
"Yes." He couldn't speak, even that simple tale seemed to have drained him. He dreaded to think of what the others might do.
"It must have been deep if we can still see it now." She poked at the flesh experimentally.
"There are others from the week I spent cleaning our supply, but there are more important tales to tell."
Kaoru poured more tea into his cup and then in hers, settling back on her heels to wait for the next. She offered a reassuring nod, "Whenever you are ready."
And much to his surprise, he found he was.
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I have a major project due Tuesday, so there may not be an update until Wednesday, but I will try to keep updates regular. :)