Disclaimer: If they were mine, Kenshin would have been Battousai (drool) for most of the show and Kaoru would have whooped a whole more ass. XD.
It's really strange that I had 75 hits (higher than my previous stories) for this one chap, yet no one bothered to review except two. Threedayslate and StarSong, thank you for the reviews, this chapter is going out for you!
The Insanity of Us
Chapter 2: Of Daggers and Doorways
Mornings were wonderful, glorious things.
In summer the morning wind was crisp and fresh, a cool reprieve from the burning punishment of the hot day. In winter the bed would be warm enough that you could appreciate the power of a warm blanket against the chill wind and gloat at the power of human ingenuity.
I regularly woke up inches before dawn and enjoyed minutes of the sun streaking the dawn's way through the rice paper walls. This of course was right before I dragged myself out of bed and into the furo for a quick clean up and its off to the dojo with me for my morning wake up stretch before my students limp their way to school.
And I use the word limp literally, if anything I find that I became more brutal in my training with age.
Kamiya Kassin Ryu was not for pansies.
"OY BUSU! Get your lazy butt out of bed! You wouldn't let me sleep in for my winter classes and just caus' you're home alone doesn't mean you get to be lazy!" I swear, even if Yahiko was not physically here, the annoying echoes of his presence tempted me to find my bokken and beat his head in, wherever he may be.
"I'm up, I'm up." Yahiko may you sneeze yourself into a lake I gleefully chanted in my head.
With all the optimism of a condemned man I force my eyes to open.
And saw pink.
I blinked blankly at it for a full minute before my reluctant brain engaged itself. The tiny flower perched on the edge of my bed, directly in my line of sight linked up with the memories associated with it.
Tomoe.
Yahiko snorted from his perch on the corner of my futon, still clad in his sleeping robe the young man of apparently 14 was enjoying my suffering. "Thought you could forget didn't ya? Fat hopes there busu."
I roll over and pound my fists into my futon. It is a childish display, but one that used to be satisfying whenever I was frustrated. It has been many years since I indulged myself.
Why. Why did this always happen to me? I must have had some god awful karma to have grief, confusion and the dead or missing thrust at me throughout my life.
Perhaps I was a murderous monk? I mean, that must be bad enough to disserve this level of torment, right?
Yahiko got up from his perch and prodded me with his ungrateful foot "Yeah right busu, like you could have ever been a monk. I would sooner believe that they would make a monk out of Sano. Get moving already, you are going to be late for your own class!"
Letting out a puff of breath, I still my little tantrum and glared at the innocent bloom. I could only barely restrain myself from thrusting out a leg and tripping the boy.
Not like he would fall anyway.
I wanted to lay in bed and let whatever disaster that was yet to come, involving a certain 'him' that I was meant to 'save' come to pass without me. It was so very tempting to do just that.
I grumbled under my breath about ungrateful brats and the evils of the world. My little bout of wishful thinking was pointless in the end. I already knew that my stubborn nature would have none of it.
My stubbornness and ghosts that is.
"Damn it busu! How many times have I got to tell ya. I am not a ghost. Don't go around wishing for my death like that!" Yahiko screeched and in typical fashion stomped his way to the shoji door and slammed it open and shut with his exit.
My ghosts had at least tact enough to leave me when I wished to change out of my sleeping robe.
Going through my morning routine with all the awareness of a dead butterfly, I finally centered myself just as I opened my front gate.
My students had all of an hour before they were late and with the mood I was in, they would sorely regret it.
With my attention drawn by the thoughts of all the swings that would be performed I miss it till it nearly smacks me in the face.
Dagger.
It took my still strained brain a moment to comprehend the sight.
There was a dagger stabbed into my front door.
Considering the fact that I was already unnerved by my visitors the previous evening, I took the discovery remarkably well.
After all it has been years since threats of the dagger or blade variety were brought down onto the Kamiya Kassin Dojo. My reaction to such should be predictable.
I laughed.
What did they expect? Did they, whoever they were, expect me to whimper like some child at the sight of a sharp pointy object stabbed into a piece of wood?
I nearly wish Sano were here to appreciate the humor in this.
I have seen swords run through living human beings. I have seen death it all its many masks step onto my doorway and tell me that I was next. I have seen loved ones hurt, broken and bleeding.
This was nearly decorative by comparison.
Curious, I took a step closer to the blade and studied it. There was a lot you could tell about an individual from the blade they used.
It was elegant. I guessed it was about the length of my forearm and polished to a painful sheen. The parts of the actual blade I could see were sharpened to a deadly edge. This weapon was no wall ornament.
Silver in color, the hilt of it was etched in a pattern that served both as an easy grip as well as a decorative addition.
A white tiger glared at me from its perch encircling the blades handle.
This was no joke, and definitely not a challenge from one of the more chauvinistic Dojo's that still tried to inflict their views on what should be the relationship between women and kendo.
This instrument was designed to serve its deadly purpose no doubt but was also designed to appeal to a decidedly unique taste.
Most men in this town had all the taste of a rotten potato.
I noted something odd about the engraving of the blade. Something about the design of the tiger was not quite Japanese in origin. The edges were to sharp, the glare too fierce.
I have seen etchings and sculptures from 'exotic China' on display in front of the municipal hall often enough to recognize the trend. No, this tiger was defiantly forged in China.
Sure that I had no need to report anymore 'harassment' cases to the local police officers I gingerly tucked my hand around the kinfe's handle and try to pry it out of my front door.
I was surprised by how much effort it took for me to loosen it from the wood let alone free it.
Whoever stuck it into my door was not only strong but tall as well. The hilt, when in the wood, was about level with my nose, meaning that the stabber was probably a full head and a half taller than me if he struck the door at chest level, which generally was the case.
So I had a tall, strong man, my mind hypostasized, who might come from or have visited China, come to my front gate and stab it with a very pretty pointy object.
And to leave such a pretty and no doubt expensive gift behind was defiantly no random fluke.
I simply was not that lucky.
It was then that I notice the tiny bit of parchment clinging to the blade.
Parchment? Did he leave a message?
I looked around the area, but give up before I truly begin. The area is a mess of sand and dead branches. Once again Kami-sama has a good laugh at my luck.
Some poor man, with some grudge or other, leaves a message stabbed to my door, and the message gets blown away by a passing wind.
Perhaps his luck isn't so hot either.
If I recall correctly, the wind last night was quiet violent. I shudder to remember why it was unnaturally so.
Hold up.
My mind rewinds and came to its own conclusions without my prompting.
I had a plum blossom, sitting innocently on my dresser, linked to a memory of a dead woman asking me to 'save him'. I now have a dagger stabbed into my front door, clearly made in china, stabbed by a 'him' with a missing note.
Three bets say that the two were linked.
"Kamiya-Sensei!"
I blinked, shaken from my mental rile against karma and thoughts about the number of people I must have killed as a monk by a deep, familiar voice. I turned warily around only to be greeted with the deep thumping sounds of footsteps slowing down from a run and the worried figure of my star pupil.
"Sensei! Is that another challenge? I swear I will go after those idiots myself and beat them to an idiot pulp!" Hijiri Takemoto could, at times be just as bad as Yahiko when it came to being impulsive.
The young man joined my dojo about thirteen years ago. He came to me as a tiny, wimpy brat, and in time and with training has grown into a giant of a man that could easily tower over even Sanosuke.
He has proven himself to be one of my more diligent pupils. He was not naturally skilled in sward fighting, but with the amount of effort he put into training placed him nearly on par with both Yahiko and Kijin. He now held the title of assistant instructor, as they both did before the road called them.
At the age of 23 he was probably harder on my introductory students than even I was.
"No, Take-kun, this is something a little different." I sighed and gave him a warning glare "The last time you 'went after those idiots' as you say, several students from that dojo mysteriously quit on the spot and unless I'm mistaken, moved provinces as well."
He grinned unrepentantly and flicked his hand through his dark, shaggy hair. He proceeded to proudly swing his bokken to rest on his shoulders in what could be perceived as a manly pose only by the blind and stupid.
"What can I say Kamiya-sensei? When I use my words, idiots find themselves getting a valuable education."
I snorted at that and once again studied the blade in hand. I knew that despite his act Take had the bad habit of worrying about me to the point of annoyance and would, at the drop of a hat, defend me from anything and everything that might be tempted to harm me.
I wondered if part of my bad karma included overbearing men?
I paused at the thought, savoring it in my mind.
There was something…something important I was missing here.
My mind stilled and picked at the word. Worrying at it like a tenacious dog with a bone.
Why were the words 'overbearing men' suddenly so interesting?
In an instant combination of karma, bad luck and the random thought processes of my mind I knew.
I did not only know, I knew.
The puzzle seemed to flow together as these things sometimes do. Like a kata you tried over and over again to master only to get it flawlessly after you take a break.
Overbearing men with bad karma.
Tall with notable strength.
A white tiger insignia
A high end dagger from China
Overbearing men with a dead sibling.
A visit from said sibling
Oh royal shit.
It was Enishi.
The dagger belonged to Enishi.
I was certain of it.
My luck was strange enough to warrant it.
Why the HELL would Enishi have an issue with me? Perhaps he has not heard of Kenshin's death and wanted a re-match?
I nearly snort to myself. The only way he didn't hear about it is if he lived underground for the past two years. Even Misao in Kyoto heard about it and sent a pigeon with her condolences within a day of his death. Granted she was the head of a spy network, but even at that distance, the speed was quite impressive. I was pretty sure some hill men in Hokkaido were talking about it within the week.
My Kenshin was simply that popular.
"Save him"
Tomoe's words rang through my head with terrible finality.
I already knew what needed to be done and strangely enough I was looking forward to it.
What did it say about one's sanity when one was looking forward to meeting up with a mad man?
I sighed to myself and looked at the dagger once again. This whole situation could become really ugly, really fast.
"Sensei? So, where is it from and what do you want me to do?" Take asks, as eager as a little puppy.
I smile at the analogy. At times he really did resemble a cute puppy.
"Nothing Take-kun. This is nothing at all."
If something was meant to happen, it would happen. I could rant and rail and curse high hell for it, but all that would do is leave me breathless.
I swiftly turned around and marched my way to the kitchen to get some tea. No human being should be forced to contend with upheavals of this nature without strong tea and some meditation.
Behind me, Taka trails away looking agitated and muttering about the damage to the front door.
Perhaps I did learn a thing or two from Kenshin and his infinite patience. Everything that would happen, would happen as it should.
I could accept that.
But I didn't have to like it.
Ok guys, my life has been hectic lately and I really, really like this story but I just don't have the spare time for it. And I really need the motivation to actually do it. So to give me time I have decided to include a math system to it.
Reviews speed of updates.
More than 3 reviews update within a week
Less than 3 reviews no promises.
I'm sorry but I just really have to know if anyone is interested in reading the story at all.