STANDARD DISCLAIMERS APPLY
AN: A little less of Kaoru's thoughts and a little more plot advancement; that's what another installment is made of.
Unapologetic
by Anna Iram
Chapter 4: What are little girls made of?
I'm up after getting very little to no sleep. I'm washing my face, I'm showering, I'm putting some clean clothes on and, all the while, I'm thinking about the day that lies ahead of me and how there are things I'm scared to do but will not – absolutely will not – put off.
Down in the kitchen, I make a fresh pot of coffee while steering clear of the stove, the toaster, the blender and all other electrical appliances. It's time for breakfast and my stomach is making damn sure I take notice. But it's Sunday and it's early; Misao will probably sleep in like she always does on the weekends. My stomach will just have to make do with a cereal bar and some yogurt, I guess. I'm not in the mood for burnt toast anyway.
Before I go, I leave a note on the fridge. I'm not specific regarding my whereabouts. In fact, sticking to the basics, I merely let my housemate know I won't be home for lunch; the rest, she doesn't need to know.
Since the words sound so impersonal and my intent lies not in hurting her feelings, I draw a smiley face on the yellow post-it, right next to my short message. It comes out more like a frown, but I never claimed to be an artist.
On my way out, I grab an umbrella. It's starting to rain and my hair is already enough of a frizzy mess. As for my nerves, those are frazzled. And what about my heart? Well, it's skipping beats, but, as long as I can keep on denying that it's a little broken, that's fine by me.
Taking the stairs two at a time, Misao is saved from breaking her neck by sheer luck and abilities that only a gymnast can possess. It bodes well for her that she took gymnastics seriously until she turned fifteen and other pursuits swayed her from the path of Olympic glory.
The house is quiet, she realizes, as she bounces into the kitchen. She hums to herself to fill the silence. Out of the pantry comes a cereal box, out of a drawer a spoon and down from the cupboard above the sink, a plain white bowl.
Missing the final key ingredient, she opens the refrigerator door, retrieves a carton of skim milk, then swings the door shut. Carton in hand, she sees the message left behind by her roommate.
"Clipped and aloof," she offhandedly notes, her high-pitched voice being all there is to hear in the otherwise tomb of a kitchen.
Craning her neck to the side, she tries to identify the squiggle on the left-hand corner of the post-it and promptly gives up. Kaoru was never much of an artist, anyway.
With a careless shrug, Misao sets to preparing breakfast, but the cheerful smile usually pasted on her face is gone without a trace. She's worried about her friend and about the places she might go. Kaoru is in dire straits and Misao is no fool; she's just not too sure her involvement is wanted.
She eats quickly, because she hates soggy cereal. She schemes while she chews. Then, standing over the kitchen sink, resolve hits her like a ton of bricks. At long last, she knows what to do.
Misao washes her bowl and spoon and she's smiling again. Her smile is not nearly as bright as it could be, but it's a start.
The rain's stopped. I should be grateful for at least that much, but the truth is I hate coming here so badly, I can't even muster relief over something so trivial. Every time I step foot in this place, I feel like an utter failure. Hey, I know I am one, I just don't appreciate being reminded of my shortcomings; I don't think anyone does.
"Hi dad, it's me."
What hurts the most is that he doesn't even acknowledge me. Actually, that probably comes a close second to the fact that I couldn't keep him with me. I wanted to, but, let's face it: the man's a handful and I have a job that leaves me no time to take care of anyone, not even myself. It's still quite a blow to my pride, though, knowing I couldn't do more for him. After all, he devoted his entire life to me, the motherless child who rarely felt she lacked another parent because he was just so good at filling up all the empty spaces. I owe him everything and it kills me that I haven't repaid him in kind.
"I saw Kenshin yesterday," I inform him. I leave out the bits he would have my head for, of course. "You remember him, don't you? You never did like him."
I wiggle my thumbs and feel so much like a child again, it's silly. My father had systematically disapproved of any boy to come within handholding range of me and it shames me to admit it, but I can't seem to break the juvenile habit of feeling nervous when I speak to him about a man. It's double the trouble when the man in question is Kenshin; after all, out of all those boys my dad had loved to hate, he's the one that had meant the most to me.
"You always said he was more trouble than he was worth." I take a moment to think about that and, there I go: I'm blushing despite myself. Idiot. "I never bought it for a second," I whisper, more for my benefit than his.
I can feel my lips curving into a wistful smile and, suddenly, I want to gouge my eyes out.
I don't want to see my father's unresponsive face anymore; I want him to stand up and give me a piece of his mind. I want him to tell me that I will, under no uncertain terms, have anything to do with that Kenshin Himura ever again. I want him – so desperately need him – to be my daddy again!
But it's not that simple. Dead brain tissue cannot be restored. The stroke was as severe as a stroke gets; he's not quite dead yet, but he's not alive either, not in a way that actually counts. My superhero of a dad is no more; he takes up space now and slowly chips away at my savings while doing so. The fact that he was reduced to so very little disgusts me.
"I know you're in there somewhere," I say as I crouch down in front of his wheelchair, "I know there's a part of you that can understand me. Today I'm counting on it like I've never allowed myself to before. The thing is, dad, there's something I have to tell you."
We're in the garden of a nursing home I can barely afford, me and my dad. I'm looking him in the eye, telling him a story I wish I could keep to myself. In a way, I am. My father, he'll never tell; he may not even be able to process what I'm saying. And, though it pains me, it's probably for the best: he shouldn't be made to suffer any more than he already has.
Once I'm done with my sad little narrative, I'm back behind the chair, pushing it along, just taking a leisurely walk with my disabled father. I'm pointing out the color of every single beautiful flower surrounding us and making snide remarks about some of his fellow residents. I swear, just for a second, I think I see him smile. For the first time all day, I feel my heart warm.
Misao's stride is purposeful as she makes her way across the empty street – empty, that is, save for one man on his midday jog.
"So you're the dick that ruined her for all other men. I'd say it's a pleasure, but I would be lying."
Kenshin comes to a stop. He finds it odd that the petite woman standing in his way smiles while insulting him. Not one to be outdone, he smiles right back at her.
"Excuse me, do I know you?" he asks, wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand.
"No, I'm pretty sure you'd remember me," she replies, mischievous fire dancing in her eyes. "You're Kenshin, right? Kaoru's Kenshin, I mean? Oh, honey, if you knew me, you'd probably be in a wheelchair by now."
Kenshin creases his brow. "I'm sorry, what about Kaoru?" he insists, still striving to be polite despite the stranger's blatant hostility.
Misao arches an eyebrow and puts her hands to her hips. "Funny, that's my line."
"Did something happen to her? Did she send you here?"
"Send me?" she parrots, blinking owlishly. "Oh, no, she'd kill me if she knew I was here! By the way, you're not an easy man to find, you know that?"
Kenshin shrugs. "I'm in the book," he says, disagreeing with her point of view. "Now, how do you know Kaoru exactly? And how is it that you've come across me here and not at my house?" he asks and Misao swears that there is a hint of menace lurking in his smile, in his eyes.
"Well, I've been known to stalk an ex or too in my day. That and I know someone on the force." She pauses, then not-so-airily comments, "Actually, I've been kicking myself all the way here because I'm very protective of Kaoru and she's mentioned you quite a bit. How I didn't think to run a background check on you sooner…well, it boggles the mind, doesn't it? Then again, up until a day ago I didn't think you were a part of her life anymore."
Kenshin's eyes darken and Misao is officially certain that 'menace' is not a strong enough word. Apparently, she's struck a nerve. This makes her feel a little too proud of herself. It shows.
"Why are you here?" he demands, his voice gone cold. "I suggest you get to the point."
"Is that a threat?" she retorts. Deep down, she's spoiling for a fight; if he would give her just one good reason to smack him…
"Take it as you will."
"Careful there, you don't know whose toes you might be stepping on."
The tension in the air grows thicker. They're playing a dangerous game and, while Misao enjoys every minute of it, the man she has sought out is far from pleased. The one thing guaranteed to put Kenshin in a bad mood is Kaoru's name getting tossed around in random conversation. To him, her name is sacred and it rarely leaves his lips outside of her presence; taking it in vain is simply a mistake he cannot afford to make.
Going for it, Kenshin decides to turn the heat up a notch. "I would if you would only do me the kindness of telling me your name and stating your purpose," he disarmingly remarks. Like his grandmother used to say, you catch more bees with honey than with vinegar.
Bowing her head, the black-haired woman is willing to call it a draw and get on with business. "The name's Misao Makimachi and the only reason I'm here is because I'm worried about Kaoru and I think you might know something that I don't." She crosses her arms and stares pointedly at him. "So, what do you know, Kenshin Himura?"
"I know that you should have kept your name to yourself; I'm not about to volunteer information of any kind to Captain Makimachi's little girl. As far as Kaoru goes, whatever's between us is our business and ours alone."
"Know thy enemy, huh? I can totally respect that," she ascertains, crowning the whole affair with a conspiratorial wink. However, Misao is not about to leave well enough alone; it's too late for that. Instead, she offers her housemate's lover the honest explanation she refused him from the start. "The thing is, I'm not your enemy and I'm certainly not here to tell you that you're being an idiot for getting someone as special as she is involved in something so sordid just for kicks. Something tells me, 'just for kicks' is not the right turn of phrase anyway. I'm here because I'm hoping you care enough for her to decide to help me."
"You think I can help you?"
While he waits for an answer, Kenshin ponders that the young woman claiming to be Kaoru's friend no longer seems as confident and fiery as he first perceived her to be. Clearly, she is distressed. Obviously, she's here for answers that are not his to give.
"I'm saying you're going to want to help me," Misao affirms. She means every word.
"And what if I were to tell you that she is beyond our help?" Kenshin asks. He means every bitter word just as much, if not more. He is unapologetic in his bluntness.
"I…I won't accept that," she says. A shadow of fright forces her to stutter but, no matter what she is told, she's still Misao, she's still fire and ice and she doesn't back down.
Kenshin smirks. Without looking for one, he has found an ally.
Briefly – and however darkly – he wonders just what good it'll do.
"So, how did your unscheduled business trip go?" Tomoe asks as soon as her husband walks through the door.
He has been gone all weekend, is returning without any sort of luggage in tow and is definitely not dressed for success. In fact, he is wearing a white t-shirt, gray sweatpants and running shoes. Needless to say, she isn't expecting to engage in an 'I-missed-you-so-much' kiss. She's not expecting any truth to his vague explanations either; she never does.
"We need to talk," he says.
"I figured as much," she rejoins, her eyes and attention drawn back to her needlepoint.
"You won't like it."
"I never do," she listlessly agrees, her nimble fingers at work.
Kenshin shakes his head. "No, you don't understand. It's not about your father this time."
"Oh? That would be a first then, wouldn't it?"
"Maybe so," he replies. His voice is weary. "For what it's worth, I would much rather get into another argument about my involvement in your father's affairs."
"It's that serious, then?" she inquires, looking up from the crafts project on her lap.
Kenshin's tired eyes bore into hers. For a second, she feels as though she's drowning. For the first time since the wedding, she feels as though she's looking at the real him.
"Nothing has ever mattered to me more," he softly tells her.
"I'll go put the kettle on, then," she says, gracefully rising to her feet.
Not for the first time since they met, she feels as though they may well be kindred spirits.
AN#2: Thank you for taking the time to read this. Please, if you feel up to it, review.
Reviewer responses:
To dreamsweetmydear: Thank you for rolling out the red carpet and, basically, for such a warm welcome. I have to admit, I have been blessed with the kindest, most encouraging reviewers on this site – this, of course, includes you, m'dear. Thank you for remembering 180º ST&T with such fondness.
In regards to this story, I have decided to go on a darker path, hence the darker Kaoru. I'm glad that you like this "new" take on her character. Like you, I too sense that she is ready to go; the problem is she's kind of reluctant to part as well, because there are so many loose ends. But yeah, ultimately, after she solves a thing or two and confronts one fear or another, she will be fully ready to face her fate and she'll do it with as much dignity as Kaoru can muster – I would say grace too, but it's Kaoru, after all; the girl is an accident waiting to happen!
Once again, thank you for the kind words and see you next update!
To Dea Mariella: I don't know if my subconscious has anything to do with it – probably – but as you can see for yourself, this is definitely not a stand-alone installment. It also centers a little less on Kaoru – did I do bad? – for the sake of the development of an actual plot and whatnot. Unfortunately for you, there were no big reveals here – does another aspect of Misao's personality count? ^_~
This chapter has a different feel to it – less introspective – and, frankly, I don't know if that's a good thing or merely a major snooze. I think it's cool that you appreciated the whole 'icing on the cake' metaphor last time around because I did struggle with it a little – I didn't want to overdo it. So… this chapter, did I overdo anything? You be the judge.
Kissies and take care. Until next time!
To poems2songs: Thanks for the review!Well, Kaoru, it seems, went to visit her dad, who is not doing too well himself. And, for the first time, she confesses to being sorry about something. The girl just might not be as jaded as we initially thought, huh?
To Seelenspiel: Thank you! How sweet!
To bbzachariah: First off, thank you for the constructive criticism; mere praise is always good, but pointers can be just as good if not better. I like that you took the time to mention certain inconsistencies in my writing because it's beneficial to everyone, really. I mean, if the writer does a better job, then the reader's will enjoy it all the more, right?
I'll be sure to work on the things you've mentioned and, hey, hopefully one day I will be in a position that will require me to have an editor (contractually, if you get my drift). I hope to see you in the reviewer's section in the future. I'm all ears and very interested in your opinion; after all, on this site, there's only room to grow
Gabi1994: You're so cute, you know that? Don't worry; asking for something will not ruin the story at all: that only means that the bug of suspense has tasted your blood. And, no matter how icky that sounds, it is a good thing, trust me. Thank you so much for all you reviews.
To miniwoo: See, I kidded you not – is it okay if I say 'kidded'? –, there was another chapter, just as there will most likely be a couple more in the future. Ye of little faith…
I'm glad you enjoyed the back story last chapter; I had a blast writing it. For once, the ideas just flowed and it was almost easy to translate into words the image I had in my head of this young girl standing somewhere she had no place being, acting all tough with her cigarette on her lips. For the record, her 'savior' is older than her, but not creepily so. If it helps, in the beginning, they're really just friends.
Remain hopeful my friend for there is more to come. Thanks for the reviews and stay tuned!
To Brukaoru: Thank you for leaving such a lovely comment behind. I appreciate it very much!
To : That soon enough for ya? ^_~ Take care now!
