Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Italics galore.
Disclaimer: Alas, no.
Notes: In which Kaoru paraphrases Thorin Oakenshield. Spot the quote? :P And yes, the first scene was directly inspired by the live action movie. ^^
Dedicated to the awesome Broomclosetkink, who is a STAR. Are you reading her Questions of Power? Isn't it brilliant? :D
Brought to you by Sato Takeru's pretty face and perfect lips.
A Woman in the Crowd
Kaoru leaves the dojo unhurried that morning – she has already practiced her kata and had breakfast, which leaves her little but chores for the day. Groceries, cleaning… even training, Kaoru wishes there was someone living with her so she would not have to be alone. Wishes that she had an apprentice. A girl, maybe, to keep showing the world that women are as capable as men, but she would be just as happy with a boy. Loyalty, honour, a willing heart… She could ask, and would ask, for no more than that.
To honour her father's memory, she has to teach. Everything he worked so hard to built will mean nothing if she does not. She knows this, down to the marrow of her bones.
Ah. After the war, maybe. There is too much violence around now. While people rushed to get their children trained when the rebellion first began, years of unrest have made them wary. So many boys have run away from home with their swords, eager to join the fight, and never come back… People hide the children away now, and only the oldest, most respected schools survive, like Maekawa-san's. The Kamiya Kasshin Ryu and its ideals, so at odds with the rest, had no chance… The few students who stayed out of respect for her father disappeared soon after his death, leaving her alone in a too-big dojo. If only…
A large crowd blocking the way ahead pulls her out of her musings. Kaoru can sense shock and fear hanging heavy in the air, read it in the people's body language – worried looks, stiff shoulders, tense steps, hushed whispers. Getting closer and standing on her toes to see over their shoulders, she quickly understands what is causing the commotion: a body is lying a few meters ahead. A man's, probably in his forties. A straw cover has been hastily thrown over him but his eyes, open and empty, are still visible. Dry blood and mud mar his face. Four other bodies lie scattered nearby, also covered, waiting to be taken away. From their clothes, Kaoru guesses they are a government official and his bodyguards. Blood pools on the ground. Another assassination. The Ishin Shishi's Tenchuu.
Assassinations normally happen closer to government buildings, not around here… No wonder people are so shocked. She can't quite suppress the flashes of that fateful night that jump to the front of her mind, nor the shudder that runs through her. She does not have to imagine what happened here.
Yet she also knows that these men's faces will haunt the Shishi's assassin for a very, very long time.
Some people are pale, stricken, visibly scared. Others are crying. One woman, in particular, stumbles inside the circle, only to be held back by two other women. Her cries tear through the eerie silence that has descended on the street, and bury themselves in Kaoru's heart.
(She knows what it is, to come home and find a loved one dead. She cried, too, like this woman is crying.)
Her eyes never leave one of the bodies. Following her gaze, Kaoru's own eyes fall upon one of the bodyguards. The woman may have tried to run to him, but he is far beyond help. He does not appear to be much older than her. She is mourning a husband, or a brother.
After the initial shock wears off, the crowd starts talking again, loud enough that Kaoru can make out what they say. One name makes the rounds. Battousai. The name echoes through the crowd as each voice adds a supposed piece of evidence to accuse him – his lust for blood, cruel, crazed, maddened, vicious… They call him a demon; drop the name like an absolute sentence condemning him. Who, if not the demon? Kaoru wishes she could shut them all up and tell them just how very human Battousai is, when something in her peripheral vision catches her eye.
There, his flaming red hair hidden by a straw hat, is Kenshin. She gasps as she recognizes him. What is he doing here, exposing himself to this? He isn't paying any attention to her. In fact, he is looking straight at the crying woman and at the bodies being taken away. No doubt he can hear the whispers in the crowd. Why are you here? It isn't like he is required to feign some sort of interest so he must be here on his own free will, but why? Why would he torture himself like this?
His skin is ashen; his lips slightly parted to draw laboured breaths but his eyes… oh Gods, his eyes. They are dead. Dead, blank, not showing any of the life and wits Kaoru knows are in him. Still, he watches. He stands with one shoulder slightly lower than the other, as if he wants to curl in on himself, and his hands are shaking, but still, he watches. Kaoru starts moving towards him but by the time she manages to extract herself from the crowd, he has vanished.
It is easy to learn about her too. In a city as big as Kyoto, gossip and rumours abound, and a female kenjutsu teacher living alone in her dojo is sure to draw attention. All it takes is to walk through the market a few minutes after she does. Yes, that was her; yes, she always shops here; yes, she always comes at this time of the day, when her classes allow it.
It is all too easy.
Himura Kenshin is a good man. A genuinely good man.
Kaoru discovered this early on, when he first started walking with her through Kyoto. Kenshin listens, thinks, and does not take anything for granted. Kenshin is a good man.
His explanation of why he joined the Imperialists further proved that. There was no ounce of arrogance in him when he gave her his reasons. There probably was some, Kaoru guesses, in the idealistic young boy he must have been not so long ago – that he still is, in some ways – but it has been wiped out by the blood he has made fall. Dreams of grandeur shattered, by his own blade no less, what keeps Kenshin in Kyoto now are selflessness, honour, and his sense of duty.
Still, he murders people. People talk, even during times like these, so Kaoru knows how assassins usually end up: as emotionless killing machines, mad with bloodlust, or with guilt and remorse.
Kaoru knows what she saw: Kenshin is an extraordinary swordsman, and he never hesitated a second against the ninja. Given the blood spatters in the street this morning, he never hesitated a second there either. Slowly, ever so slowly, he is transforming into that perfect killing machine.
Except not. He is conscious of it. He actively fights it. He makes himself watch. He makes himself watch and hear and smell and feel. He tears his soul apart – oh Gods, his eyes – because it keeps him human, because he wants to pay the price. He imposes his own justice on himself, because no one else will. Hell, the Ishin Shishi probably praise his work.
"I couldn't accept any reward for the blood I've spilled. No one should be respected for that." This is what he told her, in that alley. She had not understood, then, how much he meant those words.
While she will never approve of the Shishi's methods, Kaoru does not blame Kenshin. He already takes all the hate he hears and feels, adds some of his own, and keeps it tightly wrapped around himself at all times. She fully realizes, now, that she has forgiven him, and that she is not scared, not anymore. Certainly not after today.
Himura Kenshin is a good man. Himura Kenshin is her friend, the one who sent her heart aflutter when he gave her a ribbon. And her friend needs her.
So Kaoru makes her way to the inn again, long after sunset. No light comes from his bedroom when she reaches it and she doesn't sense his presence either, but it doesn't matter. She has got all night, and more if need be. She finds a quiet corner at a slight distance from the inn, not to arise suspicion, sits down, and waits.
She is watching a stray cat trotting down the street when she sees him shuffling up the riverbank. He carries no lantern, but the moonlight is enough to reveal his bowed head and hunched shoulders.
Oh, how she was right in coming.
She walks up to him, calling him softly. He looks up upon hearing his name – his eyes are as blank as she saw them that morning but a flicker of surprise alights in them. His ki is void but Kaoru can see him trying, trying to focus on her and bring a spark of life back into his eyes. She might cry for him. Later, when he can't see.
"Come with me," she motions for him to follow her and starts walking in the direction he came from. Not hearing his footsteps behind her, Kaoru turns around. Kenshin is still standing in the same spot but he is looking at her, surprise more evident on his face.
"It's this way, come on!" she insists. Without answering, Kenshin follows.
She takes him to her home, has him sit down as she prepares tea for the two of them. He stays obediently still, incredulity obvious on his face. Good. Anything but those dead eyes.
She kneels in front of him a few minutes later and pours him a cup before filling and lifting her own. Kenshin is still staring at her, yet seems to remember his manners as he lifts his cup and sips the beverage first.
His eyes widen in amazement. The stench of blood is still there – on his clothes, in his hair, on his hands, everywhere – and saturates his senses but somehow, the tea does not taste of it. Instead he feels warmth and the light bitterness of the green leaves on his tongue, just the way he likes it.
"It's good", he whispers, clearly surprised.
She chuckles, "I can't cook to save my life, but tea, I know how to make. I'm glad you like it."
He nods and takes another sip. Delicious.
Kenshin is not sure how it came to this. Mind reeling, he re-examines the latest events one by one to try to understand what just happened, counting them on his fingers to be sure not to forget something.
He had been drinking tea in Kaoru-dono's dining room. Yes. Then she had somehow convinced him to stay the night and before he knew it he had been given a room, a futon, and a yukata. He knows what prompted this, of course, knows that she saw him this morning in the street. She saw him, and is worried. Again. She asked him to stay so that she could keep an eye on him. From the look she gave him, she wanted to make sure that he would not do something stupid.
Worse – the thought still makes him awkwardly swallow –, from the look she gave him, he is convinced that she was this close to having him sleep in her own room so that she could make really sure that he was okay. He better not try to sneak out before dawn, either. She would have his skin for that, and Kenshin clearly remembers his master teaching him that courage also means knowing how to pick your fights. He knows much better than to tempt Kaoru-dono's wrath.
So he finds himself sitting against the bedroom wall, his katana propped against his shoulder as he listens to Kaoru-dono sleep in the adjacent room.
He will offer to cook breakfast in the morning – it is the least he can do – and, matching his breathing rate to hers, he wonders before falling asleep if she'll serve her delicious tea again.