Chapter 6
Disclaimer: As always, I don't own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori is my character/idea.
Just a side-note/warning, since Tomas the Betrayer keeps asking and since it would work well with my story, Kaoru's going to get her ass handed to her on the end of Midori's sword as some point in the chapter. This is for all those people who have a burning desire for me to make Kaoru bleed.
"Sanosuke! Oh, thank Kami you're alright! WHERE WERE YOU, YOU STUPID, ROOSTER-HEADED IDIOT?!?!"
Midori suppressed a sigh, the shrill tones of Kaoru Kamiya drilling into her eardrums unpleasantly. She hastily stepped to the side as what appeared to be a water bucket went flying past her head. Turning back, Midori had no time to react as she was walloped in the head with another of those infernal bokkens. Kaoru was on the handled end, looking furious.
"What were you doing to Sanosuke?" the girl demanded, branishing her glorified stick in Midori's slightly dazed face; for such a petite girl, Kamiya sure as hell packed some power in her attacks. Midori half wished that she had not allowed Sanosuke to convince her to return to the dojo for dinner.
"Why don't you calm the hell down, ya psychotic raccoon!" Sanosuke barked, jerking the bokken out of her hands. "Miss Midori didn't do shit to me, alright? We actually had a real nice – OUCH!! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!?!"
For Kamiya had just driven her foot into Sanosuke's gut, using this new footing as leverage to yank the stolen bokken back out of Sanosuke's weakened grasp. Spinning around, the girl delivered another resounding hit to the side of Midori's face, sending her sprawling in the dirt of the dojo's courtyard.
"WHAT THE HELL'S THE MATTER WITH YOU, KAORU?!" Sanosuke bellowed, his face as red as his headband.
"SHE DESERVED IT, YOU STUPID ROOSTER!" Kamiya shrieked back, her own face almost maroon in color.
"SHE HASN'T DONE SHIT TO YOU, BRAT!"
"ARE YOU SO STUPID YOU DON'T REMEMBER HER ATTACKING YOU EARLIER? OR THREATENING TO KILL ME, YOU MORON?!"
"WELL MAYBE IF YA DIDN'T INSIST ON TREATIN' HER LIKE A SLAVE –"
"I FEED HER DON'T I? I LET HER SLEEP HERE, DON'T I?"
As the yelling match had been going on, Midori had sat up, lightly fingering the welt rising up on her throbbing cheek. She tasted blood in her mouth, and turning her head to the side, she spat a wad of the coppery liquid onto the ground. The sound of her spitting had apparently caught the attention of the two banshees, because when Midori looked up again, both where standing over her. She repressed the urge to flinch under their scrutiny and rose to her feet.
"You okay, Miss Midori?" Sanosuke sounded flustered, a deep frown on his usually cheerful face. Midori nodded slightly, her gaze skimming over the man to rest on the fuming girl, still clutching her bokken protectively.
"Where is Himura?" she asked, keeping her voice carefully flat.
"His name is Kenshin," Kamiya hissed, glaring at her with such dislike that Midori was vaguely sure if looks could kill, she would be six feet under by now. She ignored this, opting to repeat her question.
"Where is Himura?"
"His name –"
"Kaoru-dono, I am well aware of Himura's first name," Midori interrupted quietly, looking the girl square in the eye. "As you may have noticed during the past several weeks, Himura does not use my first name unless talking about me to one of you, or unless he is very, very upset. In the same way, I do not address him as Kenshin. To me, he is simply Himura. Now, once again, Kaoru-dono: where is he?"
"Why do you care?" Kaoru spat. Midori traded a loaded glance with Sanosuke, who nodded encouragingly at her, before sighing.
"It is past time that the four of us had a discussion. Five of us," she corrected herself, "Yakiho-chan will not want to be left out."
"What discussion?"
Midori eyed the girl, wondering how much to say now.
"You hate me, Kaoru-dono," she said, her voice gentle. "You hate me, yet you know nothing about me. You do not know where I come from, who I am, what I am to Himura. You act as though you know Himura, but in reality, you know next to nothing about him. I know almost everything there is to know about Kenshin Himura; and in reverse, he knows almost everything there is to know about me. Now I believe it would be a reasonable it to tell you, Sanosuke, and Yahiko-chan a little about the both of us. Will you please tell me where we might find Himura?"
"Oh – well – he's in the . . . kitchen. . ." Kaoru murmured, her face tinged pink in what Midori guessed was embarrassment at her accurate statement. Midori dipped her head slightly in thanks before stepping around the girl and heading to the kitchen. She had barely walked three steps before she came to a sudden halt. Turning her head to glance over her shoulder, Midori nailed Kaoru Kamiya's feet into place with the death glare she was giving the girl.
"And Kaoru-dono, if it would not be too much of a burden, I would appreciate something to put on my cheek so that it does not bruise as badly."
She left the girl standing there and stalked to the kitchen, now having to try very hard to restrain her anger. Why, exactly, did Kaoru Kamiya seem to be possessed of a burning desire to brutally maim Midori very damn time they crossed paths? Midori could still taste the blood in her mouth, and the flavor was doing nothing to help her temper.
"Kabu?"
Midori looked up to see that she had stormed into the kitchen without even realizing it. Himura was standing there, several dishes of food in his arms, apparently about to take them to the dinner table. His wide, lavender colored eyes soothed her anger slightly.
"Himura," she replied, going to him and taking a few of the dishes from him. Walking out to the dining room, she placed the food on the table, and then turned to look at her friend, flinching slightly when she saw how close he suddenly was. His wide eyes darted to her cheek, and they narrowed dangerously. She quickly grabbed the last of the dishes out of his arms and spun around, hiding her face from him. Setting her dishes on the table, Midori sincerely hoped he would say nothing, hoped that he would –
"What is wrong with your cheek, kabu?" he asked, sounding concerned. She risked a quick glance at him and was somewhat relived to see that his eyes, though narrowed, remained lavender in color. She grinned wryly at him.
"Apparently Kaoru-dono likes to strike first and ask questions later," she told him, the grin slipping. "Sanosuke and I had barely made it through the dojo gates before she had struck me twice with that damned bokken of hers. Have you been giving her lessons, ninjin?"
"Why'd you call Kenshin a carrot?" a young voice piped from the doorway. Midori looked up to see Yahiko standing there with a confused expression on his face. Out of the corner of her eye Midori saw Himura's face flame red, and the grin was back on her face.
"It is just a nickname for Himura that is very important to me, Yahiko-chan," she explained, winking at the boy. "Please do not tease Himura about it, and please Kami do not tell Kaoru-dono. She may try to gut me, and I would then be forced to cut off that ponytail of hers and use it to strangle her very slowly."
Yahiko stared at her for so long that Midori half-wondered if he was angry that she had sort of insulted his master. That is, until he fell to the floor clutching his ribs, howling with hysterical laughter.
"What are you laughing at, Yahiko?" an annoyed voice demanded. Lifting her gaze from where the boy was currently banging his fists on the floor, still laughing hysterically, Midori couldn't help the glare that colored her face as she locked eyes with Kaoru again. Her cheek really did hurt quite badly, after all. The girl was holding what Midori assumed was a block of ice wrapped in a towel.
"Will you shut up and get out of the way, you annoying little hyena!?" Kaoru grouched, being careful to tread directly on Yahiko's back as she entered the dining room, causing the laughter to end in an outraged "Buso!"
"Better get up, squirt, she ain't in the best of moods," Sanosuke muttered, reaching down to haul Yahiko up by the back of his gi. Kaoru shot Sanosuke a look, and the man promptly shut his mouth and moved to take his customary seat at the table. Kaoru glared at Yahiko until the boy scrambled to sit as well, then thrust the wrapped ice into Midori's hands without looking at her and plopped down in her own place. Midori gracefully lowered herself to her designated spot, wincing slightly as she pressed the ice to her throbbing cheek.
The meal was quiet, with Yahiko and Sanosuke apparently trying to keep from angering Kaoru; Kaoru herself intent on ignoring Midori; and Himura alternating from discreetly glancing at Kaoru from behind his bangs, and not-so-discreetly shooting questioning looks at Midori, which were answered with small shakes of the head.
Finally, Kaoru slammed her bowl and chopsticks down on the table, making everyone jump in surprise. She shot to her feet and glared at Midori.
"I'm sick of this!" she practically snarled. "I want some answers! I want to know who the hell you are; why you're in Tokyo; and how soon you're going to stop pestering Kenshin and get out of my dojo! And why the hell are you carrying that stupid sword?! You've been here over two weeks and haven't even done any practicing the whole time!"
Midori took a moment to mentally send up a small prayer of thanks that Kaoru had discarded her bokken before coming to dinner. If the look on the girl's face was anything to go by, the abscense of her favorite weapon was the only thing keeping Midori from possibly life-threatening injuries. She cast a glance a Himura, silently asking him if she could talk. At a slight nod, Midori turned back to Kaoru, feeling resigned.
"You may want to regain your seat, Kaoru-dono," she told the girl quietly, setting her own bowl and chopsticks down. "This will be a long story."
The strangers were moving her again. The little girl had learned not to question them; learned that it was best to say nothing if she did not wish to have a beating bestowed upon her. These men are much crueler than her last set of masters. They like to hit her often; she is rarely fed, and the men sometimes look at her with a strange expression that always makes goose bumps pop up on her thin, bare arm.
She has only been with this group of men for a few weeks; her last master's rich wife forced the man to sell her. The woman had always muttered something about 'demons' and 'un-human eyes', but all the little girl knew was that one day she was taken away from the servant quarters above the kitchen and made to walk behind these new men on their pretty black horses.
This will be the sixth time that her masters have moved her to a new city. She is fairly sure they want to sell her again to make some money; other slaves traveling with them have been sold away until the little girl was alone with the men. No one has tried to buy her; people sometimes look at her like they are afraid of her, making signs to protect themselves from evil, whispering about her eyes. Cat's eyes; demon eyes.
The men are hauling her onto another platform, forcing her to kneel before the large crowd that stares at her with interest. One of the men hisses for her to keep her head down, and she does, gazing fixedly at the planks before her.
"Who will buy this girl?" one of the men shouts to the watching crowd. "She's got about seven years on her. She's skinny, but she ain't sick! She could be a model house servant; you could put her to work in the rice fields. We'll sell her cheap! Who will buy this girl?"
"I will."
The girl flinches in shock, starts to raise her head, and is hit hard from behind by a large male fist. She sways, biting her tongue to stop herself from crying out.
"Told you to keep your head down, brat," someone hisses behind her. "What will you pay for her, good sir?"
"Let me see her face first."
"Ah, but sir-"
"I will see her face before she is bought by my money."
There are grumbles, but finally the little girls' head is jerked back. She finds herself staring at a hilt of leather; craning her thin neck, the girl looks up into black eyes that remind her of the sky at night. They are dark, yet they twinkle at her.
The man is huge. The little girl thinks that he must be a giant, and wonders if he will buy her so that he may feast on her bones after he kills her. She finds that she does not care, and stares up at him defiantly. The big man smirks at her.
"So you are the child with the eyes of a cat," he says, and his voice is like the thunder that keeps her up when the storms come. "Are you afraid of me, little girl?"
She shakes her head. The man laughs at her, reaching forward to place a hand on her black hair. She holds very still, not sure what the man is going to do; the hand in her hair moves down to her cheek as he crouches before her.
"Do you have a name, little girl?"
Again, she shakes her head. The man's bearded face is so close to hers that she can smell the mint in his breath, the perfume on his collar. She ignores his mouth and his nose, looking straight into his black eyes. Calm; kind. This man is not cruel, like the last few masters she has had. This man is kind.
"Will I be going with you?" she whispers, and the man smiles at her.
"Do you wish to go with me?"
For a long moment the little girl does not answer. She thinks about all the masters she has had in her short life; about the beatings, the looks, the chores. None of her masters were nice men; none of them had ever smiled at her like she was a person. Maybe this master would be different.
"What is your name, Master?" she asks him.
"My name is Raiden Wakahisa. You may call me Myoushu or Shishou.
"And I shall call you Midori; a fitting name for one with eyes such as yours."
"Your masters' name was 'thunder god who is forever young?'"
Midori pulled herself out of her memories to return the look Yahiko was giving her. She smiled slightly.
"It was," she replied softly. "He told me later that his parents named him Raiden because on the night he was born, their home was in the center of a horrific thunderstorm. In later years I would tease him about the 'forever young' part and usually get smacked in the head with the closest blunt object."
"Man, that's such a goofy name," Yahiko giggled, settling back down in his spot so that Midori could continue her story.
The slim eight-year-old tugs lightly on her master's hakama to get his attention. The huge man looks down at her from where he is polishing a rice bowl and smiles brightly.
"Yes Midori, what is it?"
"Myoushu, it's that day!" the girl shrieks, jumping up and down in her excitement. Her master cocks an amused eyebrow at her.
"And what day would you be talking about, you little monster?"
"Myoushu! No fair! You promised that you'd teach me once I'd been here for a whole year! And you bought me a year ago today!"
Raiden Wakashi plasters a confused look on his broad face and scratches his head.
"Now wait a minute! I don't remember buying you last year, child. Last year around this time the only little girl I bought was the pretty, short, skinny, mute angel who hung on my every word. She was such a nice little girl, too. Actually, it's really too bad she's not around anymore; I was going to teach her how to use a sword someday. . ."
Raiden gets a good look at the expression on the child's face and laughs, the sound booming through the house like the thunder his namesake controls. His big hand shoots out to ruffle the long, beautifully thick black hair Midori is so proud of, dodging the retaliatory smack that is sent his way.
"All right, little one, let's go then. . . " His voice trails off as he barrels out of the room and threw the front door, his young ward hot on his heels, giggling madly. He swells with satisfaction at the sound. It has taken him months to coax the child to speak to him; months to gain her trust and admiration. No longer does this girl flinch when he touches her; no longer do her eyes gaze emptily back at him. Now a light brighter than any he has ever seen seems to shine out of his ward, whom he freed immediately after her purchase. She has a fierce, bright spirit, his Midori; she is the perfect choice for his successor.
Perhaps she will succeed where he has failed, and bestow a worthy name unto his technique. . .
Thirteen-year-old Midori leans over her master and wipes the blood from his chin with her dirty sleeve, tears pouring down her blood-smeared cheeks.
"Myoushu," she whispers, caressing the now cold cheek of the only father she has ever known.
She buries his mutilated carcass in his family's ancestral cemetery. Once she has smoothed the last of the dirt over his grave, she kneels before the mound that houses the person she loves most in the world and thinks.
Her master, her beloved friend and father, has been murdered by the Shinsingumi. The entire country is in turmoil as the Shogunate forces and the Revolutionists wage war. Her master refused to be a part of this. Killing for peace is wrong, he had told her, and the Shogunates are corrupt. He had not agreed with either side, and had sought to remain neutral. Now he lyes cold beneath the earth. What should she do? Where should she go? Her home for the last six years is a smoldering ruin; the Shinsingumi took what they could carry and burned the rest. She is homeless, alone, and penniless.
However…
Midori grips the sheath of her sword in her dirty, bloody hands. Myoushu is dead, but she is still alive. She is skilled with a blade; the movements of her master's beloved fighting technique are imprinted upon her very soul. Her master's murderers walk freely upon the earth that is stained with his blood; Midori's hands are stained with his blood.
And they will all die for his suffering.
Midori stands, looking one last time at the grave of her master, friend, and father.
"I will avenge you, Myoushu," she whispers. "I will make the sky rain blood. I will honor your name and your life. I will find a name for your technique, as you wished for me to do. And I swear on my name, the name you gave me when you saved me from hell: I will avenge your death, even if it costs me my life.
And with that Midori, master of the nameless technique, leaves the peace of her old life and begins the life of a manslayer.
Something wet was dripping down Midori's arm; it took her a moment to realize that the ice which Kaoru had supplied for her cheek was melted. The left sleeve of her gi was soaked. It took another moment to register that tears were slowly making their way down her cheeks, mingling with the water. Midori shot to her feet, startling her audience.
"It grows late," she hastily explained, careful to keep her face downcast. She realized after she said this that she was correct; the sky outside the open shoji door behind Sanosuke is deep black, pitted with stars. "I will finish this story later. Goodnight, Kaoru-dono, Sanosuke, Yahiko-chan."
She practically ran from the room, aware of the golden-flecked indigo eyes that followed her. She could not address Himura; could not bring herself to face him right now. She needed air. She needed quiet in which to release the fresh grief welling in her chest, the unbearable ache filling her.
Midori vaulted the walls surrounding the dojo and ran through the deserted streets of Tokyo, her amazing speed unleashed tonight to put whatever distance she felt she wanted between herself and the four people for whom she was tearing open an old, painful wound. Though her master had been dead for the past thirteen years, talking about the day of his death was still extremely difficult for her. Even now she could remember clearly the smoky smell of her burning home; the way her master's face had looked so pale and frozen; the feel of the dirt of his grave imbedded in her nails.
She found herself sitting beside that same river from this morning, glinting softly now in the dark, the full moon reflecting enchantingly off its surface. She hugged her legs to her chest and buried her face in her knee. Her tears came faster now, bitter sobs racking her slim body as she wept for the father and master she missed so dearly.
If only he had not sent her to the market that day…if only she had returned sooner…Midori wept tears of guilt at the thought that had she been home, with her Myoushu, he would yet be alive today.
Without warning two warm, strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her gently into a hard male chest. Startled, Midori struggled to free herself, panicking until she heard the familiar voice whisper softly in her ear.
"It's alright, kabu. You are safe. I have you."
Midori could not muster her annoyance at being followed when she sought solitude. Instead, she collapsed back into Himura's warm chest, covered her face with her hands, and cried as she hadn't in years.
When the storm of sobs had at last debated to silent tears coursing down her cheeks, Himura's calloused fingers gently swept her heavy hair back from her moist face before his arms encircled her loosely once more. Her friend rested his chin on her shoulder, his still-indigo eyes gazing at the dark water before them.
"I am sorry that Kaoru-dono pushed you into this, kabu," he murmured, his voice vibrating from his chest through her back in a way that made her quell an involuntary tremor. She said nothing, now feeling slightly uncomfortable having him so close to her. Midori attempted to move away, only to have her efforts thwarted by Himura's strong arms.
"Ninjin," she muttered, tugging half-heartedly on his sleeve; it was only when he did not respond that Midori became aware that Himura's entire body was coiled tighter than a spring about to snap. Instantly she was on alert, wiping the tears from her face as her senses went on high alert. Someone was out there; she could feel it now. Someone was coming towards them from behind. Midori tensed, readying herself for a fight, but –
"KENSHIN! WHERE ARE YOU? KENSHIN NO BAKA!"
Midori felt Himura twitch slightly in what she could have sworn was fear before he sprang suddenly away from her, leaving her to fall backwards onto the grassy riverbank with an "umph."
"KENSHIN NO BAKA!" Kamiya Kaoru was now bearing down upon them, her somewhat pretty face twisted with rage. Midori almost had a stroke when the screech sounded from right behind her. She flipped over and hastily scrambled to her feet, her eyes warily watching the girl, who was predictably clutching a bokken.
Kaoru's blue eyes swept from Himura to Midori and back again, her face darkening with anger.
"So this is why she told us that crap story," she hissed at a terrified-looking Himura; Midori raised an eyebrow at the girl's use of a swear word. "She just wanted to lure you out here and make you feel sorry for her. I knew she was a whore."
At this, Midori's eyebrows both shot down in a deadly glare and Himura quickly attempted to intervene.
"Kaoru-dono, you should think about what you are saying –" he began, taking a step towards the girl, but he was immediately cut off.
"No! I'm right! All she wants is a free place to stay and a bunch of idiotic men like you and Sanosuke to feel sorry for her! She just wants to drain us dry of food before she asks one of you morons to sleep with her and then robs us blind and leaves! That's why she made up that sob-story about a dead teacher! It's just a lie, Kenshin! Her real master's probably just some perverted old drunken fool who got tired of using her as his whore and –"
Before either of the other two knew what she was doing; before Kaoru could finish her sentence or Himura could make a move to stop her; Midori had lunged at the girl in front of her, pulled back a fist, and punched her directly in the nose.
There was a small crunch and a scream. Kamiya fell to the ground shrieking as Midori stood over her, hate coursing through her veins. Strong arms encircled her again as she made another lunge the huddled figure, jerking her away from the girl as she screamed like a demonic spirit and clutched her bleeding nose.
"HOW DARE YOU!" Midori shouted at the hysterical fool, fighting to free herself from Himura's restraining arms. "HOW DARE YOU SPEAK OF MY MYOUSHU IN SUCH A MANNER?! HOW DARE YOU BESMERCH HIS MEMORY?! HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE HIM OF SUCH FOULNESS?! YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT HIM, YOU BITCH! YOU KNOW NOTHING!"
"Kabu!" Himura yelled in her ear, struggling to keep his tight hold on her. "Kabu, NO! You must not fight Kaoru-dono, you must stop this now!"
"LET ME GO, HIMURA!" Midori screamed back, redoubling her efforts to escape. "LET GO OF ME! I'LL KILL HER! I'LL KILL THAT LITTLE BITCH FOR WHAT SHE SAID! HOW DARE SHE?!"
In a flash Midori found herself on the ground with her arms wrenched behind her back, Himura's knee pressing her down. She struggled furiously, wanting nothing more than to sink her blade into Kamiya Kaoru's flesh; to tear her limb from limb until the fucking bitch screamed for mercy. Her vision bled red with rage, and she bucked up against Himura's hold, her eyes fixed on the cowering girl before her.
Vaguely she registered Himura's hand sweeping her hair over one shoulder. Over the keening shrieks issuing from Kamiya's mouth, she barely made out his voice:
"I'm sorry, Midori."
White-hot pain lanced through her body, and for the second time in under two days, Midori's vision went black.