Into the Clear
by mikan
Chapter Fourteen: Grief
". . .he doesn't want any other woman by his side but you. All he wants is you. All he needs is to know that you love him."
The words echoed in her mind.
Kaoru lay motionless on her futon. She kept her eyes closed, her connection with her surroundings limited to a distant awareness. She could feel her body laying upon the sheets, each limb resting heavily upon the feather mattress. She could feel the coolness of the room blowing lightly past her fingers.
But within her body, she felt as if she could move -- turn, twist, and breathe, all free of the bulky limbs and cumbersome weight of her flesh. Her body was only a distant sensation, far removed from the immediate feeling that throbbed through her being. She turned her consciousness inward and felt it -- the feeling keen and piercing as ever.
All I am now is this.
At that moment, the pain had become more real to her than anything. She held it close to herself -- her whole being curled around a bright, pulsating shard of agony.
The words echoed again.
". . .all he wants is you. . ."
The shard throbbed and pierced her chest.
"Liar!" she screamed.
Suddenly, the reality of her body returned to her. She felt her chest heaving, her mouth agape, dragging in breaths with short, labored gasps. Her eyes flew open. She found herself staring at the paper fibers on the wall.
"Jo-chan."
The words were spoken very quietly, very softly, in a slightly gruff voice. She turned her head and found Sanosuke sitting at her side, his brown eyes dark with concern. She stared into his eyes.
His face started to blur. She felt a rush of tears fill her eyes.
"She lied to me!" she screamed at him, her fingers grasping at the sheet that covered her.
The words came out as a harsh croak. The sheet barely stirred.
Sanosuke looked on in silence. Kaoru tried to bring her hand to her face. The limb lifted an inch above the sheet, then, against her will, it fell heavily back onto the mattress. She stared at her hand, her lips still parted.
"My hand," she whispered, the words soft and breathless and shocked. "I -- I can't. . .I can't. . ."
She kept repeating the words, mumbling mournfully to herself, until the last creakings of her voice began to die away. Sanosuke watched as her lips continued to move silently. I can't. . .I can't. . .In the silence passing through those lips, he could hear the frightened desperation that was beginning to seize her. Her lips began to tremble.
She tried to twist her body to the side. Almost immediately, he heard a pained gasp and watched as she stiffened from head to toe. His eyes shot to her face. Her eyes were shut tight, her skin paling into a pasty white from the pain.
He slid an arm under her shoulders and repositioned her onto the futon, solidly on her back. She kept her face turned away from him. He stared at her for a moment, then settled back onto the floor.
"Take it easy," he told her quietly. "Your body can't handle much yet."
She felt a tear slide out of her eye and sink into the fabric of her pillow.
She had just wanted to turn away from him, to move onto her side and turn her back to him so he couldn't see the tears that were about to go streaking down her face. The sudden, slicing pain that had ripped across her abdomen was something she had never thought to expect.
God, she thought, how pathetic am I? Her lips felt like scales, her throat ached, and her arm lay limply on the mattress like a dead weight. The pain still throbbed at her side. She could feel the hot, pulsating welt cutting into her body.
Where did that come from? she wondered, her eyes suddenly squinting painfully as she drew in a breath. Her awareness of the wound now magnified each breath into an agony. Forced to keep her breathing shallow, she kept her lips parted, dragging in the air slowly through them. Each breath lanced her insides, sending shards of white-hot pain shooting off inside her body.
She prayed she would pass out again soon.
I don't want any of this. If this is what it means to be awake. . .to be alive. . .then. . .I don't want it anymore. I can't take this anymore.
Kenshin's profile suddenly cut into her consciousness. As if feeding itself from her memory, the image, at first a shadow, gradually began to deepen and fill in, until she found herself staring back at him in her mind.
She felt an enormous ache in her chest. The image staring back at her was so real, so true, that she felt as if his face were only a breath away from hers. The eyes of her mind moved across his smiling face.
She loved him so much. Every shadow, every line of his face was engraved upon her heart.
Suddenly she had forgotten the pain.
The dark, merciful fog did not return to blanket everything as it had earlier. Her heart twisted painfully. Why did it always happen this way? Whenever she was ready to give up, ready to quit and turn her back and forget everything, the mere memory of him was always enough to keep her holding on.
But I'm so tired, she thought, shutting her eyes so the tears wouldn't spill out. I've been trying so hard for such a long time.
I can't take this anymore. Not anymore.
But even as she thought the words, she knew they were a lie. Because deep down in her bones, she knew she could take more. She knew she could endure more. She knew she would never give up.
All because of him. All because the mere thought of him was enough to. . .
Enough to make me forget the pain, she answered herself truthfully. In her mind, she reached out and touched his face. His beautiful lavender eyes gleamed as he smiled at her.
'I love you so much, you know,' she told him in her heart. 'So much that even though it hurt to see you with her, I'm still happy. I'm happy to see that you're alright.'
He merely smiled at her, the same soft smile that gently hid the sadness that always shadowed his eyes.
In her mind she reached out and put her arms around his neck, pulling her to him.
'It's alright,' she whispered to him. 'Even if that's all you can ever show me, it's alright. I'm. . .I'm happy just to be with you.'
She opened her eyes. She found Sanosuke staring at her face.
She found the strength to curve her lips into a weak smile.
"Sano. . ." Her voice was reduced to a low, raspy breath.
She watched him look at her in silence for a moment, then withdraw something from his pocket. To her surprise, she felt a soft square of cloth being dabbed lightly against her cheek.
Sanosuke finished wiping the tears away from her cheeks. He stuck the handkerchief back into his pocket.
"Don't worry, it was clean," he muttered. "I can't stand seeing a girl with spongy cheeks. It's not cute at all."
Her smile widened a bit, and her eyes crinkled slightly.
Sanosuke flipped a stray lock of hair off her forehead.
"I want you to rest," he told her, his tone turning stern. "And I want you to promise me that you won't think anymore about what you saw today." He paused, looking down at her seriously. "If there's one thing I'd bet my life on, Jo-chan, it's that Kenshin cares about you. A lot. I don't know what we just saw out there, but I'm sure there's a reason for it. I'm sure once we hear the whole story. . .everything'll be alright."
She looked into his eyes, her smile tremulous. She wanted to be able to nod and smile some more and say, Okay, Sano, I promise you. Okay, I'll believe what you just said. I'll believe that Kenshin cares about me and that everything will be alright.
But. . .
She felt her smile disappearing, as the thought continued on in her head:
But I know that what each of us believes doesn't always turn out to be true.
Sanosuke believed that Kenshin cared for her. Katsura Ayumi had told her the same thing. And as for herself --
As for me, I've always been. . .afraid to believe anything. I've always been afraid to even think that he might be -- that he might be able to -- think of me in the same way.
I've never known how he felt about me. If he felt anything at all.
She felt the smile returning slowly to her lips.
But. . .it doesn't matter anymore. Whatever he feels, whatever he's thinking, why he left. . .only he knows for sure. And he might never tell me. But it's alright.
Because I can't lie to myself anymore. Beyond any pain, any indifference, anything and everything that he hides from me -- beyond all that, I love him.
It might be painful -- it might be hard -- but I know this is the truth. This is the truth of what I feel for him.
And knowing that is enough for me.
She felt strength seeping into her smile. She looked up at Sanosuke.
"Alright," she whispered. "I. . .promise."
When the glow paled from the walls and twilight dimmed the hallways of the house, two figures stood up slowly from a wooden bench under the shade of the large tree in the courtyard. They started walking back towards the main house, their faces couched in darkness, silence lingering between them. They stepped onto the porch and headed for the half-open shoji, their feet padding softly against the wooden floor.
The sound of silk brushing against rough cotton melded with the night air. Leaves rustled in the distance. She stepped past him into the dark hallway. He followed her, sliding the door shut, blocking off the bluish tint of moonlight.
He bent down, reaching for the unlit lamp in the corner. He looked up and saw her already walking down the pitch-black hallway.
"Ayumi, wait."
She kept walking. He dropped the lamp and reached her in two strides. Without a word, he grabbed her wrist and began walking ahead of her, leading her down the dark hallway to her room in the back of the house.
She remained silent the whole time. Finally they reached her room.
He slid the door open. His fingers fell away from her wrist as she stepped into her room.
"You wait here," he told her, turning to head back down the hall to the kitchen. "I'll bring you something to eat."
"No, it's. . .it's alright," she murmured, her fingers finding the frame of the door.
He paused, his eyes searching her face in the darkness.
"I'll stay with you then," he said.
She shook her head.
"No," she told him, in a voice that melted into the warm, dark air in the hallway. "I'll be alright. Thank you. . .for today."
He watched as she gently drew the door shut between them.
He didn't move. He stood there for a while, his face close to the paper of the door. He knew that beyond that door, she hadn't moved either.
Finally he spoke.
"I'll be here," he told her quietly.
There was a long silence. Then from behind the paper, he heard her answer softly:
"I know."
That night, she had a dream.
"Princess."
She lifted her head slowly and let her eyes rest upon the man who knelt on the cushion halfway across the room. He bowed, keeping his eyes downcast. She studied him silently, noting the immaculate crispness of his attire and the polished sheath of the sword on the floor at his side. The crests on his gi caught her eye -- two white, identical circles contrasting sharply against black silk. The emblem within appeared to be that of her family. She looked at him again. His hands were curled formally into fists resting on his thighs. Before him sat a flat ebony box.
She turned her head slightly, her eyes still fixed upon the man.
"Matsuhara-san," she murmured, "what crest does that person wear, I wonder?"
The woman who sat stiffly some distance away to her right inclined her head politely, then turned her attention to the man.
"The princess wishes to know what emblem you wear," she informed him, speaking each word with sharp deliberateness.
The man kept his eyes fixed on the floor.
"It is the crest of the princess's own honorable family, my lady. The Katsura crest."
The woman bowed slightly to her, before saying:
"It is your family's crest, princess."
"How remarkable," she said softly. Her fingers caressed the strings of the shamisen that lay before her. She plucked out a note. It echoed in the heavy silence. She spoke to the woman at her side without looking up from the instrument:
"So that person must be a member of my family, then."
Again the woman bowed. Again the authoritative voice:
"The princess wishes to know if you are a member of her family."
A pause. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man bow low once more.
"I am but an insignificant retainer of the Katsura clan."
Before the woman could repeat to her what he had said, she interrupted:
"What is your name?"
"Princess!"
She turned her head coolly and met her lady-in-waiting's dagger gaze. Matsuhara Keiko was the wife of a distinguished court official, a paragon of courtly behavior. Her small black eyes were always narrowed into slits, her lips perpetually forced into a thin line.
The line cracked open a fraction.
"Please direct your inquiries to me," the woman instructed coldly. "You are not to speak to him directly."
"I do not see why I should not."
"It is beneath you to do so!"
"He is. . .of my family," she said slowly, emphasizing the words. Her brow arched. "Something which cannot be said of you."
The woman's eyes widened in outrage.
"This is shameful behavior, Princess." Her grip on her fan tightened. "This is unacceptable at court."
"We are not at court at the moment, Matsuhara-san. We are in my quarters, and I am receiving a member of my family." She turned her attention back to the shamisen and let her fingers pass idly over the strings. A beautiful chord filled the pause. "If you would be so kind as to leave us."
"It is not permissible for you to be alone with a man!"
She raised her eyes and stared at the older woman questioningly.
"I believe I dismissed you," she murmured.
She could see the woman's fan trembling with suppressed rage. Matsuhara Keiko sat there stiffly for a moment more, then bowed and stood. She slid open a shoji and disappeared into the next room.
The silence lingered after the shoji clacked shut. Then she heard a chuckle. Startled, she looked at the man.
He was smiling at her.
"You'll probably be in trouble for that later," he remarked.
She stared at the easy smile on his lips.
"I beg your pardon?" she managed to say, her eyes widening as she watched him ease his legs out of the formal sitting position.
"My legs are completely asleep," he muttered, stretching them out fully for a second. He sighed deeply, then resettled himself onto the cushion, sitting cross-legged.
She was at a loss for words.
He eyed her bent legs.
"I bet yours are asleep too," he grinned. "Why don't you have a good stretch and sit like this? You'll find it surprisingly -- liberating."
He was waiting for an answer. She widened her eyes incredulously.
"Such a thing. . .is not done," she replied, her voice a bit unsettled and suspicious.
He arched a brow.
"Sitting here alone with me also isn't 'done', you know" he said. "In fact, it probably is the height of impropriety." His lips twisted into a wry smile. "You're being highly improper anyway. Might as well be comfortable."
Her mouth dropped open at that. She stared at him, then recovered her presence of mind and clamped her mouth shut. Then, true enough, she soon became aware of the prickling sensation that was beginning to spread up her numbed legs.
He was right. Now that she thought about it, she really did want to stretch out her legs. Very badly.
He was watching her, an amused expression on his face.
She gave up. She eased her legs out and stretched them to the side, carefully keeping her toes under the hem of her voluminous outer kimono. For a brief moment, she savored the welcome feeling of blood rushing back into her deadened limbs. Then she quickly folded her legs as he had done, rearranging her robes meticulously afterwards.
"I honestly can't imagine how I can be possibly related to you," she muttered, her fingers artfully arranging the silk into elegant folds around her. "You're the strangest messenger my father has ever sent."
"And you're most certainly the strangest princess at court I've ever had the honor to visit," he replied. "If I didn't know you any better, I probably would have been scandalized by your outrageous behavior, too. But then again, you always were an outrageous one. . .ne, Ayumi-chan? Always sending your poor mother into hysterics --" he waved a hand dismissively in the air as he recollected -- "what with you setting her garden on fire and all that."
For the second time that evening, her mouth dropped open. But before she could blurt out the "Who are you?" that was on the tip of her tongue, dying to be asked, she fired back a retort, infuriated by the knowing, teasing grin on his face.
"How dare you accuse me of that! I didn't do that! Uncle Katsura did! Who are you, anyway? You don't even really kno--"
"Ah, but isn't it true," he interrupted her smoothly, holding up a finger to silence her momentarily, "that it was your idea to have yakitori -- right there, right then? On your mother's precious cultivated grass, I might add."
She paled slightly, staring at him, thinking, it can't be!
"And who threw a tantrum when we couldn't cook the damn thing right?" he continued casually. "Who kicked that burning coal onto the grass?" He gazed directly into her eyes. "Not me."
"Uncle. . .Katsura," she breathed disbelievingly.
"Your mother was furious." He frowned slightly at her. "And you, princess, used me as a scapegoat. But. . .I suffered gladly." He tilted his head and smiled at her. "You were my favorite even then."
She remained perfectly still for a moment, her eyes intense upon his. Then, before he knew what was happening, she had bolted from her seat and came flying across the room in a whirl of silk, smacking into him and sending him onto his back. They landed onto the floor with a loud thud.
He groaned slightly. Her arms were wrapped tight about him.
Suddenly, the floor shook with the pounding of footsteps. The shoji at his head was thrown open.
"Katsura-san!"
"Princess!"
The chorus of alarmed male voices filled the room, then fell into a stunned silence.
She felt their eyes on her. Quickly, she rose to her feet and met their stares.
As if on cue, all the guards dropped to one knee, bowing their heads.
"Please forgive our insolence, princess," their captain called out, keeping his eyes downcast. "We heard the noise, and we thought you were in danger."
Silence stretched in the room.
She was not paying attention to him. Her gaze was riveted to the young man a few feet to her left.
He had been the first to enter the room, and he had stood apart from the men who had rushed in behind him. And unlike them, he remained standing -- an unforgivable breach of etiquette, especially since he was about two inches taller than she. But what struck her was the way in which he returned her gaze directly. His eyes glowed with a strange pale fierceness. They were fixed intently on her face.
He was not a member of the Imperial Guard. His clothes were plain and somewhat shabby. The two swords crossed at his waist were unadorned.
Nevertheless she had the feeling they were very sharp.
"Katsura-san?" he asked, in a voice that was surprisingly soft.
The captain of the guards looked up in amazement and stiffened in outrage. His hand, which had been flat upon the floor, flew to the hilt of his sword.
"How dare you show disrespect to the princess!" he shouted.
"Do not draw your sword!" she ordered him forcefully, her voice rising with a measure of panic. She stared at the silent man again. His face was impassive as he stared down at the infuriated samurai. Then his eyes flickered back to hers, and she felt her heart skip.
Then, in a motion so fluid that drew her gaze completely to him, he went down on one knee and bowed his head.
"Forgive me," he murmured.
In the silence, she could feel her heart racing. She turned to the captain.
"Everything is alright. I--I was just a bit surprised to see my uncle, that's all. I haven't seen him in many years. I apologize for alarming you. If you would be so kind as to excuse us now. . ."
"Forgive us for intruding," the captain responded, bowing once more, then rising and leaving the room quickly. His men followed suit.
The young man at her left remained on one knee, his head bowed.
It was then that she noticed his hair. It was a peculiar shade of brown. No, not brown at all. . .it was really a kind of. . .red. A very strange color indeed, for hair.
Suddenly her uncle spoke.
"It's alright, Kenshin. We'll be leaving in a short while. Will you wait outside for me?"
"Hai." One word, spoken with the same grave softness that seemed so incongruous for one so young. And he was young. She was sure of it. His face had a delicate smoothness that belied the sword calluses on his hands. She watched him leave the room. The shoji shut soundlessly behind him.
"Who is he, uncle?" she asked, her eyes still on the door.
Katsura looked up at her.
"Oh, he's one of my newer men. I'm taking him around to help him get used to my routine."
"I see. A new recruit," she murmured.
"Yes. Actually, I just met him last week, when I was out in Choshu. He's a very talented boy."
Her gaze flew to his face.
"Choshu," she echoed. Suddenly, a smile lit her face, and she hurried to his side. She sat beside him and hugged her knees eagerly to her chest. "That's right, Uncle, you've been home, haven't you! So Father sent you here? I can't believe I wasn't able to recognize you! It's been so long!"
The corners of his mouth turned downwards a little.
"I haven't aged that much, have I?"
She grinned. "Still as vain as ever, I see!"
"I beg your pardon!"
She eyed the ebony box that sat gleaming a few feet away on the floor. "What's in the box?"
"Aren't you going to ask about your parents first?"
She reached for the box and slid it in front of her.
"I know how they are," she said, rolling her eyes slightly. "Father is preoccupied with council meetings and emissary meetings and all the other meetings that take up his time. And Mother. . .well, Mother is, as usual, worrying about me. Worrying about whether I'm going to do something horribly unspeakable here at Court that might make our dear imperial prince withdraw his offer of marriage."
"You sound affectionate," he remarked.
"I am fond of them!" she retorted. She stared down at the elaborate inlay on the wooden lid, her fingers tracing the intricate carvings. "But. . .you know, Uncle, being here isn't that much different from being at home. Being at home, that is, after you left."
"When I left you were still a baby. I didn't think my leaving changed things that much."
"When you left I was five. And I remembered you." She looked at him. "That was why everything was different after you left. Because I remembered you."
He was silent. Then he smiled, but it was a smile that was less bright, less light than before.
"Open the box," he told her quietly.
She looked down at the box. Her fingers sprang the brass lock open. Slowly, she lifted the lid.
Within the box sat a folded length of lustrous yellow silk. She lifted its edge and felt the thickness of the material. She glanced up at her uncle.
"It's a blanket," he said. "The Imperial Palace might be grand, but I've heard. . ." his voice dropped to a mischievous whisper, ". . .that it's also quite drafty."
She laughed, pulling the blanket out of the box and clasping it to her chest.
"Thank you, Uncle. It's beautiful beyond words and it feels marvelous! And the embroidery. . ." she looked down at the scene stitched with exquisite detail onto the silk. There were mountains, the graceful arch of an old tree, and a house that. . .she stared at it disbelievingly.
The house was her house! And the tree was that tree outside her bedroom! And. . .
"Did you find yourself yet?" she heard him ask her softly.
She didn't answer. She was staring at a tiny, tiny figure of a child standing near the foot of the tree. Next to the child stood a man. The child's hand and the man's hand melded into the same little bump of silk thread.
She looked up at him, feeling the tears brimming in her eyes.
"I. . .I don't know what to say," she told him honestly.
"You don't need to say anything," he told her, smiling that same sad smile again. "You already said thank you." He paused, his eyes moving across her face. He sighed heavily. "When will I see you again, I wonder?"
"Can't you stay a little bit longer?" she asked hopefully.
He reached for his sword.
"I would like to, but it's getting dark. And these days, it isn't wise to be out in the streets after nightfall."
"What do you mean, Uncle?" she asked, bewildered. She found Kyoto to be a very charming place. Suddenly, she realized something.
"Oh! If you are staying in Kyoto, then you don't have to wonder about when you can see me again. You can always come visit me, you know. Anytime. I'll complain to the prince if they dare restrict my visitors."
He shook his head at the belligerent tone in her voice, rising and bowing deeply to her. She scrambled to her feet hastily, clutching the blanket in her arms.
"Well, I've got to go." He slid the sword into his sash. "I know it might be hard, but. . ." he smiled down at her, ". . .it'll be alright. If you need anything, just send for me and I'll come right away." He patted the blanket in her arms. "So stay warm, and try to remember, even if it's only sometimes. . ." he looked at the scene on the blanket for a moment, falling silent. Then he met her gaze and smiled again.
"Try to remember. . .everything." He said the last word with a curious catch in his voice. His smile was suddenly very sad.
Ayumi's eyes flew open. She stared at the ceiling. It was beginning to glow with the faint light of dawn. She touched her fingers to her cheek, and felt the telltale sheen of moistness on them.
She had been crying in her sleep.
She turned her head to the side, her cheek chafing against the harsh weave of the tatami. She had cried herself to sleep on the floor. Her futon still lay rolled up in the corner.
She pushed herself into a sitting position, looking at the room around her. It was desolate in the gray half-light, almost empty, the wooden panelings slashing darkly across it. In the strange blankness around her, she could suddenly see her uncle's smile -- the smile he had left her with in the dream.
But that wasn't a dream, she thought. That was all real. That happened.
It's as if I wasn't dreaming at all, only. . .
Only remembering. She remembered that time. That had been her second year of residence at the Court, in anticipation of her marriage to the prince, which was to take place the following year. After her uncle's visit, she had eagerly begun planning the many things she hoped they could do together while he was in Kyoto. She had also thought a bit about the mysterious young man who had charged into her quarters that afternoon.
That had been the first time she had ever laid eyes on Kenshin. It had been so brief, and they had both been so young. She doubted he remembered it at all.
She had planned on getting to know him better, on dragging him along on a shrine visit or a cherry-blossom-viewing expedition with her uncle. But scarcely half a year after her uncle's visit, she received a missive from him ordering her to return home to Choshu at once.
Her world deformed into a nightmare after that. The city she had loved on sight was changing day by day into something more sinister. Rumors were rife. The eyes that had always followed her every move turned more suspicious. The cold veneer of the Court suddenly became menacing.
It was not long after she had left Kyoto that the unbelievable news reached her at home in Choshu. Her uncle was leading a rebellion against the Shogun, and his family was to be held responsible for his treachery. The mandate for their execution was signed by the Emperor himself.
The memories washed over her in waves. The pain became overwhelming. She crumpled onto the floor, curling up into a ball, weeping silently.
They had never been able to return to Choshu after that. Her uncle had fallen ill and they had remained instead in Otsu. The years passed and they kept their quiet life. Beyond Otsu, there was nothing. The world thought them both dead.
Now there was no longer an Otsu for her to return to.
What do I do now, Uncle? she desperately wanted to ask him. Where do I go?
I'm so scared. I don't want to be alone.
"I'm all alone," she whispered into the darkness, her arms wrapping around her middle, cradling emptiness.
Words came suddenly to her mind.
"I'll be here."
Kenshin!
At that moment, she had an overpowering urge to rush out of the room and run straight into his arms. She pushed herself up from the floor again, her whole body shaking. She stared at the door.
He was probably not even outside. He was probably with Kaoru. And what he had told her, those words -- they were probably just meant to make her feel better.
I can't go to him, she told herself. She needs him right now. And he needs to be with her.
She stared down at the floor, feeling the tears streaking down her face. She covered her face with her hands, steeped in acute misery. Her heart pounded in her ears.
But I need him. I need to be with him too. Just this one moment. Just for a little while, I want him with me.
Forgive me my selfishness, Kaoru-san. . .
I just can't. . .I can't be strong right now.
She got unsteadily to her feet, then made her way to the shoji. Its wooden frame was cold under her heated fingers. She slid the door open slowly.
Her eyes fell upon the empty spot before her.
"Kenshin," she whispered, staring at the uninterrupted dark expanse of wall that stood before her. The house was completely silent. To her right and her left, the same grayness hung in the hallway, choking off the weak dawn light. She stumbled backwards into the room, her eyes shifting wildly, trying to pierce through the forbidding gray.
It was the same darkness, everywhere she looked. The same emptiness.
Suddenly nothing made sense. What is this place? she thought, panic firing her thoughts. Why am I here? I don't belong here.
I don't belong here.
"You okay?"
Her eyes shot to the hallway. She heard the rustle of clothing against wood, then found herself staring into shadowed brown eyes.
Sanosuke studied her face carefully. She looked like hell. Her hair, always elegantly in place, now hung about her face in twisted locks. Even in the darkness he could see the glistening trails of wetness on her cheeks. Her eyes were strangely pale and glazed.
She stared at him with those eerie eyes. Then she murmured:
"I. . .I need to go out." With a trembling hand, she raked her hair away from her face.. "I just need some. . .some fresh air, I think."
He was silent for a moment, then he shrugged.
"Okay," he agreed nonchalantly. "Let's go, then." He began walking down the hallway. After a few seconds, he heard her begin to follow him. He led her to the kitchen, then out the door. He stopped in the courtyard.
"Is this outdoors enough for you?" he asked her, careful to keep his tone light. "We could sit around here somewhere."
She stopped abruptly, staring up at him. His face was half-turned away from her. His eyes were surveying the shadowed courtyard for a comfortable place to sit. His profile drew her gaze. The harsh early light lit up the lines and planes of his face. It was a strong face -- the jaw solid, the cheeks lean and defined. Then he turned to her, and she suddenly had the ridiculous thought that his eyes held a peculiar warmth.
She realized he was waiting for her answer. She stared at the bench under the tree. Just hours before, Kenshin had sat with her there, holding her as she wept.
I need to get away from here, she thought.
"Is there. . .someplace else that we could go?" she asked him, her voice hesitant and very soft.
Sanosuke thought he hadn't heard her right. Was she actually saying that she wanted to go somewhere, with him, at this godforsaken hour? Just the two of them?
"You mean. . ." he murmured.
"I mean anywhere but here," she answered, desperation starting to edge itself into her voice. "I don't want to be here -- right now." She looked into his eyes. "Will you take me somewhere, please? Somewhere other than here."
In a million years he would never have expected to hear those words out of her mouth. He had always thought of her as untouchable, a woman far removed from his grasp. She had always spoken to him with a reserved politeness. And her eyes had always followed Kenshin.
Yet now those eyes were focused directly on him. And the way she was looking at him -- beseeching, imploring, revealing a vulnerability she had never shown before -- made him want to grab her and pull her into a tight embrace.
He forced himself to look away.
You're not thinking straight, he scolded himself harshly. She's not herself tonight. She just lost her uncle. Don't start reading things into it.
But maybe just a little, he could pretend that she really wanted to be with him. That those strange pale eyes were looking right at him.
Are you really looking at me, Ayumi? he wondered.Or is it someone else you're really seeing?
It didn't matter. He started walking again.
"Come on then," he muttered. He heard her footsteps behind him, and in spite of his efforts to steel his heart, he felt a warmth spreading inside.
You're an idiot, he told himself.
But at least for the next few moments of his life, he would be an idiot who would have her at his side.
Earlier that evening. . .
Sanosuke stuck his head out into the hallway. He spotted somebody sitting on the floor a few feet away.
"Oi, Kenshin!" he called out. "Stop moping and get your ass over here. I'm starving. It's your turn to sit with her, you know."
Kenshin picked up his sword and walked over silently to him. He stood before the open doorway of Kaoru's room.
"Sano, do you think you could stay with her, just for tonight?" he asked quietly.
Sanosuke stared at him.
"What the hell are you talking about? Do you understand what's going on here, Kenshin? Jo-chan's almost goddamn half-dead, and you're going to go off somewhere?"
Kenshin gritted his teeth, drawing in a slow, calming breath. His temper was already strained with the events of the day, and Sanosuke's sudden belligerence was not helping at all.
"Will you keep your voice down? It's not like I'm going to go gambling or anything," he snapped, causing Sanosuke's eyes to narrow. "I can't leave Ayumi alone tonight."
At the mention of her name, a sudden fury flamed in Sanosuke's eyes.
"Will you listen to yourself?" Sanosuke fired back, a look of disgust on his face. "Which woman almost died trying to save you? I don't recall it being Ayumi. Why the hell do you care so much about her, anyway? Isn't she alive and well?"
"I'd stop right there if I was you," Kenshin replied, his voice low and dangerous. "You don't know anything."
"Damn right I don't. Nobody here knows why the hell you left, Kenshin. Or why you're here now. Or why she's with you. And if you ask me, I don't really give a damn." His fingers curled into a fist. "But what I do give a damn about is Jo-chan. She's almost dead because of you. So you'd better get your ass in here now."
Without waiting for an answer, Sanosuke grasped him by the front of his gi and pulled him into Kaoru's room.
"I better not hear you leave this room," he muttered. "And while you're in here, make sure you tell her how sorry you are for being such a worthless bastard. You might never get another chance."
He stepped out into the hallway. Kenshin stared at the aku kanji on his back.
Sanosuke turned his head a fraction to the side.
"If she dies, I'll never forgive you," he hissed, slamming the door shut behind him.
Kaoru heard the door shut loudly, and consciously tried to keep her whole body still. With the weakness still lingering in her limbs, it wasn't such a difficult task, but she still had to be careful. She fought the overwhelming urge to open her eyes, and focused her mind instead on calming her racing heart.
She had asked Sanosuke not to tell Kenshin that she was awake. She had wanted time -- time to get a little bit stronger, time to prepare herself to accept whatever would happen. She had also wanted this evening with him, wanted the simple feeling of having him near her -- the pure, clear feeling of joy she felt whenever he was near. Lying there, seemingly asleep, she could hold the feeling close to her, unmuddled by words and disguises.
She heard his feet shuffling against the mat, then felt a warm whisper of air as he settled down onto the floor beside her. A sensitivity to his nearness hummed along her entire body.
Rapid footsteps broke the silence. The shoji slid open again.
"Kenshin!" she heard Yahiko exclaim vibrantly.
"Yahiko," came the quiet acknowledgement from beside her.
The rustle of clothing. The sound of limbs thumping flat against the floor. Then silence.
"She's not awake yet, is she?"
A heavy sigh. "No."
"Do you talk to her?"
"Talk?"
"You know. Like Megumi said. Talk to her about anything, because she can hear."
"I don't remember hearing her say that."
"Come on, Kenshin! You mean you haven't been talking to Kaoru all this time? No wonder she's not awake yet! Do you know how sad she was when you left? She stayed in her room all day and she always had huge fights with Ryou."
Her mind suddenly narrowed in on that name. Ryou. Sanosuke had told her not to worry about him anymore, saying that Saitou had finished him off "for good". Her recollection of that day stopped abruptly with her charging at Ryou. What had happened after that, she had yet to find out.
But Kenshin was safe. And he hadn't killed Ryou.
The silence in the room caught her attention. Kenshin had not responded at all to what Yahiko had said.
Then Yahiko spoke again, in a much subdued tone.
"You're. . .staying, aren't you?"
She felt her heart stop beating entirely. All her senses focused on the silence that seemed to swell with each second. She almost didn't want to hear his answer. She didn't want to know. Not yet.
But he was speaking already.
"Of course I will," he answered, the hint of a reproof in his voice. "I can't leave Kaoru-dono like this."
"But when she gets better? Will you still stay?"
"You're full of questions tonight, aren't you?"
"I want to know, Kenshin!" Yahiko's voice was petulant, insistent, and very young. "I want to know if everything will be just like it used to."
She heard the barest hint of a sigh. Then:
"Everything will be alright," he said gently. "Now will you do me a favor? Can you go and see if Ayumi-san needs anything?"
"But Sanosuke is watching her already."
Kaoru was just as shocked to hear that as Kenshin was.
"He is?" Kenshin said, the disbelief patent in his voice.
"Well, he's sitting in the hallway outside her room." The pitch of Yahiko's words heightened with irritation. "What's wrong with him, anyway? He's all cranky and nasty, cursing me out just because I almost tripped over him! Who told him to sit there, anyway?"
"He's just hungry," Kenshin answered. "And tired. He's been watching Kaoru-dono all day."
There was a short silence, then she heard a snort of disgust, and the sound of clothes rustling again.
"Well, I guess I should go feed him then. Do you want anything?"
"No, I'm alright. Thank you, Yahiko."
Footsteps. Then a pause.
"I'm really glad you're back, you know."
The door slid shut again.
And they were alone once more. The minutes stretched on, her heartbeat keeping time. As the silence settled into the air, her heartbeat melding quietly into it, she became less aware of herself, of the sheet that covered her, of the breaths that passed through her chest. The focus of her whole being was drawn to him.
She could hear the faint sound of his breathing. He sat motionless at her side. She wished she could open her eyes, turn her head and look at him. She wanted to ease her hand out from under the blanket and reach for him, touch him. The warmth radiating from his body beckoned her. He was sitting very close.
Suddenly, she felt his touch upon her cheek.
The world stopped. Everything else was blocked out, save for the sensation of his fingertip searing her skin as it traced a caress on her cheek. With every ounce of willpower she possessed, she kept her face perfectly still.
His hand fell away from her face, but a flaming curve lingered where he had touched her. Her mind was still in paralysis, her body in shock.
He touched me.
Then he began speaking to her.
"What would you like to hear?" he asked her softly. The sound of his voice, so near her ear, was enough to cause a lump of tears to build slowly in her throat.
Don't you dare cry now! she told herself forcefully. Don't you dare let him know you're awake. You'll never hear him speak to you like this again.
But how she missed him. The low, gentle tone of his voice caused a strong yearning to surge deep in her heart. Her fingers ached to touch him.
"How about 'I'm sorry'?" he went on. "Sano suggested that one. Or 'hurry and wake up'? I bet you hear that one all the time." He paused, drawing in a pained, heavy breath. "But. . .that's not really what I want to say tonight."
He sighed.
"I think. . .tonight, I want to tell you a story."