"The only thing needed to make happiness complete is to be worthy of having it."
...1864...
...a black envelope, a dream lost, sake that tastes of blood...
"Have you ever been in love, Himura-san?"
...his fingers reach up, the slash across his face burning as he listens to his latest target trying to whisper something...a name...
"I would never kill you, even if you had a sword in your hand. Not for any reason, not ever!"
...1864...
They had taken her, but he would get her back. This was not to be questioned. He would find her, and they would die the deaths they deserved. They have damaged his hearing and his sight, and he is weak from loss of blood and severe cold, but it is no matter. They will die. His emotions are raging, hate and fury and love and fear clashing together in a frenzy. But his thoughts are focused and clear: he is the Hitokiri Battousai, the perfect killer, and nothing short of death will keep him from his goal.
And if his death is the price of Tomoe's freedom...it is a small thing, after all. His life was bitter until she entered it; giving everything so that she might have a chance to find the happiness he promised her is easy. He might go to hell, but he will take her captor with him. All that matters is her dream. All that matters...
Blood fills his senses as he desperately forces his eyes to work, his ears to hear, his hands to feel...dimly, he becomes aware of his enemy, waiting for him. With a bloodcurdling scream he rushes forward, katana raised...
...the smell of blood is interrupted by the scent of white plums...
No!
She's stepped into his striking range. His sword has already begun its arc; he cannot pull it back, not in his weakened state. Everything in him screams as the katana cuts into her- and if I had a sword in my hand now, would you...?- goes through her, stabs his enemy through the heart...the dagger she was holding flies backwards and slashes his cheek, crossing the scar he was given a year ago...and they all fall to the ground.
He's crawled over to her, is holding her, crying out her name and begging her to tell him why, why, why, but she only touches his cheek and smiles...as her hand falls, as her blood spills out onto the snow...
Oh god, it should have been him! It should have been him! His are the blood-stained hands, the hands that break promises, the hands that sin! It should have been him!
The Battousai throws his head back in a silent scream, unable to find any way of expressing the agony he feels, and knows that he is damned forever...
No!
Kenshin sat bolt upright in bed. It took him several minutes to seperate the past from the present. Once he remembered, he covered his face with one of his hands. His other hand automatically reached for his sword, always nearby, and clutched it so hard that all the blood drained from his fingers, leaving them tense and pale.
"How 'bout you, Himura? Ever been in love?"
Quietly, a word interrupted the silent darkness.
"...Tomoe..."
He got no more sleep that night.
By the next morning the memory was rendered less intense by distance and sunlight, by everyday activities. He got up early and cooked breakfast, did laundry, watched as Kaoru drilled Yahiko in a series of exercises...as he did every morning.
But for once, the rituals gave no peace. The day was strangely unreal; how is it possible for him to fit into this setting? How can the man whose hands took the lives of more men than can be counted be standing here washing dishes in this strange place where people call him by his name, instead of his title?
His title. Even now, his. There was so little about him that was human, back then...as was necessary. There are two ways of winning a war- dehumanize your opponent, or dehumanize yourself. That is the unspoken law of all combat. It was easier to let people call him Hitokiri Battousai, back then. Or even Himura Battousai. If someone had called him Kenshin, he wouldn't have known who they meant.
It took a long time to learn who Kenshin was, to learn to refuse those unspoken rules of combat and become more human, instead of less, when holding a sword...a very long time, and sometimes he wonders if he is still learning.
Strange, strange that the memory would be called up so vividly now. Or perhaps not, given where his thoughts have been over the past weeks.
Kenshin ran a hand through his hair, leaving a light trail of dishwashing bubbles in the red strands. Kyoto.
It all centered around Kyoto- everything that had taken him back there, everything he had done there. No one fully understood what about the adventure had changed him, and he did not know how to explain. No...perhaps he didn't have the courage to explain.
It began with Saitou, the fight in the dojo. It had started easily enough: the wolf attacked, and he defended. That's how it would have stayed, if he'd remained in control of himself.
He hadn't. With each attack, the memory of how it felt to be the Hitokiri Battousai had come more strongly back to him, until he could almost feel his eyes glowing amber in the darkness.
It was that blow towards the end that mattered, the one that had struck the back of Saitou's neck. If he'd been using a katana instead of a sakaba, it would have taken the head clean off. Even so, it was a miracle that Saitou's neck hadn't been broken.
It was only the sakaba that let Saitou live. Kenshin himself had been so lost in the haze of bloodlust and fighting that he hadn't even thought about his vow of non-killing. He'd meant to completely take down his opponent- and Saitou had known it. That was why the policeman had decided that he could be useful in ending Shishio's threat.
It was then that Kenshin had started to be afraid.
But he'd gone to Kyoto. He'd felt obligated to, after the man who requested it of him was murdered by Soujiro the Prodigy. Not just to go to Kyoto, but to confront his past, himself. To learn what it meant to be Himura Kenshin.
He found...what he expected. Again and again he fought, examining his reactions closely. He could remember the exact moment in his fight with Chou when he'd lost control. He remembered Iori's father throwing the sword at him, whipping the blade out of its sheath with a speed that defied physics, towards his opponent...
He'd fully expected the sword to be a katana. His blow was meant to be lethal. The fact that it wasn't was chance. Not intention.
After Shishio had burned, saving him the trouble of dispatchment, Sanosuke had said, "It's okay, Kenshin...you won."
And all he'd been able to say was "No."
No.
He hadn't won. At heart, he was still a killer. Even if it was for good purposes...even if he hadn't actually taken anyone's life in years...the intentions were there. And no one else understood.
He didn't know what to do. He'd meant to return Kaoru and the others to Tokyo and then leave to resume his journey, but the closer they came to Tokyo, the harder it was to convince himself that he'd be able to go a second time.
And when Kaoru had stood there, smiling at him and holding out her hand, with words of welcome on her lips...
How could he leave?
He should leave her. His very existance was a threat to her, to everything she wanted the world to be. The rurouni she believed in didn't exist anymore; his hands were stained again, more than ever, and still she smiled at him...he should leave her.
Every day he tried to convince himself, and every day he failed.
Ever been in love, Himura?
The shock that had gone through him as the question was asked, the realization that the alcohol in his mouth all at once had the tang of metal in it...he'd stared down at his cup and been lost for an answer as images raced through his head...
...Kaoru...Tomoe...
...staring at the liquid that seemed tinged with dark red...
Tomoe. His fingers lifted up of their own volition, touching the cross-scar.
"Ken-nii!" "Ken-niichan!"
"Oro?" He turned and was immediately swamped by two little girls who grabbed at his legs, cheering. His face lit up in a smile. "Ayame-chan, Suzume-chan. You've come by to play again today?"
The elder of the two nodded eagerly while the younger grabbed his leg even more tightly. "Haaaaaaai! Ken-niichan daisuke!"
Kenshin felt his worries fade as he was drawn back into the present. He reached down and pulled Suzume up into an embrace; she wrapped her arms around his neck as Ayame danced happily around them. "Well then, what shall we do today?"
"Laundry! Laundry!"
He never ceased to be amused by the way the two girls thought laundry was a game instead of a chore...and when they were around, it did seem a game. They all tended to end up with a lot of bubbles in their hair, and soap stains on their clothes. "Hai, hai..."
Later he felt someone's eyes on them, and glanced up to find Kaoru watching with a smiling face, her eyes beautiful in delight. And yet... there was an air of wistfulness there, too, one that had been there for some time and was growing increasingly difficult for him to ignore.
Even so, there was something in him that filled with joy just at the sight of her, at the wonder of him sitting on the lawn with his hands in soapy water, the two trusting, endlessly cheerful young girls laughing beside him, and this young woman watching...even with all his worries, part of him couldn't help but be at peace.
This is what I'm protecting.
The thought was familiar, and no less determined for having been thought hundreds of times before. As long as all this is safe...as long as this life goes on peacefully, with or without him...
All that matters.
He met Kaoru's eyes and smiled back at her, but his attention was almost immediately pulled back to the laundry as Ayame-chan held up a yellow cloth in his face. Laughing, he helped her wash it.
By the time he looked up again, Kaoru was gone.
But if I am to stay here always...what then?
Hours later, he was walking back from the market. His thoughts continued to chase around in circles, regardless of his attempts to force them onto less troubling topics.
If I stay... He swallowed, his hand tightening slightly around the tofu bucket that he carried. Deep down, farther down than he normally let himself feel, Kenshin knew that all he wanted was to stay forever, to live quietly forever, by her side forev-
He shook off the thought before it had a chance to fully form. No. It's wrong, everything about the idea is wrong. What is he thinking? He'll have to leave eventually. He is rurouni, he wanders... that has been his truth for years, the destiny he made for himself after the war.
The war...sometimes he wakes astonished to find that the war could possibly have ended, wondering if the life he lives now is only a dream and he will wake soon with a black envelope beside his bed...
He shook his head again, exhausted with endless questioning. Does it ever end?
A sixth sense tingles: something unusual. Kenshin looked up.
He was standing beside the river; on the far side of the sky, the sun had almost disappeared. On the opposite shore of the river a man stood, watching in silence. He was tall and thin, and carries a sword. Even from that distance, Kenshin could feel the heat of his gaze. The two stood for a long time, staring at one another.
Then the other walked away.
Kenshin frowned, perplexed. Something...familiar?
The sun set entirely, leaving him in twilight.
*grimace* Yes, I know the tenses are a little skewed. Believe me, the last draft was even worse- I don't know how my writing got so tangled, usually I don't have any problem with tenses. I'm still fixing that and will post a better draft once I have one.
FYI- no, the man in this scene is not Enishi. In fact, Enishi will not be at all involved. This takes place after the Kyoto Saga, but before the events of the Revenge Arc. (or rather, it replaces the events of the Revenge Arc; I started writing it before I read Revenge)