The letter lay on the table, its clean whiteness and crisp folds deceptively innocent. With a soft "shhh" the door slid open and a small, red-haired man stepped though. He slid the tofu bucket he was carrying to his other hand and picked the letter up, glancing at it casually as he continued to the kitchen. "I'm home," he said, setting the bucket down on the counter and giving the petite, dark haired woman a squeeze around the waist.
"Welcome back," she answered him with a soft smile. He smiled in return, then took a step back and eyed her with concern.
"How are you feeling?"
She laughed, the sound dancing about the room. "Fond husband," she said, her gently teasing tone reminding him how fond she was of him as well. "I am hardly the first woman to carry a child. I am fine, sweetheart." Stepping close, she caught the front of his haori in her hands and settled herself against him. "Please don't worry so much."
"I'm afraid I can't help it," he said, wrapping her in his arms. "It runs in the family."
She chuckled at that and raised her head, poking him playfully on the nose with one small hand. "You're too much like your father sometimes."
Kenji tilted his head quizzically and blinked his big blue eyes at her innocently. "Oro?"
"Oh, hush you," Kaori, his wife, laughed, pushing him away. "And get out of my kitchen while I'm trying to cook dinner. It's a pity you didn't inherit his ability to cook, too."
Kenji grinned unrepentantly as he was shooed out the door. A moment later, he leaned back in. "Where's Dad?" he asked, waiving the letter. "This came for him."
"I think he's on the back porch," Kaori responded, barely glancing up from the vegetables she was busy chopping. "Do we know who it's from?"
Flipping the letter over, Kenji shrugged. "Someone named Fujita Goro. I don't know him."
Kenshin sat on the porch gazing over the empty yard. Empty to everyone else, that is. It wasn't empty to him. Though the lone breeze which rustled through his now more white than red hair was the only sound, in Kenshin's mind the yard resounded with the shouts and laughter of old friends. "Ugly chick! Ugly chick!!" "Hey, Missy!" "Ohohohoho, Racoon-girl!" Yahiko. Sanosuke. Megumi. He smiled. And most importantly -- "Kenshin." Kaoru. He turned to see her bendhing over him. She was smiling, but there were shadows of concern in her bright blue eyes. "Kenshin?"
That wasn't her voice. Kenshin blinked, and the vision of Kaoru resolved into the form of their son. "Kenji."
"Sorry Dad," Kenji bowed slightly. "But you didn't seem to hear me."
"It's okay." Kenshin watched as Kenshi settled next to him. He noticed the letter held in his hand but did not think anything of it. His thoughts turned to Kenji, the son who looked so much like him except for Kaoru's eyes. He had Kaoru's eyes...
"You were thinking about them again, weren't you?" Kenji asked, gently breaking into Kenshin's thoughts again.
"...Yeah."
"You miss them, especially Mom." These days it seemed so easy to lose his father to the world of memories. Kenji did what he could to provide an anchor for Kenshin's wandering thoughts, but it was hard to anchor what roamed of its own will. Kenshin wasn't senile, he was just old and lonely.
"I never expected to outlive her." Kenshin closed his eyes, then smiled slightly at some memory that Kenji couldn't see. "She was so young, so bright and full of life. I was old, so old before I was ever young, and had so much darkness in my past. I've been in so many fights that should have killed me. How is it that she is dead and I am yet living?" Kenshin's head bowed and his still unruly thatch of hair slid forward, hiding his eyes. Kenji placed a sympathetic hand on his father's shoulder.
"We all miss her," he said softly. "And I'm sure she misses us."
Kenshin made a small sound that could have been a choke of laughter or a stifled sob. "Oh well," he said, raising suspiciously bright eyes. "You didn't come out here to listen to your father moan."
"Kaori kicked me out of the kitchen... but, Dad," Kenji squeeze Kenshin's shoulder lightly, "I'm always here if you need me."
Kenshin smiled. "Another thing I didn't expect."
"What?" Kenji blinked.
"You hated me when you were little. You pulled my hair when I tried to hold you."
Kenji blushed. "Dad, you can't hold a child's actions against him."
"I don't." The soft gleam in his eye was clue enough for Kenji that he was being teased. He shook his head.
"You're a moron Dad," he muttered, then blinked in surprise as Kenshin raised his arms protectively over his head. "Dad...?"
"Ah, sorry," Kenshin said sheepishly. "I hear 'moron' and still half expect to be hit with a shinai a moment later."
"A legacy I'm not sure Mom would be pleased with," said Kenji drily. He'd had his share of bumps from her bokken, especially in his teenage years. They turned as they heard a soft step behind them, and a moment later Kaori slid the shoji back and smiled down at them.
"Dinner's almost ready," she announced.
"Coming," father and son responded.
"Did you give him the letter yet?" she asked Kenji. He glanced down at the letter still in his hand.
"I was just about to."
"Well, give it to him then come help me with the dishes. You know I'm not supposed to lift heavy objects." Kaori clicked her tongue softly, as if to say that she shouldn't have to remind him. Kenji scrambled to his feet to follow her, then turned and bowed to his father, holding out the letter.
"This came for you. I hope you can tell us who this Fujita Goro is at dinner." Then he vanished after his wife, and so missed the stunned look on Kenshin's face.
"Fujita... Goro..." he said slowly, flipping the letter over and reading the tell-tale signature. "It's been so long. I wonder what he wants now." With a mix of fascination and annoyance, Kenshin unfolded the letter. It was, predictably, not a long missive. The few characters stood out with the clear, characteristic boldness of the writer.
I am waiting in Kyoto. --Saitou.
"Of course," Kenshin murmured, eyes narrowing. "He wants what he's always wanted." His face hardened, and he went to write his reply before he would be late for dinner.
The letter was opened by eager hands. Their movements were simply quick and confidant, but they were a touch too quick, and so gave their owner away. Saitou scanned the few lines rapidly, then set the letter down frowning thoughtfully.
Not in Kyoto. --Kenshin
It wasn't what he had hoped for, nor what he had expected. It wasn't a rejection... it was almost... an invitation? Saitou grinned wolfishly.
Notes: Sorry for that last line, I just couldn't help it. It fits him so well...
I apologize to those of you who may have been waiting for chapter three. I AM still working on this story but I've had to re-think the end. In this repost I have removed the snippets of Japanese in the dialog. I have come to feel that it doesn't make sense for the characters to be speaking one-and-a-half languages. I have left the Japanese terms in, like shoji and haori, because those are words for which there is no real substitute in English. I could call a "haori" a "short jacket" but it doesn't create the right image.
I get the feeling I should apologize for Kaori's name, but I don't wanna. It's one of the few Japanese names I know that is not instantly recognizable from any particular anime, and I happen to like the connection to Kaoru.