Part 2: Curios and Curiouser*
Kenshin fell and fell and then, just for variety, fell some more. Oh, dear -- he hoped Kaoru hadn't also fallen. "Kaoru-dono? Are you falling? Do you need me to save you de gozaru ka?"
There was no answer. That was good. As he didn't feel the icy knot of panic in his stomach that he usually felt when Kaoru was in danger of some sort or another, it seemed likely that she was safe. Yokatta. With the important question settled, it was time to consider the problem at hand.
It wasn't the falling that bothered him so much as it was the darkness and not having any idea at all of when he was to hit the ground. If he could see the ground coming up at him, Kenshin was sure he could land the plate in a gentle arc that would scarcely waft the whiskers of the onigiri, preserving the attractive appearance of the food. As it was, it was going to be rather difficult to keep from ruining the onigiri when he splattered onto the ground.
With nothing else to do, as he didn't find falling a particularly challenging activity, Kenshin began working on a haiku of leave-taking. The taxing thing was that he'd no idea how long he had to create and revise his poem; he'd rather have a complete, if uninspired, haiku than die with a haiku that was mid-revision -- but still, he hated to give anything less than his very best effort. If only it wasn't so very dark!
Well, the least he could do was try. Kenshin folded his legs up and propped the sakabatou against his shoulder as he fell. This was, after all, his best position for deep thinking, whether on the porch, by the river, or in mid-air.
Crimson liquid flame
Footsteps leave that path to carve
Rebirth in azure...
No, not azure. He wanted a deeper shade of blue; a particular shade of blue appeared in his memory, a deep playful blue...so quick to sparkle with laughter or tears...
Nani? Where had that image come from? He tried again:
Eternal bloodstains
On the blade turned toward hope
Fade at her soft touch...
No, no, no. This would never do. He had to find the images to tell the story of his heart...which was his guilt, his blood-stained hands, his unworthiness, his overwhelming angst, not all of this yearning sensual nonsense. Yes, his black and empty soul, like a river in winter...something like:
Black rivers...ummm...what was that image again?
Aha!
Black rivers of silk
Fingers ache to twine... Oro?
This wasn't working at all. He couldn't possibly do a proper leave-taking haiku when his mind was full of images of deep sparkling blue and the softest caresses and twined strands of ebony tickled by the wind...What was WRONG with him? What were these images DOING in his mind's eye?
Wait! What WAS wrong with him?
Hair in the wind...Hai! Every other time he'd fallen for an interminable period, his hair had been blowing out behind him, and his clothes had been rippling and twisting in the wind. But this time his hair was calmly laying against his back and his clothes were far less ruffled than his mind.
The puzzle was solved with the appearance of light below him. The light poured out of a paper lantern in a small recessed nook; judging from his rate of approach, it seemed he was slowly drifting downwards. There were more lanterns at regular intervals which allowed Kenshin to observe the walls of the tunnel as he fell.
To Kenshin's surprise, the walls were decorated -- almost cluttered, if he was allowed to criticize. There were shelves laden with books, neatly labeled jars, ivory knickknacks and carved wooden whatnots and sparkling curios of all kinds. There were scrolls hung, some with traditional images of ladies in kimonos looking pensive, cloud-capped mountains, and willow trees drooping over tranquil rivers. Other scrolls looked very odd, indeed -- one had a huge metal-armored figure in the foreground and a wistful blue-haired girl in the background. Another had a kitten hanging from a tree branch with some sort of gaijin script beneath it. Yet another had a ring of faces surrounding a girl who stood in front of a red bird that rather resembled an exceedingly large chicken.
He drifted past a crudely carved message: "Hibiki Ryoga was here." That was clear enough. More cryptic was "For a good time, visit http://welcome.to/TheAkabeko," which was next to a painting on black velvet of a gyrating dark-haired gaijin wearing tight white sparkling clothes.
He was so distracted by these strange items, and so busy wondering exactly what a "Hello Kitty" might be that he was taken entirely aback by his landing. It was a gentle landing upon a pile of lilac leaves, and he was quite unhurt by it. He jumped up, lilac-scented but no worse for the wear, just in time to see a wisp of black ponytail and white bunny-ear turn round a corner.
"Kaoru-dono, chotto matte de gozaru yo!"
Her reply drifted back around the corner to him. "I can't! I'm late, and the Queen hates tardiness! Oh, won't the Duchess be savage if I'm late..."
Gamely, he ran after Kaoru, plate of onigiri held before him like an offering. But turning the corner, he saw neither hide nor hair of her in the long dimly-lit corridor which stretched before him.
* No, it's not a typo. It's the plural of 'curio,' ok? Indulge me on this one, since I left the hair/hare pun implied in the last paragraph.