Mukashi no Koibito
6 : Truth is an Affliction
Megumi slid the shoji open as she escorted her patient, an aged farmer out of the examination room. She was about to call out for the next patient, but there was only the gangster Sanosuke outside. Seeing her, he nodded in acknowledgement and then sauntered casually into the room.
"What have you done to all my patients?" she asked sarcastically as she followed him in.
His imposing presence quite intimidated the ordinary folk. Whether he knew it or not, some of her male patients interpreted his frequent visits as an unspoken warning to maintain their distance.
"All I do is just stand there. They get scared by themselves." He settled himself down by the table. "Men in times of peace lack daring."
"Even so, that's better than lacking intelligence!"
The scorn came naturally. This infuriating youth had provoked her often enough for her to be quite proficient at the skill of insulting him. He had a way with her; the disconcerting realization had come at some point of the game. His attitude brought out whatever remnants of childish temper she still had as a woman, and like an unrestrained child she indulged in this behavior.
"Well, some men have both," he said pointedly, ignoring her insult.
It seemed that he was becoming used to her sharp tongue, that he grew a thicker hide each time they argued. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Then he waved his injured hand at her. "I need fresh bandages."
She fetched a clean roll of gauze and sat down beside him as she had done many times before. In silence she unwrapped the somewhat grimy bandages of his right hand. As she worked through the layers she noticed his hand was bleeding slightly. He was using that hand far too much no matter how many times she advised him otherwise. Like this, it would always be in some state of impairment and he would always need to come to her.
"Why do you never listen to me?" she muttered softly as she worked.
"Can't live without the fight."
He was lying. He wanted to see her. Yet she said nothing of that sort. With time, she had come to understand the reason why Sanosuke constantly frequented the clinic. Not every of his wounds needed to be cared for by a doctor, nor would anyone with even an inkling of good sense allow himself to be injured so often. The plain truth was that he sought her nearness; sometimes she wondered at what price to his own well being.
With little choice her gaze was on his hand as she worked. Her mind wandered to how she appreciated the hands that her probing fingers were now accustomed to. They were quite unlike the smooth lithe hands of Kenshin with only the palms callused from his once perpetual grip of the katana, as she had observed. Sanosuke had sturdy hands with slightly ragged, squared nails. Faint scars marred the skin, a sign of his aggressive nature, yet they were honest and trustworthy hands. Almost as good as Kenshin's capable ones, if only he would use them well. To do the laundry, perhaps?The beginnings of a sly smile played on her lips.
He caught the smile, for he leaned forward slightly so that he could look at her suspiciously. She raised her bent head to return his look with one raised eyebrow, and he drew back at the sudden closeness.
"I'd like to know what goes on in that mind of yours," he said roughly.
"You're not smart enough to find out," was the quick retort.
She winced inwardly when she noticed how his eyes seemed to darken several shades at the caustic remark. Once might be amusing, but the same insult used twice must have come across as a deliberate attempt to injure.She attempted a playful smile, but he brushed it off with a derisive grunt. Sighing in exaggerated fashion, she tied the last knot and got up to put the gauze away.
Sanosuke was watching her now that her back was towards him. Even though she could not see him, she had learnt to become sensitive to his gaze. His indulgent staring caused a slight tension in her movements; she wondered if it was ever obvious to his eyes. She lingered by the medicine cabinet, allowing his gaze to roam over her back a little longer. Perhaps she was being kind. Finally she turned around. He averted his eyes to his hand.
"Arigatou, kitsune-onna." He made a move to leave. "Sayonara."
"Don't speak too soon, you'll come back."
He paused and gave her an odd look, as if there was some meaning to her words that he understood. Then he shrugged and left the clinic, and she was alone again.
---
Megumi opened her eyes, and the sudden view of the modern interior of her room was so jarring that she shut them again briefly. Just a few moments ago she had been going about her affairs in an Edo era house. Picking up the mirror that was left carelessly on her dresser, she peered into it. A young woman with generously long hair framing her face stared back. She had begun to wear her hair loose more often, not because Sanosuke wanted it that way but because she now understood why he wanted it that way.
Yet from the reflection alone no distinction could be made between her two identities. She tied her hair up into her customary neat ponytail. "I'm Megumi now," she muttered aloud, then frowned. "I'm Megumi of now."
The memories were coming back at the most unexpected times. They returned to her in sleep, in the midst of daydreams, even when she merely closed her eyes, like just now. When she had relived the moment that he saved her, she had agonized for days over whether she ought to reveal what she knew to Sanosuke. Then more memories soon followed that first one, that there was nothing left to doubt.
So she was a doctor in Meiji Japan, a rarity for a woman in those times. She worked in a clinic for the kindly Genzai-sensei. She had no family, for some reason. Did the Bakamatsu have something to do with that? It was a turbulent part of the history of that time. She had friends, a slight red-haired man and his adolescent female companion, and the boy samurai who followed them everywhere. The man would likely be the Kenshin whose hands she had thought so capable.
Finally there was Sanosuke, so different from the kimono and hakama clad men of the era. The brazen aku emblazoned on the back of his white gi embodied the boldness of his unusual attire. He must have lived for the thrill of brawling to wear clothes like that, which would only attract unwarranted aggression. When she told Sanosuke about his former self he had been utterly impressed, then childishly proud for weeks.
Those were the simple memories she possessed for now. Yet even amidst their simplicity there were certain stark truths. The young fighter he had been then was deeply infatuated with the doctor who tended his hand, but it was a desire he kept secret from her. She never reciprocated his affection. As if an evenhanded justice decided to punish this deliberate indifference, what she remembered the most was moments of that life with Sanosuke. Again and again, she had relived instances of his longing and her apathy.
They were not lovers before. The thought troubled both her mind and her heart. How to explain the way she felt towards him now? The discrepancy between the truth of the past and what was happening in the present made their charmed love affair seem like a sham. For now she could not help her thoughts from wandering into cynicism; that if she had not believed them to be together from before, could she really love one like Sanosuke?
In frustration she kicked at her dresser, making the mirror jump and clatter noisily. It was a gesture so reminiscent of him that a burst of laughter followed the realization. Apparently they were spending enough time together for him to have quite an influence on her.
Until she remembered, whatever she may remember, it was necessary to distinguish between her two selves, the one who had left him out in the cold and the one who was falling for him in a rapid, overwhelming way The contradiction threatened to make her poor mind snap, even though she understood that this was no longer before, but the here and now.
And, until she was ready, there were some things her impetuous Sanosuke was better off not knowing.