Mukashi no Koibito

9 : The Heart of the Matter

Sanosuke ran a hand through his hair. It was the best he could do. Years of exposure to the elements and blunt scissors had made his hair coarser and more unruly than ever. He wished he could cut it. He also wished he could shave the slight beard on his chin. It was more hair than he was used to, and it reminded him of the hairy foreign devils he saw in his travels.

The small, ill-used mirror in the dim room of the inn made him look all the worse. Once, he had been young enough that by virtue of boyish features he could pass off as halfway respectable. Yet he was no longer nineteen, and it showed in the angular lines of his lean face and the quiet cynicism in his brown eyes. With the unkempt hair and beard, he looked starkly threatening.

He turned away from the mirror. The hair and beard he would have to bear with, for the same reason he was clad in a ubiquitous kimono and hakama. It was somewhat of a risk to walk around looking the very image of Sagara Sanosuke. He could not deny the thrill of that, but over the years he had acquired some good sense. The red band around his forehead he let remain.

Walking along the streets, he absorbed himself in the sights and sounds. The country was Japan, but it was not quite the same as when he left it. More people were clad in some form of Western attire, blending the traditional with the foreign. He saw more Western words than he remembered, and than he cared for. His home had changed, as everything inevitably did. Still, much of the familiar existed, for change was rarely absolute. For one, it felt wonderful to hear his language spoken so freely and better yet to be able to understand every word. The essence of Japan thrived in all its lands; he could feel it in this place even though it was not his city. Once he had remarked that from Tokyo he could run to Aizu in a day. Though that claim remained unfulfilled, he was finally here.

A group of pretty young girls passed him by, and he tossed out a teasing remark, laughing raucously at their prim expressions and quickened steps. No matter how many women he had, he liked the women of his own skin best of all, perhaps because he could not forget.

He took his time walking through the town, observing the people and the shops open for business. So this was what the onna-sensei saw every day. Different from the busy streets of Tokyo in his memory, here there were less people up and about and they seemed to move at a more measured pace. He tried to take in as much detail as his senses allowed, as if it could bring him closer to her new life.

Realizing where his thoughts were heading, he smiled wryly at the once familiar idealism of his youth. It had faded, but it never really deserted him. Yet the purpose of coming to Aizu was to see her, nothing more and nothing less. More than anyone else, even Kenshin or Taichou, she had been such an influence in his life. Those good men had taught him righteousness and bravery, but it was she who caused him to live through the most violent of emotions. He had hated her yet desired her, then loved her but granted only jealousy and longing. Even now, memories lost their meaning when he tried to think of love as something new.

He supposed he did love her still, even though the painful, awkward passion of his youth had diminished. As was her habit, she still came uninvited into his thoughts now and then, but she was no longer the image of a ghost who haunted him with unfulfilled expectations. She was simply Megumi - physician, friend, enemy and in the vaguest sense, lover. What he felt for her now was borne out of nostalgia for a time past, when a mere whisper from impetus could inspire him to go hurtling into the chaos of uninhibited feeling and mad adventure. She had been a big part of that life.

That he had to leave his country those years ago as a wanted man still made him curse with distaste, but the truth was leaving had been good for him. Leaving, among other things, had allowed him to see the world beyond the cocoon of Tokyo and move out from the shadow of Kenshin. It had provided respite from the intensity. To put it simply, he had grown up.

After a good half-hour, he finally reached his destination. The signboard above the modest house read "Takani Shinryousho" in bold calligraphy. He took a few steps back to get a good look at the clinic. She had done well for herself and the memory of her family, as she deserved.

As he neared the clinic, his wandering eyes settled on the figure of a slim woman sitting on the steps of the house. He was utterly unprepared for the sight of her now, for he had imagined that he would have to linger around her patients for his chance to see her, or at least knock on the door and wait some tense moments for her to open it. He stopped and stared. Megumi had her head tilted down and was massaging her left shoulder with an awkward right hand. Her work must have ended not long ago, for though the gate to the clinic was open, the place itself was empty.

For some reason she chose to look up then, when he was still staring so rudely at her. He could see uncertainty in her eyes, and then slow realization. He raised one hand halfway in greeting.

"Sanosuke?" she called out.

But she did not wait for him to acknowledge her. She stood up, smoothed the skirt of her kimono and made her way towards him. In the short distance that separated them both, she ran her fingers quickly though her hair self-consciously, an action reminiscent of his own at the beginning of the way here.

Clad in a simple blue kimono, Megumi looked somewhat wan. No longer was she piercingly beautiful; her lips were no more a bold red, nor was her face carefully powdered as he remembered. She was plainer now, but to him the subtlety of her beauty was lovely. He felt a sudden, distinctly masculine urge to hold her.

When she was close, she slipped her hands into his in a surprising gesture. He clasped rough fingers around them hesitantly. She looked up at him, smiling.

"Okaeri," she said teasingly. "Kaoru had her turn to say that, now it's mine."

He laughed then, for wit was still very much a part of her. There were other things he realized too. She was happy to see him, and she wanted him here. In that moment, he understood how Kenshin must have felt all those years ago. And like Kenshin before him, there was only one word in his heart. He grinned at her cockily like he used to do.

"Tadaima."

---

Sanosuke sat up from his bed abruptly. The feel of the word was still on his lips.

"Tadaima," he echoed.

In the tumult of emotions that followed, his first instinct was to wake Megumi up, but when he leaned over there was only empty space. This was his narrow bed he had been sleeping on, not her futon. Not so long ago he had been spending so many nights at her apartment that it was hard to get used to his own bed.

Making his way to the light switch, he flicked it on. He squinted as the harsh white light hurt his eyes, but fumbled with the telephone anyway. It was very late, but he could not tell how late because the clock had stopped long ago. His watch was nowhere to be found. He drummed his fingers impatiently against the table as he waited for her to pick up the phone; he counted ten rings before he heard the 'click'.

"Oi, Megumi, I--"

"Please leave a message."

"Kuso!" he cursed, then realized the machine had started recording. He slammed down the phone. She might be in deep sleep, but more likely she was ignoring him. He had not seen her for close to two weeks. He was missing her so badly it was hard to close his eyes at night, but every time he was with her, when she held his hand, kissed him, laughed with him, he remembered their past.

'It's different now', she had pleaded with him, 'we're no longer the same people'. Yet they were still very much the same, in name and beyond. He had been the type of boy who did better in delinquency than books, who barely made it to university then dropped out in his first year for life on the streets - so feckless like the Sanosuke of before. Though nothing close to an expert fighter, he was still good with his fists. She was as driven and sharply intelligent as she had been in that life. Only the circumstances were different; the truth remained the same. He did not deserve her. It was only a matter of time before she turned away from him.

His lapse in confidence had led to the first of many heated arguments. Where once her sharp wit teased him endlessly, it was now used for scathing comebacks when they fought. The obvious thing to do was to spend less time together, lest they ended up hating each other. That was what he had told her the last time he saw her. Megumi had retorted sarcastically that he needed the time to 'come to terms with his stupidity'. He would never hit her, so he had flung the beer bottle he had in his hand then violently into a wall. In his mind, he could still see her pale face as the glass shattered and flew everywhere. One of the glass shards had cut the side of her face, leaving a thin line of blood on her pristine cheek.

Now there was this memory. He had returned to Aizu to look for her. The Sanosuke then seemed to have a lot more determination than he did. That, or a lot more foolishness. The Megumi of before, so much colder than the one he loved now, had been elated by his return.

He reached for whatever clothing was strewn on the floor. He would look for her, even if at this hour he would be interrupting her rest. If she shut the door in his face he would kick it down. There were some things he could learn from his former self. As he struggled with the buttons on his shirt, he wondered what kind of ending there was for the Sagara Sanosuke and Takani Megumi of old. What kind of ending would there be for the two of them now?