"This is my thanks."
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Shuffle.
Step.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Step.
Step.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
A gasp.
We stop immediately. Sagara puts a hesitant hand to Battousai's shoulder and brings it away, covered with blood. "Oh shit," he breathes, shifting his burden to the other shoulder. The blood must have come from the bite-mark – the wound in his abdomen had stopped bleeding a long time ago. Battousai gasps again, and Sagara arranges him more comfortably, his face grim.
We resume our walk in silence, interrupted only by the steady dripping of blood from Battousai's numerous wounds. The gash across my chest is oozing blood, also, but I barely notice it. Sagara's hand, broken and bloody, is his only serious injury. Neither of us suffers from anything life-threatening.
The Aoiya must be close now. I do not want to think about our reception. Battousai and Sagara will be welcomed with open arms – more than that – no doubt. I, on the other hand … I do not know what to expect, but I do know what I deserve. I deserve to be cast out onto the street, with nothing and no one. I deserve to die. I do not deserve a second chance.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Step.
Step.
"Oh shit … " breathes Sagara again, only this time he is not even looking at Battousai. I raise my eyes from the ground and look ahead at the spot where the Aoiya should have been, but instead I see nothing but broken planks and rubble.
My heart thuds painfully against my ribs. It is … destroyed?
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit … " Sagara mumbles to himself incoherently, staggering for a second under the weight he carries. Battousai may not weigh much, but Sagara must be tired from the day's events, and he too is injured. For a second I am about to offer to carry him, but then I do not. For one thing, Sagara would never trust me with Battousai as he was. And for another, he deserved to be the one who brought him home.
I looked again at the Aoiya, and feel a strange twang of relief. It is not completely destroyed, I see, as we come closer. And there are figures milling around, putting out fires and erecting makeshift shelter for the night. Some people are seated on top of the tottering structure that remains, swinging their legs as they drink tea sitting astride the planks.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Step.
Step.
"And Soujiro said that the attack was not successful … " murmurs Sagara, brushing his hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand – a tired gesture that does not suit him.
I say nothing. It is now only a matter of time before the people near the Aoiya notice us. I suddenly realise that I am nervous, and that makes me angry. I was not nervous – not apprehensive – when I fought Battousai, so why should I be now?
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Step.
Shuffle.
This time it is me who shuffles, who drags his feet reluctantly, instead of Sagara. He notices the faltering in my footsteps and glances at me out of the corner of his eye, and I realize that he is smirking slightly. Strangely enough, I do not feel angry at him. Or maybe that is not so strange after all.
And then it happens. There is a shout as someone sitting on the half-erected planks spots us, and almost everyone stops what they are doing and turn to look. I suddenly have a mad desire to turn around and run. But no.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Step.
A pause. Then … step.
We are right before the Aoiya now, and I can hear the whispers – the spreading news. Do they talk about my return, or Battousai's condition? It doesn't really matter. I raise my eyes to the porch – the only thing that has been truly left standing – but I do not get the chance to take in the damage properly.
"Kenshin!"
The scream is anguished, piercing the suddenly silent night with agonising clarity. Someone is running towards us with stumbling footsteps, someone with long black hair and tears streaming from wide blue eyes. For a minute I think it is Misao, but I know immediately that it is not. She is taller, for one thing, and she looks older. I have seen her before, but her name slips my mind.
"Gods … Sanosuke, what happened to him?!" There is desperation in her voice that borders on hopelessness, but she is not about to give in to her emotions so easily, I can see. Already, she is straightening herself, wiping away her tears to appear stronger than she feels.
Battousai had found someone more than worthy of him.
"He'll be fine, Jou-chan," says Sagara, his voice filled with confidence I know he does not feel. "We – we just need to get him a doctor – that's all – "
I look away from them, catching a flash of movement towards my right. I look up at the planks, where now only one person is sitting – the rest are on the ground, tending to Battousai and Sagara. No one looks at me, although their curiosity is palpable.
I let my eyes travel up – taking in her sandalled feet, her bruised legs, swinging nonchalantly as she perches atop the plank, her muddied clothes, the bandages visible underneath her torn sash, the shadows under her eyes, and … the expression of absolute happiness on her face.
My eyes meet hers, and I have no idea what to say. Even in that hut, I had never made eye contact with her. She is looking down at me with that unbelievable joy reflected in her eyes, and I feel that whatever I say will not – cannot – be adequate.
"Sorry I can't come down, Aoshi-sama!" she calls, smiling. Her smile lights up the entire area, erasing the worried, depressed air that pervades the place. "If you could – if you could call Shiro, maybe he'll come help me … I injured myself, you see, so I can't get down."
She sounds so much like she used to when she was small and used to get stuck while climbing trees. She would never allow me to come up after her – she would always ask me to call someone, so that I would not have to climb up myself. Without thinking, as if those ten years that we had spent apart did not even exist, I say, "Why did you climb up in the first place?"
Her expression goes carefully blank, and I feel the thickness of the atmosphere press in on me again. Her voice is low when she answers, "I – I wanted to be the first one to see you come back."
There is something about the way that she says 'you' that makes me think that she is not referring to Battousai and Sagara as well. She is talking only about me, as if she knew I would return. I have no idea what to say again, so I continue to look at her as she yells out to Shiro, who comes hurrying back, clambering up beside her and lowering her down to the ground gently. Vaguely, I wonder if I can ever earn the right to touch her like that again, when once upon a time it was my right alone.
She is right in front of me now, looking up at me with that same indefinable joy in her eyes. Is – is it me causing her to be so happy? The thought is elating, but even as I push it away, I know that there is no other reason for her to be so happy as she looks into my eyes.
It is my turn to say something. But what can I say?
Sorry?
How woefully inadequate. 'Sorry' can never cover the depth of feeling that I want to convey. No words can. So … I say nothing. But I have to tell her somehow – I owe it to Battousai … and I owe it to her.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Step.
I look down with a vague feeling of surprise to see that it is my own blood dripping to the ground now, instead of Battousai's. I have taken a step closer to her, but I cannot make myself come any closer. Her eyes drop to focus on my injuries, and they cloud over immediately. I feel as if another light has gone out, and that the world is now as dim and dark as it always was.
"Aoshi-sama," she says, reaching out a tentative hand to push the folds of my trenchcoat aside. I stand stiff and straight as she runs a finger down the length of my wound, careful not to press it in case she causes me pain. Just the brush of her finger hurts, but I say nothing.
There is a pause, as she cocks her head and looks at it with a professional air, then says, "I think we better get a doctor to look at that, ne?"
I shrug. I find that I cannot think anymore. My brain seems to be shutting down – maybe the loss of blood is finally making itself known. I follow her as she steps onto the porch, wincing a little and pressing a hand to her side as she ascends the steps. It looks to me as if she has broken a couple of ribs, and in my opinion she should really be resting … but I know she never will.
"Megumi-san!" she calls, and I feel a vague sense of surprise. I had assumed that it would be the local doctor who would be attending to all those injured, not … that woman.
"H-Hai?" comes a flustered response from inside the only room left standing. "If there's somebody else out there, Misao-san, tell them that I'm attending to someone who's a lot more seriously injured and – "
"How long will it take you to patch Himura up?" she asks bluntly, sliding open the slightly burnt door and peering in. "He looks terrible!"
Professional and business-like, someone comes to the door, snapping irritably, "Don't open that! I don't want the entire city in here, thank you! This is delicate work, and there isn't much I can do for him, so just let me do what I can in peace – " She stops, noticing me for the first time. She takes an unconscious step backwards, and I avert my eyes immediately. I wonder, suddenly, how much Misao knows about the events in Kanryuu's mansion.
"But – but when you're done, can you attend to Aoshi-sama, please?" says Misao, biting her lip as she looks at Battousai's prone form.
Perhaps she knows very little.
The woman in the doorway looks from me to Misao, then back to Battousai, and says, after a pause, "All right. It will not take me long – wait outside. I just have some bandages to apply."
Impulsively, Misao throws her arms around the woman's neck. "Thanks, Megumi-san!" she says, then backs up, blushing. "G-Gomen – "
The black-haired woman laughs. "It's all right, like I said, Misao-chan. Now, let me get back to work – you don't want Ken-san to bleed to death on us now, do you?"
She shook her head vehemently, allowing the doctor to return to her work, sliding the door shut after her. Turning back to me, she opens her mouth as if she is going to say something, then shuts it again. She takes a few steps and sits down on the edge of the porch, inviting me to sit with her. It hurts to bend myself like that, but I seat myself anyway.
There is silence. I wonder where Okina is. I am glad that he is not here – I would have absolutely no idea what to say to him. Not that I know what to say to Misao, either. I know I must apologise, but … there are no words that can express what I feel. There rarely are.
And suddenly, Misao starts speaking. She doesn't sound like she did earlier – that absolute joy is not there anymore, but there is still an underlying happiness that is hard to miss. Her voice is quiet and controlled and soothing, and oddly enough I find myself listening to her tone and not her words. Or maybe that is just because my mind is not functioning well enough to comprehend what she is saying.
" … and I don't know whether you meant it or not, Aoshi-sama, and I do care, I really do – because I wouldn't be human if I didn't, would I? – but it doesn't really affect anything, you know. We're all glad you're back – we really are – and … and I know things can never be the way they were – I would be stupid to think that – but maybe we can find something, some other balance, that's different from before, you know what I mean? Because I really, really want to find a balance, a – a centre … Himura told me that, you see. He said that everyone needs to find an anchor in their lives, a centre, someone who balances them, because without them they can never get along … he said that you are responsible for their happiness and their tears, and their … their balance … "
Do you know that this strong girl wept over you?
"And so … I mean, like I said, it can't be like it was, but it can be something else, can't it? We can find something else. I mean, we can't just forget about everything that has happened, but I … I would really like to. Forget, I mean. But, it's just not possible."
Do you know that you are the only person in the world who can honestly answer for those tears?
"But … I don't know what I'm trying to say here, Aoshi-sama, I just – well, I just wanted to let you know that you don't have to be scared that we won't accept you, or something, and that whatever happens, we'll find some arrangement, some balance. Nobody wants apologies, and if I know you nobody's going to get them." She grins, but I can see wetness on her cheeks. "So … I just … well, I'm just glad you're back. I guess that's what I'm trying to say, during all this pointless babbling. I'm … glad you're back."
. . . answer for those tears . . .
I look over Misao's head and see that the shoji door has slid open, and the dark-haired doctor is standing in the doorway, looking at us with some unreadable expression on her face. Her eyes meet mine, and she smiles. It is a slight smile, a smile of forgiveness and understanding, and I am grateful.
Grateful. That, too, is not a wide enough word to convey my feelings, but it is close. Yes, it is close. As Misao turns to smile at me, I glance at the doctor once again. If it wasn't for her, I would never be here. How many times had I said that to myself, on so many different occasions? And now, now I am truly grateful. To her. For bringing me back to Misao, for showing me so many things that I had refused to see …
She had, and always would have, my thanks.
A/N: Finished. Finally. Well, it didn't even take me that long … this bit was easier to write, because I didn't have anything that actually happened that I had to base it on, really. You know, even though I will support Aoshi/Misao to the death, I'm beginning to think that Aoshi and Megumi have … potential …
Nah, don't worry, I'm just scaring you. By the way, the correction my spelling-checker gives for Battousai is 'boathouse'. I was rolling on the floor laughing when I read that. Anything else? Oh yeah … I think I'll go revise the first chapter of this. I'm not exactly … satisfied … with the way I start it.
Disclaimer: 'Kay, so … disclaimer … you know, I really don't get why this is necessary. I mean, it is so obvious that all these characters do not belong to us writers that there really isn't any point in screaming, "This isn't mine!" all the time, is there? But … *sigh* … here goes … This isn't mine!!!