Title: Hanafubuki
Part 4: Into Darkness

AN: Many thanks to everyone who's written to me about
this story! I know it's taken me longer to get this part out...
but I've started a summer internship, you see, and so I've
had less time to write than I thought I would. Never fear,
though -- I'm really getting into this now, so I promise I'll
complete it eventually. I'm going to be on vacation w/out
email from the end of July to the beginning of August, but
maybe I'll get another part of before I leave? If not, they'll
probably be at least one chapter to upload when I get
back! Hope everyone's having a fantastic summer (I know
I am) .

--
Dark eyes that follow
Company under the stars
Currents in motion
--

Part 4

I crouched in the garden, sleeves tied out of way but hair falling stubbornly into my eyes. My arms were coated with moist soil up to the elbows, and I could feel the dirt clinging to my forehead from where I'd brushed the hair away from my. The delicate seedlings emerged as tiny green lines across the soft ground, and as I let a handful of soil cascade downward from cupped hands, the scent of the earth enveloped my senses, carrying me back to the summer of 1864.

Tomoe and I had worked side by side, sharing the labor in quiet company. Under different circumstances perhaps we might have... No, it was better that I left the past behind me, for as long as it still lived (if only in my mind), Kaoru-dono was in danger. I squeezed my hands into fists, compacting the dirt into hard clumps that fell to the ground and shattered into broken fragments.

"Kenshin?" I glanced up from the garden, letting my features fall into a gentle smile as I met her eyes. "Do you think you could run into town and buy some tofu for dinner?" She held the small wooden bucket by her side.

"Oh, of course, Kaoru-dono." I pressed to my feet, hand reaching for the sakabatou. "Our garden's growing well. In a few weeks perhaps the--" I froze, heart suddenly racing. Where was it?

"What's the matter, Kenshin? What's wrong?" She must have seen the concern flicker across my face, for she was instantly at my side, eyebrows pulled together in worry.

"The sakabatou..."

"...is inside the dojo where you left it." She smiled hesitantly, then reached up and smacked me across the head for good measure. "Kenshin, you really had me worried there for a moment." Although she tried her best to cover it with the well-timed (and well-aimed) blow, I would have had to have been a fool not to notice the concern in her eyes and her voice. But was it more than that? I was afraid that this young woman, who had so much to offer a man and so much to offer the world, was somehow, for some reason falling for me -- and I was even more afraid that the feeling was reciprocal.

- - - - - - - - - -

I wandered down the busy street, bucket in one hand and the comfortable weight of the sakabatou at my side. People drifted past to the left and right, some chatting amiably with friends, others hurrying onward to pressing engagements. I knew the route well and relied more on my sense of others' presences than my eyesight for direction.

Somehow, even days later, I couldn't seem to shake Yoshida-san's words from my thoughts. The name "Jiro Otsuka" elicited the image of a silent man, thin as a water reed, with straight hair like the dark of midnight and eyes like two candles flickering tenaciously in the breeze. I'd only seen him once.

His woman must have had light hair, for Sumire's, though dark as his fathers', was delicately streaked with auburn highlights -- and I could only hope that his character, as well, was thus painted by the lightness of compassion. He appeared to be a troubled young man, struggling recklessly as if caught in situation he had no control over. I suspected that his father had, more than once, supplemented Yoshida-san's instruction with his own. Caught between the two figures of authority, the boy was most likely receiving conflicting messages… yes, a difficult position to be wedged into.

At first, I failed to notice the feeling as my thoughts were meandering far from the dusty road beneath my feet, but what began as a light tingling sensation brushing against my mind steadily intensified as I walked and at last demanded my full attention. It was that lingering sense of premonition that I had tried my hardest to forget when I left Kyoto, that intuitive sensation that caught my body in involuntary tremors and brought all my senses crashing roughly into full awareness.

But I didn't want to call attention to myself, so I continued walking as if I felt nothing, continued forward as if my mind wasn't frantically ordering me to draw my sword and thrust blindly into the surrounding crowd. I had vowed to stop living by instinct eleven years ago.

And as I willed my body to stop reacting, I concentrated on isolating the source of my unease -- it was behind me, no more than twenty or thirty meters...and slightly to the left, easily threading its way through the pedestrians and maintaining the distance between us but making no move to close it. The presence was calm, surprisingly so, and I cursed lightly under my breath when I realized that I must have truly let my guard down to have picked up such a skilled a pursuer.

Once you realize that you're being followed, you don't have to try hard to imagine the staring eyes drilling into your back, tracking your every move, and gouging holes in your mind. I had always faced my adversaries head on. I had never run. I had never had to. Back then, only Tomoe had stopped my hand. Briefly she had been my sheath, but now I had to be my own.

I couldn't stand the feeling any longer, couldn't continue walking without knowing who was lurking in the shadows behind me. With ruthless suddenness, flung restraint and inhibition aside and pivoted sharply, sloshing water from the bucket and drenching the pedestrians beside me. My eyes frantically searched the heads of the crowd, and for once I wished I were taller.

At first I thought that I'd lost him -- then, there! A blur of dark hair bobbed once, spun a quick half-circle, and disappeared from sight. It only took my mind a second to conjure the rest of the angular profile. Jiro Otsuka, Shuen Shimizu... no matter what name he chose to go by, I had felt his presence once before, and I could not have forgotten him, not a man as driven as he.

- - - - - - - - - -

Kaoru must have noticed my distraction when I returned, but, as usual, she said nothing. I could have told her, could have explained everything -- but I didn't want to worry her. She had worries enough already. Perhaps if only I had taken the time to talk with her that night instead of going and... Ah, but I get ahead of myself.

"Kenshin, you aren't planning on sitting by yourself out here all night, are you?" She stood in the doorway, and I turned to regard her fondly, grateful that she'd broken the silence between us. Her silhouette was backlit by the light from the dojo, and she tilted her head slightly to the side, hands resting against her hips accusingly.

"The weather's so pleasant, I think I'll enjoy it for a little longer." Indeed, it was the epitome of all spring evenings, a simple sketch of perfection carefully rendered in the muted blues and purples of twilight. I expected her to nod and leave me to my musings, as she was usually apt to do.

"Then would you mind if I joined you?" Her voice was light, containing an element of hopefulness that seeped out around the edges no matter how she tried to hide it. How could I refuse? She was already making her way to my side.

"Of course not, Kaoru-dono." It was a weak invitation, even for myself, but I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I just needed a few hours to think alone. She knelt beside me on the step, eyes focused on the cherry tree in the yard before us. It was just beginning to bloom, and its gnarled branches were hidden by fragrant clusters of pale white blossoms.

"Kenshin, I've been thinking, thinking about what happened at the Makita Dojo." Her eyes dropped to the ground before her, and she paused, apparently gathering her thoughts. "That boy, Sumire, he wasn't using Yoshida-san's style, was he?"

I recognized her question as an opening for me to explain what I knew of Sumire and his family...and usually I would have walked willing into her trap with an innocent smile on my face -- but not at that moment, not when I'd already made other plans for the hours between dusk and daybreak. "No Kaoru-dono, you're right. It was something different."

She sat expectantly, clearly waiting for more, but I didn't want to involve her in this. It was my problem, not hers. "Kenshin..." She reached out hesitantly to touch my arm and seemed almost surprised that I didn't pull away from the contact. "...it's okay. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

I always felt guilty when she turned to me with her eyes full of gentle sympathy. What had I done to deserve it? It was then that I made the decision -- I would tell her; I would tell her everything. She had accepted me as I was, a total stranger, but we were strangers no longer, and explaining my past was the very least I could do in return for her unconditional hospitality. But not tonight.

"I -- there's something I need to do...alone." I caught her hand between mine before she could pull it away, and it was warm and soft between my palms, calloused but still feminine. "I'm sorry, Kaoru-dono that it has to be like this, but we'll...talk in the morning. I promise." And she nodded, disappointment clearly imprinted in her eyes. I turned away.

- - - - - - - - - -

The heavy blankets of snow atop the mountains were slowly melting, and the water around my knees was freezing cold. It ran in anxious torrents down toward the sea, always rushing, rushing onward across the landscape. The silver moonlight glanced off the surface of the river, and the tree branches hung low across the water, their new leaves tossed about by the rising wind.

I closed my eyes, imagining the solid form of Shishou before me, his sword in hand. No matter how hard I tried, he had always been stronger. I could see the immense cloak edged in red, its hem just barely trailing in the water. It sat easily on his shoulders, as it probably had upon those of the previous Hiten Mitsurugi masters before him, and as I saw it once more in my mind, I knew again that it could never rest on mine.

"Again." I stared into the dark eyes towering over me, not caring that the voice was only a fragmented bit of memory resurfacing. In the quiet of the night, the past became reality.

I lunged forward, plunging deeper into the current. He had often dragged me out into the water to practice. Submerged up to my waist, I lost whatever advantage of speed I might have had on dry land. He always dipped his blade into the river before he struck. It was an old swordsman's move to trick an opponent by using the water to bend the light -- making it extremely difficult to tell exactly where the sword was. It wasn't long before I'd learned to visually calculate the difference.

And still I could hear that deep voice ordering me on...again... Hiten mitsurugi ryuu tsui sen! I let my eyes close as I fell from the sky, expecting only to land alone in the soft mud. Instead, something suddenly impacted with my stomach, sending me tumbling into the river shallows.

"I don't suppose many people have ever caught you unaware, Hitokiri Battousai," a soft voice remarked from somewhere to my right. "Or perhaps you've just gotten sloppy in these new times you worked so hard to create."

"Jiro Otsuka." It was a statement, not a question. How long had he been standing and watching? How had I not realized he was there? If he'd wanted he could have killed me while I was carelessly drifting between past and present...

"I see you remember me. Perhaps I should be flattered. Then again, I've heard that you've never forgotten a single face. Am I correct, Battousai?" He stood just deep enough so that the sheath of his katana brushed against the water's surface. His hands were tucked casually into his gi, but his eyes betrayed his nervous agitation.

"I no longer go by that name. I live today to atone for my past." My reply was a piercing whisper above the churning waters. I made no move to re-draw my sword.

"Atonement? What do you know of atonement?" He clenched his teeth together, ki suddenly blazing with barely-contained anger. "No amount of 'atonement' will bring my wife back to me, Hitokiri Battousai. Nothing you do today will change the past!" He reached for his katana, the larger of the daishou pair, and in one smooth motion swung it in a graceful arc before him.

"Otsuka-san, I don't think --" I grasped the hilt of the sakabatou as I sprang back but would not draw it unless I was left with no other option.

"Why are you just standing there wasting time? How do you know I haven't already been to your dojo tonight? Can you be certain that the girl and the brat are still alive?" He took a careful step toward me, smiling coldly.

It hadn't occurred to me that he might have drawn them into this. Why had I left them alone? Oh Kaoru-dono! He had to be bluffing...please Kami-sama! "How do I know you're not the one lying?" I growled in response struggling to keep my temper in check.

"Ah, but are you willing to risk the chance that I'm not?" He knew he had me cornered, and his smile shifted into a self-pleased smirk. He had known exactly where to strike. "I won't just let you walk away."

Then did I have not choice? Somehow he'd done his research -- I couldn't take the risk. I wouldn't breathe easily until I was sure they were safe. The water that I'd found soothing only moments before slammed into my legs like liquid ice, numbing both toes and mind. "Jiro --"

In less than a moment I had closed the distance between us, and as I snapped my sword toward his chest, he stumbled backward, trying to regain his footing on the soft bottom. I barely paused after the first attack, pushing off my back foot to thrust forward once again.

He brought the hilt of his sword high to the left, the blade protecting his head like a roof. The sakabatou glanced off of his defense, and I pulled my arms in close, spinning quickly to avoid leaving my back open and vulnerable. Cold waves from the river's surface sprayed up from our movements, drenching my hair and coating on my eyelashes. We paced just out of range, eyes locked and spirits clashing.

What was his weakness? Where was his technique flawed? My mind raced, analyzing his movements and reading his ki. He would come from the left next...a quick horizontal slash aimed to tear through my abdomen. I dodged, letting his sword swing through the air as I twisted and brought mine down hard upon his back.

He staggered, falling to his knees in the current, and I froze, wanting to run back to the dojo as fast as possible but waiting to make sure he wouldn't follow me. He'd given me more than enough trouble tonight. "You...you're fast, Battousai." His eyes were half-closed, his breathing rapid, but his voice was still calm, monotonous and deep as I'd remembered it. "But not fast enough."

I barely had time to register the movement before his wakizashi flew out of the water and embedded itself in my left shoulder. Where had it come from? Why hadn't I see it coming? Blood dripped down into the water, red droplets that disappeared when they hit the surface. I felt nothing.

"You should have killed me while you had the chance." From the way he slowly pressed to his feet I could tell he was in pain -- not that it mattered, for soon he wouldn't feel anything. I didn't take my eyes off of him as I reached up and pulled the blade from my shoulder, then flung it aside, well out of reach.

"You bastard." It was a low growl, and I hadn't anticipated the seething hostility in my voice. How had he pushed me so far into the past? But there was no time to contemplate such intricies of the mind. I attacked, a direct snapping motion aimed at his head, no frills, but he was ready. He brought his sword up to receive the blow -- just as the impact of a submerged log drifting with the current knocked both of us off our feet.

I resurfaced sputtering, icy water in my eyes and my lungs. Arms extended, I groped in the silvery darkness. Numb fingers closed first around soggy reeds, then smooth stones, and then at last around a solid hilt. There was no time to think, almost no time to act. As a blade came sweeping toward my chest I rolled to the side, counting on my body's buoyancy to keep me afloat. Without a thought I drew me feet underneath me and pushed off of the bottom. "Hiten mitsurugi ryuu sou sen!"

I was breathing hard as I staggered back, mouth open, head bowed. The slick rain fell, hot and red against my skin, burning like fire, and his katana dropped from my hand as the sakabatou fell from his. What should not have killed had turned fatal. It was raining blood, and I couldn't look at my hands, knowing what I'd see. Oh god, what had I done?

Shivering, I stumbled from the water, focusing solely on placing one foot in front of the other. I hadn't even noticed that I'd lost my sandals during the fight. They were probably more than a kilometer downstream by now, completely irretrievable. Once again on solid ground, I found myself sinking to my knees, dizzy and nauseous. My shoulder began to throb as palms slick with blood smacked against the dirt, and I felt my vision growing hazier...darker -- until there was only empty blackness.

end of part 4

- - - - - - - - - -

Note 1: Ah, such a cliffhanger, isn't it? I'm such a hypocrite -- I
hate cliffhangers, and here I am writing one. Actually, the
only reason why I've done it is because I don't want to
break up the next part, and at the same time, I don't want
this chapter to be a billion kilobytes long. So... this seemed
to be the best place to insert the break. Email, email! All
writers work best when hit periodically with little jolts
of motivation.

- Mir (07.01.2001)

Note 2: Continuing to work my way through the revisions.
Actually, it's probably more apt to call this "reformatting." As
I move further into the plot, I'm realizing that I actually did a
decent job on this story (better than I remember it to be),
though I still dislike the first chapter and that first interlude.
There's just something kind of out of place about the writing
style in both of them.

- Mir (06.16.2008)

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