title: Hanafubuki | Interlude 2
rating: pg-13
author: Mir
email: cathedraldragon@bigfoot.com
website: http://tfmeijiera.tripod.com/
disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin was created by Watsuki Nobuhiro,
published by Shueisha in "Jump," and produced by Sony
Entertainment. All rights are theirs. I have no money to speak
of, so suing me will not make you rich. This story contains
spoilers for...I'm not quite sure what...up until the Kyoto Arc
and the OAV's, I think (plus corresponding manga volumes).
Many thanks to maigo-chan for her manga translations.
AN: This is the revised version of the second interlude... there
were aspects of the original that were quite awkward, and
there were some points that I'd forgotten to include altogether.
I know it's been awhile since I've updated this fic -- I've been
concentrating on other works, I admit, but I do intend to finish
it, have no fear... it just might take me longer than I originally
planned ^_~. Enjoy!
--------------------------------------------------
*Interlude 2: Kaoru*
When he left me alone that night I wanted nothing more than to
rush after him into the darkness -- but I didn't, couldn't. The air was
completely still, and only the occasional chirps of crickets pierced the
unsympathetic darkness. I squeezed my eyes closed imagining I could
still hear his footsteps long after they'd faded into the distance, and I
bit my lip to keep from calling out his name.
And once again I realized that there's a part of him that I've never
been able to reach, a part of him that he guards so carefully from us all.
Sometimes even when I sit beside him, he seems completely alone, so
deep in thought that I could be miles away, and he wouldn't even notice.
I wonder if it's because he doesn't trust me.
But I have to remind myself of who he is... and all he's been
through. When I look into his eyes I find myself pleading silently for him
to share his thoughts, but he rarely does. I promise myself that I'd follow
him to Hell and back without a second thought -- but I wonder if, in
reality, I'd be able to keep my word.
I try to deny the possibility that he night leave again one day. He's
become so much a part of my daily life that I can hardly seem to remember
the loneliness of living by myself in the empty dojo. Even when he doesn't
say a word, his presence seems to fill the air and keep the aching feeling
in my chest from returning. But he left in the middle of the night, and I fell
asleep on the dojo porch, dreaming of his safe return.
And then suddenly he reappeared at the gate -- dripping wet,
stained red with blood, and practically asleep on his feet. The relief that
flooded through my mind overwhelmed all other emotions, drowning my
senses and freezing my limbs. I wanted to hold him tightly in my arms,
scold him for putting himself in danger (yet again), lose myself in those
exhausted violet eyes.... I wanted him take me into his confidence, but
didn't say a word. Why won't he ever let me ease the pain?
It always surprises me how all his years and troubles seem to fall
away when he sleeps, leaving a stranger in his place. His lips were parted
slightly, his breathing deep and regular from Megumi's medicine, and I
stared at the rising and falling of his chest to assure myself that he was
indeed only sleeply.
In the calmness of his features I saw another man, one who, under
different circumstances, followed his heart (just as the man who lay before
me did) but walked a different path. Instead of fighting with the Ishin
Shishi against the Shogunate in the dark alleys of Kyoto, this man lived a
quiet life of love and service to those around him.
But the second man, the one whose hands never held a sword and
whose left cheek remains unscarred, is not the man that I've grown to love.
My Kenshin is himself because of his past, not despite it. He's seen humanity
at its worst, and I can only hope that he'll let himself experience it at its best
as well.
My Kenshin, the rurouni, tries so hard to create an illusion of
carefree light-heartedness during the day. But even when I watch him
playing with Ayame and Suzume, there's no mistaking the easy grace in
his movements or the astute penetration of his gaze. He buries his past
deep inside his mind, but his body remembers and refuses to leave it
behind.
I knelt beside his futon on the floor, and as I diped a cloth in cool
water and gently folded it across his forehead, I wondered if the blood
on his clothes had been solely his own. There was so much....
He always tries to protect me from everything, from others, even
from himself. Sometimes he acts as though he's as much a threat to me as
the enemies from his past who spend their lives hunting his shadow. But
I know I'd face the most dire of threats if afterwards I could spend the rest
of my days by his side. He doesn't understand that I'd rather die than be
left in the world without him.
When I'm alone I often wonder what thoughts make their way
through his mind, and I wonder if he thinks of me as I find myself thinking
of him. He's never told me where he learned to cook... or why he always
seems so eager to help with the laundry. Although he's lived at the dojo
for months he's still so much of a mystery in so many ways.
But as he lay before me I couldn't summon the courage to explain
my feelings even to his unconscious form. The distance between us was
at once both a tiny crack and a vast chasm, and even now my heart shies
away from the divide. Why is life so complicated?.
*end of interlude*
- - - - - - - - - -
I plan on going back through the rest of this piece and
making revisions (which is good because I've almost
completely forgotten some of the parts I wrote last spring!).
I acually enjoy the revision process... it just takes time,
like everything else in life, and time is something I wish
I had more of. Visit TFME (http://tfmeijiera.tripod.com/).
It's a RK fanfiction archive with weekly updates, etc.
- Mir (08.31.01 ~ 02.12.02)
.
rating: pg-13
author: Mir
email: cathedraldragon@bigfoot.com
website: http://tfmeijiera.tripod.com/
disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin was created by Watsuki Nobuhiro,
published by Shueisha in "Jump," and produced by Sony
Entertainment. All rights are theirs. I have no money to speak
of, so suing me will not make you rich. This story contains
spoilers for...I'm not quite sure what...up until the Kyoto Arc
and the OAV's, I think (plus corresponding manga volumes).
Many thanks to maigo-chan for her manga translations.
AN: This is the revised version of the second interlude... there
were aspects of the original that were quite awkward, and
there were some points that I'd forgotten to include altogether.
I know it's been awhile since I've updated this fic -- I've been
concentrating on other works, I admit, but I do intend to finish
it, have no fear... it just might take me longer than I originally
planned ^_~. Enjoy!
--------------------------------------------------
*Interlude 2: Kaoru*
When he left me alone that night I wanted nothing more than to
rush after him into the darkness -- but I didn't, couldn't. The air was
completely still, and only the occasional chirps of crickets pierced the
unsympathetic darkness. I squeezed my eyes closed imagining I could
still hear his footsteps long after they'd faded into the distance, and I
bit my lip to keep from calling out his name.
And once again I realized that there's a part of him that I've never
been able to reach, a part of him that he guards so carefully from us all.
Sometimes even when I sit beside him, he seems completely alone, so
deep in thought that I could be miles away, and he wouldn't even notice.
I wonder if it's because he doesn't trust me.
But I have to remind myself of who he is... and all he's been
through. When I look into his eyes I find myself pleading silently for him
to share his thoughts, but he rarely does. I promise myself that I'd follow
him to Hell and back without a second thought -- but I wonder if, in
reality, I'd be able to keep my word.
I try to deny the possibility that he night leave again one day. He's
become so much a part of my daily life that I can hardly seem to remember
the loneliness of living by myself in the empty dojo. Even when he doesn't
say a word, his presence seems to fill the air and keep the aching feeling
in my chest from returning. But he left in the middle of the night, and I fell
asleep on the dojo porch, dreaming of his safe return.
And then suddenly he reappeared at the gate -- dripping wet,
stained red with blood, and practically asleep on his feet. The relief that
flooded through my mind overwhelmed all other emotions, drowning my
senses and freezing my limbs. I wanted to hold him tightly in my arms,
scold him for putting himself in danger (yet again), lose myself in those
exhausted violet eyes.... I wanted him take me into his confidence, but
didn't say a word. Why won't he ever let me ease the pain?
It always surprises me how all his years and troubles seem to fall
away when he sleeps, leaving a stranger in his place. His lips were parted
slightly, his breathing deep and regular from Megumi's medicine, and I
stared at the rising and falling of his chest to assure myself that he was
indeed only sleeply.
In the calmness of his features I saw another man, one who, under
different circumstances, followed his heart (just as the man who lay before
me did) but walked a different path. Instead of fighting with the Ishin
Shishi against the Shogunate in the dark alleys of Kyoto, this man lived a
quiet life of love and service to those around him.
But the second man, the one whose hands never held a sword and
whose left cheek remains unscarred, is not the man that I've grown to love.
My Kenshin is himself because of his past, not despite it. He's seen humanity
at its worst, and I can only hope that he'll let himself experience it at its best
as well.
My Kenshin, the rurouni, tries so hard to create an illusion of
carefree light-heartedness during the day. But even when I watch him
playing with Ayame and Suzume, there's no mistaking the easy grace in
his movements or the astute penetration of his gaze. He buries his past
deep inside his mind, but his body remembers and refuses to leave it
behind.
I knelt beside his futon on the floor, and as I diped a cloth in cool
water and gently folded it across his forehead, I wondered if the blood
on his clothes had been solely his own. There was so much....
He always tries to protect me from everything, from others, even
from himself. Sometimes he acts as though he's as much a threat to me as
the enemies from his past who spend their lives hunting his shadow. But
I know I'd face the most dire of threats if afterwards I could spend the rest
of my days by his side. He doesn't understand that I'd rather die than be
left in the world without him.
When I'm alone I often wonder what thoughts make their way
through his mind, and I wonder if he thinks of me as I find myself thinking
of him. He's never told me where he learned to cook... or why he always
seems so eager to help with the laundry. Although he's lived at the dojo
for months he's still so much of a mystery in so many ways.
But as he lay before me I couldn't summon the courage to explain
my feelings even to his unconscious form. The distance between us was
at once both a tiny crack and a vast chasm, and even now my heart shies
away from the divide. Why is life so complicated?.
*end of interlude*
- - - - - - - - - -
I plan on going back through the rest of this piece and
making revisions (which is good because I've almost
completely forgotten some of the parts I wrote last spring!).
I acually enjoy the revision process... it just takes time,
like everything else in life, and time is something I wish
I had more of. Visit TFME (http://tfmeijiera.tripod.com/).
It's a RK fanfiction archive with weekly updates, etc.
- Mir (08.31.01 ~ 02.12.02)
.