Title: Hanafubuki
Part 5b: Wisdom
AN: Ah ha! Here's the (hopefully, or perhaps I'm dreaming)
long-awaited conclusion to the fifth chapter. Let me just mention
that I had a lot of fun writing it...despite the fact that I wrote it in
about a half-dozen parts and then wove them together bit by bit.
I've been writing the plot for this story about two or three chapters
ahead of the current chapter-in-progress, and I was quite excited
to discover what this chapter had in store for me! Just shows
you how terrible my memory is... Anyhow, maybe it's just that
I love to put poor Kenshin though mental anguish (and that I think
he and Kaoru make the cutest couple!). Ah, but I don't want to
spoil the chapter, now, do I? Enjoy!
--
Not trusting myself
I spin blindly in daylight
Seeing ghosts again
--
Part 5b
"Kenshin, we're going to the Akabeko. Are you coming?" I could picture Kaoru-dono standing at the dojo's entrance, the midday sunlight glancing playful off her dark hair, and I indulged myself in a quiet smile.
"Yes, I'll be along in just a moment." With mild regret I pulled myself away from such pleasant thoughts and plunged once more into the cold, deep waters of the present. I had not left the dojo since I'd returned. Inside its walls I could pretend as though nothing had happened, feign ignorance of the disconcerting sensations pressing upon my mind, deny that anything had changed -- but beyond the gate...
How could I ever trust myself again? All those many years ago I had thought that the sakabatou would be sufficient to forever seal the hitokiri deep within me well beyond the light of day. But recent events had thrust spears of apprehension deep inside my heart and mind, and I shivered at the recollection of latent power so easily at my fingertips.
Yes, it had been a mistake -- but I had made the same one in the past, and I had no assurance that the future would be different. I paused at the entrance to my room, hand resting lightly on the sliding door, eyes tracing the interlocking patterns of the tatami mats to where my futon lay folded against the wall.
The sakabatou was propped beside it, a blade ignorant of blood since the day of its creation. But I could not trust myself to carry it. Since the day that Hiko had taken me in, I had lived my life as a servant to my sword. I had been tested by its sharpness, and somehow I'd outlived its bloody reign. But I had left the stained set of blades behind, left my past but not abandoned it.
And now, struck with the realization that inner peace was merely an unobtainable ideal born by minds untainted by the dying cries of souls, I closed my eyes and turned from the room. It was too dangerous for me to feel the cool metal beneath my fingers, too dangerous for those I cared for.
"Uh, Kenshin -- aren't you forgetting something?" Yahiko's unanticipated question startled me as I stepped through the dojo's gate, and I blinked as I stared down at him, rapidly formulating a response while trying to put on my best rurouni act.
"Forgetting something? Not that I know of..." I pulled my features into what I hoped would be a suitably convincing expression of innocence, and shrugged to emphasize the point. "...but the weather is exceptionally nice today for early spring, don't you think." It was a blatant dodge away from the question, but although his brow furrowed slightly, Yahiko didn't seem to mind, for he nodded in agreement, then dashed off to harass Kaoru-dono.
- - - - - - - - - -
I trailed behind the others, hands tucked into my gi, eyes following the gentle dipping of their heads. The wind flipped clouds of dust from the road through my hair, and casual voices floated up and down on warm gusts of spring air.
The route to the Akabeko was a familiar one -- each footstep fell softly beside the previous, but even as my jaw tightened and my fingers clenched into fists with each flicker of movement caught by a sidelong glance, I could feel myself drifting lightly, hovering somewhere between yesterday and today, unsure of which direction would lead to tomorrow.
"Hey, you planning on standing in the street all day?" Yahiko was staring up at me, hands on his hips and bony elbows sticking out into the air. "We're not getting any closer just standing here --"
He would most likely have continued indefinitely had not a hand clamped itself firmly over his mouth. "Kenshin, are you feeling alright? I can walk back to the dojo with you if you'd like..." Although her concern was genuine, the repetitive inquiries about my health were becoming redundant, and I was surprised to find myself biting back a sharper retort than I'd uttered in years.
"Fine, just fine..." I lifted my hands in defense, willing my features to settle into their typically cheerful arrangement. "...there's no need to worry, Kaoru-dono." From her drawn expression I could tell that she didn't believe me, but I pulled my mouth into a smile and avoided meeting her eyes. Her hand rested gently upon my arm, warm and smooth as the muddy river bottom. I shivered.
Megumi and Sanosuke met us at the Akabeko, the former all smiles and quiet giggles, the later clearly enjoying himself although he feigned annoyance. Each shouted warm greetings as we approached, and with their arrival it seemed almost as though our 'family' was complete.
I can't say when I'd begun to think of my friends as such, for I hadn't felt such a clear sense of belonging since I'd left the Ishin Shishi. But as I looked around me at the faces that had become familiar in the past months, I saw in their eyes an unconditional acceptance that I had previously resigned myself to live without. I'd been more than willing to sacrifice personal happiness for the good of Japan...to protect the innocent lives of my nation.
But now -- somehow when I thought of the odd circle that had fallen in place around me, I couldn't imagine what I'd do if anyone attempted to break it. Whether I'd asked for it or not, this was my 'family', and I had to protect them, no matter what the cost.
- - - - - - - - - - -
As I sat cross-legged at the table, the usual noisy clamor carried on unsuppressed around me. Yahiko, with a mischievous grin spread across his face, leaned forward to snatch a piece of beef out from under Kaoru poised chopsticks... only to have her smack him roughly across the head, sending rice spewing out in random vectors through the air.
The daily rituals of the Kamiya Dojo were playing themselves out before my eyes in a cycle as constant and predictable as the changing of the seasons. In some ways, it was a comfort to have such a constant in my life. I had known so few in my past.
Beyond the immediate action, the other patrons gathered around tables in small clusters. Here, a man, hunched and wrinkled with age, quietly reminisced with friends over endless rounds of sake. There, a young waitress, smiling cheerfully and eager to please, set a steaming bowl of noodles before a child and his father. The gentle murmur of conversation rose and fell in indistinct patterns, and I cast my senses out into the room -- a long-ingrained habit essential in past days for self-preservation.
"Are you saying that he's been gone since Tuesday?" The speaker crinkled his brow in disbelief, sake halfway between the table and his mouth. His companion nodded slowly in reluctant affirmation. "And he didn't leave a note or any kind of explanation whatsoever?"
For some reason I felt drawn to the conversation as a moth is to a lantern glowing in the dark, and as I listened intently, the other noises began to fade further and further into the background until the words sat starkly against a backdrop of perfect silence. A light tingling sensation brushed the back of my neck, spreading outward down my spine and across my shoulders. I froze in apprehension but said nothing.
"...and his son isn't making matters easier. Keeps ranting and raving about how he's certain that his father's been murdered -- if only he had the evidence to prove it." The man shook his head tiredly, sighing with annoyance. "Claims that it's the work of the Hitokiri Battousai, of all people. Can you believe it? No one's seen the man for over a decade, and the boy concocts some wild story about how the hitokiri and his father were enemies during the Bakumatsu. Kids these days..."
I could feel the blood running cold in my veins, my eyes narrowing, and my shallow breaths coming faster and faster as my heartbeat accelerated. It was too much of a coincidence, too familiar to ignore.
"...yeah, the kid trains at the Makita Dojo... is fairly competent from what I hear, if a little too full of himself when he thinks his sensei isn't listening. You can never be certain, though... yes, I know -- it's wonderful what a good instructor can do..."
At the words I felt my legs unfold themselves as if acting under their own violation. One hand slipped into my gi; the other reached for the sakabatou, absent from my side. At the table conversation fell suddenly into silent confusion, but I barely noticed.
Before my eyes, the world dimmed as though a thick layer of black storm-clouds had passed before the sun. The sharp edges of the golden hairpin dug into the fingers of my left hand, and I stepped past Yahiko, ignoring his exclamation of surprise as I left the table without a word.
Somewhere, something in my mind screamed and pounded against an invisible barrier, warning me of my actions, but I didn't -- couldn't respond, for in two quick strides I was at their table. "Shuen Shimizu is dead." The pin fell from my hand to the wooden top with a hollow thump that echoed in my ears long after the sound had faded. "You'd be wasting your time looking for him."
Again I felt my hand slide down to my side, and again it touched nothing but air. I clenched my teeth together in frustration, torn between giving into the inexplicable anger growing inside of me...or disappearing out onto the street, a shadow turning tail in shame.
I'm still not certain how it happened, but suddenly something snapped -- an audible flash of incandescent light in my mind -- and the next thing I knew I was running blindly through the streets of Tokyo, submissive to my feet's will and desire. Buildings flew by, as insubstantial as the dry leaves in autumn, and the ground was an indistinct blur beneath my sandals.
I ran until my breath hissed painful through of clenched teeth, until my heart pounded so rapidly in my chest that I could barely distinguish the individual beats comprising the frantic rhythm. Sweat dripped from my forehead in salty drops, and as I came to an exhausted halt, the world's spinning gradually slowed until the scene before me stood still at last.
If one lives long enough it's impossible to discard the concept of fate. The gates of the Kamiya Dojo were closed, but I entered without knocking. Somehow I knew they hadn't returned yet. Mockingly serene, the courtyard spread out around me, resplendent in the crisp beauty of early-spring rejuvenation. I bypassed the door -- and took to the roof instead.
The sky was clear but quiet, and for that I was thankful. No birds swooped intrusively down from the trees, and not a single cloud passed overhead to encourage the imagination. I focused on these trivial aspects of normality, focused on them to keep my mind from drifting toward more dangerous thoughts.
I couldn't seem to understand anything anymore. Events had spun out of my control, and reliable constants crumbled beneath my fingertips. My thoughts were tinged with an overarching sense of trepidation. Even in the city of Kyoto, even within the unchecked chaos that had swept though the streets like wildfire consuming everything in its path, even as the silent deliverer of death -- I had control. I had purpose.
Or at least I thought I had. I closed my eyes, palms pressed against the warm roof beneath me, fingertips brushing lightly against the hilt of the sakabatou I had no recollection of retrieving. I had had no choice over my targets. With the appearance of each black envelope I'd pulled myself farther and farther into that certain all-encompassing numbness that blankets the senses and freezes the mind.
Did I believe in fate? Tomoe... my only decision, perhaps. I'd stepped forward and arrogantly knocked fate aside. No, I didn't need the blood of a woman on my hands. She fell silently into my arms, and I carried her back to the inn, the slick metallic dampness baptizing the both of us to the dawning of a new day.
"...but if he's not here, where would he have gone?" The voices, originating from outside the walls, announced the return of the other inhabitants of the dojo, and I turned on my rooftop perch to watch their approach.
"Kenshin? Kenshin?" Kaoru was the one who started the chorus, but soon Yahiko, Sanosuke, and even Megumi added their voices as well. I sat looking down at them, hidden by the shadows and invisible to their senses.
"Should we go back out and continue searching?" It was Yahiko who posed the question, the slightly frantic edge to his voice betraying his unease. "I mean, what if he --"
Kaoru-dono, subdued, slowly shook her head as she placed one hand lightly on her student's shoulder. "No. He'll come back when he can. We have to trust him. He's been though a lot recently." But I hadn't revealed the details of the other night to her -- hadn't found a way to admit that I'd broken my vow, however unintentional it might have been. "Come on now. Let's go inside."
- - - - - - - - - - -
I remained by myself through the afternoon and into early evening. As the sun gradually arched across the sky I traced its path and cast my thoughts back into memories of Kyoto. As much as I despised myself for making the others worry, I needed to come to some sort of resolution -- needed to check the accelerating downward spiral before I pulled those around me into the maelstrom.
Sitting quietly, I relived the days of the revolution and once again stood behind my sword in streets of Kyoto. And so the hours past. Moments flashed by in rapid succession... each face appearing and disappearing before my eyes. The hollow ringing of clashing metal resounded in my ears, and the dark smoke of burning buildings once again covered on my clothes and coated my lungs.
And then, as suddenly as they'd begun, the scenes passed, dissolving into the oncoming darkness as the fading shades of daylight sunk beneath the horizon. I could not let the past become reality once more. Although the path called to me with deceptive sweetness, I had never killed for pleasure, never relished the taste of blood. No, I wouldn't let myself slip back into the days long gone. Never.
Thus determined, I reached for the sakabatou and slid over to the edge of the roof. Perhaps Kaoru-dono had already gone to bed -- perhaps I'd be able to slip inside without disturbing her. I winced slightly as my feet impacted with the ground, only then noticing the dried blood that flaked off of my gi and fluttered to the dirt. Sprinting through Tokyo had not been the best of ideas. Then again, I hadn't really had a choice.
Pressing one hand against the injured shoulder I tiptoed lightly around to the side of the dojo. Reaching out mentally, I could sense Yahiko and Kaoru sitting quietly in their rooms but could tell nothing more. I would have to risk their noticing my entrance.
I crept along the walls, eyes half-closed against dizziness brought about from moving too quickly after sitting still all afternoon. I didn't see her until she reached out and touched my arm. "Kenshin." Her delicate features were cast in shadow by soft strands of moonlight, but her eyes glowed brightly before me like two trembling lanterns.
"I heard you moving around on the roof, so I knew you were safe." She smiled as she answered my unspoken question -- it was something she seemed to be doing more and more of lately. "Kenshin --" She seemed torn between taking a step forward or one back, reluctant to pull her hand away but not wanting to seem improper.
I made the choice for her and stepped away. "I'm sorry Kaoru-dono, that I am. I didn't mean to make you worry, but I --"
She shook her head vehemently, hands reaching forward once more to take mine. "No, didn't you hear? I didn't worry because I knew you were safe. Do you think I would have just sat around all afternoon if I'd thought you were still wandering somewhere around Tokyo?" My eyes widened slightly -- she did have a point.
But before I could respond she'd stepped toward me, gaze first focused on the floor then lifting shyly to meet mine. "Kenshin, whatever you do, don't try to be someone you're not." She paused for a moment before continuing. "You've carried a sword your whole life... and you've done so much good with it, no matter what you say. We're all here for you whenever you need us. All you need to do is ask."
She must have noticed that I hadn't taken the sakabatou with me, must have noticed and graciously not said a word.
"A sword is only an extension of the hand behind it. If the hand's steady, then there's nothing to fear--" When had she become so wise?
"--and if it's not?"
Abruptly she turned, dropping my hands and starting back in the direction of her room, but she paused and twisted around to look over her shoulder when she realized that I wasn't following. "Come with me. I've something to show you."
end of part 5b
--
Note 1: Ah, a little bit of a cliffhanger, ne? I'm so sorry this
chapter took such a long time to get out! I've so much going
on right now that it's been hard, hard, hard to find time to
write RK fanfiction. Take a look at my new fic "Divergence" if
you get the chance, and please visit the site below! I'm
really excited about it, and hope that one of these days it'll
take off. - Mir (09.16.2001)
Note 2: I'm continuing my edits... frankly I must have had my
coffee when I wrote this chapter because I changed very little.
Perhaps it would be more accurate to say I'm giving these
chapters a close read with the aim of finishing this story
sometime this year. - Mir (06.26.2008)