THE PASSAGE OF TIME
A Ruroni Kenshin fanfic by Inarae
Ruroni Kenshin and everything associated with it belongs to Watsuki Nobuhiro and anyone he has allowed rights to it, which does not include me.
Rating: PG for minor violence.
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She wasn't killed, you know. There was no old enemy to take revenge on. Just the quiet flow of time as her features twisted in pain and blood trickled down her lips as she struggled to breath with lungs that had betrayed her long ago. I remember the soft warmth of the midday sun caressing the bare skin of my hand as I pressed it against her burning skin. I remember how soft that skin was, even stained with the ruddy splotches of fever. The woven straw floor left a pattern of imprints on the skin of my shins through the scratchy cotton of the deep blue yukata I wore, but by the time she breathed her last, I had been kneeling there so long my legs had gone numb and I no longer felt them. She loved to see me in traditional clothes, especially of deep blue. Not that she minded the police uniform, she said, but it turned me into someone different, all sharp lines and harsh angles, and she was never sure how to treat that stranger in her house. Strange, isn't it? That we could live together so long, and yet a piece of cloth could change how she viewed me . . . or perhaps it wasn't so odd. There were certain outfits she wore sometimes that certainly changed how I behaved around her. I'm thinking especially of one red silk kimono she tended to wear on New Year's, the red like a hot invitation sliding across her pale skin . . . It was a different red than the blood that speckled her face now. A happier red.
I imagine that Himura will at least keep a distant eye on our children. Even busy with the care of his first child, he'll keep anyone from taking advantage of my absence to revenge themselves on my family. I have many enemies.
I wouldn't have left them if I didn't know that they would be taken care of. Even if Tokio's family doesn't take them in, someone at the station will, or perhaps one of my old comrades. They will be better off with someone else, for now at least. I'm afraid I'm not a particularly safe person to be around at the moment.
No, that's not true. I would never hurt them. But I am happier to be out here where I can kill.
Long stalks of rice twist in the night wind outside the window I peer through. It is almost harvest time, and in the square of light from the oil lamp inside my room the dried stalks are a feral gold. A man is riding up through the field, disregarding the grains ground into the mud beneath his horse's hooves. Some farmer was going to be upset tomorrow morning. But not as upset as my target will be.
My hand encounters the smooth black of my katana's sheath, closing around it to carry it with me as I rise smoothly to my feet. My target is a bully boy and occasional killer for a large criminal organization centered around Sendai. But a few weeks ago he received an invitation to work for someone new. The new job came with a significant rise in income, so he's made the trip out here tonight on his way to meet his new employer. Too bad it won't be him who arrives at the meeting.
It's a suicide mission, they told me when I offered. I know, but I don't care. I'm not seeking death though, or not my own death. I don't even expect to die, to be honest. Despite the odds against me, I'm simply better than them in every way. They're not going to see through my disguise unless I want them to, and even then they're more likely to die on my blade than touch me. Certainly they have the numbers, and are watching for spies, but I've planned well living in hiding this last year, and have total confidence in my abilities. And the concentration it will take to hold the disguise while gathering the information and escaping back to Tokyo will distract me, I hope. If nothing else, the fires of battle will, when I am discovered.
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AUTHOR'S NOTES: Poor Saitoh sama! I'm cruel, aren't I? I really didn't want to kill off Tokio either; she's too cool a character for someone who is only mentioned a few lines.
There is the possibility of a sequel to this, simply because I want Saitoh to be happy, and I don't want him dead. However, due to the inherent busyness of school, I may not have time. But in my head at least, he most definitely doesn't go missing because he died, distracted by grief, as I imply at the end.
Teaser for the next part, if I have time to write it:
People make better sake up north. It's a sad fact, but unfortunately true.
What are you staring at? No, I most certainly am not going wandering like my baka deshi! I go up north to visit my home town every couple of years, not that anyone there remembers me, and I've been doing it for a lot longer than that idiot has even been alive. I have a destination. Therefore I'm not wandering, I'm traveling, you idiot. Good lord. He's my student, and he copies me, not the other way around.
Hmph.
Hiko Seijiro grunted and glanced around the empty clearing. It was a very sad state of affairs when his subconscious was suspicious of him.
Thanks for reading, C&C welcome and enjoyed.
Inarae
ginabrae@aol.com