Sorry for the delay. I was busy last week. I have a bad prelim score (from writing a Nine Months chap ^^) that I have to fix, so I hope you won't mind a few day's wait for the next chappie.
The concept of this chapter had a whole week to brew. Some Tsuioku Hen stuff mixed in. Hope you like it.
Disclaimer: I can't read French. I know English and my native language, and I'm trying to learn Japanese. Oh, and Eni-chan isn't mine to keep. ^^
……………………………………….
Days and weeks passed.
Okon and Omasu were filled with stories about Misao's romps around Kyoto with her new friend. Her descriptions about the friend in particular were sketchy, though. So far they had discovered that the friend was a new gentleman in Kyoto, evidently a metalworks businessman. And that he was quite rich.
When they asked for the gentleman's name, Misao always gave it as "Shinichi", always. She was an Oniwabanshuu, tried and trained, thus she knew that her Aoshi-sama could be lingering behind a wall or a corner at any time. Better safe than sorry. Her Aoshi-sama might not understand why for goodness' sakes she was friends with an old enemy. She could not guess what he might do if he ever found out.
She could not understand herself why she was friends with an old enemy. She had hated him with all the wrath she held in her heart. He had kidnapped her girlfriend. He had sent her redheaded friend to the depths of hell and back. What right had he to her understanding, to her friendship?
But she was learning, slowly, that it was different now.
It was probably something in his eyes, those sad, grey-blue eyes. They had a hypnotic power on her. They had always pleaded for her to know the depths of his heart. They practically begged for her to be with him.
Know me for who I am, not for what people make of me.
What was it that she felt now for the white-hair, she had often mused. Pity? Mercy? That was what Himura and Kaoru-san had for him. Kindness? More than that. Affection? She was not sure. Whatever it was, something always drew her to him, made her spend countless afternoons with him, made her want to know him more, made her stay.
The tall young man had already invited Misao into his house—if it could still be called a house. Only the government buildings and hotels were larger than this concept of Western architecture that was his residence. Two floors, with the first floor acting as a large function room. Not less than ten rooms. A dining room that could seat 30 people at a time. A library larger and wider than the whole of the Shirobeko. A guest bedroom that could easily fit the Akabeko's bedspace, and have square feet to spare.
"And you live here alone?" Misao bluntly asked him, the first time she came.
"There are servants of various sorts that serve the house, so you can't say I stay here alone," Enishi had replied.
"No, I mean, no one LIVES here with you?"
She was answered with a thoughtful silence.
The entire mansion was tastefully decorated, with Japanese, Chinese, and Western influences. French lounge chair lay in harmony with a soft American-style feather bed, surrounded by samples of excellent calligraphy in two languages and other works of Chinese art. The Kyoto-made dining table was filled with the finest porcelain plates and the best English silver.
Even the library was a sight to behold. Majority of the books were in Japanese, but a shelf was full of Chinese works. Another shelf was filled half-full with books in English and half-full with books in French.
"This is one of my current favorites," Enishi told Misao, as he pulled out a small book and handed it to her.
She could not make anything out of the unusual scribble, written left to right.
"Vingt mille lieues sous les mers," he read out—en Français, then translated into Nihonggo. "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. It's about exploring the world underwater."
"You mean, you could actually READ the book—in French?!" Misao asked in wonder.
"Not as fluently as I could read English," he answered without a tinge of apology or timidity. It was a simple statement of fact. "I picked up my Chinese in Shanghai, then I managed to learn business English there as well. I'm still having some trouble with French, with all its nasal tones and such."
This was simply further proof of the masterful, intelligent brain working under the cover of snowy hair. The man could speak at least three languages, and could read at least four. She would not be surprised if he suddenly talked to her in Spanish or Korean as well.
In exchange for these glimpses into the sophisticated life of the rich and powerful, Misao showed Enishi the simple joys of living. The wonder in a sunrise, and the beauty in a sunset. The serenity of a brook, and the majesty of a waterfall. They were things that the young man now made time to appreciate, thanks to this spritely young woman who led the way.
Both of them looked forward to the afternoons. Mornings kept them apart with its business dealings and house chores. But the afternoons they had free to spend either in a stroll through the woods, or a journey through the library's diverse collection.
More days passed.
A month went by.
Two months.
Misao arrived at his house one afternoon, with the promise of him reading his French story about a submersible going underwater again. His translations made the tale come alive to her, and made the fiction seem more real than life itself.
The front door was open, so she let herself in.
The first floor and dining hall were deserted. As were all the rooms and the library.
With a little more strolling through the wide house, she found the top of her friend's snow-white head, in the chair at the terrace, overlooking the beautiful forest beyond.
She planned to creep in behind him, cover his eyes and childishly make him guess who she was. Thus she tiptoed nearer to the chair and moved in closer, until she was beside the chair's backrest.
Then she stopped. She heard his tenor voice quietly groaning.
"Nee-san……."
She swiped a hand in front of the purple spectacles, but did not get a reaction.
"Nee-san……..don't leave me here alone, nee-san……….." Tears quietly streamed down behind the spectacles.
Misao mustered enough courage to look at him squarely. With eyes closed and face flushed, he was lost in a nightmare she only half understood.
"Why did you have to die, nee-san, why?!" Both hands were clenched in tight fists, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. "It was HIM! It was HIS fault!"
This was not good. Misao had heard from Kaoru how this man had almost strangled her, half asleep and half awake, asking for his older sister, seeking the life of his sister's husband.
"Why did you do it for him? Didn't you think of me then?"
If she chose to act, and he reacted on impulse, her face and her frame could not protect her. She did not look anything like Tomoe, if Kaoru's distant similarity to her was anything to go by. She certainly was smaller than her, from Himura's descriptions. If he chose to kill her, it was in his means and his capability to do so, without remorse.
"NEE-SAN!"
But he looked so troubled, and alone, just then. The lost little boy he was, underneath the dark and menacing exterior. Surely she could do something for this-----distraught-----friend------of hers……….
Then she recalled a fond childhood memory. It was when she had scraped her knee when she fell from a tree, back when she was eight years old. She cried and cried, and could not be consoled. That was when a teenage Okon came to her side, wrapped an arm around her, and sang a little lullaby, until she had fallen asleep in her lap.
"Please don't leave me, nee-san!"
She slowly slipped her lithe arms around his broad shoulders, and held him gently. She quietly rocked him, to quiet his shaking upper body. She then leaned her head over his. It was the first time she had ever dared hold him so close, and she had mixed emotions. But the greatest thought of her caring heart was to calm the troubled heart she held.
Always,
as always I do
I have
My eye on you
Please sleep free from anxiety
People have been inured to
Wounding and injuring in this world
There, we were
Born and bred
The murmurs and the tears began to lessen, and soon they ceased. She wiped the sweat off the troubled brows, ran her fingers through the milk-white hair, and repeated her song.
Itsumo, itsumo
Boku ga, kimi o
Mite te, ageru kara
Anshin shite, oyasumi
Kizu tsuke au koto ni
Narete shimatta, kono sekai
Soko de bokurawa, umare
Sodatta
"You smile again for me, nee-san………." And he drifted off into quiet slumber.
Whether he recognized her or not, it was fine. "Rest now. I am here. I promise to stay."
She quietly let go, slowly released her hold, and waited for him back in the library.
She never knew how long she waited. She did not even notice that she had fallen asleep, curled up in a soft armchair.
She was awakened by a simple kiss to her cheek. Short and sweet. She rubbed the sleep off her eyes, and looked up at a white tower.
"E-ni-shi-san?" she asked sleepily.
"I heard someone singing my sister's song……from somewhere far away……….."
Misao drowsily scratched her head at his words.
"The voice came closer, and closer…………it held me in its arms, rocked me softly, held my head………the way my sister used to hold me………."
He lowered himself to the floor, until he was almost kneeling before her.
"Then she sang, softly, peacefully, beautifully. Exactly the way my sister used to sing……….."
He now knelt at her feet and took her right hand. He lowered his face, raised her hand, and gave the back of it a slow kiss. She blushed to the ends of her ears.
"Arigatou, Misao."
"F-f-for what, Enishi-san?"
"For being there for me."
He aligned his lips with hers.
…………………………..
The song is "Komuriuta" (Lullaby), the haunting end song to Now and Then Here and There/Ima Soku ni Iru Boku. It was sung by Reiko Yasuhara. Nihon lyrics from www.animelyrics.com , and English lyrics from www.dear-prudence.net/imaboku . Now and Then is an awesome 13-ep anime, with memorable characters and a wonderful, if very sad, story. Highly recommended, if you can stomach child soldiers, killings, and war problems.
Jules Verne published his work around or a little before the RK timeframe, so back then it would be a bestseller, not a classic. ^^ Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea was published in 1870, with the English version published 1873. I got this info out of the back of my copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth.
I agree with Midori, that Eni-chan could possibly know more languages than Japanese and Chinese. I mean, how in the world would he get an Armstrong Cannon and the Rengoku without some command of English?
Writing for Eni-chan is harder than writing for Kenshin, because Kenshin doesn't change in personality, whereas Enishi should change a little without sounding OOC. And it is Kenshin that I know inside-out, the way Firuze knows Enishi inside-out.
Yen and amy—thanks!
Cleao—no Aoshi? We'll see.
Sabbie—Thanks for liking Shinichi-kun so much. I'd like Ran out of the way, too! Thanks for joining the movement!
Firuze-nee-san—I really CAN'T believe how you analyze Eni-chan! Thanks for all the help in this fic, too!
Crystal—So far it will be E/M. ^^ Aoshi is OK, but he's a brick……and I'm drowning slowly…….off the coast and I'm headed nowhere. ^^ Kenshin is just clueless, but Aoshi is solid ice!
Nekonomiko—Thanks for the info. It depends on the pairing if it's cute and plausible. ^^ E/K pairs have a tendency NOT to be cute. Kenshin always looms at back for some reason.
BittersweetKandy—Thanks for liking the style, but I'm also working on improving descriptions. ^^
Chavi-kun—I like living in my country; I don't have to buy a lot of stuff to enjoy anime, because it's on national TV! Thanks, and keep reading!
That's everybody who reviewed chap 3, thanks much! See you all again!