Children of the Revolution
Chapter 3: Bury the Hatchet
Enishi's enthusiasm at beginning the real work on his physical shortcomings had been somewhat dampened by Oibore's arrival. On the one hand, he was relieved that the old man made it. On the other hand, he didn't really know how to react.
Megumi's attitude wasn't helping. She had been obviously expecting for something, at first. She had let Oibore in, her cinnamon eyes going alternatively to one then to the other, disappointment clearly showing as he had greeted the visitor distantly. The other had responded by that jolly laugh he used to hide his real feelings, and apologized for showing up so late. Though he had escaped in Kyoto, he had traveled a lot, just in case, and had let appeared some puzzlement at Enishi's being still there. Megumi had immediately told him the whole truth: she was related to Battousai and knew who Enishi was. She had also explained how wounded he was, to Enishi's displeasure, even more as concern had filled his strange companion's face.
Megumi had since then treated Oibore with deep respect, showing some traditional attitudes, like bowing when presenting him the food. He had never thought she could do that. He had never seen her being modest, in any way. Gentle, yes, but she was too aware of her worth, of her skills, and of her beauty too, to act like this. It troubled Enishi. He was just an old homeless, why should she change her behavior for him? Oibore himself had been surprised, and asked her several times to stop, turning himself into a laughingstock. She had gone on this way, stubbornly. That was more like her, yet it was highly disturbing. The more Oibore was lowering himself, the more deferent she acted. She had insisted that he'd stay, she even wanted to provide him with her own room, which Enishi never had any opportunity to glimpse at. They had both protested, outraged, though it was probably not for the same reason. Oibore was hence sleeping in the same room as Enishi, on one of the spare futons.
It had been two months, and Enishi still had some mixed feelings about the situation. His intimacy with Oibore was different than anything they had shared during more than two years in Rakuninmura. Perhaps, the fact that they weren't under an endless, starry sky, but prisoners of a small room, had this effect on him. He had felt that way before, during the rainy seasons or the worst of winters, when, oblivious of his indifferent attitude, the old fool had snuggled close to him, handing a rice straw-made panel above their heads for hours, or sharing his thin and dirty blanket with him, whereas Enishi already had his own. There was a comfortable sensation lingering then, yet Enishi knew perfectly well to what extend Oibore could offer him protection or comfort. The least he could say was that it wasn't much.
Megumi's attitude had inflicted. She wasn't formal with Oibore anymore, as a silent, implicit complicity was bonding them now. She was still respectful, but as soon as he had stopped putting on his lower-than-dirt show, she had let down her modest ways. He was helping her with the clinic, doing some small errands and welcoming the patients. Oibore's arrival had been noticed from the neighborhood, and she had taken advantage of it, to build it into a lie in order to explain Enishi's presence, pretending that they were old friends of her late father. She implied that they had arrived together. It was a sure bet, as Aizu, the city which had stayed the longer faithful to the Bakufu, was still living in a kind of organized chaos, even the cops couldn't really say who was who. It also prevented any gossip, Oibore's presence legitimating Enishi's, and the fact that they were living in her house. She had also provided them with a background, and according to it they were father and son. The implacable light in her eyes when he had protested had told him that she knew. How, he could guess, but he wasn't going to ask Oibore. He didn't want to have anything to do with it.
It cost him, again. Enishi particularly hated the way he was likening Megumi to his dead daughter. As beautiful, as ladylike, as polite and respectful as she had been, he said. Enishi was feeling restless each time. He felt like shaking some sense into the old man. The third person, the omission of the name was unnerving enough, yet it was not the point. Oh he loved Tomoe, more than anything, anyone in the world. But Megumi had a strength, a way of expressing her mind, that Tomoe would never, ever had have. They were similar on shallow points, but oh so different deep down! The doctor's awkwardness at his praising comments had only reinforced Enishi's belief that she knew who was the daughter in question.
Shaking his anger away, he stretched his arms out of the hot tub, satisfied as he felt his muscles playing. Megumi had been very strict, with that reeducation stuff, and sometimes he thought he hated her. She was setting limits, she was holding him on, and she was right. She had let him work on his upper body more than on his legs, though, and the difference was palpable. He had been surprised the first time that their séance had left him trembling, his muscles sore. She had been utterly, sadistically happy about it. He was getting better, according to her twisted point of view. He refused to agree, although he was feeling more in harmony with his body than he had in a long time. He was now welcoming the bath he could take after their common training. He was only washing his body before, and since Oibore was there, he could get help to dive into the hot, soothing water of the tub. That was a change for the better. He had never dared to ask her to. There was something in her attitude that stopped him. Not because she didn't take enough care of him. She was awfully busy, a summer's wave of cold and the typhoons striking the island in late august having brought her a good share of sick or wounded people, but everyday, she was spending at least 3 hours with him, helping him in his exercises to recover his full mobility.
He got out of the bath, in still unsure, shaky moves. It was an improvement, though. Soon he wouldn't need Oibore to help him anymore. He managed to enter his bedroom, exhausted by the effort, and laid on the futon, waiting for strength to come back to him.
It was dark when he woke up. Shit, was he still that weak that walking alone would make him falling into a deep slumber? Looking over the window, he realized that the full moon was already high in the sky. It was sure past midnight.
Getting rid of his towel, he grabbed his yukata, wrapping it around his now dry, naked body, wondering if the two others already had dinner. He doubted it, otherwise a tray would be waiting for him next to his futon and Oibore would be snoring loudly next to him. He had got used to that, too. He heard some plaints. She was having a nightmare again, and she wasn't in her room. He opened carefully his door, and got a glimpse on her. She had fallen asleep, head resting on the coffee table. He was moving forward when the clinic door opened, and Oibore came in. He saw the compassion in the old man's eyes.
"Otosan!" she called softly.
Oibore went closer, and patted her shoulders.
"Otosan!" she whispered again.
Suddenly she opened her eyes, and he saw awareness slowly dawning into the sad, widened orbs, before she turned to Oibore.
"You had a nightmare, Takani-sensei," he began, distancing himself from her, but she wouldn't let him.
She maintained his hand on her shoulder, murmuring: "Just a moment, please."
Megumi was ashamed of her unrestrained behavior. She could only deplore it, not fight it. The recurrent nightmares about her father had pursued her each day since Enishi was at her place. This man's words had provoked them, she was aware of it, and she needed him to take it away.
Oibore smiled to her, soothingly.
Enishi didn't want to witness it, but part of him was fascinated. Once, once only he had seen him like this..so long ago..And she was so vulnerable. He had heard her having nightmares before, but never his eyes had witnessed her distress.
She finally let go of the old man's hand, stiffening to recover her usual polite demeanor.
"I'm sorry," she said with her calm voice. "I was still.."
"It's OK, it's OK! No offense," laughed Oibore, patting her shoulder again. This time his movements were awkward, forced, so different from the previous sure, fatherly ones.
Instead of taking the opportunity to dismiss carelessly the embarrassing event, she gazed at him thoughtfully, like when she was forming a diagnosis, and Enishi could feel the growing uneasiness of Oibore.
"You didn't lie to me, did you?" she asked. She had guessed because of his relief when he saw that Enishi was still at her place, and the worry he had shown when she had told him about the wounds. He had told the truth in Kyoto. But she wanted certainties now.
Oibore took some time to answer. She didn't give up.
"You are," she stated.
Enishi closed the door, sat on the futon, and began to repeat some exercises that she had shown him, emptying his mind, focusing on his wounded ankle. Yes, she knew, and what would follow was none of his business. He didn't care.
Oibore glanced at her face. It was beautifully sophisticated, like his beloved daughter's, but the features had a determination that his sweet Tomoe never had, to his knowledge, although he conceded that it wasn't much.
"Yes, I am," he admitted, both reluctant and relieved to at last say the truth.
"His father. Their father," she insisted, as she felt his need to say not only the truth, but the words.
"Yes, I am their father," he repeated, solemnly.
"He knows, doesn't he?"
Oibore stayed stubbornly silent this time, but she was sure of this. Enishi's attitude was too peculiar, his refusal of the fake identity she had provided too unreasonable for her to think otherwise.
"Why are you doing this? Why are you accepting his attitude?"
"He has every right to. I never did anything.."
"But you're his father," she exclaimed, bewildered. How could Enishi reject him like this? It was beyond her comprehension. If only she had the same luck, she wouldn't..
"How did you loose yours?" he asked then.
She glanced down. "Here, during the fire. The whole city was burning. My mother and brothers had stayed home, and he had let me go with him to visit some patient. Then suddenly..everything crumbled down. We were trying to make it home, but everybody was going crazy, people fighting in the streets, fire was setting everywhere. We were in a house, I don't know how or why. He put me in a man's arms, he wanted me to be safe, I didn't want to. Now I think he was trying to get some people out of there, I think I followed him though he told me not to. I'm not sure..I only can see the house collapsing on him." Her voice broke. "He died there."
"Your father was a doctor, too? That old lady told me."
"Kobayashi-san? She's one of the few who remember him. He was, and both my brothers."
"She said he was a good man. You can be proud of him. And he would surely be proud of you."
She laughed bitterly. "I'm sure he isn't."
Oibore didn't answer, too puzzled at her dry, disabused reaction. She was the one to speak again.
"When did you find him? How?"
"Fate," he mused, "or coincidence? I found him in Rakuninmura.."
He felt her tensing. Her eyes had once again this scrutinizing light that she had only when confronted to a difficult case, at her clinic.
"You..are you this man? You helped him..He said so, Yahiko and Misao too.."she stuttered, after a long, breathless pause.
He nodded, whispering: "He was there when my dear daughter.."
She pressed his hands, and he wanted to go with his careless persona of Oibore, yet her seriousness prevented him to.
"You're a good man. She is surely proud of you, and HE should be," she asserted.
He shook his head. "You don't know my sins.."
"You don't know mine either," she murmured regretfully.
His glance sharpened, as if he was trying to read her soul, and she realized suddenly how alike father and son were, in a way.
She didn't want him to know, though. She stood up, ending the conversation, and announced:
"I really have to prepare some food. It's awfully late, and you must be starving."
She was bending on the pot, re-animating the fire, when he said, simply.
"He never thanked you."
"I'm not doing this to be thanked."
"Sasageru. It's your life, isn't it?"
She whirled to him. He was still on his knees, and bowed, face hitting the tatami.
"Thank you for taking care of my son."
She opened her mouth to protest, but the light blue eyes were full of such an emotion that she ended up speechless. He needed to say that, too.
"You're welcome," she smiled, bowing too in response.
Enishi closed again the door, swiftly, silently. He slid under the sheets, knowing that they were soon to remember his presence. Oibore would respect his attitude, but he was sure that Megumi wouldn't let him pretend unless she thought he didn't hear. He wasn't even sure that she would let him anyway.
Two days. He took her two days to explode. He had felt her resentment growing. Infuriated at himself for not resisting the temptation to spy on her conversation with Oibore, he had been more distant than ever, especially now that he could walk alone. She could have as well attacked him with her dagger, it would have been less menacing than the utterly exasperated gaze she was putting on him each time he was addressing the elder like he was a complete stranger. Which he was, he reminded himself.
They were in the main room; it was already late evening. She was preparing a new ikebana, with pink forget-me-not and deep green bamboo leaves. A strange combination, yet he had no doubt that it would be a good one after she arranged them.
"I'm starving," he hinted.
"Oibore-san went to Kobayashi-san's place, to give her that new medicine I prepared today. We'll eat when he's back."
Enishi snorted. That did it for her, and she slammed her scissors on the table, throwing the plants around.
"You, ungrateful, arrogant brat!" she yelled, standing up suddenly.
She could dominate him when he was unable to move, not anymore, and he imitated her. She was tall for a woman, but he was taller. A little pinch in his ankle ended to exasperate him, too.
"Who do you think you are, woman?"
"And you," she hissed, out of herself. "Who are you to treat your father in such a way?"
"It's none of your fucking business! What do you know about him? Or about me? He doesn't care, I don't care, so stay the damn fuck out of it!" He was the rudest he could, but that didn't deter her.
She laughed mockingly. "He doesn't care? What I know? All right, tell me what he did so wrong.."
She was so challenging, so sure of herself, that it broke his last restraint and he spat:
"He never cared. He was never a father to me, when he had the occasion to. Working, drinking, sleeping, that was all he did. Tomoe explained it. She said he was a samurai and that his only duties were to the daimyo, the shogun Tokugawa-sama, and the emperor. That's why he couldn't be with us, but we would be protected, no, he would protect us if a war were to take place. And guess what. He didn't. He was weak, he was helpless, and our family was torn apart. And Tomoe died. And he did nothing to prevent it, nothing, nothing!"
He was hysterical now, his turquoise eyes filled with angry lightening, thunder roaring in his voice. Too furious, Megumi didn't pay any attention to his dangerous stance, and kept the beat, her voice reaching its highest pitch.
"How terrible. Was he beating you? Leaving you to sleep with the dogs? Sold you to slave traders? Did he DO anything to purposefully hurt you? I know you had a hard life, but did he wish you to have it? Wouldn't give now his own life to change it if he could?"
They were facing each other, out of breath. Suddenly, Megumi sat down again, re ordering the flowers on the table.
"Is that all you have against him? That he wasn't strong enough, that he didn't show you any affection the way Tomoe-san did? Is that only why you resent him?"
Her voice was sensible, and her tone so sad, that his overwhelming furor disappeared at once. He settled again in front of the table.
"I don't resent him," he admitted. "I did, before, but not anymore. I even kind of..appreciate him. You can't understand. He doesn't need me, and I don't anymore."
"How can you be so sure?" she whispered softly.
Cynicism dominated him again. "I survived alone, without him, and even without Tomoe. I don't need him."
"I wasn't talking about you," she objected, cutting a bamboo with her scissors in a swift and sure move.
His heart missed a beat.
Her glance never leaving her task, she kept talking in the same smooth intonations.
"My family wasn't from the samurai class, but my father had enough patients in it so I can know about the way of the sword. The fathers were always distant. It was the way they were taught to be. Tomoe-san was right, when she explained you. They were living for and by the Bushido, and, though their lives belonged to their daimyo, protecting their families was one of their duties. Like you wanted to protect Tomoe-san. Did you ever consider that your father has been as hurt as you were, even more, by his failure to protect his children? Did you ever try to put yourself in his place? I'm sure it shouldn't be so difficult."
Enishi's throat constricted. He had never put himself in Tomoe's place before the island. His sister's face appeared to him, she wasn't talking but her black eyes were trying to tell him something.
"According to yourself, your father was only guilty of something he couldn't control. He had limits. Is the way you want people to be more important than what they really are? Do you need them to be flawless to accept them?"
Tomoe wasn't perfect. Tomoe didn't need him as much as he did. He had been hurt when he found out. Yet he still loved her.
She finished the arrangement, and he was gazing at the natural yet elaborated harmony she had created. Only then she looked into his eyes again.
"He told me that he was your father in Kyoto. I wasn't sure it was true. I knew the moment I told him that you were sick. Because he was concerned. And most of all, because he looked guilty. I don't know what happened with you in Rakuninmura, but I'm sure that he was aware of your physical condition in Kyoto. Yet he went with you, in spite of that, or because of that. Only parents can care that much, to accept their children's mistakes, to witness their pain whatever it hurts them, to accept the way you've been treated him since he's there. And probably since you met again."
The rainy seasons, the winters' memories filled his mind, so violently that his brain began to throb painfully.
Holding the vase with infinite precautions, she put it in the toko no ma before lighting some incense. Her voice was only a whisper as she finished.
"And you know why I accepted to take care of you in Kyoto? Because when he asked me, I saw the same light that was in my father's eyes, the last time I saw him, as he begged this stranger to save me from the fire."
She had taken the little medicine box, and was gazing at it, thoughtfully.
He had to get out of there. On shaky legs, he returned to his bedroom.
Enishi entered the clinic the next morning, after doing his first series of exercises alone in his room. He had waited for Megumi and Oibore to leave the house. He had cautiously avoided both of them since his conversation with her, pretending to sleep again.
An old, little shrunk woman was sitting on a chair, Oibore chatting with her animatedly, and Megumi was at her desk, writing something down.
"Ozawa-san, is that finally your son that I see here?" asked excitedly the at least century-old thing.
He bowed, curtly, remembering his fake identity. "I'm Ozawa Tetsuro. Yes, this is my father. Takani-sensei, I wondered if you could give me some new bandages."
Her expression had been blank for 30 good seconds, he noticed with satisfaction. Then she smiled gracefully. "Of course, Ozawa-san."
"What a handsome boy you have here!"
He nodded to his father before following Megumi to the supply closet. The old man had smiled heartily to him. It made him feel good. Megumi smiled again, handing him what he had asked for. That felt even better. Leaning on the communication door after he came back to the house, he closed briefly his eyes. Tomoe was smiling to him, too. She had since he had taken his decision to give their father a chance.
"You can make a fuss about it if you want, Nee-san. But don't expect me to let them," he grinned.
To their credit, they didn't even try to. His father was adjusting to his pace. They would have to talk about the past one day, probably, but neither of them was in a hurry, satisfied with the situation. Obviously, Megumi didn't intend to push things farther again. She was satisfied, too.
That should bother him. He was, somehow, kind of..well, grateful for her to have helped him seeing things in another perspective. On the other hand, he had let her convince him. The fact that she had been surprised at his swift change of mind was moderating its extend, still she had influenced him.
That didn't bother him. Something else did. She knew almost everything about him, and he was still clueless about her. He remembered the report about her now. Family of doctors, disappeared in the Aizu battle, and nothing until she had come out of the blue into Battousai's circle. The only odd thing was that report Seta Soujiro had made to Shishio, about Shinomori wanting to kill her in order to find their enemy's whereabouts. They had seemed to know each other, according to the little man. They had found it curious, too. That was why the Oniwabanshu/ Takani Megumi association had immediately impressed him, during their first conversation.
She was now in good terms with the Oniwabanshu. Well, Battousai was too. Had she been first connected to him or to them? No matter how he was trying to order his limited knowledge, he couldn't find an answer.
And it was becoming an obsession, he was conscious of it. He had been living in her house for 4 months, he was spending several hours each day with her, he knew her in some way, and her life was still a mystery to him. He had to know.
She had gone to visit a patient again, and her room was just next to his. Oibore was supposed to keep company to Kobayashi-san at her house for the afternoon. He had some time in front of him.
Determined, he entered her place. It was not the forbidden realm that he had expected. In fact, it was very similar to his own room. It was more feminine, with the embroidered covers on the futon, a mirror and make up on top of a wooden box of the corner, and the design on the closet were of pastel pink instead of the green in the other rooms. He approached it, and stopped short.
He felt sacrilegious and rather pervert at the idea of searching in her clothes. He didn't know if there were some in the boxes, too, not kimonos but underwear, that would make him feel even more uncomfortable. The thought of that pig, Kaneda, crossed his mind. He couldn't do that.
For anybody else, he wouldn't have minded, but it was not anybody, it was Megumi. His doctor. His..what? Somebody he had a relative trust in. Who trusted him enough to open her house to a man she knew was a criminal. She would never forgive him if she discovered him here. He could sense it.
He got out, bewildered at the sudden attack of his moral sense. What happened to him, that he was getting so delicate? Soon he could help her with ikebana, maybe, or do the laundry, and even cook for her, if he wanted to behave like a lady.
He wanted answers, if there were somewhere it was in her room, so he would go, and search everywhere.
He was ready to push the panel open again when something grazed on the main door, startling him. He sighed as he saw the letters falling on the entrance floor, through the little slit of the door.
That was a better idea. He went to pick them up, his jaw clenching as he saw the upper one. Kamiya Dojo, Tokyo. Battousai.
He opened it without even taking any precautions. It was more an instinctive reaction, than anything else.
To Megumi-dono,
At last the summer's heat is over, may the freshness of September arrive with this letter, which will I hope find you well.
It has been a while that we didn't hear from you, we guess that you are very busy taking good care of your patients, and I would like to reiterate my gratitude for your spending so much time with us in Tokyo. I know that Kaoru-dono wouldn't have survived without you, despite your soothing protests.
Kenji is growing up and healthy, and Kaoru-dono asks me to stress how beautiful our son is. His eyes will be the same color as mine, as you thought. He has more and more hair, too, and they're darkening a little. We are planning to take him to Yokohama, and to make pictures soon. We will send you one so you can see by yourself.
I finally talked to her, last month. She has been very shattered. She really wanted many children. I underestimated this, unfortunately. She seems back to normal, she is very brave as always, yet she is now overprotective with Kenji. She carries him with her all the time, and refuses that anybody approaches him but me. He isn't very pleased when I do, though. Thank you for the letter you left me, too, your advice has been a great guidance in my attitude, which would have been clueless otherwise, I'm afraid. I trust your opinion that her behavior, that you have so cleverly foreseen, is only a phase.
This is merely a concern, and as I know you, I would like to reassure you. I'm blessed with my wife and son, and I'm happier than I've ever been. I'm unworthy of such bliss, and I own it to you in part.
We had a letter from Sano, he's somewhere in Siam, at least he was! He tells you that he's taking care of his hand, and hopes that you aren't missing too much your most interesting patient. You know how Sano is..
Misao-dono sent us a message this morning, by their usual way. Now I have to wash some of the sheets again, as the messenger left a little souvenir on them. It seems that Aoshi and Misao-dono are to be wedded next year. She then sent a message for Kaoru-dono, and Okina-dono sent me two other ones, to give us some details and about the (not Aoshi's style at all) ceremony that he plans. You should hear from them soon.
Everybody wishes to see you there, Kaoru-dono and I will be glad if you could visit us until then, at any time.
Please take care of your health,
Himura Kenshin.
He read the letter several times, even the details he didn't care about. He didn't know how many times, but he stayed there, immobile, for an eternity.
The opened letter was suddenly ripped off his hands.
"How dare you!" she yelled in his face, then she looked down at the paper, and frowned. She finally gazed at him, distant, cold. "Never do this again."
"Are you going to call the police?" he proposed cynically. "To protect your dear Battousai from me?"
Frowning again, Megumi realized what he was implying. That she thought he was going to hurt Ken-san again. She had never really believed he would in the first place, it wasn't to do it now, when they had spent all these months in that closed, little space; that she got to know him, too. She didn't take the decision to let him stay at her place and hide him from the police lightly. She had reflected on it during the two weeks he had been unconscious. He had saved Kaoru-san. He had the diary. He had been so shattered on the island, after the duel was over. She was familiar with hate enough to know when it died, and she had seen the hate dying in him. And now, she was sure that she had taken the right decision. Enishi wasn't rotten to the bone, like they had believed, far from it. He had been blinded by his hate and committed crimes. He wasn't the same person as during Jinchuu, and although the Tiger didn't loose his clutches, he wouldn't use them against Ken-san anymore. She was glad that she helped the real person he was, no matter how unnerving and difficult he could be. But she had to settle boundaries clearly.
"Never intrude my privacy again, or you're out of here," she uttered clearly. "Now, don't stay too long on that leg, you should rest a little before we start today's exercises."
"I could go after him."
Childish gall again. "If you say so," she answered indifferently.
"I hate him."
"No you don't."
He tightened his fists. After he lost over Oibore, she wasn't going to have her way again. She was right, though. He had realized reading Battousai's letter, and was still shocked at the discovery. Learning that Battousai had a son had reactivated the old reflex, the old bitterness. A rush of acidity had attacked his stomach, at the unfairness of this man enjoying a family with his sister's replacement, when she was lying under the ground. Nevertheless, learning that he couldn't have other children, that he had some sources of concern and sadness, didn't please him. It should have, anything that made Battousai suffer was a delight to him. But he wasn't delighted. The next paragraph of the letter had been even more disturbing to him. Battousai was saying that he was happy, in spite of that. He was still thinking that it was unfair, but it didn't anger him madly like before. He could stand the idea. He almost, almost..didn't care. He didn't hate Battousai anymore, not enough to enjoy his torments, certainly not to inflict him some.
"Maybe, one day," she murmured.
He decided to set things straight. "Never. Never I'll forgive him," he stated forcefully, with all his soul, or what was left of the thing after the life he had led. "You want me to say it. Perfect. I don't hate him anymore. But Tomoe died for him. She gave his life to save him. She died BECAUSE of him, and I will never, ever forgive him for that."
Megumi paled. Aoshi's companions. They died because of her. It was the same.
"I'm sorry," she apologized. "You're right. You can't be expected to do this."
She was turning away when he grabbed her wrist.
"Why? Why are you trying to understand me? You know what I'm capable of."
"You've changed."
"But what I DID isn't. I even told about this family I killed."
"Every man commits sins. It's not my place to judge them. Let go of me," she demanded, calmly.
"Don't you see me as a monster?"
It wasn't a cynical challenge, this time. Her eyes darted into his, and he saw briefly an endless sorrow in their depth as she answered.
"I know what a monster is. You aren't like this, Enishi."
He released his grasp on her, under the emotion she had just provoked. She set herself free and went away. This time, he didn't try to hold her back.
To be continued.
Author's notes:
Continuity/inaccuracy points: Being with Enishi at the cemetery, Megumi can assume that Oibore knows Enishi's past and the existence of "Battousai", as he knew that Enishi was pursued by the police (and in 2 months they had time to make the point clear). Unless I'm very wrong Megumi never went to Rakuninmura or met Oibore, though I think she surely heard about that strange old man from the people who did.
Next chapter: You think it's going smoothly? Enishi's past seems behind him, but what about Megumi's? And Enishi has forgotten part of the "family"! Yes, he's back, worse they're back, even worse..well, as the "introspection" first half of the fic is done, time for more action.
See you!
Kamorgana
