... ano toki ...

RoseMillenia

Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin in any way, shape or form. Although I do not own the original idea of the great animated samurai classic, I do own the contents of this story (as in plot) thus republication/stealing/plagiarism will not be tolerated. You have been warned. (creepy grin)

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... ano toki ...

"H-Himura! Where are you going?!" Misao called out as Kenshin darted past his friends, upset, confused, and trying to see the man in the crowd. The umbrella fell to the ground with a clatter and water sprayed everywhere, as the weight had tipped over. People began to shriek quietly and gasp as Kenshin sped hastily through the crowd like a bullet, searching for the glint of hair he had seen. That hair would mean everything. To see that boy again ... more than anything. More than anything.

Misao tried to chase after him but found that running in a kimono was very useless and stopped in the middle of the street, staring after his rapidly retreating red-and-white figure. Aoshi held her shoulders and stared confused and worried as well as he walked to her slowly.

"Don't worry koishii...he'll be fine...and he'll come back, he's like a lost kitten, ne?" Aoshi smiled and stroked her cheek. Misao weakly tweaked her lips up back at him. But in the furthest retreats of her mind she was desperately searching for reasons why he behaved like that. He had never behaved like that.

"Nn, Aoshi. I know. But I wonder what he's been thinking lately and I worry about him. It's been so recent since Kaoru-chan passed ... I hope our Himura isn't going insane ... and I know that the pain he must feel, oh Himura must feel terrible!" Misao wrapped herself into Aoshi's comforting arms as people continued to stare at them in the streets. Misao began to cry quietly and Aoshi stroked her hair as he 'shh'-ed her. Aoshi wondered himself what was wrong with Himura to make the wanderer act so violently and so strangely. He looked so helpless, so confused, so ... dazed. Aoshi had never seen the expression laid upon the man's face before. The Oniwabanshuu-Shisho was doubting his own words to himself. What if this was just the beginning of strange acts of Himura? What would become of the man? An empty shell? Was that his future?

Iie.

It was not.

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Keep running, keep running, you'll find him, you will...These were the thoughts processing in the ex-hitokiri's mind. The only thoughts, actually. There was no 'if it's not him' or 'what about the Shinomori's?' Only the constant reminder of that boy. That boy who he thought about for long. A long time, forever thinking about how he was getting on, how he was doing in the diseased and cruel world full of hate and disorder, wondering if that boy was even still alive. Was it true? Soujirou no Tenken? In Kyoto?

Kenshin kept up the pace and ran through the herds of people, knocking some aside and most gasping in surprise as he ran faster and faster, gaining speed. There was no sight of that man.

Soon, Kenshin found he was getting gradually tired. His body had been developing some sort of resistance to sickness and pestilence over the years as he never found himself to be really ill, but he seemed weak in his bones and joints, or his muscles sometimes. Some mornings he got up, alone, and just lay in bed. The majority of the time he didn't even do strenuous activity, he lay in bed. Aching. He didn't like the way it made him feel, with its oblique sense of how long he had to live. He estimated not many years were left on his life as it was. Oh well. He really had nothing else to live for anyway. Kenshin didn't even want to recall the principle of Hiten-- the will to live. He didn't want that anymore. Not ever. He was selfish, he knew. But he hadn't dealt with his own needs his whole life. His needs were to find peace. He was sick of heartache. So sick.

Finally, Kenshin stopped in the road and turned around slowly, trying to catch his breath. He turned to the right side of the crowded street and lay his back against a wall. So tired, so tired ...

Soujirou no Tenken... perhaps he was just a dream. A mirage. Not existing in this realm any longer. Maybe giving up was just right. Maybe.

Maybe. But maybe wasn't good enough. The boy had to be alive, no matter what Kenshin's feeble inner mind might scream at him. Well, this was utterly hopeless. Finding that man in the crowded city wasn't going to improve his chances for anything. A friend? Yeah right. No one ... no one was there anymore. No one he could cry with. To share his pain. Perhaps he had brought all of this utter misery upon himself. Maybe that was the entire irony of this evil facade. He could never escape it. He had brought it all upon himself.

...

I can never ever escape this ... and I don't see anyone attempting to help either ... even if they did, it really wouldn't matter in the end ...

Kenshin finally turned back towards north, the direction of the Aoiya. He had to go back to apologize to the Shinomori's. One more night he would stay. One more night of being semi-content. This was always dragging him down more with all of his new negative thoughts, he hated how his brain was transforming his former serene wanderer figure into a self-piteous bastard who didn't deserve to live anymore. It wasn't fair! Nothing was fair anymore!

What about those who had even less fortunate lives? The samurai had forgotten that foremost. It was a terrible thing, to worry about himself above others. But what could the worthless shell of a man effect the society?

The truth was that he couldn't. But he could try to live out his life to the best he possibly could. Maybe. Maybe that's what was just intended. Maybe he was ready for the death, or worse, the life.

His constant closure of thought and of mind hurt him day by day, although he tried to fight it. But maybe. Maybe he would be all right.

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Night had come to the Aoiya. Darkness succumbed and flood through the city like wildfire. The Aoiya was full of excitement as the Shinomori's, (Kenshin and Midori included) celebrated Misao's spectacular twenty-seventh birthday. Candles were burning brightly about the house, lanterns strewn about as well, and though not everyone was at the party, the Shinomori's talked quietly. They emitted warm radiant light.

The Aoiya had been dramatically changed from those years ago. Okina was long since gone, and the other members of the Oniwabonshuu soon after had decided that the time had come to separate. Okon and Omasu had left and begun their own professions as martial arts instructors, and the two men leaving two join Nippon's army. All four were excellent fighters and comrades, as well as friends and the light that had shone those years ago when all of the Kyoto Oniwabon Squad was around was greatly missed. But, time did go on.

Misao and Aoshi had their first daughter, Midori, about three years ago. Almost as long as their marriage. But Aoshi had diminished his cold, ice like barriers when he first held the small girl in his arms that proud summer evening.

Midori was the genki-est little girl to be born. Perhaps even more so than her mother, who was, of course, oh-too-proud to have a sugar-high-sunlight-and-dandelions kind of girl as her own. But, Midori was also like her father in many ways, too. She had her fits, but instead of taking her anger out on her parents as some children did with carrying on with screaming and pounding of fists, she ran to the large gingko tree and sat by it's roots, her knees to her chin, taking grass from the ground, plucking at it furiously. She sometimes cried when she was angry, but never sniffled. Tears just came down her face. Midori had a look of pure concentration usually bestowed upon her young and cheery face when she was angry like that. It was as though she was calculating how to go through with her emotions. Normal humans just tend to let their feelings out without bothering to look at what the outcome might be of the sudden burst. But even as young as Midori was, she was still Aoshi's daughter. She was a thinker. But ... as Misao so bluntly put it to Aoshi, she was a 'thinker with a cute, cheery little smile!'

Midori's appearance was quaint. She was adorable, there was no denying it. But she held the studious expression and hues her father possessed. Instead of having her mother's always bright and wide orbs, she was a content child with unforeseeable actions. Her hair was long, and surprisingly snowy white, which had scared Kenshin greatly when he had first seen her. His first instincts were 'Enishi' but he realized it just must have been an ancestor of one of the parents. Midori wore partial bits of her hair in a back ponytail, the rest just grazing her shoulders. She wore kimonos at times, but usually wore her mother's old ninja gear from when she was young. Midori was only too happy to wear it, as she proudly ran about her house proclaiming she wanted to be a ninja when she was older. She wanted to be her mom. Misao was always very proud to hear that. Aoshi too, his family was thriving on love. If he was still the same cynical bastard he had been in the past, he doubted he would have gotten this far as to have a normal life, with a family and wife. It was a sense of pride that coursed through the thirty-four-year- old veins.

The party had not even begun. Kenshin was just arriving and walking through the hallway when he heard the small patter of socks on wood floor. He turned his head slightly.

"...oro?"

"Ken-san! Konnichi wa, Ken-san!" Midori suddenly proclaimed as she ran to Kenshin and wrapped herself tightly around his legs. Her hair was up in a tight ponytail and she wore the exact duplicate of what Misao used to wear but in several sizes smaller. Her bright eyes shone with happiness as she snuggled into Kenshin even more lovingly. Kenshin smiled happily and scooped the girl into his arms. He smiled and kissed her softly on the head. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Ah! Ken-san, Momma didn't know if you were coming, Ken-nee! But Midori knew, Midori knew all along you were coming! Ai! You love us, ne, Ken-san?" Midori said gleefully. Kenshin rubbed her hair tenderly.

"Hai, Midori-chan. I do. Now let's get to your momma's party, shall we?" Kenshin placed her back on the ground.

"Yay! Follow me, Ken-san!" Midori suddenly took off, turning right down a hallway and her arms flying behind her. The samurai grinned and took off his geta, lying them by the door. He also removed his sakabatou from his waist belt and rest against the wall.

"MOMMA! KEN-SAN IS HERE!!"

"Midori! Not so loud, I'm right here! Jeez!" came Misao's slightly irritated tone.

"Watch your mouth, would you, Midori?" Aoshi replied.

Kenshin smiled slightly and walked forward down the hallway, going towards the bright lights in the room to the left. He rest his hand upon the wood entrance and stared in. The room was decorated with confetti and large kanji banners which stated: 'Tanjoubi Omedetou!"

Battousai walked forward and rest his hand upon Misao's shoulder lovingly.

"Happy birthday, Misao-chan," Kenshin said with a warm grin. Misao giggled.

"Arigatou, Himura." Misao smiled and held her daughter in her lap.

The party commenced, foreign sweets called 'cakes' were eaten and sweet tea was served. Gifts were open, and finally Midori went to sleep on her father's back, twisting her little fingers in his hair. The adults put her to bed and began to chat semi-happily. Finally, at about ten-o-clock they began to talk about what had occurred that day earlier on.

"Himura? What happened? You frightened me so badly," Misao said sadly. Kenshin averted his gaze, but then turned back to the genki woman. He smiled, closing his eyes.

"Gomen nasai, Misao-chan. I don't know what came over me. Please forgive me. And I truly hate to spoil the good mood, de gozaru, but I will have to leave shortly. I've realized that I can't waste any more of your time, and that I really have to get back to the dojo and clean, it gets rather dirty when I'm not there ..." Kenshin knew he was rambling. He stood and began to gather his things, leaving Misao and Aoshi stunned.

"Himura! What are you talking about? What do you mean 'waste our time?' You mean everything to us, Himura!" Misao called as Kenshin turned and began to walk out of the room. She stood up and was about to run after this emotionally beaten man when she stopped, dead in her tracks, and caught his side shot. He had tears streaming from his eyes, unable to stop, no cease in sight. She gasped and held her hands to her mouth. His eyes, burning, liquid amethyst, not ceasing to dry ... such a sad sight. Misao felt her own eyes well up, and Aoshi stood behind her, wondering what she had seen.

"Misao?"

She slumped to the ground, leaning on her knees in huge dissatisfaction, letting her own tears fall to the ground, pelting her kimono. Aoshi looked to her, rubbing her shoulders. He kissed the side of her head.

"What's wrong?"

Misao didn't answer. She simply sat there, not able to say anything, the tears still falling freely. She had known that man since she was sixteen years old, eleven years ago ... and she had never once seen that powerful, god-like being let a single tear drop out of his own pity. This perhaps was the most frightening thing she had ever laid eyes upon. He was losing his will.

"Himura!" Misao sprung from the ground, her agile body maneuvering away form Aoshi quickly, and she sprinted out the door. She stood at the doorway, staring out at darkness, tears splashing to the ground in anguish and sorrow. She stared and found no one, not a trace that the man had ever been there.

"HIMURA!" She screamed into the night. "WE CARE ABOUT YOU TOO MUCH TO LET YOU GO! DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?!" She thrashed, screaming and hitting the ground as she fell to her knees.

Aoshi stood behind her, never once intervening, knowing she needed to let this out. This was a tragedy.

The darkness still held impeccable annoyance as she couldn't see where he had gone off to. But, a flying, whooshing sound was heard and above Misao in the crimson light stood Himura Battousai, with eyes as yellow as the sun. He stood above, tears still streaming, he stood above in sorrow. Misao stood up, staring at him, staring into his assassin eyes and he took her shoulders, shaking madly with grief, anger, frustration, and above all else, tormenting sadness.

"I know you care ... I know you care ... but that isn't ENOUGH!"

And he was gone.

Misao stood stunned once again, unable to say a word. No tears fell anymore, this was beyond sadness. She just stood, frozen in time, not able to conjure a happy thought. Himura ... had gone completely insane.

(tbc...)

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