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... ano toki ...

'sono no shinji tte'

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Rain fell piercingly to the ground, arguing to flood within and swallow up the man whole of his judgment. Shinta lay on the ground of the dojo, arms sprawled about his shoulders, shivering and sweating with fevering frost and glacial scalding. It had been almost one week since he had left the Aoiya.

Since he had forgotten them.

Although they were more than he could have ever asked, he couldn't take their kindness. He wanted to die ... no, he still wanted to live ... he wanted more than them ... but no, that was all he deserved, after all, he was nothing but presumptuous manslayer. But... every time he invoked upon his thoughts, his conscious tore apart. Each and every time the howling suggestions flung back and forth through the corridors of his unorganized mind.

Their letters had streamed in through the week, pleading him for answer. He read them, but never answered. Some were from Midori-chan, pleading for 'Himura-san to return,' and he could practically hear the sickeningly delightful sound of her tragic, songbird voice, beseeching he return. Most of the letters had been written by Misao, and the rest, Aoshi. Shinta even spotted some from Okon and Omasu...he laughed to himself, as he knew that Misao would always do everything in her able power to see that her friends were well.

But giving him letters wasn't going to change this feeling that ate him more and more everyday. This desire to put out the candle of life...to let his chubby stump of wax wither away, disintegrate and die...and to perhaps finally find his angel. But unwittingly, he knew that he would be pillaging the hearts of his longtime companions. That wasn't fair to anyone. Not even to himself.

Shinta rolled onto his side and stared at the slightly opened doorway, the rain still cascading like fallen angels from the heavens. The clouds were thick and lined with shaven smog; the sight was almost terrifying. The lightning struck every few minutes, thereafter the undulating echo of thunder resonating throughout the city of Tokyo. The weary samurai lay still, socks and shoes thrown off somewhere, and shirt flung across the floor. It was now gathering dust from lying there for so long. He simply gazed from the floor, his slanted vision focusing away from what was in the border of the room.

In the front of the dojo lay not only the remains of the late master of the Kamiya-Kasshin no Ryuu...but also the cremated relics of Kamiya Kaoru. And every time those banners were displayed upon his eyes...every time he saw those words...he just wanted to die.

//Here lies Kamiya Kaoru...a beautiful wife, an exquisite Sensei, a darling woman, and almost a mother to be//

Slashing...for a while he did that in hopes of dying with her...slashing parts of his arms to feel the cool tip of his own honing knife. But soon he found that was a pitiful way to pass. Seppuku...yes...he could have...but no. It wasn't how he was going to elapse. It didn't need an explanation. Kaoru would also be furious with him if he were to let go of himself.

...but who was to say that not only she, but also Tomoe...both frowning? On him? Yes...they both must be, he thought. This world of evil was fitting for the unjust man whom he was created to be. He didn't blame this heartache on anyone but himself. Not Buddha, not God, not any higher being, but only on Shinta and Shinta alone.

The rain was his only isolated company now. The ame of beautiful time...if perhaps they were the tears of those two...those two, then he could stand and possibly go on. Some shred of proof that they could of been around with him. Iie...he waited ten years for that after Tomoe had sprung forth from continuation.

The rain still drizzled with a slosh upon the rooftop, the only sound he could hear. Everything else was swallowed by defeat. And Shinta was still alone. He swathed his arms even more securely around his body, and began to whimper, the wet, salty tears sticking to the floor and dampening his hair to the ground again. He curled himself into a ball and stayed there, afraid of moving, but afraid of staying there, for what if he died in that spot? What if he just...slipped?

Footsteps in the sound of rain. The footsteps of a pair of wooden geta...moving closer. A child caught in the storm, Shinta assumed as he still wept inaudibly. But he could still hear them moving closer and closer. Those footsteps sounded like those of an intruder. They...were trying to hide themselves.

The paper door slowly opened ajar, and Shinta stared as he held his sword in hand, ready to attack. He had peeled himself from the ground and stood weakly, gazing at the figure, bathed in shadow. He continued to stare, and the only sound between he and the interloper was the pitter of the rain hitting his face and hitting the ground beyond the man's reach. And it stretched.

...

"I knew I would find you here, Himura-san." Came the low voice, calm, serene, and with a shaded tint of happiness. The vision stepped forward, shaking his hair from the rain's grasp and stood before Shinta.

"Seta-"

"We can talk later, Himura-san." Soujirou said quietly as he removed his jacket and geta. Shinta in spite of everything stood, staring at the boy with utter confusion and shock, holding his sword loosely. Soujirou quirked his lips up into a smile. He breathed into speak and closed his eyes as he walked forward a few paces.

"I knew you'd-"

But before he could finish his statement, warm arms wrapped themselves around Seta's waist and Shinta grabbed Soujirou into a tight but slightly weak spirited hug. The blade clattered to the ground as time stood still. Shinta dug his damp face into Soujirou's hakama and dig his fingers into the Tenken's back, clawing for affection and release. Shinta began to cry into his shirt, and Soujirou awkwardly rubbed his back while he attempted to soothe him.

Pelting rain that never stopped. It kept going; keeping them locked as the man sobbed of happiness and fear.

"--I thought I would never see you again...I was sure you were gone..." Shinta alleged in a whisper, still slumped in the hakama. Soujirou stared down at the ex-hitokiri with wide, cerulean orbs of perplexity. This man had ...changed somehow. He--he seemed less physically powerful, and now...it was all-wrong. But despite that, Soujirou saw that this man needed assistance. He was dying, after all.

"Don't worry, Himura...-kun. I'm...here for you," Soujirou whispered inelegantly. Shinta stared up into the man's bottomless aoi orbs and faked a diminutive smile. He let his head fall back into the boiyo's hakama and stood, not saying a word.

"What has happened to you, Himura-kun?" Soujirou asked sympathetically, his hands not leaving Shinta's shoulders. He kept his loose but firm grip on the man as Shinta even stood. Silence reigned once more as he said not one word.

"Would you in truth be sated if I were to tell you, Seta-san?"

Soujirou uneasily gaped at the older man with confusion, but then he understood, bowing his head slightly.

"...no...I am truly sorry," The Tenken affirmed, lethal hush resting over he and Himura. Soujirou shifted slightly again and rest his chin on the other's scarlet and virtually aged hair. He breathed in the scent, detecting old remnants of cherry-blossom fumes. It smelled nice, elegant. "Do you accept my apology, Himura-san?"

"Hai. You didn't know. And you still don't. Let's keep it that way for right now."

Soujirou had realized the situation, but it still felt like he was dreaming. It was an odd reverie, almost like an elegy weaved into contemplation, but it was not. He still stood.

In this haze and bewilderment, he realized over the years he had grown a few inches taller than Himura-san. So now he stood, his head inching over the top and inhaling the vapors of him. The sweet but regretful aroma of him. Of Himura.

"I-should stop...I'm sorry to have put you in an uncomfortable position, de gozaru," Shinta whispered gently. He eased his way from Soujirou and walked gradually to where his geta lay. The redhead put them on, grabbed his shirt and walked from the room. Soujirou unhurriedly followed and shuffled out of the room after Shinta.

The two walked out in almost single file, but both stopped as they realized the sun had almost come out, and now the sky was as azure as little Ayame's ball. A rainbow was bestowed upon them and they stared, not saying a word to one another. A moment of indulging acceptance filled the area and it was over.

The niji of magnificence.

"Sono no shinji tte, Soujirou-dono," Shinta said quietly without turning around. "I always felt you have."

"And I you, Kenshin."

"Please call me Shinta. I now only refer to myself as Shinta, the boy of the red-hearted village, de gozaru."

A sigh from Shinta was heard and he turned around to the other. Soujirou nodded.

"Hai, Shinta-san."

(tbc)

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