xxXXxx
... ano toki ...
sotto me o tojite
(it's okay to close your eyes)
xxXXxx
disclaimer: i do not own rurouni kenshin. i am but a lowly 16 year old girl who eats eggs and sleeps in her clothes she wears during the day when she get too engrossed in typing. that's all. please don't hurt me. *ah!*
more notes: -...- -- denotes thinking of one person
xxXXxx
The sun set dangerously, its wide open sight splayed across the fields in ruby, carrot, and golden emissions. Shinta gazed out the window of his home at the sight with a majestic trance. His heliotrope orbs were blank and pale, but he held some satisfaction in his heart for this day. The Tenken had returned to Tokyo. To him. This was joyous. And yet, it was humble.
"Shinta?"
He turned, seeing a modest appearance on Soujirou as the boy stared at him. Soujirou stood at the counter, slicing vegetables for the food he was preparing. Shinta smiled in his direction with counterfeit pleasure.
"Hai?" He asked. Soujirou stopped in his chopping procedure and walked slightly over to the window where Shinta sat.
"Oh...n-never mind," Soujirou replied, a hasty expression lain across his face. Shinta stared at him with slight amusement.
"Hontou wa?"
"Yes, it's nothing, pretend I said nothing at all," Soujirou stated and hurried back to the cutting board. Shinta gazed after the retreating figure (which didn't go far). He stood and stretched his muscles, letting his crimson locks tickle down his back and he shuffled over to the ebony-maned samurai.
"S-shinta-san?"
"Hmm?" Came the solace reply. The redhead took his hands and guided them across the taller man's back daringly, waiting for confused or aghast retort. There came none. Soujirou simply stood, still holding the cutting knife and the only sound between the two was the soft whistling of a pot boiling over.
"My wife is dead."
"..."
The rubbing and close contact continued. Shinta rearranged his arms about the man and held them loosely around his torso. He breathed in the scent around him. Anxiousness, questioning, and even an iota frightened. These were the things running through the mind of Seta. But--it was okay...it was...confusing...
He just had to keep waiting.
"S-she died? How, may I ask?" arrived the choked query from the Tenken. A brush of small breeze ruffled past his tresses, and he grasped that it was a hand making small designs, coiling, twisting, daring. A diminutive sigh was heard, and Shinta still breathed intensely into his back, hugging closer to him.
-He will need to know-
"The Plague."
"Nani?"
"A fatal disease...it contorts the skin, the contours of the human body are distorted and destroyed, all human color is stolen replaced by a vile, decayed hue. And I saw it all. She was dying and I didn't know until it was too late to help her. She died in the dojo, you know," He said all in a tired whisper. "She died in my arms."
Additional deafening hush took hold and an awkward yet mind-sickening moment was set upon the Tenken.
"Gomen nasai, Himura-san...I had no idea..."
"I don't want your pity de gozaru. I just want you to stay," Came the small, resonant statement. It was like a plea, a prayer, and a hinting desire for company. "Everyone else has left me, Soujirou-san...please don't go."
"I won't, I would never," Soujirou stated solemnly. He felt his eyes fill with emotion and dismay, and a small tear glided down the curve of his cheekbone. Shinta still held on, and he shook quietly. He was crying as well.
-Is this what is left? What I came for?-
...
-Maybe. Maybe not. But it's what is now. And it's what I need to help-
"I won't leave unless you want me to. How's that?" The dark-haired boy offered to the redhead calmly. Shinta shook less. He relaxed his grip on the Tenken's hakama and slinked in front of him, a look on his face which was unreadable. They stared in stalemate and the water finally cooled as it stopped spilling over by the sink. Shinta wilted onward faintly; the Tenken watching faithfully and carefully all the while.
"I don't want you to leave at all. I need someone. Someone I can depend on, and help me. Dasukete, Soujirou. I truly need it. I heed it. I understand it. I embrace it. And I think no one but you is the one who can fulfill this burden I need requited. Is this understood?" Shinta alleged with more illegible sentiment. Soujirou sustained his locked gaze on the man before him, and nodded without hesitance or resistance.
"Hai. I understand you. I always have."
"That's good. Now let's just have a nice meal, shall we?" Shinta smiled partially-content. And so they prepared the rest of the meal in calm silence, not uncomfortable silence, but rather a tranquil, needed peace. Discussion would be utilized during the meal. During other times. Then, it wasn't necessary. It wasn't needed to express that moment. Shinta stared up to the taller man twice while chopping onions and smiled to him. And the dark-haired man smiled back. And that's how it was.
---
"Do you enjoy the rice, Seta-san?"
Bowls clanked quietly and were passed from being A to being B with ease and uncomfortable comfort. Ironic, sarcastic remarks could have been made, but they were not.
"Ah, Himura-kun. Very much, arigatou gozaimasu."
"Mmm. Good."
Shinta ate his food quietly on bended knee upon his cushion, composedly sipping his green tea and eating his dish. Seta, on the other hand, was feeling nervous. It wasn't the compromising assured promise he had made, what with the elaborate emotion and all, but it was this unnerving silence that was ebbing away at him like a disease. There was so much he was dying to say, but he couldn't articulate without making himself look like a fool. He had murdered Okubo-san those years ago, Shinta would never forgive him of that. He had murdered his family, Shinta saw the sting in that memory as he had before, but Soujirou knew that the man still believed there could have been an alternative. And the countless victims...oh, so many bodies that were never found, to be forgotten...those families that were probably never found their loved ones that had been executed... Soujirou had put out their lights. He blew out their candles one by one in the long, desecrated hallway of Eternia, and that sin of breath unleashed inched back upon him like the reaper cold hand urging for vengeance. How could one simply walk into a conversation when one knew that old memoirs one had anticipated to be over and done with to suddenly spring to life, as though those corpses had come back to haunt him? It was impossible to talk to this man on general terms, for it would lead back to the thing that both of them knew they could not escape. Death. Everywhere. So he kept his mouth somewhat shut, besides the occasional thought that he felt wouldn't harm anyone by projecting. But...
"Frightened to speak? What could you be afraid of, Tenken?" Shinta supposed aloud with slight amusement through his meal. "I can discern your dread. Of what? Those luminous, catlike golden orbs you've been told about? I've discarded those long ago.. they not only brought fear to the name 'Himura' more than my presence itself, which I don't need anymore as it is, but even so, they don't suit me. I'm not made to have immoral eyes like those." He smiled softly and closed those mauve, liquid ovals that he owned in a lined expression. "I'll never have to use those eyes again. Never ever."
"I was afraid of--of perhaps your perception of me now. You know I've changed, I hope to say. I am not the demented killer I was those many moons ago." Soujirou explained slowly. Shinta gazed at him. Then he burst out into gales of laughter.
"You-you think I haven't considered that you've tainted yourself? Are you out of your mentality even more so than before?" He paused to put down his bowl and to suppress his laughter, although he wasn't doing a fine job. "I know you've changed. And I'm conjecturing that you have also made the very same oath I made when I was eighteen? To never slay again?" He stopped laughing, but mild giggles were heard at minor times, and petite droplets of tears came gushing from his eyes. Soujirou looked intently at this emotional-wreck of a man with mysticism.
"And even if I did, you're still a doddering old fool who is sobbing like a baby into my shirt one minute, then streaming tears of utter hilarity the next. You disturbing elderly idiot!" Then it was at that time that Soujirou began to chuckle. The two ruptured into mirth and glee as the dinner still lay on the table, the samurai sharing a warm moment and exchanging momentary looks through the instant.
The diminutive feast was cleared from the table after they had completed the amusement of the thoughts they spewed and subsequent to actually finishing it altogether. They cleaned those dishes that they had soiled and soon, the hours of darkness had befallen them quickly. The contemplation of where the Tenken was to sleep was a mystery to both occupants of the Kamiya dojo.
"I suppose I could go out and sleep in the dojo if you wish, Shinta-san," Soujirou suggested nonchalantly. Shinta turned to him while they stood in the hallway, considering what to do. His eyes creased upwards into half-moons as he grinned.
"No, it's much too cold in there at night. I don't want you getting sick. Besides--" He walked forward and arched his way into the younger man's grasp- "--what if I was to need you while you were away?" He furrowed his lips into a girlish, devilish game he had invented. Soujirou reddened intensely and stepped away from the daring man. His aoi orbs burned into the ground, trying to find succor by avoiding those crooning, lethargic wine colored ones that enticed him.
"D-dame! I-I can sleep in the dojo, I'm perfectly safe, Shinta-san!" Came the hastened reply of the dark-haired boy. Shinta smirked.
"Fine." He smiled genuinely. "I accept your answer. Do you need clothing? I suspect you arrived here for the sole intention of knowing my well being was in order, and the factor of clothes was temporarily unimportant?" Shinta arched an eyebrow to the younger man as he stared up to him. Soujirou erratically dipped his head. Shinta grinned.
"It's what I had believed. Oh well, I hope you fit into some of my things, Soujirou-kun. Although, I'm not sure of your preference of undergarments. Mine are a little...leisurely, if you please. Follow me." Shinta Soujirou gulped and pursued him into his room, as Kenshin rifled through the closet, full of clothing. Over the years, Kaoru had bought him many garments. He never threw one away, no matter how silly or strange, for they held love. Such love he didn't think he could bear anything he owned to belong to someone else, for everything Shinta owned was in one way or another related to Kaoru. He suddenly pulled out two fabric items out of a small drawer and shut the entrance of his closet, rotating around to face the baffled Soujirou, bathed in half-moonlight. Shinta grinned.
"Excuse me a second, I'll hand you your night clothes in just one moment, I have to change, de gozaru yo."
Soujirou found himself being quickly moved out of the room and he stood in the hallway, perplexed at the events that had just occurred. W-was he hearing correctly?
Suddenly, the door glided open and Shinta stood before him, holding out a pair of white underclothing. Soujirou looked from the garment with a blush, then blushed deeper into discomfiture as he looked to the man ahead of him.
"Konnichi wa, de gozaru," Shinta said casually. He stood wearing nothing but a nicely fit thong, the only thing gracing his curved figure. He was stunning. His hair lay in tangled tresses about his shoulders and his eyes held tired wisdom and thin delight. "Do you like it? For it's what you have to wear as well, de gozaru yo!" More grinning. Soujirou covered his eyes, not saying a word. He thrust his hand in front of Shinta, waiting.
"Oro?"
"Give it to me before I go ballistic and change my mind, Himura!" Soujirou yelled quietly, only semi-angrily. "Just hand it to me, and then I'll come and say konbanwa one last time, okay?" He affirmed, aggravated. Shinta snickered.
"Ooh...touchy. I like that," He giggled.
"Stop that!"
"Hai, de gozaru!"
...
-Yeah, right-
---
Soujirou shifted in his half-sleep as the moon's luminosity surged upon the dusty floor. In and out of rem... in and out. All he could think about was that mopey, emotional dupe Himura...and how much he decided he cared for that sap. Shinta was venting. He couldn't around certain people, but, Soujirou seemed to be someone he could deem laudable in this circumstance.
But besides the things that made Himura -Himura-, the cascading and colliding thoughts of his body slithered everywhere in Soujirou's violated intellect. That beautiful, unattainable essence. No, he wasn't unattainable. But, was he really thinking this through? Was this something he needed?
He still waged a reasonable amount of respect for that man, that man that had once irritated him to the point of lunacy. He still considered him a fair opponent. But--he wasn't sure about what was going on inside the petite and outright lusciously scented head of Himura no Battousai. Sexual undertones were being thrown left and right...and--and what was he going to do?
He dug his palm into the bend of his forehead.
-Oh hell...I'm going insane-
(tbc)
xxXXxx
... ano toki ...
sotto me o tojite
(it's okay to close your eyes)
xxXXxx
disclaimer: i do not own rurouni kenshin. i am but a lowly 16 year old girl who eats eggs and sleeps in her clothes she wears during the day when she get too engrossed in typing. that's all. please don't hurt me. *ah!*
more notes: -...- -- denotes thinking of one person
xxXXxx
The sun set dangerously, its wide open sight splayed across the fields in ruby, carrot, and golden emissions. Shinta gazed out the window of his home at the sight with a majestic trance. His heliotrope orbs were blank and pale, but he held some satisfaction in his heart for this day. The Tenken had returned to Tokyo. To him. This was joyous. And yet, it was humble.
"Shinta?"
He turned, seeing a modest appearance on Soujirou as the boy stared at him. Soujirou stood at the counter, slicing vegetables for the food he was preparing. Shinta smiled in his direction with counterfeit pleasure.
"Hai?" He asked. Soujirou stopped in his chopping procedure and walked slightly over to the window where Shinta sat.
"Oh...n-never mind," Soujirou replied, a hasty expression lain across his face. Shinta stared at him with slight amusement.
"Hontou wa?"
"Yes, it's nothing, pretend I said nothing at all," Soujirou stated and hurried back to the cutting board. Shinta gazed after the retreating figure (which didn't go far). He stood and stretched his muscles, letting his crimson locks tickle down his back and he shuffled over to the ebony-maned samurai.
"S-shinta-san?"
"Hmm?" Came the solace reply. The redhead took his hands and guided them across the taller man's back daringly, waiting for confused or aghast retort. There came none. Soujirou simply stood, still holding the cutting knife and the only sound between the two was the soft whistling of a pot boiling over.
"My wife is dead."
"..."
The rubbing and close contact continued. Shinta rearranged his arms about the man and held them loosely around his torso. He breathed in the scent around him. Anxiousness, questioning, and even an iota frightened. These were the things running through the mind of Seta. But--it was okay...it was...confusing...
He just had to keep waiting.
"S-she died? How, may I ask?" arrived the choked query from the Tenken. A brush of small breeze ruffled past his tresses, and he grasped that it was a hand making small designs, coiling, twisting, daring. A diminutive sigh was heard, and Shinta still breathed intensely into his back, hugging closer to him.
-He will need to know-
"The Plague."
"Nani?"
"A fatal disease...it contorts the skin, the contours of the human body are distorted and destroyed, all human color is stolen replaced by a vile, decayed hue. And I saw it all. She was dying and I didn't know until it was too late to help her. She died in the dojo, you know," He said all in a tired whisper. "She died in my arms."
Additional deafening hush took hold and an awkward yet mind-sickening moment was set upon the Tenken.
"Gomen nasai, Himura-san...I had no idea..."
"I don't want your pity de gozaru. I just want you to stay," Came the small, resonant statement. It was like a plea, a prayer, and a hinting desire for company. "Everyone else has left me, Soujirou-san...please don't go."
"I won't, I would never," Soujirou stated solemnly. He felt his eyes fill with emotion and dismay, and a small tear glided down the curve of his cheekbone. Shinta still held on, and he shook quietly. He was crying as well.
-Is this what is left? What I came for?-
...
-Maybe. Maybe not. But it's what is now. And it's what I need to help-
"I won't leave unless you want me to. How's that?" The dark-haired boy offered to the redhead calmly. Shinta shook less. He relaxed his grip on the Tenken's hakama and slinked in front of him, a look on his face which was unreadable. They stared in stalemate and the water finally cooled as it stopped spilling over by the sink. Shinta wilted onward faintly; the Tenken watching faithfully and carefully all the while.
"I don't want you to leave at all. I need someone. Someone I can depend on, and help me. Dasukete, Soujirou. I truly need it. I heed it. I understand it. I embrace it. And I think no one but you is the one who can fulfill this burden I need requited. Is this understood?" Shinta alleged with more illegible sentiment. Soujirou sustained his locked gaze on the man before him, and nodded without hesitance or resistance.
"Hai. I understand you. I always have."
"That's good. Now let's just have a nice meal, shall we?" Shinta smiled partially-content. And so they prepared the rest of the meal in calm silence, not uncomfortable silence, but rather a tranquil, needed peace. Discussion would be utilized during the meal. During other times. Then, it wasn't necessary. It wasn't needed to express that moment. Shinta stared up to the taller man twice while chopping onions and smiled to him. And the dark-haired man smiled back. And that's how it was.
---
"Do you enjoy the rice, Seta-san?"
Bowls clanked quietly and were passed from being A to being B with ease and uncomfortable comfort. Ironic, sarcastic remarks could have been made, but they were not.
"Ah, Himura-kun. Very much, arigatou gozaimasu."
"Mmm. Good."
Shinta ate his food quietly on bended knee upon his cushion, composedly sipping his green tea and eating his dish. Seta, on the other hand, was feeling nervous. It wasn't the compromising assured promise he had made, what with the elaborate emotion and all, but it was this unnerving silence that was ebbing away at him like a disease. There was so much he was dying to say, but he couldn't articulate without making himself look like a fool. He had murdered Okubo-san those years ago, Shinta would never forgive him of that. He had murdered his family, Shinta saw the sting in that memory as he had before, but Soujirou knew that the man still believed there could have been an alternative. And the countless victims...oh, so many bodies that were never found, to be forgotten...those families that were probably never found their loved ones that had been executed... Soujirou had put out their lights. He blew out their candles one by one in the long, desecrated hallway of Eternia, and that sin of breath unleashed inched back upon him like the reaper cold hand urging for vengeance. How could one simply walk into a conversation when one knew that old memoirs one had anticipated to be over and done with to suddenly spring to life, as though those corpses had come back to haunt him? It was impossible to talk to this man on general terms, for it would lead back to the thing that both of them knew they could not escape. Death. Everywhere. So he kept his mouth somewhat shut, besides the occasional thought that he felt wouldn't harm anyone by projecting. But...
"Frightened to speak? What could you be afraid of, Tenken?" Shinta supposed aloud with slight amusement through his meal. "I can discern your dread. Of what? Those luminous, catlike golden orbs you've been told about? I've discarded those long ago.. they not only brought fear to the name 'Himura' more than my presence itself, which I don't need anymore as it is, but even so, they don't suit me. I'm not made to have immoral eyes like those." He smiled softly and closed those mauve, liquid ovals that he owned in a lined expression. "I'll never have to use those eyes again. Never ever."
"I was afraid of--of perhaps your perception of me now. You know I've changed, I hope to say. I am not the demented killer I was those many moons ago." Soujirou explained slowly. Shinta gazed at him. Then he burst out into gales of laughter.
"You-you think I haven't considered that you've tainted yourself? Are you out of your mentality even more so than before?" He paused to put down his bowl and to suppress his laughter, although he wasn't doing a fine job. "I know you've changed. And I'm conjecturing that you have also made the very same oath I made when I was eighteen? To never slay again?" He stopped laughing, but mild giggles were heard at minor times, and petite droplets of tears came gushing from his eyes. Soujirou looked intently at this emotional-wreck of a man with mysticism.
"And even if I did, you're still a doddering old fool who is sobbing like a baby into my shirt one minute, then streaming tears of utter hilarity the next. You disturbing elderly idiot!" Then it was at that time that Soujirou began to chuckle. The two ruptured into mirth and glee as the dinner still lay on the table, the samurai sharing a warm moment and exchanging momentary looks through the instant.
The diminutive feast was cleared from the table after they had completed the amusement of the thoughts they spewed and subsequent to actually finishing it altogether. They cleaned those dishes that they had soiled and soon, the hours of darkness had befallen them quickly. The contemplation of where the Tenken was to sleep was a mystery to both occupants of the Kamiya dojo.
"I suppose I could go out and sleep in the dojo if you wish, Shinta-san," Soujirou suggested nonchalantly. Shinta turned to him while they stood in the hallway, considering what to do. His eyes creased upwards into half-moons as he grinned.
"No, it's much too cold in there at night. I don't want you getting sick. Besides--" He walked forward and arched his way into the younger man's grasp- "--what if I was to need you while you were away?" He furrowed his lips into a girlish, devilish game he had invented. Soujirou reddened intensely and stepped away from the daring man. His aoi orbs burned into the ground, trying to find succor by avoiding those crooning, lethargic wine colored ones that enticed him.
"D-dame! I-I can sleep in the dojo, I'm perfectly safe, Shinta-san!" Came the hastened reply of the dark-haired boy. Shinta smirked.
"Fine." He smiled genuinely. "I accept your answer. Do you need clothing? I suspect you arrived here for the sole intention of knowing my well being was in order, and the factor of clothes was temporarily unimportant?" Shinta arched an eyebrow to the younger man as he stared up to him. Soujirou erratically dipped his head. Shinta grinned.
"It's what I had believed. Oh well, I hope you fit into some of my things, Soujirou-kun. Although, I'm not sure of your preference of undergarments. Mine are a little...leisurely, if you please. Follow me." Shinta Soujirou gulped and pursued him into his room, as Kenshin rifled through the closet, full of clothing. Over the years, Kaoru had bought him many garments. He never threw one away, no matter how silly or strange, for they held love. Such love he didn't think he could bear anything he owned to belong to someone else, for everything Shinta owned was in one way or another related to Kaoru. He suddenly pulled out two fabric items out of a small drawer and shut the entrance of his closet, rotating around to face the baffled Soujirou, bathed in half-moonlight. Shinta grinned.
"Excuse me a second, I'll hand you your night clothes in just one moment, I have to change, de gozaru yo."
Soujirou found himself being quickly moved out of the room and he stood in the hallway, perplexed at the events that had just occurred. W-was he hearing correctly?
Suddenly, the door glided open and Shinta stood before him, holding out a pair of white underclothing. Soujirou looked from the garment with a blush, then blushed deeper into discomfiture as he looked to the man ahead of him.
"Konnichi wa, de gozaru," Shinta said casually. He stood wearing nothing but a nicely fit thong, the only thing gracing his curved figure. He was stunning. His hair lay in tangled tresses about his shoulders and his eyes held tired wisdom and thin delight. "Do you like it? For it's what you have to wear as well, de gozaru yo!" More grinning. Soujirou covered his eyes, not saying a word. He thrust his hand in front of Shinta, waiting.
"Oro?"
"Give it to me before I go ballistic and change my mind, Himura!" Soujirou yelled quietly, only semi-angrily. "Just hand it to me, and then I'll come and say konbanwa one last time, okay?" He affirmed, aggravated. Shinta snickered.
"Ooh...touchy. I like that," He giggled.
"Stop that!"
"Hai, de gozaru!"
...
-Yeah, right-
---
Soujirou shifted in his half-sleep as the moon's luminosity surged upon the dusty floor. In and out of rem... in and out. All he could think about was that mopey, emotional dupe Himura...and how much he decided he cared for that sap. Shinta was venting. He couldn't around certain people, but, Soujirou seemed to be someone he could deem laudable in this circumstance.
But besides the things that made Himura -Himura-, the cascading and colliding thoughts of his body slithered everywhere in Soujirou's violated intellect. That beautiful, unattainable essence. No, he wasn't unattainable. But, was he really thinking this through? Was this something he needed?
He still waged a reasonable amount of respect for that man, that man that had once irritated him to the point of lunacy. He still considered him a fair opponent. But--he wasn't sure about what was going on inside the petite and outright lusciously scented head of Himura no Battousai. Sexual undertones were being thrown left and right...and--and what was he going to do?
He dug his palm into the bend of his forehead.
-Oh hell...I'm going insane-
(tbc)
xxXXxx
