The first thing Kenshin did was pay a visit to one of his most valuable (if not most friendly) sources of information about the inner workings of the Meiji government, Hajime Saito. When he thought about it, Kenshin realized that he probably should have done that right away, but it was too late for regrets now. Once he contacted the former member of the Shinsen-gumi, the two agreed to meet in front of a renowned open-air restaurant.
"If you've called me so you can beg for my help, Battousai," Saito said as soon as he saw Kenshin, "let me tell you right now that you're wasting your time. This case was out of my hands from the beginning."
Kenshin sighed, for although he'd expected such an answer he'd still held on to that little glimmer of hope. "I haven't come to ask for help, that I have not, but for information. What can you tell me about Inspector Fushiyuuki?"
Saito absently plucked at the fabric of one of his white police gloves, not bothering to look at his former enemy. "Fushiyuuki is working under the good graces of some of the highest government authorities. I can't tell you how they found about that chicken-head's plot to destroy the Department of Internal Affairs because frankly I don't know. In any case, Fushiyuuki weaseled his way to the head of the investigation in the hopes of looking good to his superiors. For him, it doesn't truly matter whether he finds the real culprit or not; as long as he finds someone to blame the incident on, Fushiyuuki's promotion is secured as far as the higher-ups are concerned." Saito gave Kenshin a meaningful look out of the corner of his eye. "By the time this is all over, someone is going to die. The only decision you can influence is who."
Kenshin knew exactly what Saito meant, and it sobered him greatly. He'd thought that he'd left all this behind ten years ago, at the end of the Revolution. It made him sick just thinking that someone's very life was at his mercy. Nevertheless, he had to go through with his plan now, before he ran out of time. "Saito, I have one last favor to ask of you, that I do."
"Hmph. Then it seems you've grossly misjudged my character."
"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd like you to keep an eye on Miss Kaoru and the dojo. I'm afraid that they are in danger from Fushiyuuki, and I won't be able to protect them, that I will not."
"Well, that's hardly surprising." Saito meant it wasn't surprising that Fushiyuuki had threatened innocent women and children, not that Kenshin was incapable of defending his friends. Of course, Saito would do everything in his power to protect those at the dojo - plus Dr. Gensai, Megumi, and the girls as well - out of pure respect for his former adversary. But he didn't need to announce it to the world and make the Battousai think he'd gone soft. "Is that all you came for?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll take my leave." Saito touched the brim of his police hat in a somewhat deferential fashion and walked down the street, one gloved hand on the hilt of the katana at his belt.
Kenshin watched him go, his arms tucked in his kimono. To think that he trusted the well being of the ones he loved with one of his greatest enemies of the Revolution... certainly, the Battousai of years past wouldn't have stood for it. Fortunately, the Battousai was gone. Kenshin walked briskly off towards his next destination; he'd need to hurry if he was to get everything prepared in time.
As he walked, the other inhabitants of Tokyo continued their lives around him as if nothing could possibly be wrong. Kenshin watched with a twinge of jealousy as children scampered about him, enjoying a childhood that he'd never been able to experience. And it is because of that I must try to protect these children, Kenshin thought. No child should experience what I did.
At one point, Kenshin spotted two children sparring with wooden sticks that masqueraded as swords. The boys couldn't do much more than wave their mock-weapons around wildly, occasionally landing or parrying a blow by chance. When the taller, presumably older of the two boys jabbed the smaller child in the chest, he raised his fists in the air triumphantly. "Hah! I killed you!" he jeered.
"No you didn't!" the younger boy whined.
"Yeah I did! I got you in the chest - right there!" The boy jabbed his companion once more. "So you're dead now."
"Well, I got you first!"
"Nuh-uh! You're just upset because I won."
"I did too kill you first, you cheater!"
"I'm not a cheater, you are!"
Kenshin shook his head half out of amusement and half out of disgust as the boys' verbal squabbling turned into physical combat, which was quickly halted by their parents. The children of this generation had no idea how horrifying, how permanent death was. They would learn, eventually, though hopefully as very small children they wouldn't experience anything more traumatic than the death of a pet or some anonymous animal found on the side of a road.
However, some young ones - too many, in Kenshin's opinion - felt the eternalness of death in a much more personal fashion through the death of a relative, perhaps a parent or sibling, or maybe a friend who had no more reason to die than a fish has a reason to fly. These were the children who aged beyond their years, who even at a young age viewed the world with the eyes and mind of someone who had experienced terrible suffering. It was these children who changed the way the world worked, though for better or for worse was up to fate to decide.
By this time Kenshin had reached a more run-down section of Tokyo. Though it had been a very long time since he'd visited the residence that was his destination, he navigated the narrow streets unerringly until he reached the tiny house. Kenshin carefully overstepped the open gutter flowing with God-knows-what that ran in front of the house and knocked on the door.
The screen slid aside, and a young man with long black hair and a green bandanna tied around his head looked out to see Kenshin standing before him. His eyes widened in surprise. "You!" he gasped, Kenshin clearly being the last person he suspected to come knocking at his door. The next thing he said was, "Did Sano send you?"
"No, although the reason for my visit has to do with him, that it does."
Katsu regarded Kenshin with understandable suspicion - after all, the last time he and Kenshin had met they fought against each other. "Care to explain how?"
"I don't have much time, that I do not, but give me a moment and I will. Believe me when I say it's a matter of life and death."
O_O O_O O_O
Sano rubbed the sweat off his face with one hand, wiping the soiled hand on his pants afterwards. He wanted to lie back on his futon and go to sleep, but doing so would only cause the sheets to get all sweaty and stick unpleasantly to his skin. Though he'd opened all the shoji-screens and windows he possibly could in order to get some sort of evening cross-breeze going, all it did was let in a pungent stench from some unknown source, and the heat still bore down upon him like an enormously fat, sweaty man who came up behind you at a public bathhouse and breathed down your neck every time you tried to rinse yourself off.
Gaaah! No! Bad images! Out, dammit, out! Sanosuke hit himself in the head with the heel of his hand in order to rid himself of the disturbing pictures conjured up with that last figure of speech. This goddamned heat is frying my brain. God, when will it end?! It hadn't been too bad until lately; then the stifling, sticky humidity came rolling in. Sano knew that humidity was usually a precursor to cool, refreshing rain, and he'd seen some clouds forming far on the horizon, but so far there had been no other sign of relief from the oppressive heat.
Growling more curses at the ungodly temperature, Sano peeled his shirt off and threw it at the wall, which it hit with a dull fmph and landed in a crumpled heap in the corner like an injured bird. With a sigh he flopped on his back, his arms spread wide. He was reaching into a small bowl of water set conveniently nearby to dribble some of the cool liquid on his face - screw that it would mess up the tatami-mats, they sucked anyway - when a soft knock on the frame of the shoji-screen caused him to look up.
He knew who it was even before looking; only one person Sanosuke knew would knock even when the door was wide open. "Oi, Kenshin. What's up?"
"Sano..." Kenshin said softly, removing his sandals and stepping onto the frayed tatami-mats, "there's something I need to talk to you about. Privately."
Sanosuke's heart stopped for about three seconds when he heard that, but nonetheless he quickly shut all the screens and windows, turning his tiny apartment once more into a single stuffy room that normally would have been large enough to comfortably house the two men, but in his heightened state of tension it seemed unbearably small to Sano. "Is something the matter?" he asked as Kenshin settled onto the tatami in front of him. He feared to ask the question: Is it something about Kaoru?
"Sano..." Kenshin began again, his eyes fixed on the floor. "I've come to ask your forgiveness."
The former hit man blinked in surprise. "My forgiveness? There's nothing to forgive you for." Sano couldn't help but notice Kenshin's lack of the usual polite suffix at the end of his sentences. He only did this when he was extremely angry or extremely distressed; considering the fact that the Battousai wasn't on a violent rampage, Sanosuke had to assume that it was the latter reason. "Kenshin, what's wrong?"
Silently Sano tried to make eye contact with his friend, but Kenshin turned his head away with his eyes still downcast. In an act of unusual familiarity, Sano reached out with one large hand and tipped Kenshin's chin back until he was forced to meet Sanosuke's coffee-colored eyes. He was about to repeat the question when he saw something he'd never expected to see: Kenshin's gentle lilac eyes glistening softly with tears. In that instant the former manslayer seemed so helpless, so lost, that it seemed like the most natural thing in the world when Sano drew Kenshin towards him in a tender embrace. He waited for the resistance, the refusal of his affections, but to Sano's delight there was none.
In the next instant their lips met, and it was a long time before they parted again. Sano stared down into Kenshin's eyes, and when he saw the sorrow and pain that still lingered there, he kissed him again and again in a heartfelt attempt to banish it forever. At one point he realized suddenly that his hand was reaching for the belt that held up Kenshin's hakama and quickly pulled it away, aghast.
Gently, Kenshin took Sano's hand in his own, its apparent delicacy belied by the calluses formed by years of wielding a sword. He returned Sano's hand to the sash of his hakama, leaned closer, and whispered into Sanosuke's ear, "Forgive me."
----------------------------------------------------------------
Mmmm.... I'll let your imagination take it from there. Don't forget to review, please.
"If you've called me so you can beg for my help, Battousai," Saito said as soon as he saw Kenshin, "let me tell you right now that you're wasting your time. This case was out of my hands from the beginning."
Kenshin sighed, for although he'd expected such an answer he'd still held on to that little glimmer of hope. "I haven't come to ask for help, that I have not, but for information. What can you tell me about Inspector Fushiyuuki?"
Saito absently plucked at the fabric of one of his white police gloves, not bothering to look at his former enemy. "Fushiyuuki is working under the good graces of some of the highest government authorities. I can't tell you how they found about that chicken-head's plot to destroy the Department of Internal Affairs because frankly I don't know. In any case, Fushiyuuki weaseled his way to the head of the investigation in the hopes of looking good to his superiors. For him, it doesn't truly matter whether he finds the real culprit or not; as long as he finds someone to blame the incident on, Fushiyuuki's promotion is secured as far as the higher-ups are concerned." Saito gave Kenshin a meaningful look out of the corner of his eye. "By the time this is all over, someone is going to die. The only decision you can influence is who."
Kenshin knew exactly what Saito meant, and it sobered him greatly. He'd thought that he'd left all this behind ten years ago, at the end of the Revolution. It made him sick just thinking that someone's very life was at his mercy. Nevertheless, he had to go through with his plan now, before he ran out of time. "Saito, I have one last favor to ask of you, that I do."
"Hmph. Then it seems you've grossly misjudged my character."
"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd like you to keep an eye on Miss Kaoru and the dojo. I'm afraid that they are in danger from Fushiyuuki, and I won't be able to protect them, that I will not."
"Well, that's hardly surprising." Saito meant it wasn't surprising that Fushiyuuki had threatened innocent women and children, not that Kenshin was incapable of defending his friends. Of course, Saito would do everything in his power to protect those at the dojo - plus Dr. Gensai, Megumi, and the girls as well - out of pure respect for his former adversary. But he didn't need to announce it to the world and make the Battousai think he'd gone soft. "Is that all you came for?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll take my leave." Saito touched the brim of his police hat in a somewhat deferential fashion and walked down the street, one gloved hand on the hilt of the katana at his belt.
Kenshin watched him go, his arms tucked in his kimono. To think that he trusted the well being of the ones he loved with one of his greatest enemies of the Revolution... certainly, the Battousai of years past wouldn't have stood for it. Fortunately, the Battousai was gone. Kenshin walked briskly off towards his next destination; he'd need to hurry if he was to get everything prepared in time.
As he walked, the other inhabitants of Tokyo continued their lives around him as if nothing could possibly be wrong. Kenshin watched with a twinge of jealousy as children scampered about him, enjoying a childhood that he'd never been able to experience. And it is because of that I must try to protect these children, Kenshin thought. No child should experience what I did.
At one point, Kenshin spotted two children sparring with wooden sticks that masqueraded as swords. The boys couldn't do much more than wave their mock-weapons around wildly, occasionally landing or parrying a blow by chance. When the taller, presumably older of the two boys jabbed the smaller child in the chest, he raised his fists in the air triumphantly. "Hah! I killed you!" he jeered.
"No you didn't!" the younger boy whined.
"Yeah I did! I got you in the chest - right there!" The boy jabbed his companion once more. "So you're dead now."
"Well, I got you first!"
"Nuh-uh! You're just upset because I won."
"I did too kill you first, you cheater!"
"I'm not a cheater, you are!"
Kenshin shook his head half out of amusement and half out of disgust as the boys' verbal squabbling turned into physical combat, which was quickly halted by their parents. The children of this generation had no idea how horrifying, how permanent death was. They would learn, eventually, though hopefully as very small children they wouldn't experience anything more traumatic than the death of a pet or some anonymous animal found on the side of a road.
However, some young ones - too many, in Kenshin's opinion - felt the eternalness of death in a much more personal fashion through the death of a relative, perhaps a parent or sibling, or maybe a friend who had no more reason to die than a fish has a reason to fly. These were the children who aged beyond their years, who even at a young age viewed the world with the eyes and mind of someone who had experienced terrible suffering. It was these children who changed the way the world worked, though for better or for worse was up to fate to decide.
By this time Kenshin had reached a more run-down section of Tokyo. Though it had been a very long time since he'd visited the residence that was his destination, he navigated the narrow streets unerringly until he reached the tiny house. Kenshin carefully overstepped the open gutter flowing with God-knows-what that ran in front of the house and knocked on the door.
The screen slid aside, and a young man with long black hair and a green bandanna tied around his head looked out to see Kenshin standing before him. His eyes widened in surprise. "You!" he gasped, Kenshin clearly being the last person he suspected to come knocking at his door. The next thing he said was, "Did Sano send you?"
"No, although the reason for my visit has to do with him, that it does."
Katsu regarded Kenshin with understandable suspicion - after all, the last time he and Kenshin had met they fought against each other. "Care to explain how?"
"I don't have much time, that I do not, but give me a moment and I will. Believe me when I say it's a matter of life and death."
O_O O_O O_O
Sano rubbed the sweat off his face with one hand, wiping the soiled hand on his pants afterwards. He wanted to lie back on his futon and go to sleep, but doing so would only cause the sheets to get all sweaty and stick unpleasantly to his skin. Though he'd opened all the shoji-screens and windows he possibly could in order to get some sort of evening cross-breeze going, all it did was let in a pungent stench from some unknown source, and the heat still bore down upon him like an enormously fat, sweaty man who came up behind you at a public bathhouse and breathed down your neck every time you tried to rinse yourself off.
Gaaah! No! Bad images! Out, dammit, out! Sanosuke hit himself in the head with the heel of his hand in order to rid himself of the disturbing pictures conjured up with that last figure of speech. This goddamned heat is frying my brain. God, when will it end?! It hadn't been too bad until lately; then the stifling, sticky humidity came rolling in. Sano knew that humidity was usually a precursor to cool, refreshing rain, and he'd seen some clouds forming far on the horizon, but so far there had been no other sign of relief from the oppressive heat.
Growling more curses at the ungodly temperature, Sano peeled his shirt off and threw it at the wall, which it hit with a dull fmph and landed in a crumpled heap in the corner like an injured bird. With a sigh he flopped on his back, his arms spread wide. He was reaching into a small bowl of water set conveniently nearby to dribble some of the cool liquid on his face - screw that it would mess up the tatami-mats, they sucked anyway - when a soft knock on the frame of the shoji-screen caused him to look up.
He knew who it was even before looking; only one person Sanosuke knew would knock even when the door was wide open. "Oi, Kenshin. What's up?"
"Sano..." Kenshin said softly, removing his sandals and stepping onto the frayed tatami-mats, "there's something I need to talk to you about. Privately."
Sanosuke's heart stopped for about three seconds when he heard that, but nonetheless he quickly shut all the screens and windows, turning his tiny apartment once more into a single stuffy room that normally would have been large enough to comfortably house the two men, but in his heightened state of tension it seemed unbearably small to Sano. "Is something the matter?" he asked as Kenshin settled onto the tatami in front of him. He feared to ask the question: Is it something about Kaoru?
"Sano..." Kenshin began again, his eyes fixed on the floor. "I've come to ask your forgiveness."
The former hit man blinked in surprise. "My forgiveness? There's nothing to forgive you for." Sano couldn't help but notice Kenshin's lack of the usual polite suffix at the end of his sentences. He only did this when he was extremely angry or extremely distressed; considering the fact that the Battousai wasn't on a violent rampage, Sanosuke had to assume that it was the latter reason. "Kenshin, what's wrong?"
Silently Sano tried to make eye contact with his friend, but Kenshin turned his head away with his eyes still downcast. In an act of unusual familiarity, Sano reached out with one large hand and tipped Kenshin's chin back until he was forced to meet Sanosuke's coffee-colored eyes. He was about to repeat the question when he saw something he'd never expected to see: Kenshin's gentle lilac eyes glistening softly with tears. In that instant the former manslayer seemed so helpless, so lost, that it seemed like the most natural thing in the world when Sano drew Kenshin towards him in a tender embrace. He waited for the resistance, the refusal of his affections, but to Sano's delight there was none.
In the next instant their lips met, and it was a long time before they parted again. Sano stared down into Kenshin's eyes, and when he saw the sorrow and pain that still lingered there, he kissed him again and again in a heartfelt attempt to banish it forever. At one point he realized suddenly that his hand was reaching for the belt that held up Kenshin's hakama and quickly pulled it away, aghast.
Gently, Kenshin took Sano's hand in his own, its apparent delicacy belied by the calluses formed by years of wielding a sword. He returned Sano's hand to the sash of his hakama, leaned closer, and whispered into Sanosuke's ear, "Forgive me."
----------------------------------------------------------------
Mmmm.... I'll let your imagination take it from there. Don't forget to review, please.