Author's Note: That, ladies and gentlemen is what I call a VERU long chapter. I don't know how long it took me to write it, but damn… I even had to cut the end so it would not turn too long. I hope you will enjoy my work. ^-^ As for my usual useless rambling I want to say that I went to vote for the first time in my life! How lucky we are, to live in a country where we can 'choose' those that will govern us for the next few years. Really, sometimes I think democracy is a real joke. Those who presents themselves are not much more fitted to do it that you and me. But in the and, there must be someone doing it, so I rather be them than me. Too much trouble. But don't get me wrong. I love politics, the on of the rare occasion where I get to express my frustration of anything else quite freely. My friends say that I'm scary when I get all fired up talking about my opinions over this politician or that one. Quite a sight to behold, I'm sure of it. Will the new prime minister will make the difference? I surely hope so, have enough of all those health and hospital subvention problem. Speaking of money… I could use some. Won't somebody tell Charest that l'il me needs some money to keep studying?
Warnings: Some violence… nothing too bad. Maybe some sexual relating stuff, but nothing heavy (yet).
Disclaimers: I, l'il Evil Karyta with her overly twisted mind, do not own any of the characters that Watsuki-san created. Too bad though, I really could use the money…
Within Soul
By Evil Karyta
Chapter Three
"I slept and dreamed that life was beauty. I awoke—and find that life was duty."
-Ellen Sturgis Hooper
"You should be careful," said Katsura, sipping his tea. "I still believe it'll be too soon. The time to move is not yet."
"That's what you think. I have a different point of view," argued Shinsaku, never looking at his friend and keeping all his attention on his instrument.
The sweet notes floated in the air. It was different from the soothing play of those entertaining women, who so obediently put their lips on their flute, creating melodies that enchanted men's heart. Shinsaku's music was the rhythm of war, as violent and powerful as his swords play, but true and vibrant in hope. That was the song of the Bakumatsu, the heart of the Ishin Shishi's purpose, a raging cry calling forth the warriors of tomorrow. The man's music was his soul, his tribute to the battles that would come, unfold into waving sounds of liberty. He played as he fought; he played for what he believed.
"You should be the one to be careful anyway," added the musician, moments latter. "It's not wise to leave that inn without anyone to look after it."
At that Kogoro had a faint smile, "Don't worry too much. I've got someone watching over it for me. And a letter is on the way…"
From this evasive answer, Shinsaku looked up from his instrument, but only received an equally mysterious look from his companion. Being the rather carefree man he was, he only shrugged and return his attention to his melody. Katsura knew what he was doing, just as he did. It was only their way of dealing with things that differed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Cold wind, a cruel gust of icy invisible fingers, foretellers of the winter that was yet to come, barging at the doors of autumn, brought along its bone-freezing path the small figure of a man to an inn rising in the middle of a city torn by the waking war. A hand, trembling and red, consequences of the chilly element, was brought up to the door, demanding entrance with what was left of a traveler's strength. It was slugged open, quite loudly for an early morning hour, and with it's thundering crash, must have waken up a few of the slumbers that laid within the thin rice paper walls. A disapproving stare came from a middle-aged woman passing, on her way to her morning rituals. However, the stranger stopped her in her retreat, cutting short on her light hope to get away from yet another man coming to eat for free under the caring arm of Kogoro Katsura.
"Where could I find Himura Kenshin?" he asked, teeth clacking making him sound more like a shivering tree than a demanding man.
"And why do you want to see him?"
"I've got a letter for him," said the shivering tree, holding out a black envelope.
"Ah, yes. I believe he has been waiting for you, please fallow me."
The polite lady used a graceful right arm to point him the direction in which she would soon lead him. They walked, the woman silent and careful, the shaking stranger clumsy and disgraceful, making as much noise as a child stumbling down a staircase would. Sounds that exasperated his guide, for she cared for the comfort of the poor clients. A few heads immerged from some of the shojis they passed by, a very gruff, sleepy and frustrated look on their rude faces. He even saw the threatening glint of blades as some of the more furious men, who had to sleep more than ten hours a day to attain some kind of equilibrium in their disposition, which could be described as a raging un-caring, stared icily. The stranger, being a somewhat social man, used of taking care of brutes, only smiled to them, earning himself a few death glares to add to his already growing list of threat. Finally, they passed the lines of accusing gazes and reached the kitchens to the stranger's relief.
The woman curtly opened the door for him, stepping aside, letting the man through before her. What he saw in was the total opposite of what he had imagined in the first place. He was a small, rag clad red headed man working with a somewhat silent cheerfulness over some dirty dishes that had been left from the previous evening meal. Beside him, on a low table was a old woman, face wrinkled and tell telling of the long years that had passed before her dark eyes, polishing some potteries assumed to be as old if not older than she was. The short man was humming a soft melody to himself, a shadow of a smile on his lips, violet eyes staring in high concentration to the soapy water that the small bucket contained. It was a sight to behold when you knew that this red head was, at that moment, the most feared man of Kyoto, known as the Hittokiri Battousai.
"Arhum," the new comer coughed exaggeratedly, trying to catch the attention of the washing man. "Are you Himura Kenshin?"
"Ah, yes," mumbled Kenshin looking up from his task. "What is it that you want?"
"I'm Iizuka. Kogoro sent me. He said you should get this."
As for a mean of making his point, he showed him the black letter. The samurai's eyes grew wide upon the sight of the object, fearing its content, knowing what would come out of it would mean no good to the name written on the paper. The small man wiped his dripping hands on a cloth, walking toward Iizuka, fingers reaching for the fate bounding envelope. Behind him, there was a knock on the outside door of the kitchen to which the old woman got up to answer. He heard her chat amicably but the subject that was discussed was unknown to him, and he cared less for it for all his attention was drawn to the new comer.
"I will now be your link to Katsura-san. I heard you are the best. Rumours of your abilities had spread through almost all of Japan, Battousai," the last fragment of his sentence was murmured so only he would hear.
Kenshin frown when he heard the despised nickname, having hated it from the first time he heard it coming out of Saitou's bitter language. Knowing better than to show his unappreciative feeling, he simply nodded and took the handed piece of black paper, shoving it inside the folds of his gi, keeping it for latter reading in the secrecy of his room, where he was sure no peering eyes would try and get a hold of the message. On the other side of the room, the door was closed and the two men turned their gaze to the old woman who frowned in silent confusion, staring at a blue letter that she held in her hands. She seemed to think the thing would bit her, or that it came from another dimension, for she eyed it with quite a strange look.
"What is the matter?" Kenshin enquire in his ever so polite tone.
"A letter," she remarked as a matter of fact, her answer making a few eyes roll toward the sky.
"I know that, that I do. But why does it upsets you?" he pressed.
"Its quite unusual for Kaoru-chan to receive any messages."
"Really? I thought the girl didn't know of any one else than us. Hasn't she told us she had no family anymore?" solicited the other woman.
"Oh yes. That's true, but she could still have some friends back in Edo."
"Edo?" wondered Kenshin. "That's quite a distance from here, that it is."
"I'm not the one to ask where my employees come from. As long as they work properly… Anyway, Midori-san, would you care to go and hand this over to her please."
"Ah, I'm sorry, but I have to go and prepare the dinning room for the clients," answered the middle aged woman walking through the shoji with a heavy tray in her arms. "Why don't you ask Chiharu-san?" she offered from the distance.
"She's out for a few days visiting her family… Well, the child'll just have to wait," reasoned the old woman putting the letter down beside her as she returned to her polishing.
"Maybe… I could deliver it to her, that I could," proposed Kenshin startling the two occupants left in the room beside him.
"Do you know where's her room?" inquired the ancestor.
"I have a vague idea."
Iizuka was watching the events with the eyes of a hungry spectator feeding on the most interesting and imaginative play he had ever had the chance to witness. The idea of the Hittokiri playing delivery boy was quite the amusing one, but the fact that it was to a girl was even more entertaining. He listen with avidity, waiting for the outcome of the discussion and drinking in every words like a thirsty man lost in the desert and suddenly discovering a lost oasis full of crystal clear water, but this was even better. It was information over the Battousai that they were talking about.
"All right then. I trust you, but don't you go and read it! I know you young men are curious about the letters girls could receive… Know that curiosity killed the cat!" she warned handing the blue letter to the short red head.
"I won't even look at the envelope," assured the samurai, smiling softly.
Kenshin exited the room, followed closely by Iizuka, being the curious cat he was. He peered over the smaller man's shoulder, trying to get a sight of the letter and inwardly wandering what this girl, Kaoru, was to the young assassin. Repressing a growl of annoyance, Himura managed to simply halt on his path to stare right at the unnerving stalker. The taller one passed an index finger over his small moustache, feeling the rough hair under the sensitive skin that was covering his digits. He made up an innocent face, specially created for this occasion and stared back at the purple depths of the warrior.
"What do you want again?" a drip of threat slipping in the edge of his voice.
"Who's the girl, Battousai?" he never seemed to catch the danger that had appeared in the usually calm and sweet voice of the other man.
"Kaoru-dono, she works here," and he started walking again, hopping that this was enough to dissuade the other into following him around.
"I know that I'm not deaf. What I mean, who is she to you?"
"Nothing," his tone was wavering with barely controlled frustration, what an unnerving over grown weasel.
"Now, now, I won't buy it. You know where her room is! You sure have gotten something from her. C'mon you sly dog! Tell me about it. I heard she was the only descent woman around here and that every one had sets their eyes on her. How is she? Is she ok to let another one have some fun?"
"Nothing of the such happened," Kenshin was trying to keep his control, but the words coming out of his 'companion' was like oil that would be spread over an already growing fire.
"Ah, c'mon! Tell me…"
Kenshin stopped dead in his track and there was the sound of a blade being grinded against a sheath. Looking down, Iizuka caught the frightful sight of the deadly assassin reading his sword for a quick attack. Thinking fast, he backed off, fearing the threat to become reality if he were to get any closer. Even his sly smile was clearly wiped off his face when he was confronted to the glare Himura sent him. Cold lavender tinted eyes, sparkling with hints of gold started at him very darkly, life threatening and menacing, cutting short on the messenger's teasing behaviour.
"Hey now, I was only joking!" the teaser defended himself.
The samurai turned on his heels, walking away at a rather fast pace, wishing to put as much distance between the man and him. They had known each other for less than an hour, and already he was acting as if he knew him for a lifetime. This, and the fact that he spoke so disrespectfully of a woman, made his temper boil inside.
"Man, a simple joke and this guy could kill you…" whispered Iizuka.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was warm, too warm for the season, and there was that familiar sent of flowers and herbs lingering in the air. Just like it used to feel back then, in summer, when everything bloomed within the carefully tended yard her mother had ever so lovingly created for them. Opening her eyes, Kaoru met the clear blue sky upon which small fluffy clouds trailed leisurely. She could see in their cotton shapes the forms she used to when she still was innocent enough to imagine animals into the white condensed water.
Behind her came a soft humming. A song she thought she was the last to remember the melody. It was joyous and carefree. Her childhood lullaby. A lazy smile spread on her face and she moved her hand toward the sky, just like she used to, trying to reach the animals flying high above her. The sound of footsteps made her turn her gaze behind her, tilting her head back, seeing the world at her rear upside down, an effect of her laid position on the soft grass. First, she met sandaled feet, her sapphire pools rising to grasp the image of a neat white hakama, and higher again, the reversed face of a man with a soft, affectionate smile adorning his aging features. She yelped in recognition, startled and her face paled, believing on an apparition, a ghost from a past she had run from.
"So you finally woke up. I was wondering if I should tickle you awake or just splash some water on your face," voiced the man jokingly.
"What?"
"Come one, Kaoru. Get up and lend a hand to your old father. I can't get rid of the weed all by myself, you know."
Spraining to her feet, Kaoru stared at the man, eyes wide and unblinking, fearing that if she closed them, the apparition would fade and leave her again to face her misery, alone. The will one could utter when facing something could be amazing. Her gaze stayed glued to the man, so tall she felt like a tiny ant, eyes watering from the lake of moisturising, stinging and itching. But she just would not give in, wishing this as true as water flowed endlessly toward the sea.
"What? Do I have something on my face? Stop staring at me as if I was a ghost and move a bit, would you? I'd like to have this done before dinner," the tone of his voice was teasing.
"Fa… Father?"
"Yes Kaoru… What's the matter?"
"Father!" she exclaimed lurching herself in the arms of the man.
Caught off guards, the father figure was pushed a few steps back from the forceful impact of his daughter jumping at him. The wind was knocked out of his lugs as she tightly hugged him. Very confused, he passed an arm over her shoulder, returning the tender gesture of the young Kaoru. Ocean blue eyes set upon the top of a black haired head, sniffle coming from the small thing as she nuzzled her face into the warmth of his gi. A callous hand caressed the silky locks of shiny black hairs adoringly, but worry was lingering to his face. He was about to reformulate his question, caring to find what was wrong with his child when he heard incoherent muffles from within the folds of his clothing's, along with sniffing and hic upping.
"I thought… you were dead… I saw… but now… I missed you."
The rest was lost to him for the weeping had grown in size and decibels. Slowly, he crouched down and stared at the tearful face of the girl. He smiled gently, reassuringly, rendering her sorrowful cries to small and quiet, compared to the outburst of her early sadness, sniffing. Kaoru shyly curved her lips up, trying hard to give back the happy face her father had just gave her. Using the back of her hand, she wiped her cheeks and nose, than cleaned that hand with the silk of her soft pink kimono. With the loving gaze of her only family, every torment and pain was forgotten, lost in the back of the mind such as a dream would, transforming to a mere nagging, reminder that something happened, but not able to put a finger on just what it really was.
"Don't worry Kaoru. Everything is going to be all right. Now, we should get back to our gardening, the weed won't be taken care of by themselves."
She nodded mutely, still too shaken to even utter a single word, let alone a sound. And her throat was too tight to even muster up the strength to let even the smallest squeak of a hic up out of her mouth. Taking the offered large hand, she walked toward the flower bed and kneeled beside the man. One by one, Kaoru torn the useless plants, disposing of them into a bucket left by her side for that sole purpose. The pair worked in silences when, after much more handful of weed, Kaoru uttered, in her smile childish voice, a question she thought had already been asked before.
"Father, is Kenjitsu really only to kill?"
The parent was silent for some time, going as far as posing in his work, he stared with empty eyes at a pale blue flower that seemed to gaze at him with accusing eyes, if flowers had eyes that is. "I'm afraid that it's its only reason of being. A sword is a weapon, and holding it is bound to hurt and even kill someone. Why do you ask?"
"Well," she torn another plant from the ground and observed the roots with childish fascination, a thoughtful expression on her young face. "Why don't they use it to protect people?"
"Ah," there was an indulgent smile in the depth of his voice. "It's not that easy."
"But, they say that they are fighting for our future," she was almost whining at this point when she looked directly to her father's face.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, they say that they are fighting this war to protect people, but they are killing so many. But if Kenjitsu was really meant to protect, they wouldn't be killing would they?"
"You're quite right. Unfortunately, not every body thinks like you. Also, this war is much more complicated than you can imagine," explained the older man shoving a hand into the hair of his daughter.
"Than maybe we should teach people to protect life and not kill it," her eyes shown with hope.
"Protect life, heh?" the father looked at the child, deep in thoughts for several seconds and than finished, "Why not? It sounds good!"
"Really? You really do agree with me?"
"Of course I do! I also value life, and I happen to have a few ideas as how to make that dream possible."
"I didn't dreamed it, I thought of it!" interjected Kaoru.
"Of course you thought it."
She smiled, proud of herself, feeling her chest fill with a warm sensation of self-satisfaction. She could be quite a bright brat when she tried. There was a feeling of joy lifting her heart, making her mind sing in bliss. She felt perfect, it has been a long time since she had had this overwhelming feeling of happiness filling her from the inside and the warm wave that it created shook through her body pleasantly. However, something in the back of her mind resounded. A somewhat annoying knocking, tearing her away from this joy and drowning her into darkness. Everything around her was fading, blurring at an alluring fast pace. She felt scared and tried to reach for the reassuring hand of her father but it seemed as if he was far away. So far, she could only see the outline of his form. Kaoru tried to cry for him, but the loud noise lower the lead of her soft voice. It was no use, she felt hopeless.
The knocking became harder and harder until one made her jump in fright, opening her eyes to gaze at the plane ceiling of a room. Everything was silence for some times, the air turning into the flow of time, icy and heavy on her. She stared blindly at the white taint of the roofs under part. It had been only a dream, a reverie of a time long since gone, when she was but a child, alone with her father, learning of the things in life, carefree and wild, playing like a boy, but dressed as a girl. No wonder she was such a clumsy housekeeper. She exalted a breath of exasperation, feeling out of place, a stranger in a familiar surrounding. As soon as she thought the pounding had also been a part of the dream, it started again, followed with a soft inquire.
"Kaoru-dono?"
No doubt, the soft voice, the honorific name, it was Kenshin. Still drowsy from her rest, she pushed the blankets away from her, feeling the cold air grazing her skin, sending shivers through her body, making the tiny hair of her flesh rise, self defense against the cold, but not efficient whatsoever. Her sleep wear gaping in the region of her cleavage, not at all aware of that fact, too sleepy to even care, only wishing the noise to come to an end. Kaoru's temper flared, she was not a morning person, and hating being jolt awake by some samurai for unknown reasons. She padded toward the door, she slid the shoji door open and stared, eyes darken from her half asleep condition, at a startled Kenshin.
Fist posed in mid swing toward the now opened door, his violet gems catching her annoyed expression and then, the fair amount of flesh that her yakuta so generously showed him, unable to keep himself from staring openly. After all, he was a man, very aware of women's beauty and charms, and he was not blind to it, although he hand other preoccupation. However, this glimpse of round skin stroked him, freezing him in place and, as an effect to it, completely erased the purpose of his visit.
"What is it that you want, Kenshin?" she asked, yawning and posing her bandaged hand on the frame of the door for stabilization but the movement only revealed more of her skin.
"Er… what I want?" he stuttered, lost and utterly confused for a changing.
Irritated, Kaoru followed the line of his gaze to her chest, not quite realizing yet what seemed to be the matter with his sudden interest of this aria. The information took some time to set in her drowsy mind, but when she understood it, it created a dazzling reacting, and a fist was sent flying toward the general direction of his face, hitting him forcefully, knocking him off his feet, deaden and swirling eyed, feet high in the air. The door was slammed shut with such power that if he had been conscious, Kenshin would have feared it broken with the potent force implied in the movement.
"Kenshin you pervert!" came the outraged voice of a fuming Kaoru.
"What?"
Regaining his sense, Kenshin sat in front of the door, staring with a black eye at the material, nearing understanding as he recalled just what exactly happened to him. He remembered having come to this corridor with a letter for the vibrant woman behind that shoji, who was now shouting incomprehensibly about how the opposite sex seemed to always take advantages of their female counterparts. A blush appeared on his face, tainting his cheeks in a lovable pinkish hew. Still sitting awkwardly on the floor, he started to voice his excuses.
"I'm sorry, Kaoru-dono, that I am," he started sheepishly. "I did not expected you to open in… that condition…"
"You didn't have to stare! The least you could have done was look away and warn me."
Would it have made any difference? He thought before trying again. "I was about to point it to you, that I was," but of course, all this apologizing and explanations were as useless as a book was to an illiterate.
To the small man demise, a group of young men passed behind him, most likely they had had a glimpse of his conversation with the furious woman for he got a few weird glace, a few laughter and an considerable amount of snide remarks, all of which hinting to his bruised left eye. Kenshin grumbled some incomprehensible curses under his breath, hating the looks he had been given and dreading the consequences such scene would, no doubt, create in the small community that had been created under the shielding roof of the inn. He, in a sad way, deserved it, but certainly, the man was not ready to fully accept it. Now he was cursed to the cruel teasing of male supposedly companionship. Fate was cruel, he thought.
Still sitting cross legs on the wooden flooring, he passed a hand through his red locks. How worst could his day become, he mused while staring at the door. His arm fell to his laps, a sing of giving up, something he was not very likely to do, but did when he felt the time was right. It was at that precise moment that his brain remembered its functioning and reminded him of the message he had to deliver. Mustering as much courage as he could, feeling like a man led to his execution, he took a deep breath in and spoke.
"Kaoru-dono, open up. I have a…" he tried explained, hoping this would solve all the problems, but was rudely cut off in his try.
"No!" came her heated reply. "As if I would open my door to some laying pervert!"
"But I have a…"
"I said no!"
He had to come to the realization that this situation was hopeless. But the letter had to be given to her non the less. How could he manage to make her understand that this whole situation was a simple misunderstanding? Within the comforting confines of her room, Kaoru stared at the door, knowing that she had over reacted, but too proud to say it aloud. She certainly was not about to open up and apologize for the black eye she was certain she had created on the man's face. Than she sniffed haughty, he had stared longer than necessary at her breasts, he deserved this treatment, at least for as long as her anger would remain.
"I'm so very sorry for what happened, that I am. I… I'll just leave the letter in front of your door and go away. I dare to hope for forgiveness. Have a nice day, Kaoru-dono," mine surely will be a hell, he wanted to add but chose not to, fearing a painful reaction from the fiery woman hidden behind those doors.
He was already by the end of the corridor when Kaoru grasped the meaning of his words. She ran toward the shoji and opened them with more energy than de rigueur, causing it to slam against the frame, making the walls vibrate and the resonance of the movement echoing around like thunder in a large plain. But, to her deception, the redhead was gone. Looking down, her eyes caught the blue envelope waiting to be picked up. With a trembling hand, she reached down and took it. A feeling of dread sized her and a shiver ran down her spine. The words that this message contained, meant only for her, were not good news.
Kenshin felt the same was he eyed his own black envelope. Words from Katsura only meant one thing, one more man would feel the cold blade of his katana tonight. It was not a thing that he enjoyed, far from it. He putted the letter back inside his gi, hating the mere sight of it but knowing that it was a wrong for a good. As he turned a corner, an ach spread through his body, coming from his core, like a fiery wave burning inside so forcefully and painfully that it made him stop dead in his track, pressing a pale hand to his chest, hoping the gesture would make the feeling pass. No such luck, and he found himself stumbling toward his room and once there, he collapsed to the hard floor, his world becoming a haze of throbbing and flashes of imaginary light. When would this madness ever come to an end?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The shoji doors closed softly, a vivid contrast to the energetic slam that had shocked it in the morning. After Kenshin's awaking knockings, and the very embarrassing scene that followed their early meeting, Kaoru had dressed up, making a double knot on her obi, making sure that a very small amount of skin was left to the eye. It was not really the fact that Kenshin had stared at her gaping chest, but mostly that he was a man. She had no doubt in her mind that he bitterly regretted the event. The tone of his voice clearly spoke of it on its own.
She sighed. This man rose conflicting thoughts in her mind, most of the time confusing her more than he was, and she had noticed that the diminutive samurai appeared puzzled more than a normal being would usually be. She smiled unconsciously as she sat by the windowsill, remembering the perplex expression he often get when confronted to her wild temper, eyes widening and getting a childlike quality that just made her want to pinch his cheeks as she would to an adorable kid. Although it was obvious he was not.
A gust of wind threw dried leaves in a dancing cloud of autumn colors. It was so peaceful out there, she thought. So much unlike the rapid rhythm of the life she was pushed through in this insane house of war workers. She who despised war so much. Resting her back on the frame, lost in a daydream, her hand connected with the rough feeling of rice paper. Her fingers jolted back, startled almost. She had forgotten the message she received in the morning, having busied herself with her chores as a mean to get rid of the emotions that remained of her awaking. It was a miracle that she had not already succumbed to a hart attack, with all the powerful fits of humor she went through. Going from serine to a hurricane, so much she managed to frighten quite a few of the household, and, also the attention of men who sought for some fire in their bed. A disgusted frown winkled her nose at the mere thought of one of them getting a hand on her. Many times, she had been close, but, as if some guardian god was looking upon her well-being, something or someone stopped it at the crucial moment. Some times, it was a very close encounter, and at every chance she got, she thanked every divinities that she new of for their kindness and protection.
The young woman's left leg, left hanging from her position by the window, began to swing in circles as she turned her gaze to the letter she held in her right hand. A frown masked her features, dark hair covering her eyes, shielding her impressions and masking with any emotions that would transpire through her facial expressions, which stretched in a large pallet of coloring. Her long, white finger traced the sharp edge of the envelope, taping mindlessly at the pointy cornet on the bottom right side. Maybe she feared the content of the blue warping, but none of her thoughts could be read on her carefully masked face.
A long, graceful index finger flipped the lid open, than turning the letter upside down, giving a few taps at the rear, making it spill the paper that lay inside. With precise movement, she slid the bended piece of paper out of it binding and opened it. Blue eyes scanned the writing with calculating accuracy from left to right, up to bottom, reading twice whatever short message had been inked to the white fabric with refined calligrapher. A breeze, short and caressing, passed through a slit of the window, shoving her silken black hair to the left in a way that reminded of the purest silk blown by a summer breath. The picture of this young Japanese woman, sitting by her window with the enchanting scenery of a brightly colored autumn garden, bathed in fading sunlight, tainting her skin in shiny shades of orange and yellow, arms gracefully bent on holding carefully her letter would have melted even the coldest of hearts. The elegant way her hair, restrained in a high cascading ponytail, fell around her small frame only added more beauty to the perfect portrait of peace that she somehow represented at the moment. No one would have recognized the spirited Kaoru in this calm and concealed woman.
Her reading done, she tilted her head to the garden that only a window separated her from. A soft sigh spilled from her parted lips and a weary expression gave a depth to her eyes that only the darkening sky would see. With a delicate hand, she reached for a candle that rested passively on the floor beside her. She opened the window, taking a box of matches from the folds of her kimono, she cracked one up, lighting the candle and then, with a strange feeling of aging, she burned the white letter, watching the aches sailed the waves of wind far into the horizon where she wished she could be.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The same fiery sunray was caressing Kenshin's emotionless face as he stared at the burnt remains of his message blown into the same gust of wind that had destroyed Kaoru's letter. His mind was far off, lost into his pounding, trying to make sense out of the confusing words Katsura's demand had asked of him. What did he meant by the red scarf? The assassin had no clear ideas, all he new was that when the clock would ring midnight, he would have to search the corridors of the inn, looking for a seemingly carelessly discarded red silk cloth that an agent of Choshou would have left for him as a sing of identification. Yes, tonight his assignment was to kill a anonymous face, one that had compromised the organization by simply being there, sneaking around and gathering information for the opposition.
In simple terms, he was the hand who would destroy the rat, or more precisely, the spy that had somehow gotten into the inn. It was common thing in war times that spy would infiltrate the enemy lines, but it seemed that here, there were more than anywhere. Somehow, someone had gotten information about this inn being a hideout for the growing army of the Ishin Shishi. Unfortunately, for this one rat, he had been sent to his death. Maybe he knew of the consequences, or maybe he had been forced, or even condemned to do it. Whatever the reason was, however, this man would die tonight.
Kenshin watched the sun set, seeing the hours pass before him in its tranquil and unstoppable languorous path, bending earth and its inhabitants into a circle of day and night, months and years passing endlessly and unwavering. Time would never stand still, it was fated to go on and on, never fading, silent reminder of the mortality of all beings. They were all guided by it, following the tumultuous current that unfurled down the river of space. If one had a good enough imagination, they could see it as the breathing of the universe. Time was a fatality; no one could run from it, they were all a part of it, mere particle of an circle that would never cease turning.
With much more musing into it, he could compare human existence to the dance of dust fragment dancing in the air appearing, as if brought to life, in sunlight and than disappearing moments latter in shadow, coming to a death. Far in the distance, he heard the fated sound of a clock, chanting in low rings the rising of midnight. The time has come. Turning his back to the night landscape, shining silvery with the moon light bathing the nature and slumbering creatures, he readjusted his swords and, as silent as a hunting owl, sauntered out of his room.
He strode around the inn in perfect marriage with the calm of night, as if part of it, melting into shadow, a being of the darkness. His footsteps not making even the barest of sound, violet orbs alert of any sings of red scarf, turning corners after corners and still catching none. Minutes passed and he was starting to wonder if he would ever find it when, in close distance, shielded by the thick cover of night, footsteps echoed. They were light, pondered and even. The person producing it was aware of their movement, ambling with certitude in the dark. Curious, he picked up his pace, willing to discover the identity of this confidant night stroller. However, a silver of moonlight catch the side of his sight, lighting a silken red scarf laying on the honeyed colored wood of the flooring, right in front of a small shoji. The pounding of feet fades as he stops, glaring at the fabric, caught between inquisitiveness and duty. He stood there, motionless, weighing the pros and counts and finally, with a quite growl, he turned to the door.
A soft candle light pierced the rice paper walls, sign that someone was in it, and still awake. With an incredible gentleness and in utter silence, he slid the shoji open. The room that he saw was a very tousled one, articles of clothing laying here and there about the room, some dirty and smelly other clean but highly wrinkled by the harsh and uncaring treatment it had gotten. In the far end of the left corner, a small man, smaller than Kenshin was, sat on his knees, back bent forward, a hand moving with hast, holding a brush, writing something with wild promptness. Short greasy black hair that surely had never known of any soap rested on the head, bumping up and down with each movement the man made while writing.
As quite as the wind, Kenshin stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The silent change in the atmosphere that the samurai had created made the man stop a bit, as if feeling that something was out of place but not quite grasping yet just what the disturbing element was. He looked from left to right and a shock sprang through the small body, startled by the appearance of the man that stood there, quite and glaring, with a deadly aura surrounding him.
With the hast of the guilty one, he closed the book in which he was inscribing with a fugue that now only transpired in his hast to hind. Still, the hittokiri did not paid direct attention to it, simply striding with agonizingly slow steps, unsheathing his sword from its scabbard, the blade catching the glitter of the candle, shining with a deadly light for a few seconds. The rat of a man tried to get away from him, thinking that by getting closer to the wall by his side would be of any aid. Each ladder sent a wave of fright through the already profusely sweating man, eyes glued to the impressive stature of the red haired assassin. The raw power that emanated from the man slayer known as Battousai was palpable, so much that it stroked one to place such as this man was, unable to move not even the little finger, let alone blink an eye.
Reaching the cowering man, Kenshin lifted his blade above his head, ready to deliver the stroke that would end another life for the sake of a peaceful future. The katana was ready, demanding blood when a pang of harsh, sight blurring pain shook through the red head, making him step back, eyes closed in torment of body aching. It hurt immensely, a burning, as if fire had settled within him, right where his soul should have been. Heart soaring with harsh demand, a crave for something he could not run from. The man seeing his attacker retract and face contorted in pain thought his chance had come to run for it. But fate had a cruel way of killing hope in its wake when harsh and glowing golden eyes opened and a sword, sharp and deadly stabbed him, going right through his defenseless stomach.
A thin trail of blood dripped from the dieing man's lips, sliding in a red line down to his shin. Brown eyes locked with hypnotizing golden gaze, the last sight of a life drifting to oblivion, the dust particle had just passed away from the light ray of the sun.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Not so far, a shaking hand over her mouth, Kaoru was kneeling down as if she had tripped over something, her soft pink kimono sprawled about her in graceful angles and ripples of clothing. Blue eyes wide and choked, a hint of fear and disgust dancing in their infinite depth, her lithe body quaking from a feeling of nausea that rose from deep within her stomach. She felt sick and disgusted with the world. There was a flash of blue tinted light coming from a room not so far from where she laid on the cold floor. Turning her head slowly, light of shock dancing in her large orbs of sapphire. She saw Kenshin exit the room, closing the shoji with a nonchalant manner and than, still completely emotionless, took a small square of old stained cloth from his gi, cleaning the blood away from his blade before returning it in the secured hold of the sheath.
She caught a glimpse of his burning amber eyes, flashing wildly in the darkness, as if held in a brightness of their own and a startled yelp torn from her tight throat, sounding more like a squeaking mouse than anything else. The sound made the warrior turn his head to her direction and with a speed she had not known her body capable of, Kaoru sprang to her feet, hair tossing madly around her as she ran away toward the only place she could get security from; the yards. Unknown to her, someone was fallowing close behind.
When she reached it, her lugs were burning, her muscled soared, not use to the activity, here heart and soul aching. Pearls of salty water lingered to her eyes, threatening to fall. She was existed, physically and mentally. So tired, so lost and so alone. Her inner vision turned into a tormenting circle of horror lingered by blood and pain, leaving her lonelier than she ever felt. Kaoru, as if lost in a horrific trance, stumbled around, hitting every obstacle until, finally, she collapsed near the weal in a heap of pink and shaking limbs. It was to this sorrowful sight that Kenshin, lavender eyes still loitered with sparks of gold, came to the yard.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
To be continued… … …
a/n: Wa wa! A cliffhanger! I'm not too found of those things… but I thought it would fit this chapter quite nicely, and it was a very long chapter, so I believe you can forgive me for my evil, don't you? ^-^ Fist, I've got to apologies for all the grammar mistake that had slipped through. You see, right now I'm very tired, and I did start to reread it and correct the few mistakes but… I'm getting lazy. So, would you mind wait a few day before I repost a somewhat corrected chapter? Of course, not all the mistakes will be cleared off, but hey! I'm only human, and French too, so please, be kind and no remark on your reviews about it please. Thank you very much!
Also, something new. I got so many reviews that I wanted to personally thank everyone. Hey, I got 13 reviews! (jumping around and than hit her foot on her chair) Ouch! That hurts… Anyway, so here it goes.
Angelike Riddle: Yes, I know of them and I'm very sorry for it. I had an editor, but I felt awful to ask her to proof read my work on an anime she didn't even knew of. I share you're eager, see, I just finished this chapter and did not even bothered going through the usual re-reading… Shame on me…
Jason M. Lee: I see… But, you've got to understand that I read the manga in French and that the spelling is different. So I'm use of writing it the wait they do… But I'll try to keep it in mind… Though I think I made the mistake again with Choshuu… I think I wrote Chochou… So very sorry if I fell into that again.
Song of the Mouse: Thank you so much! Hope this chapter is ok for you and that I didn't make you wait too long. See, I did got more reviews!
Melyan: It happened to me too. Not going through a fanfic because of the summary… And usually, it's the best fanfictions around! Don't worry, I'm the optimistic kinda girl. And yes, it's K/K.
omochi: I don't know what you mean by 'planned'(wink). But I think fate has something to do with it. ^-^
Icegal: Thanks you. Hope this chapter goes up to your wishes.
Rekka's Angel: Yeah, life sure is harsh for them. But I smell roses in the air… smells quite good to.
C-sa: Don't worry. I have all intentions on keeping this fic going on. I have too much fun writing it to simply dispose of it like I did with the other one!
Lady E: You were right! They did increased, and thank to you, I got one more. ^-^ Thank you very much, it's the first time that I manage to keep the characters in their persona. And I try my best to write the feelings as I feel it, though, as you can see it here, I get a hard time when it comes to my own thoughts…. I'm too shy for my own good sometimes.
Aerin: Sort-of-but-not-quite-the way? How can you be alike and not at the same time? Anyway, I tried to make her blend into the fell of the story, so yeah, maybe she turned out looking a bit like Tomoe. It's Seisuoku Hen, I think. But I have a avi subtitled version a friend of mine gave me. The funny thing is that when I watched it, I already knew everything of it because of the manga. I know I should work on it, but… even though I try as hard as I might, English is still not my native language. But tell you one thing, I'm even worst in French and it's my language!
tenshi no hiren: All of my stories? Which one have you read? I'm curious! L'il me wanna know! (chibi-me jumbing around like a crazed child high on chocolate.)
rei: Yes, I started writing again. Feels good to sit back in front of my good old Yue (I named almost all of my electronics…. ^-^()) Wow, that was very nice (so nice I won't talk about the remark on my grammar… oops, too late). Thank you, I'm blushing! Now I look like a complete idiot blushing in front of my computer screen… Thanks good the step-father's not here, since now I'm living in my own room. Tell you one thing. I don't really like the Tomoe of the OVAs. I think she lost some of her personality somewhere along the way. But I would always prefer the energetic and expressive Kaoru over the stoic Tomoe. She's too cold to be a normal human being!
Thanks again everyone for your wonderful reviews! It gave me the will power to keep it up, and I wish to have more of your feedback! Till next time!
