Disclaimer: ...Okay, I've plain run out of creative ways to say this. I don't own Rurouni Kenshin or its characters. ...Nuhiro Obaga is my own creation though, so nyah.
Chapter Five
Himura had always been a light sleeper. Never going longer than two hours of sleep at a time if even that much, his senses were always alert and ready even in sub-consciousness.
…It didn't take a light sleeper however to be easily awakened by Obaga Nuhiro's lung capacity.
"OHAYOU DE GOZARU!!!" was Nuhiro's polite, ear-splitting salutation.
"RYU TSUI SEN!!" was Himura's equally quaint greeting as he came down from the ceiling he'd nearly jumped through.
"We've got to work on your people skills de gozaru," the elder advised before passing out into a 'oro-ing' broken heap on the floor.
Calming himself down and patiently waiting for his heart to stop its attempt to escape out his ribcage, Himura took stalk of his surroundings.
Women's kimonos and undergarments met his every turn.
While perhaps this could have been considered quite an intriguing and even fanciful situation to wake up to for some men, Himura Kenshin found it quite unsettling. Mainly because it meant that the pervious day and its experiences had not been a bad dream. There went his "eating bad sushi" theory.
With a put-upon sigh he left his swirly-eyed sensei on the floor and in search of breakfast, a single absent thought running through his mind.
Tuesday already, huh.
----------
Rice was very interesting when you thought hard enough about it.
Tiny grains of white that stick together in convenient clumps, making it much easier to pick a bunch up at once with your chopsticks. So small and insignificant alone, yet put enough of these grains together and one could be provided with a hearty meal! Astounding really.
Yup, rice could be very interesting. …Especially when you're trying not to think about the two softly, curved bodies pressing up against you as you eat it.
They had introduced themselves as Yuki and Asuka, and he recognized them as the two young girls he'd found with Nuhiro the previous day. Apparently they'd recognized him too and were currently trying to get… "better acquainted."
"Batousai-dono," Yuki purred. Himura remembered how he'd nearly spat out his oh-so interesting rice when that title came back to haunt him. "Is there anything else we can do for you? Anything you need? Soy sauce? Drink? …Entertainment?"
You could make musubi with rice. And sushi, and ohagi, and…
"I'm fine de gozaru," Himura answered politely, vaguely aware that his thoughts were rambling inanely. Maybe this was part of the training.
Obaga had given him a few instructions on what his behavior should be like while they were housing there. A bit oddly, Himura had only been told to be as extra polite as he could manage. It was odd because it had nothing to do with being flirting shamelessly with the women, which the former hitokiri had almost been expecting to be told. After all, most of this "training" seemed to be reflecting Nuhiro's character.
Count your blessings, Kenshin reminded himself.
"Are you sure?" Asuka huskily inquired. "You didn't seem so playful yesterday, but maybe you've changed your mind?"
Oh look! Pickles! He'd forgotten he had pickles!
"After all," Asuka murmured, leaning forward to give him quite a wide view. "We hardly got to tell you about any of the 'games' we have to play…"
And fish, there was fish! And two nice round, white… soft… boiled eggs! Soft-boiled eggs!
"I-I'm just fine de gozaru," Himura stammered nervously, growing more and more uncomfortable under the circumstances. He's hoped his rejection would discourage them, but his recent sputtering was taken as a breaking of will, which wasn't really the case. While still only human, Himura truly had no desire to involve himself with another woman yet, if ever. Tomoe's memory was too important in his mind to betray her so flimsily.
…But if these women didn't stop being not-so-subtle, he was going to be pulling some great and desperate escape here soon. Something along the lines of pointing and shouting, "Look, what's that?!" before bolting the other way.
...Kami that was lame, yet it was the best he could come up with. It made him wonder how in the world had he survived the Bakumatsu.
Luckily, salvation arrived just then.
"Girls!" Yuiishi reprimanded. "How many times have I told you to stop picking up the penniless bums on the streets and go out and find the men with cash to pay? Honestly, some of you have absolutely no taste or standards."
Salvation wasn't feeling particularly tactful at that moment, but Himura was in the position of Beggar, not Chooser.
Whining and pouting much as they had yesterday, the two girls, along with a few on the on-lookers, dispersed themselves to the more inner regions of the establishment. Once gone, Himura let out a relieved breath he didn't realize he'd been holding in.
"Are my girls so unappealing to you or are you truly that stupid, Himura-san?"
Startled, he blinked up at the brothel owner. "You know my name de gozaru ka?"
"Yes, you're uncle mentioned it to me yesterday," she answered, seating herself across from him as formally as any proper hostess would. "I've answered your question, now how about answering mine."
"…I am simply not seeking the company of any woman right now, Yuiishi-dono," he replied truthfully.
"I see," she said simply, not seeming surprised or offended by this remark. She studied him carefully for a moment before adding, "You're not mentally unstable are you."
It was not a question but it threw Himura off all the same. "P-pardon?!" he asked, nearly choking on his rice again.
"I didn't think so," Yuiishi continued, ignoring any evidence that indicated he might need respiratory aid. "You dress like a moron, but your eyes are too intelligent to actually be one."
"Er… thanks?" Himura responded, not sure if he should actually be insulted or not.
After a bit more study, the head mistress spoke again. "Obaga-san isn't your uncle either, is he?"
He pondered on how to answer for a moment, not sure how the truth would effect their current residential status. In the end he decided that honesty was part of Nuhiro's instructed "politness" and gave in with a sigh. "Not exactly de gozaru…" Himura watched for her reaction and was surprised he couldn't quite read it. Psh, some Hiten Mitsurugi specialist I am. "I can understand if you want to throw us out, Yuiishi-dono."
Nanari's head reeled back in surprise. "Throw you out?" she asked incredulously. "Why would I do such a thing?"
"Anou… because we lied to you de gozaru ka?"
"I'll live," Yuiishi bluntly answered, leaving Himura a bit miffed by her casual reproach of the matter. "While I don't appreciate being lied to, I've heard worse and for lower reasons. Giving a few homeless wanderers a place to stay for the night isn't something I can't afford. Especially when in exchange for a few favors."
"Oro?" he blinked, inwardly impressed at how easy it was to keep up his speech like this. Maybe it was just easier when you genuinely wanted to put up a good front. "What kind of favors, Yuiishi-dono?"
The woman fished around in the pockets of her elegant sleeves for a moment before coming up with a folded piece of paper. Handing it to the redhead, she smiled. "Here's the list. Get everything on it and be back before lunch. I'll have a few more things for the two of you to do when you get back." And with that she stood and left.
"…Anou…" Himura drawled, still holding the paper out in front of him, dumbfounded.
"What's this de gozaru ka?" Nuhiro asked as he made an abrupt appearance behind his young companion and snatched the parchment from his fingers. Looking it over, he nodded briefly before tucking it into his own gi.
"What was on it?" the ex-hitokiri inquired after nothing was relayed to him.
"A list de gozaru," Nuhiro replied simply, motioning to one of the girls inside the kitchen who then went off to prepare his meal.
Himura glared before remembering not to glare, and thus ended up looking as neutrally as he could at Obaga. …Which in essence was still something of a glare. Baka hitokiri habits.
"I know it's a list," he informed.
"Then why'd you ask?"
"I want to know what kind of list it is!" he shouted. Strange how hard it is to keep a polite speech when you genuinely wanted to strangle somebody.
"Maa maa," the samurai waved. "Just the essential things a house full of women might need."
"You mean we're going shopping." Nuhiro nodded. "Why couldn't you just say that? You make the simplest things so difficult, you know."
"Well…" The mustached man grinned sheepishly pulled out the list again and this time fully unfolded it. Himura's jaw hit the ground about the same time the end of the paper did. "Sometimes the simplest things can be quite difficult de gozaru."
Apparently, it was going to be another long day.
----------
Himura stared at Obaga. Not because it was fun, but because some unknown instinct that each of us possesses tells us that when verbal communication is temporarily blocked by shock, you stare. Himura had always been instinctive.
When he was done with his blank look, he spoke. "You want me to what?!"
Nuhiro rolled his eyes at Himura. Again, not for entertainment purposes, but because a simple principle installed in each of us tells us that when someone asks a stupid question, you roll your eyes. Nuhiro had always been simple.
"Just trip on something and fall over a little," he repeated, gesturing out to the growing crowds in the market. "Besides looking like an idiot, you must now have the character of one. Clumsiness is a quick way to ensure nobody will take you seriously de gozaru! The basic principle of idiocy is: If you don't want to stand out and can't blend in, then become somebody that people will not acknowledge!"
"In other words, act like such a complete moron until nobody will want to be associated with you."
"Exactly!"
"I can see how that would work. I certainly wish I didn't know you right now."
"See, the principal proves itself. So whadda ya say?"
The ex-hitokiri considered this quietly and deeply.
"You're looking too serious again de gozaru."
The ex-hitokiri considered it quietly and deeply while looking as though he'd swallowed a lemon.
"Boy, we really need to work on your smile."
The ex-hitokiri thought, "screw it de gozaru" and went back to just plain quietly and deeply. Finally he muttered something.
"Eh?" Nuhiro asked, leaning down closer hear.
"This is stupid," he repeated for him, having no qualm in doing so.
"At last you get it!" Obaga exclaimed happily. Then he noticed Himura's blank look. "Oh. Maybe not then. You've been doing so well, what's holding you back now de gozaru ka?"
"I'll look like a fool." Nuhiro glanced between the young man and the color-blind gi he was wearing. "…More so," the Ishin Shishi added.
"And this surprises and upsets now you because…?"
Himura sighed in irritation. He hated it when Obaga made a good point. "What do I have to do?" he at last growled in resign.
"It's very simple de gozaru! Just walk over to the vegetable stand there to go buy some daikon radishes and fall flat on your face before you get there!"
Sweat beaded Himura's brow. "…Oh gee, is that all?"
"Does it sound too difficult?"
"No. …Just too humiliating."
"Himura."
Drat, he was doing it again. Dropping formalities and suddenly looking so serious that you couldn't help but to listen to him reason. Considering the fact that he was an absolute baka at all other times, it was an incredibly effective stare.
"You're not thinking about this in its entirety. Which would you rather be labeled as for the majority of your life? A harmless bumbler or the legendary Hitokiri Battousai?" His companion blinked as Nihiro continued solemnly. "You must get rid of your pride if you want to get rid of the Battousai within you, Himura. As long as you continue to exist as him, you will forever be him."
For a moment Kenshin could only… stare. (The fundamentals of this being explained in the first paragraph.) It just seemed so surreal to be receiving such wise words from this crazy old drunk of a swordsman.
…Then again, he'd thought his own shishou to have been something of a crazy old drunk of a swordsman, so why was he really surprised?
And that thought in of itself somehow gave him more confidence.
Without saying a word, Himura began walking towards the vegetable stand, searching for something to excuse the cause of his fall without looking like he was looking for it. Now what did he have here to work with here…
A woman selling brightly colored fabrics was distracted by her work and it would've been easy to make it look like she wasn't paying attention and caused him to trip over himself trying to step around her. That would make him look kinda polite. …Then again, Obaga was just nosy enough to probably ask him why he'd chosen to bump into a woman. Scratch that.
…An errand boy was carrying some pails of water at the two ends of a pole, but if Himura made him spill them, then it would probably make him angry. Besides, the water could spill on people and thus get them all very irritated with him. Next.
There was a carpenter carrying some wooden boards, but bumping into him might cause him to drop them and be too potentially harmful to other pedestrians. Yeesh, it was too crowed around here!
At last Himura spotted the perfect scapegoat out of the corner of his eye. Someone had left a small crate lying near the very stand he was going to be heading towards. It was perfect! No one would get hurt or angry, and he could pretend he didn't see it. Glad to soon be getting this debacle over with, the redhead made sure he was deliberately not paying attention to where he was going.
…And that's why he jumped a mile in surprise when the cat, whose tail he stepped on, yowled crossly in protest before using his calf as a scratching post.
"Itai de gozaru yo!" he yelped, hoping on his one leg that didn't look like raw beef.
"My kitty!" a small girl proclaimed. "You stepped on my kitty!"
"Su-suman-"
(*Whack*)
Having turned around to see what was happening behind him, the carpenter, in a careless move, had abruptly turned around, whacking the poor rurouni-in-training square in the nose with his boards. Himura stumbled backwards but before he could regain his balance, bumped into the water boy rather roughly.
"Hey!" the kid cried even as the scale balance of the pole was shifted and one pail went flying up and over onto Himura's head, dousing him with water in the process. Still trying to coordinate himself while dislodging the bucket from his head, he lifted the basin from his line of vision just in time to see he was on a crash course with (you guessed it) the fabric lady. Shifting his poor balance to one side, he managed to side-step her at the last moment. …Her wares, however, were not so lucky.
His own bright gi was lost in the rest of the vibrant hues of cloth as they tangled around him, constricting his freedom of movement. Hoping around frantically, he was just managing to steady himself out when his foot caught on the original thing he was aiming for. All chances of recovery were long gone now as Himura flew over the crate and finally crashed to the ground with a mighty THUD and complimentary dust cloud.
Bloodied, bruised, wet, and unable to move, the first training session of the day was complete. …It actually wasn't that different from his time he'd trained under Hiten Mitsurugi. However, practicing in total isolation had been nice. He could really go for some of that now.
Nuhiro was soon at his side, a wide grin on his face. At first Himura couldn't tell if he was proud of trying to hold back his laughter.
"That was superb, Himura-dono!" he praised in a tone only loud enough for them to hear. "I didn't realize you'd do so well! You're a natural de gozaru!"
Not sure if that was to be taken as a compliment or not, Himura thanked him kindly for his feedback with words that were more colorful than the fabrics he was entangled in.
His teacher frowned. "Ahem. Language, Himura-dono."
The Battousai gritted his teeth.
"…oro."
----------
It was quite unusual to see someone come back from a shopping trip looking dirty, bruised, and battle-worn. At least it was in 19th century Japan. After shopping malls were invented and Christianity spread, the two entities coming together for form an event entitled "Christmas Sale," it would be quite normal. But that wasn't to be for another hundred years, give or take a couple decades, thus rendering that small rant irrelevant to the story. So where were we…?
Oh yes. It was unusual to hop out of the house to grab some beef and come back looking like some beef had grabbed you. Himura, however, had exactly that kind of look. …Nuhiro wasn't far behind him in appearances either.
"Glad you made it back in time," Yuiishi greeted as the two boarders came ambling through the back gate. Actually, it looked more like two large piles of groceries and supplies on buckling legs came walking in.
Nanari, being full of concern (that they might drop all of her things), quickly directed them to the back porch were they could carefully lay the items down. After doing so, they two men promptly laid themselves down in a heap on the grass. The head mistress took back her list and, with a helper, began to rummage through the piles, checking off each object. Half way through, she curiously lifted up a bundle of fabric.
"What's this?" she inquired. "This certainly wasn't on my list."
Both men looked up from their recovery to see what she was talking about.
"Oh, that's Himura-dono's," Obaga said with a casual wave. The redhead angrily hissed something between his teeth at the elder who ignored it completely. Yuiishi raised an eyebrow at the young swordsman.
"Interesting color for you, Himura-san," she commented, laying to the side. The young man pinked a little at the cheeks, clearly caught between embarrassment and annoyance. "I won't pay for it though," she said as the last groceries were inspected and approved. Pulling out a small purse of money, she handed it out to them. "Here, this should cover all that you spent on my requests."
"Aa," Nuhiro smiled, reaching out for the reimbursement. "Ariga-" (*smack*)
"Domo arigatou gozamasu, Yuiishi-dono," Himura replied, casually dislodging his scabbard from Obaga's teeth and replacing the proper expenses in his own empty wallet.
"What was that for?" the samurai complained. Himura scowled at him.
"I paid for everything," he replied.
"Shouldn't I still get something for helping you carry it?"
"You'd probably just spend it all on sake."
Nuhiro's features suddenly took on a dreamy look. "Saaaaaakeeeee…"
"…You're drooling de gozaru…"
"Obaga-san." Both looked up and their landlady. "Please do the chores I asked you and Himura-san to do now. I'll interrupt you when lunch is made."
"Hai, Yuiishi-dono," the graying swordsman replied as the woman walked off.
"More chores?" Himura asked. "What do we have to do now?"
"Oh, just a few small little things, Himura-dono. We'll get them done in no time de gozaru. Let's see… I'll do the wood chopping, sweeping, dusting, and dishes."
Kenshin blinked. "That seems like an awful lot for just you to do, Obaga-san. It's quite generous." His violet eyes then narrowed. "Which leads me to ask 'what's the catch?' What do I do?"
Nuhiro told him.
"NANI?!"
"Oro. Is there a problem with that task de gozaru ka?"
"It's… it's…!"
"…Anou… It's what?"
Himura's shoulder slumped. "…It's nothing. It's just that…"
"Just what?"
The 19-year old ex-hitokiri crossed his arms sourly and stated quite plainly, "I don't do laundry… de gozaru."
Nuhiro grinned carelessly. "Oh you'll get it done in no time using that legendary speed of yours, Himura-dono."
"The speed of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu is used only as an excellent skill of mastery swordsmanship, not for getting a dirt stain out of a kimono!"
"Then just scrub at normal speed."
"Did you see how large that pile of dirty clothes was?!"
"You're young. You've got the stamina to handle it, right?"
"Well why can't I do the other things?"
"Hey, you should consider this an honor de gozaru!"
The redhead blinked. "An honor?"
Nodding sagely, his mentor replied, "Of course! Once again you are not thinking about things in their entirety, Himura-dono."
At these familiar words, the young Ishin Shishi listened more intently, expecting Obaga to enlighten him again. …Then he decided to forget that idea after seeing a glazed, perverted looked enter the elder's eyes.
"All of that women's underwear, Himura-dono! I'm letting you wash and handle it all while I deject myself to other common duties!"
It appeared Nuhiro's skull and Himura's sakabatou were becoming fast friends with the way they kept meeting. Always greeting each other with the same amicable Crack!
"I'm beginning to think the only 'training' going on here is the Art of the Hentai," the younger growled.
Nuhiro might've rubbed his chin thoughtfully at this if he hadn't been so busy tending to his nose gingerly. "Hmm… Actually Himura-dono, I would not encourage you to practice voyeurism de gozaru."
"You wouldn't? Why's that?"
"Well, you're probably just young and handsome enough to pull it off!" Obaga smiled.
Hmm, that's true. …Er, hey! Focus Himura, focus!
"Are you telling me that you're a pervert because you know you can't pull it off?" he asked.
Nuhiro pouted. "Well that's a rude way of putting it. ..But in essence, perhaps yes. I do only consider it a hobby I picked up …"
"A hobby? Isn't that somewhat demented?"
"At your age it's demented de gozaru. At my age, it's a hobby."
"…Uh-huh."
"Well, we'd best get to work before Yuiishi-dono really gets on our backs about slacking off here, ne?"
Without leaving any room for argument, Nuhiro dashed off towards the side of the house where the woodpile awaited him. It was clear there was nothing more to be said about the matter.
Again accepting his defeat with a heavily irritated sigh, Himura soon found his way to the laundry room. In an unsurprising bout of misfortune, the mass of it had not depleted but rather accumulated. With a tired groan, he rolled up his sleeves.
The legendary Hitokiti Battousai doing laundry, he mused to himself. Even Tomoe would be laughing her head off at me right now…
-----------
Red was the color of many things.
Himura Kenshin's hair was red (arguably orange). Asuka (one of the brothel girls from that morning) had a favorite silk kimono that was also red. The stains on the cloth that was held by Himura were red. And as he walked out of the back of the teahouse after having had a very informative "talk" with Yuiishi Nanari, his face was also red.
He could honestly say he'd never been more humiliated in his entire lifetime. How was he supposed to know that women had a… a… "time of the month" as Yuiishi had so delicately put it. After all, he wasn't a woman (despite all deceptive appearances). He only knew that he'd recognize blood anywhere and as far as he knew, it shouldn't be one a woman's… a woman's…
ARUG!! How in Buddah's name had Tomoe kept something like that a secret from him the entire time they were living together?!
…Then again, she had been awfully good at keeping secrets. But still…
After having found the bloodstains, Himura had gone to Yuiishi in concern that some ill treatment or even disease might be plaguing one of her girls. (He was fairly certain that the loss of virginity had nothing to do with it here.) If it were the former, he felt it his duty to protect them from danger. Were it to be the latter, he still wanted to help in any way he could. (Were it the improbable, he'd just go back to his chores like it was nobody's business.)
But no, it just had to be something he didn't really want to know about in the first place, didn't it?
Muttering a sting of angry 'oro's under his breath, he sat himself back down at the washtub and toss the… er, garment, back into the soapy water. As it gradually began to sink under the suds, he debated on whether or not he really wanted to touch it again let alone wash it after finding out the truth. Looking over at the pile he'd brought out to do, it didn't look like he'd made much of any progress. And this was still the tip of the iceberg! Hiten speed or no, this was a job that was going to require a lot of time.
Exhaling a long-suffering sigh, Himura decided not to fight the inevitable and began to scrub away at the cloth.
Blood is blood, Himura, he told himself. You should be used to it in any form. You've seen enough of it in your lifetime, right?
…scrub, scrub, scrub, scrub…
Hundreds… Thousands, maybe? They all bled in your past. Your bloody past…
…scrub, scrub, Scrub, Scrub…
It doesn't matter what form it's in. Blood is blood. Whether it be a man's…
…Scrub Scrub Scrub Scrub…
…Or a woman's…
…ScrubScrubScrubScrub…
Your… MY bloody past… Ore no…… ...Sessha…
…SCRUBSCRUBSCUBSCRUB…
…Is it too much to hope? Can such a dirty past ever be…
The cloth snapped loudly in Himura's hands.
"Clean and white!!!"
For a moment the air was completely still.
Himura had hardly realized he'd shouted that out loud. He wasn't sure if that was an end to his thoughts or the first forming of some bizarre, uncontrollable habit. And then he noticed the garment.
…The blood was completely gone. Not a trace of it anywhere. It was as though the stain had never existed in the first place. It was…
Clean and white.
For a moment, the air was completely still…
"Ah HA!"
"Gah!" Himura nearly jumped straight into the air again as his mustached sensei snuck up behind him. "Don't do that!" he shouted angrily.
"Humph," Nuhiro sniffed. "Some legendary hitokiri you must've been. Letting an old man like me sneak up on you." His lips suddenly curled up into a lecherous grin. "But it appears you are not as innocent or naïve as you claim to be, Himura-dono."
Between blinks, Himura stared up at him. "What?"
"And you chastise me on being perverted de gozaru," he replied, ignoring the redhead's confusion.
"What are you talking about?" the young swordsman asked darkly.
In response, Nuhiro merely pointed to the underwear in the boy's hands. There was a moment of incomprehension before it all instantly clicked.
Oh gods… I've just been sitting here for the past few minutes doing nothing but staring at… at…
A round of stifled giggles erupted from the back porch of the teahouse. Terrified at what he might find there, Himura still braved himself to turn around. Sure enough, a small band of the young women were there, laughing and whispering about his situation and Nuhiro's suggestion. To make matters worse, Yuiishi stood at the head of them with a look so judging, the redhead wondered when he'd been put on trial.
"Lunch is ready now, Himura-san," the ever-polite and refined head mistress said. "If you're done with… the laundry now, you can come take a break and eat."
"You can come and take more than that if you like," one of the girls jived. Another burst of tittering broke out only to be scolded by Yuiishi who shooed the girls inside while reminding them that their line of work had a fine line of business and pleasure.
…Yeah right.
"The table is set and the feast awaits you, Himura-dono. …And I think you can take that down metaphorically as well if you know what I mean." Nuhiro indicated a few nudges and winks while Himura's face once again grew the shade of his hair.
Where's a hole to crawl and die in when you needed it de gozaru ka?
End chapter five.
Author's Notes:
Ore - a blunt/vulgar and masculine way of saying "I"
Ore no - the way to say "my" using ore
Sessha - another way to say "I" but in essence means something more along the lines of "this unworthy one"
Ah, poor Kenshin. How I torture him so. ...What? Don't give me any dirty looks. I may be the one torturing him, but who's enjoying reading about it? Ha.
...As for those of you who aren't enjoying it... um... What are you doing reading this far into the fic?
Gah. I just realized a short while ago that I've been spelling "Ishin Shishi" wrong. I've been spelling it "Ishin Shinshi." There's no "n." Baka authoress!! *sighs* Well, even though no one seemed to notice, it'll be spelled correctly here on out.
Thanks for keeping me going, minna!