glossary:

doko e? = where to?

tantou = knife or dagger, eg the one Megumi tried to kill herself with before Sano rushed in to stop her ^.^

tabi = Japanese split-toed socks

kitsune-onna = literally, fox-lady

onna-sensei = woman doctor

sumanu = informal "sorry"

che = swear word ^.^;

Yoake Mae no Yami ni

by Mirune Keishiko

Eight:   Kaiwa.  Soshite, Kimochi.  Mata, Kaiwa

(Dialogue.  And then, Feelings.  Again, Dialogue)

"Doko e, kitsune?"

Megumi blinked.  The noise of rushing wind and jingling harness had precluded conversation, and she had lost herself in the many rich, long-forgotten smells that now enveloped her—the fur and sweat of the horse, the well-worn leather of its trappings, the clean scent of skin tinged ever so slightly with masculine musk that suggested Sano had bathed before appearing at the dojo.  Coupling rich senses with rich thought, she hardly noticed when they left the trees and fields.  Only now did she realize that Fuuko had slowed down, having turned into a little-used dirt road winding into the country.

Belatedly she saw that Sano had taken a route through what remained of the city's uninhabited wooded areas.  She had forgotten to voice her concern about being seen riding with a stranger through the streets, but had Sano suspected this and directed the horse accordingly?

 "We're headed north.  Ya wanna go home?"

His voice was husky and eager; involuntarily she stiffened as his breath tickled her ear.  Such proximity made her uncomfortable after so many years of deliberately distancing herself from other people.

Seeming to notice this, he immediately shifted as far away from her as the shared saddle would allow.  When he slipped off the saddle she let slip a gasp and clutched at his arm, thinking he was falling—but he had merely moved to ride bareback behind the saddle itself, and stared down at her hand on his arm until she snatched it away and turned to stare fixedly ahead, her face burning.

 "That grove," she said after a few minutes, when the flames in her cheeks had finally died down.  She pointed to a stand of trees on the crest of a hill some distance away.  "Can you take me there?"

Without a word he turned the horse—Megumi, realizing she had the reins in her hands, wordlessly conceded his skill—and Fuuko immediately left the road and plowed into the tall, stiff grasses that kissed Megumi's bare feet with their feathery tips.  The doctor remembered then, with a inward groan, that she had left her shoes at the dojo and had pocketed her currently useless tabi.

 "You realize, toriatama no baka, that I haven't any shoes," she said tersely as the horse slowed to a halt by the grove.

 "Then you're lucky I didn't finish unpackin' before Yahiko chased us off."  Sano freed one of the soft cloth pouches tied to the saddle, and in a moment Megumi was eyeing the fringed leather concoction he held out to her with mixed uncertainty and distaste.  She hesitated, unsure how to phrase her reaction.

But then Sano laughed, and Megumi itched to hit him.  "This is what the natives wear on a continent on the other side of the world," he explained briskly, as though eager to share his knowledge.  "They're used on the great prairies and dirt trails.  It's way more comfortable than any old geta.  Try it first, kitsune."

She took the shoes without a word but with a last, scornful glance at him.  It felt strange to wear shoes without an extra layer of sock between her sole and leather, but when she took her first steps in the grass, her mouth broke into a surprised smile.

 "Not bad at all, toriatama" was all she said, however, before turning away and walking toward the trees.

Sano slid off the horse and began following her more slowly, shuffling through the grass as if delighting in the noise and in the clouds of tiny insects that buzzed up in his face.  "Don't it feel good to be out in the fresh air?  You've all been cooped up too long in that old dojo, so I brought Fuuko especially to stir you up."

 "Tokyo is so big and growing so fast now, the countryside seems so far away."  Megumi's voice was faint as she walked among the trees, bent slightly forward to scan the ground, clasping her hair loosely to one side to keep it out of her face.  "Come over here and make yourself useful, toriatama, so that we can be back at the dojo sooner.  Something terrible could happen and they'd have no idea where to find us."

 "Relax, kitsune," snorted Sanosuke as he plunged into the trees after her, leaving Fuuko to graze contentedly.  "Fifteen years of work, work, work has made you even worse a worrywart than you used to be."

 "It's my job to worry," she snapped, carefully bundling a handful of sprigs in a soft, wide leaf.  "You, on the other hand, have done nothing but worry about nobody but yourself, self-centered unemployed idiot that you are."

 " 'Cept I don't worry, Megitsune.  Oi, now I'm here, what'm I s'posed to do?"

Megumi met his exasperated look with an amused one.  "Not step on anything with your big stupid feet," she said smoothly, eliciting from him a curse and a nimble leap onto the nearest rock, "and hold on to this for me.  Gently."

 "I got a whole bunch o' bags back with Fuuko if you need 'em."  Very gingerly, Sanosuke held the leaf-wrapped bunch of herbs between his thumb and forefinger as if fearing it would crumble to dust at the slightest touch.

 "Well, that would certainly be helpful.  I don't know how he'll take to a tether, but he must or he might crush something important," Megumi called after Sano as he promptly shinnied up the nearest tree and began leaping from one to another toward where he had left his horse, as if he were ten years old and not thirty-four.

Soon the grove became still again, though Megumi could still hear the feeble echoes of Sanosuke crashing gleefully through the far brush.  She gave up trying to fight the smile off her face as she knelt to pick dark green leafy sprigs from a low shrub half hidden in the undergrowth.  She brought the broken end to her nose, and the sweet, heady green scent refreshed her senses more than the chill breeze that was blowing.

She was aware of the need to return as soon as she could, if only to soothe her conscience which was already harping on the impetuousness with which she had joined Sanosuke.  But gathering herbs in the wild was a pastime she had not indulged in in many years, since her work took up most of her time in Aizu and the hospital garden furnished most of the plants she used.  The fresh, bright smell of wild rosemary was somehow different from that of rosemary from the earth of the town; and it brought to mind happy afternoons of her childhood—of eagerly dogging her parents' steps as they picked medicinal plants in the fragrant Aizu country and patiently answered her endless questions, of tagging along after her older brothers as they proudly pointed to herb after herb and rattled off the parts used, the benefits and dangers, the indications, the method of treatment, until she was openmouthed with little-sisterly admiration.

She was so absorbed in her memories that it took her some moments before she belatedly realized that Sanosuke had returned and was watching her gravely from between two trees.  Several leather pouches, tied with twine and feathers, hung from a strap looped around his shoulder and waist.

In response to an inexplicable impulse, she quickly uncurved the wistful smile on her face, giving him instead a withering glance.  "Don't you know it's rude to stare at people like that?"

 "Just enjoying the view."

She shot him another disgusted look.  "We're too old for those games now, toriatama.  Maybe you haven't felt it, but—"

She caught herself, indignant color flaring across her pale cheeks.  As she averted her eyes, back to the herbs she had been gathering, he calmly finished for her:  "But fifteen years have passed?"

 "Hai.  Anyone can see that.  Except maybe you."

She saw, out of the corner of her eye, Sanosuke raise his eyebrows at the bitterness in her tone.  She cursed herself for loosening her rein on her emotions, knowing that unwelcome questions would then be inevitable.

 "I do know it's been fifteen years, kitsune.  For one thing, I can hold my temper a lot better now."

Megumi relaxed into a smile at that.  Judging from his even, almost casual tones, he was right.  One side of his mouth lifted in half of a grin, Sanosuke tossed her the strap of pouches and she caught it skillfully.

"I suppose that would take a brute like you that long to learn," she sniffed, stopping a moment to eye the bright green moss furring a high branch before dismissing it as nonmedicinal and moving on.

 "Now who's not too old to play games?"  Picking a stalk of grass to chew on, Sanosuke swung himself into a stumpy, sturdy tree and stretched out luxuriously into the pocket of its lower branches.

 "One other thing you've picked up, toriatama?  You seem to have learned how to fight with words, not just fists."  Megumi had intended it as a compliment, but she realized, as it left her lips, that it sounded more like another insult.

 "Kuso, kitsune-onna, you make a man want to disappear again for another fifteen years," growled Sano.

An unexpected, unfamiliar frailty seemed to wash over Megumi, and for a moment she caught herself on a thick treetrunk; but then she forced herself back to her feet, scoffing her own sentimentality.  Quickly she glanced up at him, but he was lounging back against the branches with eyes shut and face relaxed, as though his last statement was truly no more than a careless joke.

Silently tucking her gathered plants into the pouches, Megumi slowly made her way around the grove until she stood at the foot of Sanosuke's roost.

 "Do you think you will?"

There, she'd said it.  I'll never say anything about that again, Megumi told herself firmly.  She forced herself to look up, to meet Sanosuke's startled gaze.  Every second that she didn't look away and pretend she had said nothing at all was a hard-won triumph against her formidable pride.

Triumph of what? came the sly, unbidden question.  And then Hush, she told herself sternly, before one particular word could set her heart beating uncharacteristically fast again.  When Sanosuke, after an eternity, finally looked away, she felt her knees weaken with relief.

 "Why do you ask?"

Megumi knew him better than to believe the breezy nonchalance in his voice.  And he probably knew better than to believe it in hers.

 "Well, I don't think I could blame you if you did."  She crouched to inspect a feathery head of dark purple flowers.  "After the excitement of wandering the whole world, I can't imagine you, of all people, settling into a steady life in boring, hidebound old Japan."  With a sudden afterthought, she laughed her fox's laugh.  "And getting a job!"  Still shaking her head, she bent to probe among the broad carpeting leaves of a ground vine.

"Hey, you don't survive so long from home without learning a thing or two," growled Sanosuke.  "I can too get a job.  I've tried a whole bunch of different things, kitsune—" His tone shifted, turned both dreamy and amused.  "Cattle ranchin', sheep farmin'.  Most o' the time I hired myself out as bodyguard.  Sometimes when things got really hard, I helped out loadin' at the docks."  He paused, then added quietly, "I drove a carriage in New York for a couple months 'bout four years back."

Megumi smiled, not really paying attention.  "Four years ago?  I'm amazed you can still remember..."  She trailed off as his words finally registered with her.

 "There was a convention that time, in this classy hotel," murmured Sano absent-mindedly.  Megumi, who was staring fixedly into space, didn't see him toying with a sprig of small oblong leaves that folded in on themselves at his light touch.  "There was a whole bunch of us drivers waitin' outside, knowin' we'd be needed.  Five nights straight we stayed outside waitin'.  That way I picked up most of my English from those fellows.  We'd compete to take home the folks from the convention..."

Megumi turned abruptly away, tried to absorb herself in digging up roots.  "What hotel?"

Sanosuke gave a familiar name so promptly Megumi's heart didn't know whether to leap or sink.

 "That was around... September."  Sano's voice was distant, as though caught up in the far-off memory.

Megumi said nothing for several minutes, and Sano was likewise silent as she tied back her sleeves and vigorously unearthed several bulbous, coarse-skinned roots, not caring about soiling her hands in her determination to evade the sensitive topic of conversation.

She immediately forgot it as she stared in distress down at the precious rhizomes, remembering then that she'd left her knife and other herb-gathering instruments at the dojo.  Leaves, flowers, and whole sprigs could be broken cleanly, but brute force would only damage the roots she wanted.

 "I'll never do something so spontaneous again," Megumi muttered to herself in annoyance.

Something heavy thumped at her feet, startling her.  It was a sheath of dark wood, inlaid with mother-of-pearl in neat geometric patterns.  Megumi picked up the handsome object and pulled out a tantou whose blade flashed in the dappled sunlight.

 "Looks a lot better than that old one I took from you, ne?"

 "Very elegant.  I didn't know you went in for throwing weapons now."

 "Megitsune."  His tone was exasperated.  "Anyone ever tell ya you got a lousy way of showin' gratitude?"

Megumi smiled sheepishly, realizing that at thirty-seven years of age, she could hardly resent this embarrassing statement of truth.  "Gomen ne, toriatama.  I've been mean.  Thank you for your gift.  But if you intend for me to pull up plants with this, then I refuse to defile such a lovely blade with such a menial task."  She smiled silent thanks up at him as she sheathed the tantou.  "Even if a salve made from honey and this powdered root is a really good antiseptic."

 "Well, if I'd just known you needed gardening tools instead of small arms," said Sanosuke, scratching his head and obviously trying not to look too pleased.  Leaping out of the tree and landing before her with suprising lightness, he held out his hand.  When she gave him the knife, he unsheathed it and, without a moment's hesitation, began to loosen the soil around the root with the blade.

 "It is your gift, but it's a shame to dull that blade," murmured Megumi, hovering anxiously, not sure whether she was more concerned about his misuse of the weapon or the risk of his damaging the valuable roots.

 "'Sallright.  It's for a worthy cause.  I'll just sharpen it up again."  And Sanosuke, having cleared the earth away from the roots, shook the blade free of dirt and held it out again to her.  "All set, sensei."

 "Sharpen it?"  Megumi cut at the roots with a practiced hand, soon placing bulb after shiny bulb into a pouch.  "You never did something so useful before when you were here.  Did you pick that up from another job?"

Sano chuckled.  "Actually, yes.  This guy I helped out for a while gave me that blade—this Chinese swordsmith who knew all about Japanese weapons.  Told him all about you, and he said someone like you had to have somethin' for protection."

Megumi smiled, but only briefly as she realized with dismay that they had somehow returned to the subject of his past occupations.

"There's a whole bunch of other plants like that over here."  Sanosuke, who had strayed to a different area of the grove, waved his hand vaguely.  "Should I dig 'em up too?"

 "I'd appreciate the help."  Megumi hurried over, having replaced the stirred soil, and glad that Sano seemed to have forgotten the matter of carriage-driving in New York entirely.

Over the next few hours, as they roamed the expanse of the grassy hill, she deftly steered the conversation well clear of the past.  Instead she kept up a commentary on the medicinal properties of the flowers and leaves she frequently stopped to cull.  In turn he told her of the herbs and roots he had seen used in other lands—a dark, stubby, cloven desert root from Africa that was powerful against arthritis, small pink flowers in Madagascar used to combat diabetes.  She listened avidly, making mental notes one after another to inform her colleagues in her next letter.

 "I'm glad to see herbalism hasn't completely disappeared," she told him as they finally headed down the hill toward Fuuko.  The horse had raised its head from grazing at the sight of its master approaching.  "German medicine is the most advanced in the world yet, and everyone's training in its methods.  But I think because of its focus on chemicals and technology, Japanese doctors are now ignoring the herb lore that we've developed and survived on for thousands of years."

 "It's the whole Meiji spirit."  Sanosuke's tone was dark, as though his old enmity for the restored government had not faded with time.  "We're turning our backs on our own culture trying to embrace all these foreign influences."

 "Have you been talking to your old friend Tsukioka?" Megumi asked slyly as he whistled for Fuuko to trot over.

Sano's eyes were filled with mock hurt as he glanced at her.  "I keep in touch, you know."  He swung easily into the saddle and grinned.  "You gonna make me ride bareback again?  Or is the onna-sensei not too delicate to share a saddle with an itinerant brute?"

She ignored his outstretched hand and nimbly mounted, with a grace she found rewarded with the admiration in his eyes.  As she secured her heavy pouches over her shoulder, he urged Fuuko forward at a lazy pace.  It was near midday, but misty gray clouds had come to blot out the sunlight.

 "You ride in Aizu?"

 "Sometimes.  I prefer it to riding in carriages when I visit patients out of town."  Megumi let her gaze drift across the peaceful countryside, trying not to notice how closely they sat together in the saddle.

 "Those too poor to come to your hospital, you mean."

 "How did you know?"  She turned her head to look at him in surprise and soon regretted it.  His height had her staring at his broad, well-muscled, and partially exposed chest, and when she craned her neck to look up, his face was a scant five inches from hers.  "I only do it on my days off.  I don't tell the others," she added, hastily turning away.

He was either unaware of her discomfort or enjoying it without a word; Megumi thought dryly that she'd bet on the latter.  "Not even Keitaro-sensei?"

Again Megumi found herself stiffening with a displeasure she didn't much care to conceal.  "Yamada Keitaro-sensei"—her voice rose slightly with the formal title—"left the hospital and my company three years ago.  I believe he's already established himself as director of a large hospital somewhere in Niigata.  However, I may be mistaken, as it doesn't really concern me."

Sano's short laugh added to her irritation.  "And that's the end of it, ne?  The kitsune's claws dig deep."

 "I don't see that it's any of your business.  And anyhow, I can't imagine how you ever got wind of—"  And Megumi broke off as her imagination did suddenly work.

 "You two looked cozy enough in New York, but I gotta admit my news is hopelessly out of date."  He tugged at the reins with a strange half-smile on his face that annoyed and flustered Megumi at the same time.  She turned and stared fixedly at the horizon over the horse's proudly raised head, wishing Sano had never brought up the current topic.

 "He was kind enough," she said at last, when seeming eons of uneasy silence had crawled past.  "And ambitious."

Sano said nothing, merely spit out the stalk of grass he had been chewing.

 "He only wanted the connection to Sanada-sensei—to the owner and director of the hospital, who's always been a friend of my family."  Megumi spoke slowly, torn between a growing unease with sharing such unnecessary information, and a strong but inexplicable urge to fill him in on a past affair gone sour.  "When I found him out, he was at least still gentleman enough to leave my sight the moment he could."

"Sumanu."  Sanosuke's low voice had lost its earlier humor.  "You're right, Megitsune, it is none of my business."

 "Shall we talk of other things, then?" she asked lightly, after another long, awkward pause.  "Your letters were very interesting, toriatama."

 "Che—you read 'em already?"  Sanosuke scratched at his head, smiling ruefully, avoiding the shrewd gaze she turned to give him.  "I didn't know if I should give 'em to you, since they're really old shit, but after luggin' 'em around for so long and takin' so much care of 'em I didn't feel I should burn 'em anymore, so..."

 "I'm glad you didn't."  Megumi, noting his growing embarrassment, mercifully interrupted his rambling with a tone that surprised even her with its gentleness.  "It's a shame you didn't send them.  All of us here at home were wondering what had happened to you."

 "Kept forgettin'."  Sano appeared to be concentrating unusually hard on the reins.  "Just kept puttin' them away, and before I knew it I had more of 'em than I knew what to do with.  More'n once I thought of usin' 'em as fuel, but somehow it never got around to that."

 "I was thinking you should read them to Kaoru-chan," Megumi replied lightly, reaching out to graze a birch's mottled bark with her fingertips as they passed; Fuuko's quick pace had brought them back into the wooded areas on the Tokyo outskirts.  "When a patient is in a condition like hers, it seems to help to talk to them, as normally as though they weren't sick at all.  And Kaoru-chan would love to hear all about your travels."

"If you say so."

Megumi laughed at the uncertainty in his voice.  "Trust me.  I'm sure she wishes she could talk to you herself."  Megumi fell silent for a while as her thoughts grew more solemn, drawn back to the younger woman who had not woken from her sleep for almost a week.  Then, suddenly, she remembered the question she had originally had in mind.

 "What happened in those other years?"

 "Other years?"

 "Toriatama, you can't play dumb to save your life.  You just either are or aren't."  Megumi punctuated her comment with a tweak on his ear.  "You know what I mean.  Those letters stop four years ago."

He groaned.  "Megitsune, it's lunchtime, I'm hungry, and we're almost at the dojo where Yahiko-chan's probably borrowed and reversed Kenji's sakabatou to carve out my guts.  Could we save the profound introspective conversation for later?"

And before Megumi channel her various mixed feelings into a heated reply, he had spurred the horse into a swift trot that grew faster every moment, and as the dojo buildings came into view through the trees she decided to simply brace herself for another display of Fuuko's exhilarating fence-hurdling skill.  The answers she wanted, she thought as she tensely clutched her pouches about her, would have to tantalize her a little longer.

~ tsuzuku ~

A/N.  Whew!  A chapter slightly longer than the others.  Had a heckuvatime groping for a decent chapter title, and was finally inspired by a couple of Kareshi Kanoji no Jijyo (the delectable His and Her Circumstances by Anno Hideaki) episodes. ^.^

I apologize in advance for any deficiencies in the way I handled the situation here.  It's scary to write out a whole sequence of almost pure dialogue!  And one that needed to cover so many bases, I thought.  I don't want to bore you oh-so-patient readers with line after line of repartée, but... somehow I felt as though it couldn't be dispensed with at this particular point in the story.  Of course, if you guys feel there really is something off about the style of this chapter, I really will give it a good thrashing.  I aim to please de gozaru yo.

eriesalia-dono:  (sweatdrop) Erm, actually I did write the horse in happily intending it to be the Kaden horse indeed... but then on rereading the last chapter, it turns out I wrote that Fuuko had been given to Sano only about three years ago, so that wouldn't make him the Mongolian horse in Kaden, ne? @.@  Anyway, Fuuko here would probably not mind being the horse in the OAV, at least.  Oh, and I hope Megumi's been a bit more feisty in this installment...

eriesalia-dono also asked about a possible Kenji story.  The idea is truly tempting. @.@  I think at the moment there are two things holding me back, though:  (1) This is to be a Sano/Meg story, so as much as we'd like to see some Kenshin Jr. action, it'll have to wait; and (2) writing Kenji will I think be quite a daunting task.  The strength of RK fanfic (among others ^.^) is I believe the powerful characterization Watsuki-sama already did, saving us ff-writers a lot of mental effort.  But Kenji has been left so vaguely defined that, frankly, I'm a bit intimidated by the characterization he will need.  Maybe someday I or someone else will be up to snuff for that job. ^.^

Many many thanks for the reviews!  Aislinn6:  Tried my best not to let you down on the S/M tension in this one.  Sanoko, MiraiGurl, Purpo Kitee Katx, g3ozLizh, jerjonji, Maria Cline, Mysti-chan:  Very late gratitude for your very kind comments!  But it's better late than never, I hope. ^.^

A trivial note about clothing:  Sano in the OAV and in the Kaden appears to be dressed in the same old, same old white clothes, only with a sort of cape.  But I'm hiding behind my computer now and protesting that, c'mon, give the guy some new duds once every decade or so! ^.^