glossary:

engawa = the porch like structure running around the rooms facing out to the yard

futon = fluffy mattress for sleeping, laid out on the floor at bedtime and hidden away in the morning

Gatotsu = Saitou's signature style ^.^

hen = strange, odd

Kami = God

kanji = originally Chinese characters used in Japanese writing

onigiri = densely packed balls or triangles of freshly cooked rice, eaten plain or with various fillings

soshite = and, and then

wakaranai = "I don't know/understand," informal form

yo = an ending particle to add emphasis

yukata = light cotton kimono for around the house or during summer

Yoake Mae no Yami ni

by Mirune Keishiko

Ten:  To Await the Sun

Megumi woke in the dim, sluggish gray of very early morning, her mind barely registering the heavy warmth of her blanket before it was full of thoughts of the day ahead.  There was much yet to be done to prepare Kaoru's treatment.  Planning the work that lay before her, she allowed herself only a few more minutes of comfort before resolutely pushing off her sheets, shivering in the onslaught of cold.  Winter, it seemed, had come early this year.  After dressing and storing away her futon, she headed to the kitchen for some hot tea to get the day started.

She put water on to heat and rice to boil.  She was idly standing in the courtyard, basking in the calm stillness of a city in slumber, when she noticed that the shoji to Kaoru's room stood open.

Swiftly she stalked across the yard, preparing a searing lecture for Sanosuke for allowing a draft into Kaoru's room, particularly at this time of year.  The words were already hot and eager on her tongue when she saw that the figure sitting just inside the doorway, bundled into a blanket and quietly gazing out, was Kaoru, not Sano.  At the cheerful smile of greeting the younger woman gave her, Megumi skidded to a halt, deflated.

 "Ohayou, Megumi-san."

 "Ohayou," returned Megumi mechanically.  Then she remembered herself.  "Kaoru-chan, what on earth are you doing out of bed?  You should be resting!  Sanosuke—"

 "Sano is asleep." Kaoru, her smile now amused, nodded inside where Sanosuke sat up against the wall snoring contentedly, one hand splayed across papers scattered around him as if laying them down had been his last waking act.

Megumi sighed with mingled relief and embarrassment.  She had underestimated the toriatama again.  "What are you doing up so early?  Has his snoring kept you awake?" she asked with mock sternness, her hands on her hips.

Kaoru's soft chuckle sounded to Megumi much like the old, robust, girlish Kaoru.  "No more than usual.  Please don't scold, Megumi-san.  He was reading his letters to me when he fell asleep, and I hadn't the heart to wake him.  I've been up all night and haven't felt sleepy at all myself."

Megumi frowned, more for show than out of any real disapproval.  "All the same, you shouldn't tire yourself out.  How are you feeling this morning, Kaoru-chan?"

 "A little weak, but that's all.  There isn't any pain."

Kaoru's meek tones satisfied Megumi's anxiety, but she was not about to let the younger woman off so easily.  "Did you open this?"  And with a brisk nod of her head, Megumi indicated the shoji.

 "Hai.  It took me some time, but then I haven't seen outside in so long."  Kaoru's gaze wandered the gray-steeped scene before her, smiling wistfully as though taking inordinate pleasure in the naked trees, withered grass, and unswept yard.  The look in her shadowed eyes was so hungry that Megumi felt her throat tighten.

 "I'll bring you some tea," she murmured hastily.  Without waiting for a response, she turned and hurried back to the kitchen before the emotion rising rapidly within her found their release in tears, hysterical laughter, or both.

When she returned with a tray of tea and some onigiri, Kaoru was still sitting huddled in her thick blanket, staring vaguely out at the yard as if lost in thought.  She did not look up as Megumi hesitantly approached, and the doctor silently observed her over the teapot.

Kaoru had been shockingly thin when Megumi had first arrived from Aizu in the spring, but then she had steadily lost even more weight in the past months.  Several weeks in bed had then softened her already unnaturally malleable skin.  Even in the gray half-light, Megumi noted the ghostly pallor that made Kaoru's thin cheeks seem almost translucent and aged her face beyond her thirty-two years.  That and the quiet, unfocused look in her deep blue eyes as she gazed outside sent a current of fear and sorrow through Megumi.

 "You should eat, Kaoru-chan."  Tucking away her worry before it could get the best of her, Megumi flashed her brightest smile as she set the tray down on the engawa.  "And I made you some special tea to help strengthen you."

 "Arigatou, Megumi-san.  Your onigiri is always just right."  Kaoru smiled back as she picked up a piece and took a small bite.

 "The rice Taida-sensei sent is very good, that's all.  Now try to finish all of it while I take care of things in here."

Leaving her to chew diligently, Megumi entered Kaoru's room.  Her plans for the day were being delayed further with every moment she lingered, but—as she reasoned to herself—Kaoru awake was now such a precious event that she could afford to postpone her duties a little longer.

She rolled the futon and laid it by the door to the hall for cleaning, then brought out a newly cleaned one from the closet.  For a few minutes she puttered around the room, setting things straight, opening the window a fraction to clear the air inside.  At last she turned to where Sano was still snoring blissfully.  By the time he wakes up, he'll have a crick in his neck worse than a dozen Gatotsu.

She knelt to pick up the scattered papers at his side, intending to arrange them neatly and lay them aside for him to find when he awoke.  But as she gathered the first few fallen pages, a set of familiar characters leaped out at her from the sea of other black-inked characters.  Her name, at the top of a page, and across from it a date, four years earlier.

Megumi stopped, staring at the kanji that formed her name for long moments.  As she glanced down the rest of the page, she found it was part of a letter.  Quickly scanning the other few pages she had in her hand, she found they, too, were letters addressed to her.  The first page she had picked up was dated November 1889; the last letter she had read had been dated in the summer of that same year.  As she satisfied herself with one last, furtive glance that Sano was still asleep, she skimmed the letter in her hand, finding the typically helter-skelter writing unusually subdued.

Megitsune,

Hen ne...  That time in New York was the first I'd ever seen any of you from home again, and hell, that was a shock. Guess that's why I've found it pretty hard to write for a while.  I only saw you a coupla seconds, but I can still remember perfectly.

I don't know why you put your hair up like that—all fancy 'n' stuff—and okay, it looked damn good on ya, but you looked worlds away from the old kitsune-onna I used to know.  Guess you put it up to look more like your age or something.  Don't want the old pervert geezer docs hangin' around ya.  But maybe that Keitaro guy you kept hangin' on to coulda taken care of 'em for ya.  He looked like a real arrogant (basta) (jerk) guy to me.  Hope he's takin' care of you right, while I can't.

I say "strange" 'cause... well, maybe I just didn't figure you'd change in all the time I was gone.  Stupid, I know.  Bein' a bonehead again I guess.  But I guess at the back of my mind, even while I was travelin' around so much for so long, I always kinda thought I could still just go back any minute and everything would be just the same as how I left it.  Sometimes it was all that kept me goin', like when I was lost in the desert again or stuck in those damn jungles in Kami-knows-where—just the thought of all of us crazy Kenshingumi bein' back together again at the end of it all like nothing ever happened.

It's kinda weird to keep thinkin' like that for a good eleven years straight, and then all of a sudden seein' you, of all people, a bit older but not much lookin' like it, actin' like the real career lady you always shoulda been, hair up and hangin' on to some lucky (bastard) guy's arm like I never saw ya do before.  Guess you didn't see the crazy cab driver who all of a sudden just whipped up his horses and left without takin' on a single passenger.  But it sorta freaked me out—just like that, a kind of dream you've been livin' on for years and years just blows apart.

 'Course, it was crazy anyhow to even have that kind of far-out dream.   But somehow, without really thinkin' about it, I lived on it for so long—that vision of you smilin' and all, with your pretty hair down all around your face like it's always been (did he make you put it up?), and maybe—this was me bein' really crazy-lonely sometimes, when the world just seemed so big it sort of got to me—just maybe, even takin' my hand.  Sentimental bull like that.  Guess I forgot you had your own life an' all, while I went off without a care in my stupid head, and now this lucky guy's got you, and all I have left is a whole lot of really old paper just goin' to rot...

Hastily Megumi laid down the papers, heat pulsing in her cheeks, glancing away from Sano's sleeping face in a rare fit of shyness.  She had wondered, fleetingly, when Kaoru had mentioned Sanosuke reading letters; all the letters he had given Megumi to read were still with her.  The previous morning, Sano had evaded her questions about the four-year gap in his messages—though whether he had done so intentionally or not, she couldn't say.  She now had a fairly good idea why it could have been deliberate.

She left the papers scattered on the floor, feeling like a child caught doing mischief.  She said nothing as she sat beside Kaoru and sipped her tea, trying to calm her fluttering insides with the warm, bitter liquid and distract herself with thoughts of work.  Kaoru did not seem to mind her sudden, wordless companionship, merely gave her a quick, keen look before staring out once again.  The leaden gray was gradually lifting with the first rosy hints of sunrise.  Various soft sounds indicated that birds and people were just beginning to stir.

 "I'm glad Sano and I had a chance to talk again."  Kaoru's placid voice neatly cut into the quiet.  "I didn't tell anyone, but I was afraid I really wouldn't see him again.  He said the letter that brought him came from you, Megumi-san."

At that moment, Megumi passionately wished to hear no more of letters; but she forced herself to smile.  "I just felt I should remind him that other people hadn't all the time in the world the way he did," she said hesitantly, unsure of Kaoru's reaction, much relieved when Kaoru appeared nothing but pleased.

 "I'm glad he came back, then.  It was never quite the same after he left.  Yahiko tried his best, and Kenji-chan was Kenji-chan, but it was still too quiet around the dojo for a long time."  Kaoru poured herself another cup of tea.  "Shinta never said much, but he kept wondering about Sano.  I always said I wanted him to come back.  And Shinta always told me not to be surprised if he didn't."

Megumi, not for the first time, noticed the happy, proud tone Kaoru unconsciously adopted whenever that name left her lips.  It was as if she and she alone owned the name, owned the right to say it—and it was as if she knew it.  And though Megumi's pride and innate reserve would not allow her to openly admit it, she conceded Kaoru's possession of that fragile, long-unused name with the same admiration with which she conceded the younger woman's modest strength that helped her endure her illness, the steady trust that transcended a doom growing ever nearer.

 "Aren't you glad he came back too, Megumi-san?"

Megumi arched a well-practiced eyebrow at the question.  "All right, I suppose," she said brusquely after a moment's uncertainty.  "It's like him to arrive just as the story's about to end, and I must say I wouldn't be surprised if he vanished again right in the middle of the epilogue, so to speak.  After fifteen years of wandering, I shouldn't wonder if it chafes him now to stay in one place for more than a week."

Kaoru smiled gravely.  "Well, he's staying for another few months, at least.  He gave me his word last night."

Megumi shrugged, looking away and wishing the indifference in her tone were sincere.  "After which he'll disappear again and never come back this time, I suppose."

Kaoru chuckled.  "Maybe.  But haven't you noticed, Megumi-san, that that's kind of how we all work?  The five of us, Shinta and you and me and Sano and Yahiko, for as long as we've known one another, we've lived by months, not lifetimes.  To think that Sano wasn't in our lives even for a full year before he left.  Nor were you, before you moved to Aizu.  But now, it seems we're still together after all.  The ties have been loosened just enough for us to roam, but we haven't cut them yet.  It seems we'll be separated again soon, but we'll meet up again for sure."

Kaoru's eyes were shut, her head bowed, smiling down at her teacup as though it held some great, wise secret nestled warmly in her hands.  Megumi, glancing at her from the corner of her eye, felt suddenly that the younger woman was in fact older than her, and was passing forever beyond her reach even in these slow, pensive moments.  Eyeing Kaoru wistfully, Megumi wondered—was it the impeccable certainty in her soft voice?  Or the smile, once bright with all-too-human optimism, now more quietly aglow with visions of some otherworldly plane that a firmly grounded mortal could only envy?

 "Kaoru-chan.  How do you bear it?"

Megumi was more startled than Kaoru looked at the question that slipped out.  Megumi was little used to thoughts passing whole and unrefined into words; she was more accustomed to elaborate care with even the most ordinary speech that everyday politics demanded.   But as she looked at Kaoru, Megumi felt some of her hardest reservations fall away; for to someone so definitely bound by time, honesty seemed more important than the most tactful deception, the most clever subtlety.

Kaoru blushed slightly, shaking her head.  "No better than anyone would in my circumstances, I think, Megumi-san."

 "I don't know if I could do it half as quietly as you're doing now.  I wouldn't be able to just stay and wait."  With a rueful smile Megumi swirled the tea in her cup.  "I'd keep moving around till I really couldn't leave my bed, and then I'd probably rail at the fates for the rest of my days and make my caretakers' lives absolutely miserable."

 "Well, that'd be part of you, and we'd love you for it just as much as we love you for all the rest of you."

Her voice as she laid her head against Megumi's shoulder was bright with a cheerful obstinacy.  Megumi, after regarding the black head on her pale blue kimono for a startled moment, could only laugh.

 "You have always been so kind, Kaoru-chan."  And Megumi knew, even as she spoke, that hers was no longer the sharp voice of the artful, mischievous kitsune.  Instead, her tone was softened with a rare gentleness and the humility that simple, honest admiration demanded.  Somewhat hesitantly—this was something she had hardly ever done in the last near-twenty years—she placed an arm around Kaoru; and when the younger woman chuckled and patted her hand, Megumi soothingly rubbed Kaoru's shoulder through her yukata, trying not to notice how thin and bony the frail body felt underneath the cloth.

For some minutes the two sat silently together, the ill younger woman embraced protectively by the strong older one, watching as the first bright rays streaked cheerily through the steadily lightening sky.  On the other side of the dojo, the varied sounds of servants and students were beginning to fill the air.

 "Perhaps it's also easier for me," murmured Kaoru presently, setting aside her half-filled cup, "knowing that just as I'm not making the journey alone, I won't be alone when I arrive either.  Shinta is waiting for me.  Like always, he's gone ahead to make sure everything's all right.  There's nothing to be afraid of."

Megumi said nothing, not trusting that her voice would not waver, if it made it out at all past the aching knot in her throat.  She merely bent her head over the one on her shoulder, wondering wordlessly who would wait for her when that time came, and whether she, unlike Kaoru, would have anything to fear.

 "It helps a lot when you know you can count on someone else to be there.  Things don't seem quite so frightening as they might otherwise."  Again, Kaoru patted Megumi's hand.   "It's my turn now to say that I'm not as strong as you, Megumi-san.  If I didn't have Shinta, I don't think I could go so easily.  But you take such good care of yourself just as you are."

 "I try to do as well as I can.  I don't want to bother other people," murmured Megumi wistfully.  "But there are some times, Kaoru-chan, when I almost wish I could lean on someone else.  Being by myself I get tired so much sooner these days than I used to.  I suppose I'm getting old."  Her chuckle trailed off into a sigh.  "I'm hardly as strong as you think."

Kaoru briefly looked up at her to smile.  "I'm sure you are.  It's just that even the strongest warrior gets tired of fighting all of the time, for no one but himself.  Two people sharing one load means half the burden and twice the will, ne?"

 "I'm afraid I've already been selfish about sharing my burdens for too long, and no one will take them anymore even if I asked."  Megumi gave a rueful laugh and shook her head.  "Well, never mind.  There's nothing for it now but picking all of it up again and soldiering on to the bitter end."

 "Are you sure?"

And Kaoru looked up again at her with an intensity in the blue eyes that made Megumi's heart flutter, and then sink.  Finding that she couldn't feign her usual scorn before that keen, knowing gaze, the doctor settled for a pained sigh instead.

 "Kaoru-chan..."

 "You read the letters?"

Megumi sighed again.  "Hai.  Enough to"—she hesitated—"to know."

 "Soshite...?"

 "Wakaranai yo."  A shadow of the kitsune's impatience edged her voice.  "There are too many things in the way—too many long and wasted years—and there's work, and you, and him, and—and Aizu, and..."  And Megumi, who had run out of "and"s, lapsed into silent exasperation.

 "Of course you know each other best.  But I shouldn't think the years have been wasted, although I can't help wishing they hadn't had to pass at all," added Kaoru wryly.  "And it would be a waste now to let go of a love you both want and need"—she paused for the briefest of moments as Megumi looked away—"because of all sorts of silly made-up reasons."

 "They're not silly, and I haven't made them up," returned Megumi, knowing she sounded like a child and hating it.  "I might be lonely, but not crazy, not yet.  We'd never know peace together.  We bicker all the time over the smallest things and insult each other to our faces—"  She caught herself, realizing belatedly that she was reciting a speech she had come to memorize over the last few years—one she had repeated to herself for so many chill nights lying in bed alone, fighting off the urge to pick up a pen and trust to the mercies of international post.  She felt blood rush to her cheeks at her own mistake.  She remembered, too, that Sanosuke and she hadn't had a single serious disagreement since his return.

Kaoru, meanwhile, was nodding.  "I understand, Megumi-san.  As long as you're certain."  Megumi glanced at her suspiciously, wondering if she was only imagining the hint of amusement in her voice; but Kaoru seemed nothing but serious.  "And now I think I've kept you from your work long enough."  Smiling gratefully, the younger woman leaned back against the open shoji.  "Gomen nasai.  But I'm so glad we've talked again."

She caught hold of Megumi's hand and pressed it confidingly.  Megumi stared down at their clasped hands for a moment, then laid her other hand over both and smiled at Kaoru through a sudden mist of tears.

 "Arigatou, Kaoru-chan.  Itsu mo no you ni."  She chuckled.  "And please, forgive my stubbornness.  It's been part of me for so long I don't think I can change it anymore even if I wanted to."

She placed the tea utensils neatly on the tray and stood up to go.  But in a sudden move, she set the tray back down, gathered Kaoru's thin hands in both her own, and pressed a hasty, tear-wet kiss to her palm; and before Kaoru could clear her painful throat enough to speak, Megumi was striding briskly across the courtyard with the tray, long hair swaying gently behind her.

 "Daijoubu, Jou-chan?" asked Sanosuke gently despite his sleep-rough voice, laying a hand on Kaoru's shoulder.

 "Aa," said Kaoru, watching as Megumi disappeared into the kitchen.  Then she turned and smiled up at Sanosuke.  "Daijoubu."

~ tsuzuku ~

A/N.  Kyaaaa! Another dialoguey chapter.  I work on a loose and constantly modified outline, but this one really did run away with me.  In a haze of near-catatonia (I can only steal snatches of writing time at the very end of the day) I followed scrap after scrap of sudden idea until I ended up with... this. ^.^  Still, it seems the muse has been very kindly indulging me, for this solved quite a few problems I was wrestling with in one fell swoop, so to speak.

A very, very much belated acknowledgement:  The name "Kiriko" (some chapters ago, Kenji's briefly alluded-to girlfriend) is from Sekihara Tae's (pre-Kenji) incomparable works, e.g. "Toki to Ki to Koneko Kitto," which I first read about five years ago but which I can still recall vividly.  (My friends would know that with me and my notorious memory blanks, that feat is definitely a testament in the story's favor.)  "Kiriko" was Kenshin and Kaoru's thankfully unstained-by-Battousai-angst little violet-eyed girl.  And yes, I shamelessly stole that name.  Gomen!  Gomen!  Gomen!  But please let it be a tribute instead of a trespass. ^.^

You can check out her stories at sekihara(dot)dreamhost(dot)com(slash)TheAkabeko.  Read her yummy lemons as Komagata Yumi too!