To the readers: I apologize if the beginning is a bit heavy-handed.
Hopefully the humor of the last chapter will offset this.
~*~*~*~*~*~ Chapter 3: ~*~*~*~*~*~
It took some convincing to keep Kaoru from coming along to investigate to automobile repair shop. Sanoretti Giovanni had grown weary of trying to politely argue with the girl, unable to keep his chauvinistic tendencies down. Kenshin knew if he allowed Sano to discuss the matter with Kaoru much longer, the hot-witted Italian was going to say something regrettable. So, he'd asked Sano to wait outside.
"He's my brother, and I want to know where he is. I want to know what is going on. I am perfectly capable of..." Kaoru began.
While she was speaking, Kenshin had put his hand over his shoulder as if to scratch his own back. Or so Kaoru thought. Instead, as quickly and smoothly as an autumn leaf detaching from a tree during a November breeze, Kenshin had drawn his sword and held it horizontally at eye level in front of his face.
"Do you know what this is, Miss Kaoru?"
The young woman's stubborn demeanor softened slightly. 'Is she afraid?' Kenshin wondered. Of course she was. She had to be. He had hated to do it, hated to frighten the poor schoolteacher. Surely now she would suspect his past, she would perceive the decay and filth in his soul and realize that she, by necessity, had hired a criminal. Because only a criminal mind could penetrate the underworld, understand its movements, its reasoning. Surely now he had no chance to discover the source of the warmth that seemed to drip from her touch and infect his skin like a rapidly-spreading poison.
"A sword," Kaoru said plainly, evenly. The modestly-dressed Japanese woman tilted her head to the side and stared for a moment at Kenshin's downcast countenance. She outstretched her hand and ran two fingertips along the broad side of the sword. "But, the blade is strange. Isn't it backwards?"
Kenshin's hands flexed around the handle. Since his parents died, no one had ever stood in front of his sword without next being the victim of its blow. The gesture seemed serenely intimate, as if Kaoru had stroked some neglected stretch of his skin, as if she had caressed his neck or perhaps his thigh.
A moment afterwards, he felt heat radiate from the handle of the sword into his hands. It had happened again, and this time, they hadn't even touched directly! His hands felt as if he had just come in from the snow and warmed them by the fireplace. How was she doing this? Kenshin had to know.
But for now, he struggled to speak without revealing his confusion, "It is a sword. And I carry it because the business Sano and I are in is a dangerous one, it is. Often we have to deal with unsavory people."
Kaoru blinked and removed her fingers from the sword, and pressed them to her lips. Kenshin was beginning to notice she had an absent-minded habit of touching or biting her lips when deep thought took hold of her mind. He found the habit horribly riveting.
"And sometimes we have to fight those people to achieve our goals, we do. Sometimes they get hurt. Sometimes we get hurt. Unfortunately, Miss Kaoru, I can not allow -you- to get hurt. No. That I can not do.""
Oh. Of course. Kaoru felt suddenly very small and stupid. Of course they would want to protect her. If she were to be killed, who would pay them the other half of the fee? On the other hand, she -had- paid them some money, so it was her right to go along.
Kenshin watched emotions flicker over Kaoru's honest face like the staccato rhythm of a hand-cranked picture show. The woman hid nothing, she bubbled emotion, a boiling pot of feeling that had no fear of spilling over. Admiration for her bravery buzzed in Kenshin's mind.
"If you were to get hurt, who would be here for Yahiko when we found him?"
Stupid. Stupid. She had only been thinking of herself, again. Her need to find Yahiko. Her need to know. Her desire to help. Her fear of being alone. In silence, her fingers tugged at her bottom lip.
"I apologize, Himura-san. You are right. Please, as soon as you find out anything, even if it is the middle of the night, please come and let me know."
Kenshin resheathed his sword and smiled tentatively at the schoolteacher.
"I promise."
As he walked towards the porch, Kenshin's mind reeled. I promise. He had only ever said those words to one other person. Tsubame. His father had taught them never to make a promise unless they meant to stake their entire life on it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sanoretti Giovanni leaned against the white railing of the porch, looking at the small garden below. Once, when he was a boy, his father had given him some packages of seeds, and allowed him to try to grow some vegetables in the small plot behind their house.
Sano had eagerly undertaken the task. All spring he had tended the tiny garden, watering the plants, willing them to grow. But, one day, after he had come home from school and rushed out back to regard his budding garden, he found to his dismay a clump of weeds. Carefully, he pulled the weeds out, smiling with pride for protecting his plants.
But, the next day, he had found two clumps of weeds. And the day after that, three patches of weeds. No matter how he tried, he couldn't overtake the blight that was ruining his garden.
In the end, everything died. The weeds, the budding vegetables. Everything died when, out of desperation, he poured gasoline on the tiny plot of land, and then tilled it over.
The Apothecary door opened as Sano lit a cigarette. He looked up from beneath his hat, surveying the woman before him. She walked towards him, or rather, Sano assumed she walked, since she seemed to practically float above the ground. The Italian detective could hear one of his favorite radio programs, the Adventures of Sam Spade, in the back of his mind.
"She walked into my life like a cool breeze on a hot day. The dame.
She had legs that wouldn't quit and lips that wouldn't let me start.
I couldn't tell you what she was wearing because the light behind her
had cast her in silhouette. Before she even spoke, I knew she needed
my help, and badly. Badly. That was how this would all begin, and
that his how it would end, with me needing her badly. I pushed back
my fedora and waited for her to speak."
"Do you like my garden? I fear this hot summer will ruin it," the graceful Japanese woman said, stepping next to Sano. He sucked air in between his teeth. She spoke English with an East Coast accent, the clip in her voice making her even more exotic.
Sano didn't quite know how to reply. He had stopped looking at the garden the moment she stepped onto the porch. "Its stunning", he replied, careful to temper his voice with the appropriate amount of sarcasm. "Sanoretti Giovanni," he began, stretching his hand out. She shook it firmly, but at her touch, Sano noticed the breeze that had suddenly swept through the neighborhood, the light wind disturbing the few strands of hair that escaped the young woman's hat.
"Meg. Meg Takani," she released his hand as the merest trace of a sardonic smirk graced her face. "So. You're one of the detectives that is going to help Kaoru find Yahiko. Well. I hope you are good at your job," she peered at him, almost accusingly, looking him over like one might a piece of old and used furniture they were debating on throwing out. "That girl doesn't need anymore heartbreak in her life."
"Miss Takani. It -is- Miss, isn't it?" Sano watched for a reaction from the woman in front of him. She nodded almost imperceptibly. Sano internalized a congratulatory laugh on how easy it was to find out her marriage status, "Miss Takani, as far as I know, I've never met a single person who -needed- more heartbreak in their life."
The woman seemed slightly taken aback. He carefully polite demeanor seemed to slip away as she leaned her head back slightly and chuckled the strangest laugh Sano had ever heard come from a civilized woman.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
As Kenshin stepped onto the porch, he realized his partner was not alone. Sano stood, back to the Learning Center door, pulling at the collar of his shirt as if to expose his shoulder to the woman standing next to him.
"Yes. That is a mighty bad bruise there, Mr. Giovanni. I could certainly mix you a poultice that would make it heal faster," Meg said.
"Yeah. I got it from a pair of Irish boxers. Wanted to rough me up in a back alley, but you should see the bruises I left -them-. And please, call me Sano."
"Sano," Kenshin said coolly, already used to his partner's techniques at trying to chat up women. "Let's go."
Sano let go of his collar and re-buttoned the top portion of his shirt. He held his hat as he nodded to Meg. "Thank you for your help, Miss Takani. I'll be back by to take you up on that offer soon."
Kenshin nodded to the woman in both greeting and parting, and headed towards the gate, his partner following close behind. It wasn't until the pair were a half-block down the street that Kenshin finally spoke.
"I thought you got that bruise from when your mother hit you with the frying pan for coming home drunk."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Baker Street Automobile Repair across the road from where the two detectives leaned against the windows of a book store.
Sano bit down on his sandwich, chewing quickly as he contemplated their tactics. Kenshin, however, had removed everything between the bread of his sandwich and thrown it away. It wasn't that Mrs. Giovanni wasn't a good cook, it was just that Kenshin's Japanese stomach hadn't gotten used to the idea of egg salad yet.
"I'm going in," Sano said.
The taller man started to step forward but was caught and held back by the outstretched hand of his partner.
"Wait."
The pair watched as a young American boy, about Yahiko's age, rode up to the repair shop on his bicycle. He knocked on the door twice, then once, then twice again. The door opened a few inches and a man's arm from inside handed the kid a small package wrapped in brown paper. The kid sped off in the same direction he came.
"Delivery service," both of the detectives said at the same time.
The pair crossed the street after the door closed. Sano nodded to his partner and proceeded to knock in the same way as the kid had just done. The man behind the door growled, "Hey kid, I just gave you." As the door opened, Sano caught the man's arm and twisted it around the door frame.
Kenshin opened the door the rest of the way and walked inside nonchalantly. Sano pushed the man forward, twisting the man's arm again so that it was now behind his back. The Italian pushed him forward, into the shop.
Inside, large oscillating fans set into the back wall caused the light in the mechanic's shop to stutter rhythmically. Kenshin briefly surveyed the place for other people who might come to the mechanic's aid. No. Just this one guy. And a half-dozen automobiles in various states of disrepair.
"Who are you guys?" the mechanic finally managed to ask, his breath having been forced out of him by the sudden attack. "Are you police? I swear. If you are police, I will tell you whatever you want to know. Just please, don't hurt me."
"We aren't the police," Sano growled, forcing the oil-stained man down into a nearby chair. "We're detectives. And you are going to tell us whatever we want to know anyway."
Kenshin reached into the pocket of his trench coat and pulled out a picture. Unceremoniously, he thrust it in the man's face.
"We want to know everything you know about that delivery service. And about this boy."
~*~*~*~*~*~ Chapter 3: ~*~*~*~*~*~
It took some convincing to keep Kaoru from coming along to investigate to automobile repair shop. Sanoretti Giovanni had grown weary of trying to politely argue with the girl, unable to keep his chauvinistic tendencies down. Kenshin knew if he allowed Sano to discuss the matter with Kaoru much longer, the hot-witted Italian was going to say something regrettable. So, he'd asked Sano to wait outside.
"He's my brother, and I want to know where he is. I want to know what is going on. I am perfectly capable of..." Kaoru began.
While she was speaking, Kenshin had put his hand over his shoulder as if to scratch his own back. Or so Kaoru thought. Instead, as quickly and smoothly as an autumn leaf detaching from a tree during a November breeze, Kenshin had drawn his sword and held it horizontally at eye level in front of his face.
"Do you know what this is, Miss Kaoru?"
The young woman's stubborn demeanor softened slightly. 'Is she afraid?' Kenshin wondered. Of course she was. She had to be. He had hated to do it, hated to frighten the poor schoolteacher. Surely now she would suspect his past, she would perceive the decay and filth in his soul and realize that she, by necessity, had hired a criminal. Because only a criminal mind could penetrate the underworld, understand its movements, its reasoning. Surely now he had no chance to discover the source of the warmth that seemed to drip from her touch and infect his skin like a rapidly-spreading poison.
"A sword," Kaoru said plainly, evenly. The modestly-dressed Japanese woman tilted her head to the side and stared for a moment at Kenshin's downcast countenance. She outstretched her hand and ran two fingertips along the broad side of the sword. "But, the blade is strange. Isn't it backwards?"
Kenshin's hands flexed around the handle. Since his parents died, no one had ever stood in front of his sword without next being the victim of its blow. The gesture seemed serenely intimate, as if Kaoru had stroked some neglected stretch of his skin, as if she had caressed his neck or perhaps his thigh.
A moment afterwards, he felt heat radiate from the handle of the sword into his hands. It had happened again, and this time, they hadn't even touched directly! His hands felt as if he had just come in from the snow and warmed them by the fireplace. How was she doing this? Kenshin had to know.
But for now, he struggled to speak without revealing his confusion, "It is a sword. And I carry it because the business Sano and I are in is a dangerous one, it is. Often we have to deal with unsavory people."
Kaoru blinked and removed her fingers from the sword, and pressed them to her lips. Kenshin was beginning to notice she had an absent-minded habit of touching or biting her lips when deep thought took hold of her mind. He found the habit horribly riveting.
"And sometimes we have to fight those people to achieve our goals, we do. Sometimes they get hurt. Sometimes we get hurt. Unfortunately, Miss Kaoru, I can not allow -you- to get hurt. No. That I can not do.""
Oh. Of course. Kaoru felt suddenly very small and stupid. Of course they would want to protect her. If she were to be killed, who would pay them the other half of the fee? On the other hand, she -had- paid them some money, so it was her right to go along.
Kenshin watched emotions flicker over Kaoru's honest face like the staccato rhythm of a hand-cranked picture show. The woman hid nothing, she bubbled emotion, a boiling pot of feeling that had no fear of spilling over. Admiration for her bravery buzzed in Kenshin's mind.
"If you were to get hurt, who would be here for Yahiko when we found him?"
Stupid. Stupid. She had only been thinking of herself, again. Her need to find Yahiko. Her need to know. Her desire to help. Her fear of being alone. In silence, her fingers tugged at her bottom lip.
"I apologize, Himura-san. You are right. Please, as soon as you find out anything, even if it is the middle of the night, please come and let me know."
Kenshin resheathed his sword and smiled tentatively at the schoolteacher.
"I promise."
As he walked towards the porch, Kenshin's mind reeled. I promise. He had only ever said those words to one other person. Tsubame. His father had taught them never to make a promise unless they meant to stake their entire life on it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sanoretti Giovanni leaned against the white railing of the porch, looking at the small garden below. Once, when he was a boy, his father had given him some packages of seeds, and allowed him to try to grow some vegetables in the small plot behind their house.
Sano had eagerly undertaken the task. All spring he had tended the tiny garden, watering the plants, willing them to grow. But, one day, after he had come home from school and rushed out back to regard his budding garden, he found to his dismay a clump of weeds. Carefully, he pulled the weeds out, smiling with pride for protecting his plants.
But, the next day, he had found two clumps of weeds. And the day after that, three patches of weeds. No matter how he tried, he couldn't overtake the blight that was ruining his garden.
In the end, everything died. The weeds, the budding vegetables. Everything died when, out of desperation, he poured gasoline on the tiny plot of land, and then tilled it over.
The Apothecary door opened as Sano lit a cigarette. He looked up from beneath his hat, surveying the woman before him. She walked towards him, or rather, Sano assumed she walked, since she seemed to practically float above the ground. The Italian detective could hear one of his favorite radio programs, the Adventures of Sam Spade, in the back of his mind.
"She walked into my life like a cool breeze on a hot day. The dame.
She had legs that wouldn't quit and lips that wouldn't let me start.
I couldn't tell you what she was wearing because the light behind her
had cast her in silhouette. Before she even spoke, I knew she needed
my help, and badly. Badly. That was how this would all begin, and
that his how it would end, with me needing her badly. I pushed back
my fedora and waited for her to speak."
"Do you like my garden? I fear this hot summer will ruin it," the graceful Japanese woman said, stepping next to Sano. He sucked air in between his teeth. She spoke English with an East Coast accent, the clip in her voice making her even more exotic.
Sano didn't quite know how to reply. He had stopped looking at the garden the moment she stepped onto the porch. "Its stunning", he replied, careful to temper his voice with the appropriate amount of sarcasm. "Sanoretti Giovanni," he began, stretching his hand out. She shook it firmly, but at her touch, Sano noticed the breeze that had suddenly swept through the neighborhood, the light wind disturbing the few strands of hair that escaped the young woman's hat.
"Meg. Meg Takani," she released his hand as the merest trace of a sardonic smirk graced her face. "So. You're one of the detectives that is going to help Kaoru find Yahiko. Well. I hope you are good at your job," she peered at him, almost accusingly, looking him over like one might a piece of old and used furniture they were debating on throwing out. "That girl doesn't need anymore heartbreak in her life."
"Miss Takani. It -is- Miss, isn't it?" Sano watched for a reaction from the woman in front of him. She nodded almost imperceptibly. Sano internalized a congratulatory laugh on how easy it was to find out her marriage status, "Miss Takani, as far as I know, I've never met a single person who -needed- more heartbreak in their life."
The woman seemed slightly taken aback. He carefully polite demeanor seemed to slip away as she leaned her head back slightly and chuckled the strangest laugh Sano had ever heard come from a civilized woman.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
As Kenshin stepped onto the porch, he realized his partner was not alone. Sano stood, back to the Learning Center door, pulling at the collar of his shirt as if to expose his shoulder to the woman standing next to him.
"Yes. That is a mighty bad bruise there, Mr. Giovanni. I could certainly mix you a poultice that would make it heal faster," Meg said.
"Yeah. I got it from a pair of Irish boxers. Wanted to rough me up in a back alley, but you should see the bruises I left -them-. And please, call me Sano."
"Sano," Kenshin said coolly, already used to his partner's techniques at trying to chat up women. "Let's go."
Sano let go of his collar and re-buttoned the top portion of his shirt. He held his hat as he nodded to Meg. "Thank you for your help, Miss Takani. I'll be back by to take you up on that offer soon."
Kenshin nodded to the woman in both greeting and parting, and headed towards the gate, his partner following close behind. It wasn't until the pair were a half-block down the street that Kenshin finally spoke.
"I thought you got that bruise from when your mother hit you with the frying pan for coming home drunk."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Baker Street Automobile Repair across the road from where the two detectives leaned against the windows of a book store.
Sano bit down on his sandwich, chewing quickly as he contemplated their tactics. Kenshin, however, had removed everything between the bread of his sandwich and thrown it away. It wasn't that Mrs. Giovanni wasn't a good cook, it was just that Kenshin's Japanese stomach hadn't gotten used to the idea of egg salad yet.
"I'm going in," Sano said.
The taller man started to step forward but was caught and held back by the outstretched hand of his partner.
"Wait."
The pair watched as a young American boy, about Yahiko's age, rode up to the repair shop on his bicycle. He knocked on the door twice, then once, then twice again. The door opened a few inches and a man's arm from inside handed the kid a small package wrapped in brown paper. The kid sped off in the same direction he came.
"Delivery service," both of the detectives said at the same time.
The pair crossed the street after the door closed. Sano nodded to his partner and proceeded to knock in the same way as the kid had just done. The man behind the door growled, "Hey kid, I just gave you." As the door opened, Sano caught the man's arm and twisted it around the door frame.
Kenshin opened the door the rest of the way and walked inside nonchalantly. Sano pushed the man forward, twisting the man's arm again so that it was now behind his back. The Italian pushed him forward, into the shop.
Inside, large oscillating fans set into the back wall caused the light in the mechanic's shop to stutter rhythmically. Kenshin briefly surveyed the place for other people who might come to the mechanic's aid. No. Just this one guy. And a half-dozen automobiles in various states of disrepair.
"Who are you guys?" the mechanic finally managed to ask, his breath having been forced out of him by the sudden attack. "Are you police? I swear. If you are police, I will tell you whatever you want to know. Just please, don't hurt me."
"We aren't the police," Sano growled, forcing the oil-stained man down into a nearby chair. "We're detectives. And you are going to tell us whatever we want to know anyway."
Kenshin reached into the pocket of his trench coat and pulled out a picture. Unceremoniously, he thrust it in the man's face.
"We want to know everything you know about that delivery service. And about this boy."