Disclaimer: I do not own RK.
Notes: This is a Battousai/Kaoru fic. R rated for violence and sexual references (no, this is NOT a lemon). This is an AU fic (it takes place during the meiji restoration, but I change the relative ages and situations of many characters, henceforth making it AU). My current computer runs on a Dutch language operating system, so there is no spell-check for english (and my dutch sucks so I can't read the directions well enough to try installing one without breaking something). I've proofread this but I can't catch everything, so please be forgiving if there are spelling/grammatical errors.
--------
Chapter 2: Strategical Reasoning
"Hey Himura!" called out Iizuka as I entered the dining hall. My eyes shot over to his voice, noticing an intentionally empty place between him and Ichiro. I hadn't planned on speaking to either of them until Kaoru was safely out of the inn, but I found my legs moving toward him nonetheless.
I knelt down between the two men, greeting each with a slight bow before I turned to my breakfast. I picked up a clump of white rice with my chopsticks and munched on it silently, displaying my assasin's poker face.
"So..." pryed Iizuka, "How was she?" I ignored him and swallowed another bite of the rice.
"Don't play innocent, you took her to your room." I shut out his voice and concentrated upon chewing my cold rice, shutting my eyes.
"If you're done with her, I wouldn't mind having a go tonight," sniggered Ichiro. I reached my hand to my sword hilt and pushed the blade up a few inches, angling it toward Ichiro. He eyed it, startled and breathless, until I removed my thumb and slid the sword back into the sheath.
"Alright, I'll shut up- just don't pull a Battousai on me!"
-----
I didn't want to stick around the inn that day. Staying in the common room or the garden would mean annoying questions from the men, whereas going to my own room would mean an awkward silence between Kaoru and I. Instead I wandered through Kyoto's streets, amongst the busy vendors and customers.
Most people found it odd how someone who secluded himself so often would enjoy a marketplace, where people are everywhere. But in reality, a marketplace is one of the best places to be secluded- in a crowd, no one could see if you were alone. And they'll keep their mouths shut to boot.
I reached my left hand to my face, rubbing the raw flesh. It has stopped bleeding, but remained unhealed- no scab had encrusted over the open wound. I felt the skin separate as I inspected it with my finger, but it didn't bleed. He must have used a strange kind of sword, to produce such a unique injury. Not surprising. Someone with the riches of the Kamiya family behind them could afford any sort of sword they desired.
I stood in a small nook between two vendor's shops, surveying the area. I supposed I meant to search out any suspicious activity, but didn't really put my mind to it. To my surprise, I found my sight to linger on a pair of Geishas as they wandered through the crowd, busily chatting to one another. Their black hair stood fastened with elegant hair clips which matched their silk kimonos perfectly. For some reason, a small smile curled up on my lips. Realizing it, I forced my face into a scowl.
Damnit, what has gotten into me? Women are not something I need to get involved with now. Not as an assasin. I forced my eyes upon the wares of one vendor: large, western-style ribbons and cloth. Kaoru wore a ribbon, I recalled, immediately shaking the thought from my head.
Damnit Kenshin, you're an assasin. Women were always Iizuka's specialty- killing is yours. It's what you were born to do. Born to kill. It seemed like a contraditcion. Wasn't human reproduction something concieved to expand the population, not destroy it? It was an odd thought, and I didn't like it much.
I decided to walk for a bit, letting my steps distract me from my inner thoughts. I wandered about the marketplace, stopping to inspect the wares of vendors every once in awhile, but with no particular interest in buying anything. As the Ishin's top assasin, I was well paid, but I rarely used my salary. I had a roof over my head, clothes on my back, food in my stomach, and a katana at my side. There wasn't anything else a hitokiri could need. Needless posessions would only be bothersom if I didn't know when or where I would need to strike next.
Unintentionally, I found myself staring at the western ribbons again, having subconsciously encircled the entire marketplace. This is pointless, I thought, if Kaoru needs anything, it's a new kimono, not a useless ribbon. In actuality, a new kimono would dispel any ill thoughts the Myojin samurai family might have if they saw Kaoru's bloodstained one.
Now that I had strategical reasoning behind my deed, I swiftly made my way through the marketplace to a shop filled with kimonos. They lined the walls in a rainbow of colors, from pale pinks and yellows to rich burgundies and violets. The most expensive were pure silk, embroidered painstakingly with murals of flowers, cranes, leaves, and anything else that may have crossed the maker's imagination. Less expensive silk kimonos were solid-colored, or embroidered and dyed with a simple pattern. Lastly came the cotton yukatas, for sleep and summer wear.
Upon another wall hung the kimonos, hakamas, and gis for men. It was a far more subtle display of whites, greys, greens, and blues, with a few black pieces mixed in. I surveyed the selection for a moment, but reminded myself that the clothing I had was more than enough for a hitokiri.
I returned to the brighter feminine kimonos, fingering a couple of the plainer silk ones. These should fit their purpose nicely. I inspected a light yellow one embroidered with a pastel pink cherry blossom pattern, then a plainer but higher quality lilac one. I frowned slightly. Either would serve the purpose, I supposed, but suddenly something caught my eye.
It was unembroidered blue, but the richest, most intense shade I'd ever seen. It shone like a polished sapphire in the dimly lit shop, and flowed like water upon my calloused fingers. In my head I pictured Kaoru wearing it, and the color matched her eyes perfectly.
I purchased it quickly and although it was more costly than need be, I didn't complain. To accompany it, I selected a shimmering navy obi. I held the treasures and marched home, the sun beginning to set behind me. Once again, I found myself in front of the ribbon vendor, just as he began closing up. Well, if she's got a new kimono, she might as well have something to match.
"The blue one, please."
-----
I placed the items lightly in the corner of my room, Kaoru nowhere in sight. Feeling somewhat disappointed, I sat by the pile of books and pulled out the top, giving it a good spin. She must have gone home already. It made sense. The Myojin family must not live far from here. Unless... A high pitched noise sqeaked in the distance, from somewhere down the hall.
I bounded toward the sound, which had become increasingly more panicked as the seconds ticked by. My heart thundered. I told her to stay put for her own good!
"Ichiro you bastard, let her go!" I cried as I turned another corner, stopping in front of Kaoru. Her face was cleaner now, and her hair nicely brushed, but she still donned her tattered and bloodstained kimono from the night before. But to my surprise, she wasn't with Ichiro or any other Ishin.
"Get away from me!" she squealed, flinching as a grey fuzzball scurried across the tatami mat toward her feet. Despite myself, I chuckled, then leaned down and gently lifted the mouse into my hand. It shivered nervously and bit at the sleeve of my gi.
"There's nothing to be afraid of," I comforted, "It's only a mouse."
"But- but it's a mouse!" she wailed. I glared at her for a moment, then immediately wished I hadn't. She's under stress. Let it go.
"Didn't I tell you to stay in my room?" I questioned.
"You bastard! You didn't even bring me food! Did you even rescue me, or am I some kind of hostage?" I mentally kicked myself for forgetting to feed her, while at the same time fretting over her words. She might have some lost memories, but she's sharp.
"Forgive me," I apologized hastily, "I will bring you something from the kitchens right now. But first you need to get back in my room. There are men in this inn who will hurt you if they see you." Kaoru pouted, but complied. She didn't have much reason to doubt my intentions this time. After all, I'd saved her from the mouse.
I walked her back to the room, then made my way to the front entrance, to let the mouse outside. He skittered off into the dusk, perhaps to return later, perhaps not. He could come back the same night, scavenging for bits of spilled grain. He could meet a she-mouse and start a family of mice. He could find another inn with even more spilled grain. Or, he could be found by an owl or cat, and its life would end. A mouse might be small, and a man might not, but in the end we're not so different.
I slid the shoji door shut and walked to the kitchen, where two of the innkeeps girls busily prepared dinner. Both looked up in surprise as I entered. They were young, about my age, and had kind faces. One stood nearly a foot taller than the other, but they both wore plain kimonos covered by aprons.
"Good evening. I am sorry to disturb you," I apologized.
"It's nothing, Mr. Himura," responded the shorter girl politely, "Do you need us for anything?"
"Might I be able to borrow a bit of food? I have a... um... guest of sorts that I need to keep a secret, and she's hungry." The two girl's minds went to work, and a rosy blush spread across their faces. At first I was puzzled as to their reaction, until I rethought my words and the impression they might give, and blushed a bit myself before quickly switching to my poker face.
The taller girl immediately packed a box filled with sushi rolls, some rice, and hot tempura. She pushed it into my hand while the shorter girl poured a cup of warm tea.
"Here you go," they said in unison. I nodded and muttered my thanks, then quickly exited the kitchen to deliver Kaoru's meal.
After arriving at the room, I placed the meal gently in front of her, handing her a pair of chopsticks. She snatched them greedily, and wolfed down the first few bites before remembering the courtesies expected of a highborn girl.
"Thank you," she remembered, then continued eating, though more slowly and gently this time. I smiled to myself. People often commented on how mannerly I was, although I'd been raised both in a poor farming family and by an arrogant sword master. Yet here was a girl born into comfortable riches who still needed to remind herself to eat politely.
"How old are you, Miss Kaoru, if you don't mind me asking?" I inquired suddenly.
"Fifteen. Well, almost. I will be of age in a week," she replied, "How about you?"
"I've been fifteen for only a week or so myself," I answered, somewhat amused to find she was not older.
"You're a samurai, aren't you?" suspected Kaoru, "You've got to be. You carry a sword, and you don't seem like a common thug." I decided to answer her question with another question.
"If I gave you a sword, would that make you a samurai?" Kaoru didn't answer, but instead turned her gaze back to her dinner. I watched her for a few moments, feeling my own stomach rumble. I always ate lightly, but that day I'd completely skipped lunch. Breakfast, after all, had been more than I cared to stomach.
When she'd finished, I shuffled over to the corner of the room where I'd placed the kimono. I gathered it into my arms and handed it to her, with the obi and ribbon.
"I figured you'd need something else to wear," I mentioned, slightly embarassed. Compassion and pity weren't things a hitokiri was supposed to acknowledge or act upon.
Kaoru fingered the material and held the kimono up so she could see it. The sun had set by now, but in the candle light it hadn't lost one bit of it's beauty. She stared at it wide-eyed for a few moments.
"You didn't have to..." she muttered, "This is the most lovely kimono I've ever seen." I wasn't prepared for that. I assumed she'd worn many of the fancy, embroidered kimonos in her lifetime, and this would be nothing more than a simple comfort.
"It matches your eyes," I complimented, as she held it up to herself, "You should try it on."
"No," opposed Kaoru sharply, mood abruptly changing, "I can't accept this."
"It's a gift, Miss Kaoru. I can't make you wear that ripped one until the Myojins arrive."
"Thank you," she said, bowing deeply, "Kenji always said I looked best in blue..." Fresh, hot tears ran down her face. She swiftly wiped them away and turned her back, but I knew I'd caused each and every one. Even if she doesn't know it. Guilt consumed me just then, and I wanted to leave- to be anywhere else but with this girl. I was an idiot... to think a new kimono could make her forget...
"I'll be off now," I excused myself, "I have a yukata you can borrow, if you wish to sleep in something lighter. Sleep well."
-----
In the end, it all came back to saké. My master had been enamoured of it, and now I too followed in his legacy as the bright-eyed bartender filled my fourth glass.
I rose it to my lips, and felt the warm alcohol run against my tongue. It tasted of blood, as usual. I cringed for a moment, then took another sip. If I don't like the saké, why am I drinking it? I pondered, but in swallowing another sip I let this thought pass unanswered. Saké had a way of answering questions without speaking.
Images passed before my mind of Kaoru's tears. I had done my duty as an assasin. A hitokiri couldn't let himself become soft to the tears of women. But was it not the suffering of the populace that drove me to this extreme in the first place?
I downed the rest of the cup, much too quickly than I should have, but it nonetheless stopped me from asking myself introverted questions. I smacked my cup hard on the bar, and the bartender quickly poured me another glass. Her eyes lingered for a moment on my red hair, then traced the wound on my left cheek before she turned her attention to another customer.
I knew I stood out easily. I hadn't found my red hair and amber eyes especially conspicuous until I'd left my master and gotten out into the real world. As a kid, my brothers all shared these same features.
I knew the Ishin must admire my skills to keep me as an assasin despite my easily distinguished appearance. But this was also why killing all witnesses was all the more imperitave. A woman could describe a black- haired samurai with a blue gi and white hakama to the police and find one hundred such-described men as she returned from the police station to her home. Benjiro had been the last other living redhead I'd seen.
Once I finished that last cup of saké, I decided enough was enough. I paid the young bartender, then made my way back to the inn through the dark streets. She ought be asleep by now.
I stopped short as I realized I was not alone. Behind me, metal slid across metal. I whirled around to face the stranger, drawing my own sword faster than lightning. He thrust his toward me, which I parried in a clang of metal.
The two of us leapt back simultaneously, eyeing the other. In the dark, I couldn't see my attacker's face, but he had a very bulky form with lots of thick muscle. I leapt into the air and prepared to finish him with a Ryu Tsui Sen.
My sword sliced through his shoulder and plunged deep into his torso. Blood rained upon me, splattering my gi and hakama with red. I paused for a moment to inspect the body more closely. He was no Shinsen-gumi, nor did he seem like a robber or thug. Well, it doesn't matter who he was. He's dead now. I need to tell Iizuka to come clean him up. I flicked the blood off my sword and sheathed it, then continued down the road as if nothing had happened.
There's always a possibility he was following me... the Kamiya assasination didn't go as smoothly as we'd hoped, and there's a chance a minor witness got away. I paused for a moment and looked back down the road in the direction of the body. I wonder if he had a daughter... or a sister... Blood from the wound on my cheek trickled down my face.
----
I shoved the shoji screen door open, surprised to find Kaoru still awake. She sat crouched on the floor wearing my yukata, bending down to write in a small leather journal. She looked up at me as I entered, gasping as she noticed my bloodstained clothing.
"How-?" she breathed, eyes wide open.
"Get some sleep, Miss Kaoru," I suggested gently. If I'd known she were still awake, I wouldn't have come back like this... Kaoru's eyes narrowed as she looked me over, and she bit her lip nervously.
"I overheard some men in the next room talking," Kaoru recalled, "They spoke of the Ishin's top assasin. It's you, isn't it?" My heart plummeted into my stomach. What else has she discovered about me? The information she already had was enough to warrant a silencing if not for the Myojin samurai expecting a healthy young girl when they arrived.
Relax. She hasn't indicated she knows anything more. In fact, she's merely making an assumption based on the blood and a conversation. Kaoru looked up at me expectantly, asking for a confirmation or denial.
"The identity of the Hitokiri Battousai is confidential. Only a few Ishin are entrusted with the secret of his name. Anyone else who knows must be silenced, for the continuity of the clan. I ask you now, who do you think the Hitokiri Battousai is?"
------
I hope that's at least somewhat of a good cliffhanger ; . In two weeks I'll be gone for three weeks, so I'll try to get in two more chapters before then (but I also need to study for exams and stuff, so it might only be one.) In the end, this chapter turned out longer than I'd expected, six pages instead of five. Thanks again to all my wonderful reviewers :-) !
Notes: This is a Battousai/Kaoru fic. R rated for violence and sexual references (no, this is NOT a lemon). This is an AU fic (it takes place during the meiji restoration, but I change the relative ages and situations of many characters, henceforth making it AU). My current computer runs on a Dutch language operating system, so there is no spell-check for english (and my dutch sucks so I can't read the directions well enough to try installing one without breaking something). I've proofread this but I can't catch everything, so please be forgiving if there are spelling/grammatical errors.
--------
Chapter 2: Strategical Reasoning
"Hey Himura!" called out Iizuka as I entered the dining hall. My eyes shot over to his voice, noticing an intentionally empty place between him and Ichiro. I hadn't planned on speaking to either of them until Kaoru was safely out of the inn, but I found my legs moving toward him nonetheless.
I knelt down between the two men, greeting each with a slight bow before I turned to my breakfast. I picked up a clump of white rice with my chopsticks and munched on it silently, displaying my assasin's poker face.
"So..." pryed Iizuka, "How was she?" I ignored him and swallowed another bite of the rice.
"Don't play innocent, you took her to your room." I shut out his voice and concentrated upon chewing my cold rice, shutting my eyes.
"If you're done with her, I wouldn't mind having a go tonight," sniggered Ichiro. I reached my hand to my sword hilt and pushed the blade up a few inches, angling it toward Ichiro. He eyed it, startled and breathless, until I removed my thumb and slid the sword back into the sheath.
"Alright, I'll shut up- just don't pull a Battousai on me!"
-----
I didn't want to stick around the inn that day. Staying in the common room or the garden would mean annoying questions from the men, whereas going to my own room would mean an awkward silence between Kaoru and I. Instead I wandered through Kyoto's streets, amongst the busy vendors and customers.
Most people found it odd how someone who secluded himself so often would enjoy a marketplace, where people are everywhere. But in reality, a marketplace is one of the best places to be secluded- in a crowd, no one could see if you were alone. And they'll keep their mouths shut to boot.
I reached my left hand to my face, rubbing the raw flesh. It has stopped bleeding, but remained unhealed- no scab had encrusted over the open wound. I felt the skin separate as I inspected it with my finger, but it didn't bleed. He must have used a strange kind of sword, to produce such a unique injury. Not surprising. Someone with the riches of the Kamiya family behind them could afford any sort of sword they desired.
I stood in a small nook between two vendor's shops, surveying the area. I supposed I meant to search out any suspicious activity, but didn't really put my mind to it. To my surprise, I found my sight to linger on a pair of Geishas as they wandered through the crowd, busily chatting to one another. Their black hair stood fastened with elegant hair clips which matched their silk kimonos perfectly. For some reason, a small smile curled up on my lips. Realizing it, I forced my face into a scowl.
Damnit, what has gotten into me? Women are not something I need to get involved with now. Not as an assasin. I forced my eyes upon the wares of one vendor: large, western-style ribbons and cloth. Kaoru wore a ribbon, I recalled, immediately shaking the thought from my head.
Damnit Kenshin, you're an assasin. Women were always Iizuka's specialty- killing is yours. It's what you were born to do. Born to kill. It seemed like a contraditcion. Wasn't human reproduction something concieved to expand the population, not destroy it? It was an odd thought, and I didn't like it much.
I decided to walk for a bit, letting my steps distract me from my inner thoughts. I wandered about the marketplace, stopping to inspect the wares of vendors every once in awhile, but with no particular interest in buying anything. As the Ishin's top assasin, I was well paid, but I rarely used my salary. I had a roof over my head, clothes on my back, food in my stomach, and a katana at my side. There wasn't anything else a hitokiri could need. Needless posessions would only be bothersom if I didn't know when or where I would need to strike next.
Unintentionally, I found myself staring at the western ribbons again, having subconsciously encircled the entire marketplace. This is pointless, I thought, if Kaoru needs anything, it's a new kimono, not a useless ribbon. In actuality, a new kimono would dispel any ill thoughts the Myojin samurai family might have if they saw Kaoru's bloodstained one.
Now that I had strategical reasoning behind my deed, I swiftly made my way through the marketplace to a shop filled with kimonos. They lined the walls in a rainbow of colors, from pale pinks and yellows to rich burgundies and violets. The most expensive were pure silk, embroidered painstakingly with murals of flowers, cranes, leaves, and anything else that may have crossed the maker's imagination. Less expensive silk kimonos were solid-colored, or embroidered and dyed with a simple pattern. Lastly came the cotton yukatas, for sleep and summer wear.
Upon another wall hung the kimonos, hakamas, and gis for men. It was a far more subtle display of whites, greys, greens, and blues, with a few black pieces mixed in. I surveyed the selection for a moment, but reminded myself that the clothing I had was more than enough for a hitokiri.
I returned to the brighter feminine kimonos, fingering a couple of the plainer silk ones. These should fit their purpose nicely. I inspected a light yellow one embroidered with a pastel pink cherry blossom pattern, then a plainer but higher quality lilac one. I frowned slightly. Either would serve the purpose, I supposed, but suddenly something caught my eye.
It was unembroidered blue, but the richest, most intense shade I'd ever seen. It shone like a polished sapphire in the dimly lit shop, and flowed like water upon my calloused fingers. In my head I pictured Kaoru wearing it, and the color matched her eyes perfectly.
I purchased it quickly and although it was more costly than need be, I didn't complain. To accompany it, I selected a shimmering navy obi. I held the treasures and marched home, the sun beginning to set behind me. Once again, I found myself in front of the ribbon vendor, just as he began closing up. Well, if she's got a new kimono, she might as well have something to match.
"The blue one, please."
-----
I placed the items lightly in the corner of my room, Kaoru nowhere in sight. Feeling somewhat disappointed, I sat by the pile of books and pulled out the top, giving it a good spin. She must have gone home already. It made sense. The Myojin family must not live far from here. Unless... A high pitched noise sqeaked in the distance, from somewhere down the hall.
I bounded toward the sound, which had become increasingly more panicked as the seconds ticked by. My heart thundered. I told her to stay put for her own good!
"Ichiro you bastard, let her go!" I cried as I turned another corner, stopping in front of Kaoru. Her face was cleaner now, and her hair nicely brushed, but she still donned her tattered and bloodstained kimono from the night before. But to my surprise, she wasn't with Ichiro or any other Ishin.
"Get away from me!" she squealed, flinching as a grey fuzzball scurried across the tatami mat toward her feet. Despite myself, I chuckled, then leaned down and gently lifted the mouse into my hand. It shivered nervously and bit at the sleeve of my gi.
"There's nothing to be afraid of," I comforted, "It's only a mouse."
"But- but it's a mouse!" she wailed. I glared at her for a moment, then immediately wished I hadn't. She's under stress. Let it go.
"Didn't I tell you to stay in my room?" I questioned.
"You bastard! You didn't even bring me food! Did you even rescue me, or am I some kind of hostage?" I mentally kicked myself for forgetting to feed her, while at the same time fretting over her words. She might have some lost memories, but she's sharp.
"Forgive me," I apologized hastily, "I will bring you something from the kitchens right now. But first you need to get back in my room. There are men in this inn who will hurt you if they see you." Kaoru pouted, but complied. She didn't have much reason to doubt my intentions this time. After all, I'd saved her from the mouse.
I walked her back to the room, then made my way to the front entrance, to let the mouse outside. He skittered off into the dusk, perhaps to return later, perhaps not. He could come back the same night, scavenging for bits of spilled grain. He could meet a she-mouse and start a family of mice. He could find another inn with even more spilled grain. Or, he could be found by an owl or cat, and its life would end. A mouse might be small, and a man might not, but in the end we're not so different.
I slid the shoji door shut and walked to the kitchen, where two of the innkeeps girls busily prepared dinner. Both looked up in surprise as I entered. They were young, about my age, and had kind faces. One stood nearly a foot taller than the other, but they both wore plain kimonos covered by aprons.
"Good evening. I am sorry to disturb you," I apologized.
"It's nothing, Mr. Himura," responded the shorter girl politely, "Do you need us for anything?"
"Might I be able to borrow a bit of food? I have a... um... guest of sorts that I need to keep a secret, and she's hungry." The two girl's minds went to work, and a rosy blush spread across their faces. At first I was puzzled as to their reaction, until I rethought my words and the impression they might give, and blushed a bit myself before quickly switching to my poker face.
The taller girl immediately packed a box filled with sushi rolls, some rice, and hot tempura. She pushed it into my hand while the shorter girl poured a cup of warm tea.
"Here you go," they said in unison. I nodded and muttered my thanks, then quickly exited the kitchen to deliver Kaoru's meal.
After arriving at the room, I placed the meal gently in front of her, handing her a pair of chopsticks. She snatched them greedily, and wolfed down the first few bites before remembering the courtesies expected of a highborn girl.
"Thank you," she remembered, then continued eating, though more slowly and gently this time. I smiled to myself. People often commented on how mannerly I was, although I'd been raised both in a poor farming family and by an arrogant sword master. Yet here was a girl born into comfortable riches who still needed to remind herself to eat politely.
"How old are you, Miss Kaoru, if you don't mind me asking?" I inquired suddenly.
"Fifteen. Well, almost. I will be of age in a week," she replied, "How about you?"
"I've been fifteen for only a week or so myself," I answered, somewhat amused to find she was not older.
"You're a samurai, aren't you?" suspected Kaoru, "You've got to be. You carry a sword, and you don't seem like a common thug." I decided to answer her question with another question.
"If I gave you a sword, would that make you a samurai?" Kaoru didn't answer, but instead turned her gaze back to her dinner. I watched her for a few moments, feeling my own stomach rumble. I always ate lightly, but that day I'd completely skipped lunch. Breakfast, after all, had been more than I cared to stomach.
When she'd finished, I shuffled over to the corner of the room where I'd placed the kimono. I gathered it into my arms and handed it to her, with the obi and ribbon.
"I figured you'd need something else to wear," I mentioned, slightly embarassed. Compassion and pity weren't things a hitokiri was supposed to acknowledge or act upon.
Kaoru fingered the material and held the kimono up so she could see it. The sun had set by now, but in the candle light it hadn't lost one bit of it's beauty. She stared at it wide-eyed for a few moments.
"You didn't have to..." she muttered, "This is the most lovely kimono I've ever seen." I wasn't prepared for that. I assumed she'd worn many of the fancy, embroidered kimonos in her lifetime, and this would be nothing more than a simple comfort.
"It matches your eyes," I complimented, as she held it up to herself, "You should try it on."
"No," opposed Kaoru sharply, mood abruptly changing, "I can't accept this."
"It's a gift, Miss Kaoru. I can't make you wear that ripped one until the Myojins arrive."
"Thank you," she said, bowing deeply, "Kenji always said I looked best in blue..." Fresh, hot tears ran down her face. She swiftly wiped them away and turned her back, but I knew I'd caused each and every one. Even if she doesn't know it. Guilt consumed me just then, and I wanted to leave- to be anywhere else but with this girl. I was an idiot... to think a new kimono could make her forget...
"I'll be off now," I excused myself, "I have a yukata you can borrow, if you wish to sleep in something lighter. Sleep well."
-----
In the end, it all came back to saké. My master had been enamoured of it, and now I too followed in his legacy as the bright-eyed bartender filled my fourth glass.
I rose it to my lips, and felt the warm alcohol run against my tongue. It tasted of blood, as usual. I cringed for a moment, then took another sip. If I don't like the saké, why am I drinking it? I pondered, but in swallowing another sip I let this thought pass unanswered. Saké had a way of answering questions without speaking.
Images passed before my mind of Kaoru's tears. I had done my duty as an assasin. A hitokiri couldn't let himself become soft to the tears of women. But was it not the suffering of the populace that drove me to this extreme in the first place?
I downed the rest of the cup, much too quickly than I should have, but it nonetheless stopped me from asking myself introverted questions. I smacked my cup hard on the bar, and the bartender quickly poured me another glass. Her eyes lingered for a moment on my red hair, then traced the wound on my left cheek before she turned her attention to another customer.
I knew I stood out easily. I hadn't found my red hair and amber eyes especially conspicuous until I'd left my master and gotten out into the real world. As a kid, my brothers all shared these same features.
I knew the Ishin must admire my skills to keep me as an assasin despite my easily distinguished appearance. But this was also why killing all witnesses was all the more imperitave. A woman could describe a black- haired samurai with a blue gi and white hakama to the police and find one hundred such-described men as she returned from the police station to her home. Benjiro had been the last other living redhead I'd seen.
Once I finished that last cup of saké, I decided enough was enough. I paid the young bartender, then made my way back to the inn through the dark streets. She ought be asleep by now.
I stopped short as I realized I was not alone. Behind me, metal slid across metal. I whirled around to face the stranger, drawing my own sword faster than lightning. He thrust his toward me, which I parried in a clang of metal.
The two of us leapt back simultaneously, eyeing the other. In the dark, I couldn't see my attacker's face, but he had a very bulky form with lots of thick muscle. I leapt into the air and prepared to finish him with a Ryu Tsui Sen.
My sword sliced through his shoulder and plunged deep into his torso. Blood rained upon me, splattering my gi and hakama with red. I paused for a moment to inspect the body more closely. He was no Shinsen-gumi, nor did he seem like a robber or thug. Well, it doesn't matter who he was. He's dead now. I need to tell Iizuka to come clean him up. I flicked the blood off my sword and sheathed it, then continued down the road as if nothing had happened.
There's always a possibility he was following me... the Kamiya assasination didn't go as smoothly as we'd hoped, and there's a chance a minor witness got away. I paused for a moment and looked back down the road in the direction of the body. I wonder if he had a daughter... or a sister... Blood from the wound on my cheek trickled down my face.
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I shoved the shoji screen door open, surprised to find Kaoru still awake. She sat crouched on the floor wearing my yukata, bending down to write in a small leather journal. She looked up at me as I entered, gasping as she noticed my bloodstained clothing.
"How-?" she breathed, eyes wide open.
"Get some sleep, Miss Kaoru," I suggested gently. If I'd known she were still awake, I wouldn't have come back like this... Kaoru's eyes narrowed as she looked me over, and she bit her lip nervously.
"I overheard some men in the next room talking," Kaoru recalled, "They spoke of the Ishin's top assasin. It's you, isn't it?" My heart plummeted into my stomach. What else has she discovered about me? The information she already had was enough to warrant a silencing if not for the Myojin samurai expecting a healthy young girl when they arrived.
Relax. She hasn't indicated she knows anything more. In fact, she's merely making an assumption based on the blood and a conversation. Kaoru looked up at me expectantly, asking for a confirmation or denial.
"The identity of the Hitokiri Battousai is confidential. Only a few Ishin are entrusted with the secret of his name. Anyone else who knows must be silenced, for the continuity of the clan. I ask you now, who do you think the Hitokiri Battousai is?"
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I hope that's at least somewhat of a good cliffhanger ; . In two weeks I'll be gone for three weeks, so I'll try to get in two more chapters before then (but I also need to study for exams and stuff, so it might only be one.) In the end, this chapter turned out longer than I'd expected, six pages instead of five. Thanks again to all my wonderful reviewers :-) !