Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin is the property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and some company that doesn't belong to me.
Thanks Beriath for encouragement!
To dear reviewers: sorry that I haven't updated for ages, I am starting my new semester in India and haven't been able to touch a computer for ages.
Kenshin's Brush with Art
Ch. 7: Taming of the Wolf
(7:50 p.m.)
Kenshin had fought under more handicaps than he could count. He could fight with a chain tied around his neck, with his senses impaired by arcane explosives, with a reversed-blade sword, with a broken reversed-blade sword, or even WITHOUT a sword. None of those handicaps had stumped him more than this one now. He wasn't even sure whether he could, despite Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu's god-speed, run back to Harada's place without being seen by anyone, not to mention fighting.
Soujirou's invisible Shukuchi would have come extremely handy at the moment.
Or rather, clothes.
He was roused from his troubled thoughts by footsteps approaching outside the window of the bathhouse. It was one of those girls who worked in the bathhouse, coming to add wood under his already steamy confinement. Like a drowning soul who had glimpsed a straw, Kenshin suddenly remembered that the bathhouse might be able to lend him some clothes other customers had left behind.
He poked his head out of the window. "Please!" He yelled desperately. "Can you lend sessha some of your clothes?"
Ok, that was probably not the best way of putting it. The girl, eyes widening in terror, screamed "HENTAI!" at the top of her lungs, chucked a log at him for good measure, and bolted like a startled nymph.
"Oro… that was tactless of sessha." Kenshin reprimanded himself. Another set of footsteps approached. Kenshin peered out to see an older lady, presumably the bathhouse manager, glaring at him critically from a safe distance.
Not wanting to lose his only hope, Kenshin decided to start the conversation on a subject that would be better received.
"Um, manager-dono," He tried. "Nice bathhouse you have here."
"Thanks." Came the curt reply.
"The water temperature is excellent."
"Glad to hear that."
"Sessha knows it's very hard to get that right, that he does," said Kenshin, sliding into gear. "Sessha does it all the time at home."
"Humph!" That seemed to hit just the right spot. "You're talking about two totally different things: THIS is a bathhouse. The bathhouse at your home is just an oversized puddle."
"You're right, you're right." Said Kenshin quickly.
"What else do you like about this bathhouse?" Inquired the manager, now considerably placated.
"Er… the magazines?" Tried Kenshin, who had just been reading one.
"Oh, I came up with that idea!" Said the manager happily. "You must have liked them a lot, since you've been in there for nearly two hours."
"Oh… right." Sweated Kenshin. He wondered how to raise the embarrassing topic of clothing.
"Then do come more often--- let me present you a discount coupon." Said the manager generously, and walked away.
Then an idea occurred to Kenshin. Tearing a blank page off the magazine (hoping that the manager wouldn't notice it later), he wrote a brief message with the charred end of a log.
"Manager-dono, Sessha has a request to ask of you." He said, as the woman returned. "Sessha has an appointment with a lady friend at eight. But as sessha is enjoying your bath so much, sessha would like to stay here. Can you be so good as to deliver a message to her and ask her to join sessha here?"
"But, don't you already have a lady with you?" She said, looking confused.
"Oh!" Yelped Kenshin. He had forgotten about this bit. "Er, sessha just wants more people to know about your establishment!" He finished awkwardly.
The manager hesitated. After a brief internal struggle between morality and economics, the latter got the upper hand. "Thank you so much for your support, Mr.---"
"Himura."
"I'll go and do that, shall I?"
***
(8:05 p.m.)
Saitou stared warily at the, for want of a better word, food in front of him. This was it, the final showdown: either he's going to finish it off or it's going to finish him off. Despite Saitou's normally unflappable confidence, he strongly suspected that the latter was going to be the case.
Kaoru slammed the clock down on the table angrily. "So that baka has failed me! I don't know what story he's going to come up with this time, but we mustn't let him and your wife get the better of us… proceed with the candlelit dinner!" She paused and looked around. "Hey, where are the candles? I saw them a moment ago."
Using his chopsticks, Saitou fished out a half-dissolved string from the soup. "This looks like a candlewick to me." He remarked dryly.
"Oh!" Exclaimed Kaoru. "I guess I chopped them up by mistake, then. They looked like turnips anyway. Wax is edible, right?"
"Not to me, Tanuki." Said Saitou bluntly.
"Is that the Wolf of Mibu talking?" Wondered Kaoru. "I can't believe people who have been through the Bakumatsu and all that can be scared of a little differently-inspired cooking." She said. "Why, Kenshin eats it every day!"
Battousai must be stronger than I thought, mused Saitou to himself. This, however, was not a thought Saitou could live happily with. He decided that if the stuff couldn't kill Battousai, it couldn't kill him, either.
Calmly, he pulled the bowl towards him, but another look at it was enough to make any man lose faith in his digestive system. It was bright red, and smelled like burnt ginger. Lumps of white substance bobbed up and down on its surface. Saitou was almost certain that if he dropped a match into it, it would explode.
He suddenly found himself missing his wife. Was that why his eyes were getting misty? Or was it all that chili? Well, there's no way he'd let Tokio score one off him now. Gritting his teeth, he gingerly dipped a spoon into the seething mass.
Whether Saitou would fare better than Kenshin remained a mystery, because he was interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Kenshin!" Gasped Kaoru.
"Excuse me, I'm the manager of Fuji Bathhouse," Came a woman's voice. "With a message from Mr. Himura."
Kaoru's face fell, but she took the folded piece of paper anyway. "Let's see what's his excuse this time…" She grumbled as she returned to the table. Upon opening it, a smaller piece of paper floated out, but she ignored it.
Her face turned an excited shade of pink as she read the message. "Oh, my!"
"What?"
"It's Kenshin! He's trapped in the bathhouse because Tokio-san hid all his clothes!"
Saitou smirked darkly. He had not underestimated Tokio.
"AND, he begs me to bring him some clothes!" Continued Kaoru, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Loser." Commented Saitou.
"You don't understand, Saitou-san!" Kaoru looked blissful. "He has never asked me to help him before!"
"Ah, too bad he'd have to live with a sullied record from now on."
"And what's more---" Kaoru's eyes were brimming with tears of happiness. "He has sent me a birthday present! That baka does care about my feelings after all!" She picked up the smaller piece of paper. "Oh, Kami-sama!" She gave an excited shriek. "It's a discount coupon for a lover's bathing session at Fuji Bathhouse! He's finally making a move on me! Do you think he's making a move on me, Saitou-san?"
Saitou did not reply. His face was locked in a strange expression, as if he had just eaten Kaoru's food without adequate mental preparation.
"Saitou-san?" Kaoru was about to try slapping him on the back when he uttered one word with a tremor in his voice:
"Tokio!"
"What's the matter?"
"I forgot her birthday!"
"It's her birthday today, too?"
"No, it was two months ago." Saitou sighed.
Kaoru waggled a finger teasingly. "Tsk, tsk, that was careless of you, Saitou-san." She rebuked gently. "No wonder she's running off with another man! You ought to apologize to her right away."
Saitou was silent. Even the worst of husbands knows, as a rule, that wives take their birthdays as seriously as Aku Soku Zan. Saitou respected principles. Tokio respected his, so he saw no reason not to disrespect hers.
Plus, the alternative of not apologizing was to continue with dinner.
A dog can be tamed with food. A man, money. But nothing tames a Wolf of Mibu. Saitou made a mental note to add "except food that is life-threateningly bad" to the end of the sentence in the near future.
"Good idea, Tanuki," He said. "I'll see to that now. Don't wait for me."
***
Kenshin was patiently awaiting Kaoru's salvation when his worst fear came to pass--- namely, the door of the outer room erupted, and someone hurtled into it, panting.
Tokio looked up from her magazine expectantly.
"Tokio," said Saitou. "Happy Birthday!"
Tokio let loose a shriek that made half of Kyoto's population shoot out of their beds. "Hajime anata!" She screamed ecstatically as she leapt into her husband's arms. "I knew you'd finally remember!!!!!" Her face was wreathed in smiles, signifying the end of exile.
Kenshin wondered whether he should, at this point, call for Tokio to give him the key. But then again, he didn't want Saitou to open the door and have a laugh at his helpless self. Therefore, he focused his entire will on breathing softly.
"Let's go home, koishi." said Saitou smartly. Carrying his wife in both hands, he shot out of the ruined door.
After a while, Kenshin stole out to the clothing room cautiously. It was clothe-less. Kenshin believed they were still in the locker whose key Tokio had forgotten to provide him with.
But no mere lock or bolt could stand between the legendary Hitokiri and his target for long. After working desperately on the lock for a while with a nail from the broken door, Kenshin finally became a respectable member of civilized society once more.
He sped back to Harada's place, hoping to apologize to Kaoru for his belated presence, and arrived at a darkened house.
"Kaoru-dono?" He called uncertainly. All he could hear was Tokio's high-pitched giggles coming from the bedroom, which probably meant it's not a good moment to ask Saitou where Kaoru was. Obviously, he might have gotten back via a different route from hers.
It suddenly occurred to Kenshin that now was the perfect opportunity to pocket the Final Masterpiece of Kageaki.
Having learnt from last time's experience, he constructed a makeshift dark lantern (indispensable for seasoned burglars), tiptoed to the study door, and opened the door.
Or rather, tried to open it. The western-style handle refused to budge. As there were still people outside on the street, Kenshin decided against breaking in from the window. There was his recently-acquired nail to the rescue again:
Kenshin found himself enjoying lockpicking. It was like swordmanship: both required a lot of skill, but the former was considerably less messy and does not result in as much guilt. In fact, he was enjoying it so much that he did not notice someone turning around the corner into the corridor where he was.
It was until said person, who was Harada, apparently having returned from his trip, had emitted a gasp, that Kenshin managed to darken the lantern hastily and flee.
Ah, good old god speed--- it had served him well in countless occasions, but its usefulness was somewhat limited when one was fleeing with a sleeve caught by the door handle.
"Oro?"
It took a moment for him to tug his sleeve free, but a moment was all Harada needed to fling himself bodily over the rurouni-turned-burglar, crushing him to the ground. Long, white artist's fingers froze around Kenshin's throat with a grip Saitou would have been proud of.
"Die, thief!" Hissed the old man, an animal growl resounding in his throat.
Kenshin tried to shake him loose, but it seemed that his Will to Live was nothing compared to Harada's Will to Strangle Pottery Stealers. One of his arms was pinned under his body and the other wasn't able to push Harada off without seriously injuring the man. Not good…
If Kenshin ever had the time to compile a log of his eventful life, this would make it into the list of "Top 10 near-death experiences I've had", probably somewhere behind champions like Shishio's exploding gloves, Hiko's Kuzu ryuzen, Aoshi's double kodachis and Saitou's uniform jacket, etc.
His arm finally clutched something useful. It happened to be the cloth on the dark lantern, which gave way, illuminating his face.
"You!" Exclaimed Harada. His grip remained vice-like, but his fingers had ceased squeezing Kenshin's neck as if it was airy clay. "You're… Mr. Battousai!"
***
Ch. 8: Artistic Licence
Thanks Beriath for encouragement!
To dear reviewers: sorry that I haven't updated for ages, I am starting my new semester in India and haven't been able to touch a computer for ages.
Kenshin's Brush with Art
Ch. 7: Taming of the Wolf
(7:50 p.m.)
Kenshin had fought under more handicaps than he could count. He could fight with a chain tied around his neck, with his senses impaired by arcane explosives, with a reversed-blade sword, with a broken reversed-blade sword, or even WITHOUT a sword. None of those handicaps had stumped him more than this one now. He wasn't even sure whether he could, despite Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu's god-speed, run back to Harada's place without being seen by anyone, not to mention fighting.
Soujirou's invisible Shukuchi would have come extremely handy at the moment.
Or rather, clothes.
He was roused from his troubled thoughts by footsteps approaching outside the window of the bathhouse. It was one of those girls who worked in the bathhouse, coming to add wood under his already steamy confinement. Like a drowning soul who had glimpsed a straw, Kenshin suddenly remembered that the bathhouse might be able to lend him some clothes other customers had left behind.
He poked his head out of the window. "Please!" He yelled desperately. "Can you lend sessha some of your clothes?"
Ok, that was probably not the best way of putting it. The girl, eyes widening in terror, screamed "HENTAI!" at the top of her lungs, chucked a log at him for good measure, and bolted like a startled nymph.
"Oro… that was tactless of sessha." Kenshin reprimanded himself. Another set of footsteps approached. Kenshin peered out to see an older lady, presumably the bathhouse manager, glaring at him critically from a safe distance.
Not wanting to lose his only hope, Kenshin decided to start the conversation on a subject that would be better received.
"Um, manager-dono," He tried. "Nice bathhouse you have here."
"Thanks." Came the curt reply.
"The water temperature is excellent."
"Glad to hear that."
"Sessha knows it's very hard to get that right, that he does," said Kenshin, sliding into gear. "Sessha does it all the time at home."
"Humph!" That seemed to hit just the right spot. "You're talking about two totally different things: THIS is a bathhouse. The bathhouse at your home is just an oversized puddle."
"You're right, you're right." Said Kenshin quickly.
"What else do you like about this bathhouse?" Inquired the manager, now considerably placated.
"Er… the magazines?" Tried Kenshin, who had just been reading one.
"Oh, I came up with that idea!" Said the manager happily. "You must have liked them a lot, since you've been in there for nearly two hours."
"Oh… right." Sweated Kenshin. He wondered how to raise the embarrassing topic of clothing.
"Then do come more often--- let me present you a discount coupon." Said the manager generously, and walked away.
Then an idea occurred to Kenshin. Tearing a blank page off the magazine (hoping that the manager wouldn't notice it later), he wrote a brief message with the charred end of a log.
"Manager-dono, Sessha has a request to ask of you." He said, as the woman returned. "Sessha has an appointment with a lady friend at eight. But as sessha is enjoying your bath so much, sessha would like to stay here. Can you be so good as to deliver a message to her and ask her to join sessha here?"
"But, don't you already have a lady with you?" She said, looking confused.
"Oh!" Yelped Kenshin. He had forgotten about this bit. "Er, sessha just wants more people to know about your establishment!" He finished awkwardly.
The manager hesitated. After a brief internal struggle between morality and economics, the latter got the upper hand. "Thank you so much for your support, Mr.---"
"Himura."
"I'll go and do that, shall I?"
***
(8:05 p.m.)
Saitou stared warily at the, for want of a better word, food in front of him. This was it, the final showdown: either he's going to finish it off or it's going to finish him off. Despite Saitou's normally unflappable confidence, he strongly suspected that the latter was going to be the case.
Kaoru slammed the clock down on the table angrily. "So that baka has failed me! I don't know what story he's going to come up with this time, but we mustn't let him and your wife get the better of us… proceed with the candlelit dinner!" She paused and looked around. "Hey, where are the candles? I saw them a moment ago."
Using his chopsticks, Saitou fished out a half-dissolved string from the soup. "This looks like a candlewick to me." He remarked dryly.
"Oh!" Exclaimed Kaoru. "I guess I chopped them up by mistake, then. They looked like turnips anyway. Wax is edible, right?"
"Not to me, Tanuki." Said Saitou bluntly.
"Is that the Wolf of Mibu talking?" Wondered Kaoru. "I can't believe people who have been through the Bakumatsu and all that can be scared of a little differently-inspired cooking." She said. "Why, Kenshin eats it every day!"
Battousai must be stronger than I thought, mused Saitou to himself. This, however, was not a thought Saitou could live happily with. He decided that if the stuff couldn't kill Battousai, it couldn't kill him, either.
Calmly, he pulled the bowl towards him, but another look at it was enough to make any man lose faith in his digestive system. It was bright red, and smelled like burnt ginger. Lumps of white substance bobbed up and down on its surface. Saitou was almost certain that if he dropped a match into it, it would explode.
He suddenly found himself missing his wife. Was that why his eyes were getting misty? Or was it all that chili? Well, there's no way he'd let Tokio score one off him now. Gritting his teeth, he gingerly dipped a spoon into the seething mass.
Whether Saitou would fare better than Kenshin remained a mystery, because he was interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Kenshin!" Gasped Kaoru.
"Excuse me, I'm the manager of Fuji Bathhouse," Came a woman's voice. "With a message from Mr. Himura."
Kaoru's face fell, but she took the folded piece of paper anyway. "Let's see what's his excuse this time…" She grumbled as she returned to the table. Upon opening it, a smaller piece of paper floated out, but she ignored it.
Her face turned an excited shade of pink as she read the message. "Oh, my!"
"What?"
"It's Kenshin! He's trapped in the bathhouse because Tokio-san hid all his clothes!"
Saitou smirked darkly. He had not underestimated Tokio.
"AND, he begs me to bring him some clothes!" Continued Kaoru, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Loser." Commented Saitou.
"You don't understand, Saitou-san!" Kaoru looked blissful. "He has never asked me to help him before!"
"Ah, too bad he'd have to live with a sullied record from now on."
"And what's more---" Kaoru's eyes were brimming with tears of happiness. "He has sent me a birthday present! That baka does care about my feelings after all!" She picked up the smaller piece of paper. "Oh, Kami-sama!" She gave an excited shriek. "It's a discount coupon for a lover's bathing session at Fuji Bathhouse! He's finally making a move on me! Do you think he's making a move on me, Saitou-san?"
Saitou did not reply. His face was locked in a strange expression, as if he had just eaten Kaoru's food without adequate mental preparation.
"Saitou-san?" Kaoru was about to try slapping him on the back when he uttered one word with a tremor in his voice:
"Tokio!"
"What's the matter?"
"I forgot her birthday!"
"It's her birthday today, too?"
"No, it was two months ago." Saitou sighed.
Kaoru waggled a finger teasingly. "Tsk, tsk, that was careless of you, Saitou-san." She rebuked gently. "No wonder she's running off with another man! You ought to apologize to her right away."
Saitou was silent. Even the worst of husbands knows, as a rule, that wives take their birthdays as seriously as Aku Soku Zan. Saitou respected principles. Tokio respected his, so he saw no reason not to disrespect hers.
Plus, the alternative of not apologizing was to continue with dinner.
A dog can be tamed with food. A man, money. But nothing tames a Wolf of Mibu. Saitou made a mental note to add "except food that is life-threateningly bad" to the end of the sentence in the near future.
"Good idea, Tanuki," He said. "I'll see to that now. Don't wait for me."
***
Kenshin was patiently awaiting Kaoru's salvation when his worst fear came to pass--- namely, the door of the outer room erupted, and someone hurtled into it, panting.
Tokio looked up from her magazine expectantly.
"Tokio," said Saitou. "Happy Birthday!"
Tokio let loose a shriek that made half of Kyoto's population shoot out of their beds. "Hajime anata!" She screamed ecstatically as she leapt into her husband's arms. "I knew you'd finally remember!!!!!" Her face was wreathed in smiles, signifying the end of exile.
Kenshin wondered whether he should, at this point, call for Tokio to give him the key. But then again, he didn't want Saitou to open the door and have a laugh at his helpless self. Therefore, he focused his entire will on breathing softly.
"Let's go home, koishi." said Saitou smartly. Carrying his wife in both hands, he shot out of the ruined door.
After a while, Kenshin stole out to the clothing room cautiously. It was clothe-less. Kenshin believed they were still in the locker whose key Tokio had forgotten to provide him with.
But no mere lock or bolt could stand between the legendary Hitokiri and his target for long. After working desperately on the lock for a while with a nail from the broken door, Kenshin finally became a respectable member of civilized society once more.
He sped back to Harada's place, hoping to apologize to Kaoru for his belated presence, and arrived at a darkened house.
"Kaoru-dono?" He called uncertainly. All he could hear was Tokio's high-pitched giggles coming from the bedroom, which probably meant it's not a good moment to ask Saitou where Kaoru was. Obviously, he might have gotten back via a different route from hers.
It suddenly occurred to Kenshin that now was the perfect opportunity to pocket the Final Masterpiece of Kageaki.
Having learnt from last time's experience, he constructed a makeshift dark lantern (indispensable for seasoned burglars), tiptoed to the study door, and opened the door.
Or rather, tried to open it. The western-style handle refused to budge. As there were still people outside on the street, Kenshin decided against breaking in from the window. There was his recently-acquired nail to the rescue again:
Kenshin found himself enjoying lockpicking. It was like swordmanship: both required a lot of skill, but the former was considerably less messy and does not result in as much guilt. In fact, he was enjoying it so much that he did not notice someone turning around the corner into the corridor where he was.
It was until said person, who was Harada, apparently having returned from his trip, had emitted a gasp, that Kenshin managed to darken the lantern hastily and flee.
Ah, good old god speed--- it had served him well in countless occasions, but its usefulness was somewhat limited when one was fleeing with a sleeve caught by the door handle.
"Oro?"
It took a moment for him to tug his sleeve free, but a moment was all Harada needed to fling himself bodily over the rurouni-turned-burglar, crushing him to the ground. Long, white artist's fingers froze around Kenshin's throat with a grip Saitou would have been proud of.
"Die, thief!" Hissed the old man, an animal growl resounding in his throat.
Kenshin tried to shake him loose, but it seemed that his Will to Live was nothing compared to Harada's Will to Strangle Pottery Stealers. One of his arms was pinned under his body and the other wasn't able to push Harada off without seriously injuring the man. Not good…
If Kenshin ever had the time to compile a log of his eventful life, this would make it into the list of "Top 10 near-death experiences I've had", probably somewhere behind champions like Shishio's exploding gloves, Hiko's Kuzu ryuzen, Aoshi's double kodachis and Saitou's uniform jacket, etc.
His arm finally clutched something useful. It happened to be the cloth on the dark lantern, which gave way, illuminating his face.
"You!" Exclaimed Harada. His grip remained vice-like, but his fingers had ceased squeezing Kenshin's neck as if it was airy clay. "You're… Mr. Battousai!"
***
Ch. 8: Artistic Licence