(A/N) Heh heh... sorry for the extenuated wait. I just haven't had the time nor the ability to get around to things lately. Not that I should be making excuses or anything. I'm not going to have a long author's note like I usually do so I guess I'll just say I hope you enjoy the chapter and please review.
Also if you have time, I just started another story called Faithless and Fallen. If you have time please read it. I decided to take the original ending I had in mind for this fic and put it with another plot since I didn't think it fit as well with this one. Trust me though, the ending's going to be a nail biter. Please read it if you're willing, I'd appreciate the support.
Disclaimer: No poseo Rurouni Kenshin, ni demando satisfago tan licencia ‚l en ‚sa.
A Bittersweet Elegy
Chapter 8: The Truth About Ravens
"The hour of departure has arrived and we go our separate ways- I to die and you to live. Which is better, God only knows."
-Plato
If anyone had been left to observe the emotions flitting through the eyes of the postrate man sitting bewildered on the floor and staring at the closing door, they may have said that the hush left in the room and the inquiry in the man's face was genuine and rare enough to sell in small, closed-top vials on the marketing streets. Of course he was confused and suspicious as the boy calmly left him there in the room after proving he knew the man's secret without doubt yet still in a single, unthreatening word.
Kenshin glanced between the window where Yahiko had gazed off toward and then the door trying to make some semblance between the objects. After a moment, the trial was dropped and he settled instead to lay the heel of his broad hand against his brow and utter the first thing that came to mind. Oddly, he felt his lips curve as the distant yet familiar phrase forced its way from his vocal chords in almost a gutteral sound of dismay.
"Oro."
It caused him to smile a bittersweet, reminiscent smile as a short, chagrined laugh echoed from his mind and through his mouth until he felt he might actually break. Leave it to Yahiko to discover the schemingly obvious. While Kaoru would find herself to be delirious in her possible recognition, Yahiko would realize his characteristics for what they were rather than to what they were similar. What a bright child he was. What an annoyingly bright child he was. His departure would surely be made more inconvenient and obstructed now that his identity had been recognized by one of his former friends.
The thought made him chuckle for some unknown reason as he smoothed his hands through his hair and over his slightly unkept beard trying to find the hidden humour in the situation, and then he remembered what Yahiko had said to him.
Kaoru was trying to protect him, to keep him from the reaches of the law if anyone found out what his original intentions towards her had been. She did not know him in all technicality, and her hasty trust toward strangers unsettled his still strong, protective feelings toward her. What if he had not been himself and found her hospitality to only be a more convenient opening to kill her? Had she always been this way with strangers since they'd parted ways under less than kind circumstances? And what of this Iwasaki who seemed so fond of her during the past few days?
The thought of the man's name aroused another more formidable and imminent suspicion to his mind as he recalled Yahiko's last statement. The young statesman was currently accompanying Kaoru alone in the parlor, and, being of little familiarity with the man, he had little knowledge of his intentions with Kaoru. For all his few impressions of Iwasaki, he didn't know whether he was a kind man or a cruel womanizer. Even more infuriating was the fact that he was alone with Kaoru without supervision from a more dependable source.
"I shouldn't leave her alone with him," he reasoned to himself placing his palms against the cold, hard floor and bolstering himself to his feet. He groaned slightly when a dizziness met his erect form and placed a placating hand against his temple while the nausea passed.
Once his balance was reasserted and he felt his feet were steady against the ground, he removed the hand and glanced about the room in search of his katana which he found leaning against the far side of the room's desk. Carefully, he moved forward and seized the weapon securing it quickly to the ties of his large yukata and walked back toward the door. He hesitated a moment listening for any trace of wandering persons nearby and was relieved to find none as he slowly drew the door open and peered through to examine the wide, decorated hallway with nervous care. It was odd, he soon realized, to be slinking about the dormitories of a governmental building in a sleeping yukata to go spy on an old interest like a teenage, love-deprived ex-boyfriend. His status as a hitokiri only made the situation all the more humorous.
It took a few minutes of calculated movement and dodging before he finally found the parlor from sheer luck in the nook just behind the dining room where anyone could easily miss it in the dim lighting of the night. Soft, chatting voices carried through the crack in the doors just big enough for him to peer through into the room's deepths where a fire was lit and two figures sat with their backs facing him as they casually talked and appreciated the fire's ethereal glow. He had no speculation as to the identies of said people as the young woman laughed cheerfully no doubt at the banter of her companion and the man in turn looked to her with a kind smile on his youthful features. After little deliberation, Kenshin agreed to stay and keep watch over the pair, if not for Kaoru's safety than for his own curiosity.
The fire's heat warmed her cheeks making her skin felt temperate. Small beads of sweat began to grow slowly at her temples as anxiety and heat flushed her body. She smiled kindly at Iwasaki while the young statesman delved into an amusing story about his early teenage years, but her attention often wandered away from his amicable conversation. The dreary reflection of the fire's light against the opposite wall just beyond her host's head enticed her with nostalgic feelings and brought a foreign ache to her chest.
His warm hand grasping hers gently sprang her quickly back to reality though and she immediately directed her eyes back to his pleading stare. She felt his thumb tenderly stroke the top of her smaller hand begging her to respond to him in some way.
"Is there something wrong?" he finally asked, the concern in his voice easily masking his growing apprehension.
Kaoru hesitated but eventually shook her head, a tiny smile pulling at the edges of her mouth. At his disbelieving frown, she spoke, "I'm fine. I just keep having these odd feelings. Almost like deja vu, but not quite."
"Oh?" he responded gripping her hand more securely and encouraging her to continue.
Her smile strengthened marginally as she looked past him once more. "I just keep feeling like I'm overlooking something extremely important, something I will come to later regret."
Iwasaki's features softened, his kind smile surfacing to crinkle the corners of his eyes. "Oh, I see," he said looking down to gaze respectfully at their linked hands, his body turning the slightest of degrees to face her more fully. "And what is it you think you're overlooking?"
She glanced at him nervously, his eyes not betraying a single emotion except interest. "It's silly and I don't want to keep bothering you," she attempted to dodge, but his eyes remained fastened on her, a manifesting curiosity slowly building behind his eyes' sepia tint.
"It won't bother me, and I would never think you silly," he encouraged flashing another genuine smile at her.
His eyes betrayed nothing, only holding a depth of honesty and intrigue that made her guilt burn a bit raucously at the peak of her temple. It would hurt him a bit to know, but at least he would know. Lying had never been an option. Kaoru sighed heavily, her eyes looking down with his to their intertwined hands. "I know it's stupid and immature, and I know it's completely impossible, but lately I've just been wondering."
At her extended pause, he prompted her onward with a light squeeze between their linked hands.
"I never really knew for certain if he actually died," she whispered with a hard sigh, the sting of oncoming tears blistering at her control. "All I know is what I saw, what Sanosuke saw, and what so many officials told me." Again she paused, a crease marring her forehead as she thought. "But... if he had died, wouldn't someone more important have told me?"
"More important?" Iwasaki asked lightly, his sudden discomfort at the subject obvious. "Like who?"
"Like Yamagata-san or even Saito Hajime. I'm sure they would have been aware of his death since they were so closely linked with him."
"But when was the last time you spoke to either?" he inquired, his head lowering even more at her over stimulation of the subject.
She halted her reveries to think for a moment before answering in a quiet, sedate voice, the growing vigor she'd possessed squelching itself before it made a fool of her. "Ano... I only just recently saw Yamagata-san again. I don't think I've seen Saito for years; the last time I saw either of them was, I think, before the accident."
"Well, if you haven't seen them, how were they supposed to relate the message to you?" he reasoned wanting the subject to be over with quickly.
"I don't know," she whispered softly, the notes barely carrying to those listening. "But it still seems strange." Her sapphire gaze swept quickly upward and her grief and confusion easily bore into Iwasaki's own, tentative gaze. "No one even showed me his grave."
Silence befell the tense room preceding an invisible chill that settled stiffly in the bones of both occupants. Iwasaki's fingers continued to stroke languidly against her own offering a sorrowful sense of sympathy she eagerly welcomed. Moments later, a warm hand brushed against her coated arm sliding her further into the embrace of the man beside her as his arm came to fully wrap about her shoulders while their entwined hands carried on between them in soft, brief caresses. Kaoru had been held by a man - this way - fewer times than she could possibly forget. The odd sense of comfort offered to her through the close contact seemed befitting and, at the same time, awkward. Despite that awkwardness, she allowed herself to rest her head against his broad, strong shoulder and accepted whatever solace her companion was willing to give with a quiet, defeated sigh.
They sat like that engulfed in the dying firelight until the embers began to crackle and scream begging for more fuel to feed their potential inferno, but neither person was willing to relinquish their spot to rebuild the smoldering flames. Instead they waited until the sporadic blaze dimmed to a soft glow that barely managed to silhouette the many visages in the room against the cream plastered walls dyed grayed hues in the firelight. Finally one spoke softly, but emphatically.
"The fire's dying."
Iwasaki shifted to gaze more fully to the hearth before turning his attention back to Kaoru. "Would you like me to put another log in?"
Slowly, she shook her head settling instead to rest her cheek against his collar, her eyes inadvertently fluttering to resist her sudden need for sleep. "No, that's alright."
He nodded in acquiescence before leaning back into the plush couch, his hand allowing hers to slip momentarily from his as she delayed a short yawn. "Perhaps we should get you to bed now."
She chuckled softly and again shook her head causing her feathery hair to gently graze across various parts of his exposed neck and face. "I'm fine. I don't quite want to go to bed yet and I don't feel like writing in my journal yet either."
"You keep a journal?" he asked inquiringly, his eyes sparking with interest.
She nodded and pulled her body up a bit straighter to rest more comfortably against his completely unaware of the amber eyes that slitted further at the unintentional crime.
"Hai," she replied with a comfortable sigh. "I've been keeping one ever since my father passed away."
Iwasaki gave a soft grunt of understanding while his body began to slowly grow tenser. Now might be the best opportunity he'd have in a long while, he decided. Might as well begin before he lost it like he had so many others. The sudden rigidity of his body in response to his growing anxiety soon alerted the attention of the young woman leaned so delicately against him. He suppressed a gasp as her inquisitive, azure eyes met his and he briefly wondered how such a seemingly fragile woman could ever have been a kendo instructor.
"Are you alright?" she asked, her worry beginning to clearly show on her pretty features as she examined him. "Maybe we should retire for the night," she continued placing a cool hand against his damp forehead. "You may be coming down with a fever."
She continued to watch him anticipating his response, and he in turn marveled at her presence until the duration of it all became to much for him. He smiled genuinely, a smile that reached his eyes and conveyed all the hope and affection he could gather. She watched him somewhat perplexed by his sudden demeanor until she felt a larger hand cover hers over his forehead and carefully relieve it from its perch atop his brow. Her mouth slowly opened in confusion as her eyes followed the progression of their hands slowly coming to settle against his bent knee.
"He was a lucky man," he said slowly, his honey hued eyes grasping the image of their hands once more. "I could only hope to be as lucky as him..."
"Iwasaki-san..."
"And even if you never feel for me the way you felt for him... I'd at least die a happy man knowing I always had you at my side, knowing that you were always cared for." He risked a glance at her flushed and confused expression feeling an uninhibited twitch strain the side of his mouth as he forced his hopeful smile in place begging any remaining deity above that she would not turn him away.
Slowly, Kaoru smiled as well, her mind not quite registering what he was asking of her, yet knowing all the same that the dear man in front of her was confronting a hardship for which he needed her support. She continued to smile but remained silent quietly beckoning him onward.
Encouraged thus far by her reaction, Iwasaki released a shuddering breath and continued, his smile growing with his renewed hope. "I accept you may never love me as you loved him..."
He watched as her smile slowly fell and her eyes grew wary with concern, but still he pushed forward determined not to fall short.
"And I accept that you may never relinquish your feelings for him," he forced down a knot in his throat. "But still, I'd ask that you allow me to serve you, to love you in any way I can." He paused, his expression suddenly growing serious as his mind worked to cumulate what he desired to ask all the while examining the tell-tale exchange of emotions flittering indecisively across her face. "But in order to adore you as fully as I'd wish to, I'd have to ask something of you first..."
Kaoru's heart beat raggedly against her chest as her senses screamed at her telling her to do things she was completely unsure of. Instead of reacting just yet, she waited for him to finish.
"Would you bless me... by becoming my wife?"
Kenshin's breath choked at the bottom of his lungs, his fear biding him to keep his wits or suffer the sever consequences that would accompany an outburst. He was further startled and alarmed when moments later he heard the soft, breathy tones of Kaoru's voice quietly whisper a hesitant agreement. So this was the way it would all go, eh? Kaoru would finally have a worthy man whom she could love and he would recline himself to the invisibility of the shadows where his tainted world would never interupt her innocence. He smirked ruefully to himself as he sat back on his haunches, his eyes lingering on the glowing crack in the door. Irony always did get the best of him, no matter the circumstances. His plan from years past would finally play out as he always imagined it would.
"Isn't this the part where you burst into the room and tell her that you're alive and now she can go on loving you?"
He didn't even motion toward the voice behind him, nor did he show any acknowledgement of hearing the sarcastic words. He'd known the boy had been listening in through the window adjacent to the door the entire time, and, furthermore, he'd heard his quiet entrance into the foyer hall long ago. Another moment passed and he remained sat on his heels staring listlessly at the door.
"Well?" Yahiko urged drawing a step closer and crossing his arms angrily against his chest.
"Is Iwasaki-san a good man, Yahiko?" he asked softly with a hint of the same wistfulness Yahiko only remembered from his most vivid dreams.
His arms unfolded and he stared dumb-founded at the hunched hitokiri before answering uncertainly, "Uh, yeah, he's a good guy, but..."
"Aa." Kenshin silenced him drawing himself up to his feet as he began to silently walk past Yahiko's bewildered self.
"Oi, Kenshin," the youth stuttered as he grabbed the man's shoulder to keep him from leaving. Upon the appearance of cold, amber eyes, he relinquished his hold and took a step back. Despite the lazy aura of those eyes, they still unsettled him, and he dared not become too attached when he didn't know how Kenshin would react to his treatment. A pregnant pause perused the hall and Yahiko had to force himself to ask, "What are you doing?"
"Going to my room," he replied innocently glancing toward the staircase a few lengths down.
"That's not what I meant," the boy grated. "Aren't you gonna go tell her that you're ok now and she doesn't have to marry Iwasaki-san?"
"Iye," he said slowly glancing back once more at the parlor doors as a quiet, gentle laugh eminated from within. "Sessha learned long ago that in order to maintain someone's happiness, a distance must be kept." He began to stride slowly down the hall toward the stairs vaguely noticing as the youth hesitantly followed. "I intend to keep that distance, Yahiko," he threw over his shoulder as he began to ascend the stairs.
"But why?" he argued, his tanned features folding into a vicious snarl.
Kenshin stopped partially up the staircase to turn and look calmly down at the boy he had once seen as a little brother, maybe even a son. An odd, small smile was still fastened to his features, the effect turning from comforting to disturbing through the effect of his glowing eyes.
"Sessha," he began, the word seeming so foreign yet so familiar to his tongue and his habits, "is not worthy of her, nor has sessha ever been. I only want to ensure her happiness."
"But she was happy with you," Yahiko retorted, his voice cracking slightly as he suppressed his rising anger. "And besides, when did she ever care about your 'worthiness'?"
"Is that so." Kenshin mused a moment. "But she's just as happy now it seems, so why should I intervene now?"
Yahiko muted his coming response, his reasoning suddenly seeming petty on the grander scale."It isn't fair," he finally breathed, glancing up to see that the hitokiri had detered his unsettling gaze to the side. "I hate this."
"Aa," was the affirming statement as the red head shifted his balance from leg to leg, the tension in his wound increasing the longer he stood. "But some things should just be left alone," he added. "Let her have the steady life she deserves."
"I would," the boy began fidgeting between his feet, "but I really think it should be more about what she wants than what she deserves."
Without a valid response, Kenshin merely nodded before resuming his ascent up the silent stairs. Yahiko remained at the base, watching him limp up every odd step and remembering how he had staggered that morning as well when he had prepared to leave him and Sano to his alloted room. It was strange how severely Kenshin had changed, yet stayed so utterly Kenshin. So utterly selfless and logical that reason suddenly became the most stupid alternative. He cursed under his breath as he slowly departed from the foyer to search for his own room hoping that perhaps Sanosuke would have a solution to his dilema.
It had taken the better part of two minutes before Kenshin finally reached his room, the ache in his leg slowing his progress considerably. However when he reached the room, he wasn't quite prepared to feel the familiar ki of his employer waiting patiently in his room while a soft light shined mildly beneath the door. Tentatively, he turned the knob and opened the door a crack glancing in to confirm the sight of Katsura Matsuyo sitting calmly at the chair by his desk smoking a short cigarette.
He pushed the door open more fully before stepping inside and carefully advancing to his futon where he gently set himself down to relieve his leg of its growing stress. Mentally, he noted the questionable look on Matsuyo's face at his insolent display before he recline backward against his headrest deciding to forgo formalities all together tonight.
"I see the people upstrairs forgot to tell me a few things, eh?" he said brusquely while closing his eyes.
"Something like that," was the doubtful reply before his employer explained further. "We've all been kept in the dark so it seems. I found out after you did when I came here and saw her myself. Someone screwed something up."
A cold glare from the hitokiri lying immoblie on his futon made him clear his throat anxiously.
"I didn't know," he offered. "I've been just as left out about all this as you have. My sources all told me she was dead."
"And just who are your sources?"
"Anyone from Yamagata-san to the police force working in Tokyo." Katsura ran a hand over his tense brow to relieve a portion of the stress accumulating there before continuing. "Everyone from the local grocer in Tokyo to Fujita Goro sent me reports that she had died."
"Fujita Goro?" The familiar name sparked Kenshin's interest immediately drawing him fuller into the conversation. "You mean Saito Hajime? The Shinsengumi captain?"
"One and the same."
"You collect reports from him?" he asked and was answered with a nod. He paused a moment, recalling several images from his memory as two in particular stuck out particularly well in his head. Not only had Saito been present at the scene of the fire, the 'accident' as so many now called it... "You were the one that sent him to recruit me from jail, weren't you?"
"Hai."
"And you knew I was in jail because he had sent you reports about the fire and my arrest."
"Hai."
Kenshin stared at him from beneath the stony width of his brow, the bright amber of his eyes easily shining through the cover of his bangs. "Then I suppose the only questions I would have left are how you have affiliations with Saito," he paused before his voice dropped a chilling octave, "and how you knew to inquire reports from him... especially when it concerned me."
Katsura's stare met his own squarely, his eyes belying no immediate emotion or guilt. "Just what are you implying, Himura?"
"Nothing," he said as nonchalantly as possible, a short shrug of his shoulders following to enforce his point. "Absolutely nothing."
A short grunt answered his curt reply as Matsuyo stood and straightened his suit. "You're forgetting yourself, Himura. If it weren't for me, that neck of yours would have been lynched years ago."
"I'll thank you when I feel grateful," Kenshin icily replied, his eyes burning vaguely brighter in the dull glow of the single candle lit upon the desk.
"Be sure you do." The older man calmly paced to the door, standing stiffly at the entrance. "Certain things must be done, Himura, for the greater good of everyone. Remember that." With that parting statement, he lazily opened the door and left, signaling his departure with an intentional slam of his door.
Kenshin sighed and relaxed into the soft cushioning of his futon, the stress of the recent day expressing itself in small twitches on the muscle of his wounded leg. It had been years since the accident, and still he always laid down to sleep with a weighted weariness resting heavily upon his conscience. He'd give so much to be rid of it, but rationalization made him accept that it would linger with him until the entire mess was settled, until he felt assured that Kaoru was safe and well cared for even if it was in the protection of her potential husband's arms. Still, he would have liked to know what had happened to her, what had driven her thus far... why she would agree to marry Iwasaki when they seemed to know little about each other.
He could ask Yahiko, or even Sano since it seemed the duo already knew of his identity and were rooting for him to be triumphantly in love with Kaoru and suddenly whisk her away from Kyoto and back to Tokyo so they could all live as they once had. But their explanation would be severely biased, he reasoned weighing out his options. What he needed was an unbiased opinion, an explanation that came directly from the source itself. He thought a moment wondering how he could manage to get an interview with the clever woman without drawing her suspicions about his possible intentions. The last thing he needed was Kaoru growing skeptical of him and intentionally driving out his true identity beyond that of just a hitokiri she 'wanted to save'. He wasn't sure she would calmly settle back into her stable, new life if she realized her rurouni was not only alive and in the same housing as herself, but a regressed assassin.
Thoughts poured through his mind about what he could say to her, what he could ask her without inciting her suspicions any further. None seemed logical enough either being too direct or too vague. He rested an arm behind him to pillow his head momentarily as he looked about the room for inspiration. His vivid eyes glanced over the framed window, the heavy, wooden door, and the mahogony desk without relief as he spied a small book on the desk's edge. Inspiration suddenly hit him. Quickly sitting up he remembered vaguely a memory of the night before the accident.
A sudden warmth hit his side to quarrel the chilly drift of the slumbering night causing him to turn toward its source. A candle was still lit within Kaoru's room, but the soft, even sound of her breathing met his keen ears through the crack in her door. He glanced about himself as though someone were watching before quietly entering the room and striding to the girl's unconscious side. Although she was not dressed in her loose sleeping attire, she still lay atop her futon curled into herself to shield her body from the incoming cold, one hand held across her neck and shoulder under her chin while the other splayed in front of her holding her writing devise absently between the pages of her disregarded journal.
Kenshin eyed the journal warily briefly lapsing from thought to thought about the abilities a woman's journal could have. Journals had the power to drive people insane when read unwarranted, especially those written by the hands of women. Then again, he'd never known Kaoru kept a journal. He snorted shortly at his own idle thoughts before moving forward once more to crouch beside her, flinching when the boards beneath him creaked ever so slightly with his added weight.
Reaching out one hand, he carefully moved the book away and slid her utensil simply from her small fingers. He heard her groan softly as she retracted her hand back into her body and released a slight quiver into her chin. A sullen smile met his lips as he watched her sleep, pulling her bedding's blanket up to her chin and tucking the sides slightly into her figure for warmth. Her quivering ceased almost instantly as she melted into the added weight, snuggling into its new comfort. He smiled again running a finger gently across the contour of her cheek to brush a cascade of ebony from her face and tuck it safely behind her ear. The ends of her mouth twitched slightly as the girl quietly sighed in her sleep. Quickly, Kenshin extinguished the candle and made his way silently out of the room and back onto his path toward the entrance of Kaoru's home.
Kaoru kept a journal, wrote in one every night before she went to sleep. An inadvertent quiver raced down his spine chilling him down to the very marrow of his bones and strained the lines in his jaw until he thought his teeth might shatter. Did he dare read her journal? Could he bring himself to do what he had done almost sixteen years previously knowing what it had done to him and his future before.
He released a shaking breath as he examined himself. Not only was it an invasion of privacy, but he may even learn things he would wish to never know. In all reason, he could even jeopardize his sanity like he had those sixteen years ago. Sucking in another resolute breath, he steeled himself and stole away once more into the shadowy confines of the Kyoto General Defenses building checking to make sure that the couple had remained in the parlor before silently stalking like a willowy ghost to the room he presumed to be Kaoru's.
Next Chapter:
Doves and Pigeons, Ravens and Sparrows
(A/N) Mmmm... trust me when I say ya'll are definently gonna like the next chapter, after all, it's the reason you're all still reading. Stay tuned and hopefully the next chapter will write itself more easily than all the others.