The Taste Of Ink
MysticShadowWanderer

Disclaimer: Nothing hurts when no one's real.

Chapter Five: In this sea of lonely

Sitting at my kitchen table, I still can't believe I said that. The last thing I want is some perfectionist girl living in my apartment, telling me how I should be, and disrupting the overall sad, pathetic-ness of my schedule. Time to lay down some ground rules. I look up from my lunch, which happens to be a turkey sandwich, to find her staring across the table at me. Goddamn that's annoying. I glare at her, and she merely raises an eyebrow expectantly.

"We need to have some sort of agreement here." At least I'm not going to try to force her to go home; I don't go back on my word, even when I don't like what I said. This is what I get for opening my mouth and saying whatever came to mind. This must be karma or something. I probably deserve this.

"I can understand that." It's nice that she's not stupid, that makes this a little bit easier.

"Okay, first off, never, ever wake me up again." Alright, so I'm still bitter about that. She nods. "I work odd hours, and you'll have to adjust to that. I don't make regular meals, so for the most part you'll be on your own. Stay out of the liquor. Don't ever answer the door or the phone. I almost never watch TV, so you can watch whatever you want whenever you want. I'd prefer that you only use my computer in emergency situations. My bedroom and bathroom are off-limits; you'll have your own. Any questions?"

"None whatsoever."

I blink once; that went well. Half of me expected her to argue about the restrictions I put on her, though it's more than fair. After all, she is in my house. It seems that she understands that. Perhaps I've found someone that I can have an intelligent conversation with. It's been a very long time since I've done that.

Do I miss people? No, not really. The majority of the Earth's population are here just to be the banes of my existence, I'm quite sure. Insipidity and ignorance run rampant, so I'm fairly content to keep to myself. Or, I think I am. I don't really think about it much.

Five in the damn morning. On a Sunday. Why am I doing this? I could just let Kamiya be convicted and watch as the judge serves her the a death sentence on the silver platter provided by the frightened and disturbed public. But something other than my detestation of loss forces me to work on this case until strange hours of the morning on my days off. A large yawn from behind me tells me that I'm not the only one up.

"What the hell are you doing out of bed at this time of the morning?" I don't bother to look at her as I speak. Momentarily, I've let myself be distracted by the photos of her younger brother's victims. That a thirteen-year-old did this is still hard to comprehend. I'm fairly certain that any normal boy that age is unable to do that, but, then again, I can't be entirely sure. I got mixed up in this whole assassination business when I was fourteen, but somehow I've always viewed myself as a special case. Most children don't begin learning kenjutsu at age seven, at least not anymore. Maybe at one point in time, long ago in history.

"I don't sleep well anymore." Well that's understandable. Not that I'll tell her that aloud.

Pulling a chair around the table, she sits down next to me, staring down at the pictures. For the sister of the boy that committed these crimes, she takes it awfully well, again, something I will never tell her. I generally wouldn't think that just any person would be able to look at these photos; she does have strength of character, or stomach, I'm not sure which.

"Why do you stare like that?" Her question catches me slightly off-guard. "What's so fascinating about those pictures?" Ah, so that's why she can gaze at them, is it? She wants to know what it is that I'm seeing.

I glance at her. Can she be serious? From the expression on her face, she is. I don't like it when people ask me too many questions, I prefer to be the one doing the asking. For a moment, I consider whether to answer her or not. I decide on "not."

"I see," is all she says. It's nice that she doesn't argue, I'll give that to her. She leans over to look more closely at the photos. "This one." She lays a slender finger on it. "How was it done?"

This gets my attention. That kind of question I can and will answer. "He was strangled with a piano wire." It's more than strange that the one picture that caught her eye is the very same that I was so interested in. "Most likely, your brother tied the wire to two wooden blocks. It strangled this man and slit his throat simultaneously."

I can't read her face. Usually I can tell what a person is thinking by the expression in their eyes, but her emotions are frustratingly difficult to discern. Does she do that on purpose? I stop myself from asking her that very question.

"How do you feel about all of this?" I wave my hand briefly over the photographs. For the first time in a long time, I genuinely want to know. Generally, human emotion matters very little to me, but something about her makes me curious. I just have to keep in mind that curiosity shot the hired assassin, if you'll excuse my creative licensing.

Gazing down at the pictures, she shakes her head. What the hell is that supposed to mean? I wait, somewhat patiently, for her to speak; she seems to be working the words out in her head.

"I don't know." Now that's interesting. "I used to think it was horrible. But now, in light of all this, I just don't know. I'm sure you understand that when something like this happens, one goes through changes. I used to be happy with my life and job, but now I'm not so sure. Now... it doesn't seem like enough."

She's coming down, is the first thought that hits me. That cloud of illusion, of comfort and security, that she used to live in is shattered, and she's beginning to see the world for what it really is. I can teach her, I think momentarily, I can show her. But I stop that train of thought. Why would I want to teach her about the world? Why would I even think that in the first place? Still, it's reassuring that there is one more human being that won't live in a fantasy world until death.

I hate people that pity themselves, absolutely cannot stand them. Those people that walk around feeling so sorry for themselves, telling themselves and everyone around them that their life is so hard, are the type that piss me off to no end. Point out something good in their existence, and they say "Oh, that's not for sure," or just find something else that's bad and ignore all the good. Those are the people that I just want to strangle with my bare hands.

Pity is such a waste of human emotion, but self-pity is the worst.

It's now seven sixteen in the morning, and Kaoru went to bed long ago. After a while, I start to zone out, ignore everything in front of me and go blank to my surroundings. I think it's a sort of meditation, almost, but no one who does it realizes that because they're too tired or too bored or too stoned. Whatever it is, I feel like I've completely left my body and am wheeling through the stars. It's not a bad feeling. So why is it that, at a time like this when I'm actually finding some inner peace, thoughts of the Kamiya girl enter my head? Maybe it was all the contemplation I was doing on self-pity while I was supposedly working on her case. The thing is, Kamiya doesn't seem to have any self-pity. She's strong for her brother, but she doesn't mourn for the loss that she will have to accept whether she wins or loses this case. It's somewhat interesting to me, because one would expect any person in her place to be wallowing in misery for their poor, "stolen" life, but she isn't. This girl is only twenty-four, she has a whole life in front of her, she's willing to throw it all away for her little brother, and she doesn't say a word about it. The most she's done is admit her fear.

Fear, to me, is a natural human instinct, and is what protects us from danger. To be afraid is to be real, in a way. It's when you let the fear take over your life that it becomes something that is truly bad. If someone is fearless, then they are stupid. When you don't recognize fear, then you have no caution, and you're easily susceptible to injury or death. I cannot say that I am without fear, so I don't hold that against her. What I fear may be vastly different, but to each his own, correct?

"You should be asleep by now," I murmur, without turning around, as Kaoru walks quietly into the kitchen.

"So should you," she says through a yawn.

"It's not your responsibility to tell me when I should or should not go to bed." I'm grateful that she cares, I guess, but it's damned annoying.

Stifling another yawn, she sits heavily in the chair that's still by my side. A smile crosses her face, presumably because she sees that I've gotten nothing done. You'd think that she'd be appreciative of all the work I've previously done on her case, but she's acting like I'm shirking here. Nice, really nice; I snort derisively.

"Are you always this disagreeable when you're tired?"

I glare at her. "I'm always like this, and I'm not tired."

"Bullshit." My eyes open wider. Did she just dare to contradict me? "I can see it in your eyes." She did! Who the fuck does she think she is? "Go to bed, Himura-san... can I just call you Kenshin?"

I nod wearily; anything to get her to shut up. It's much simpler anyhow. Suddenly she's singing, in a soft but clear voice. My eyes close of their own accord and I allow myself to listen, just this one time. After a moment I stop her.

"Wait. Sing that part again." Intriguing...

"Roots so deep in history, a clever web of lies. No one gets away, no one tries. Why pray to the light, when darkness conceives it?"

Very intriguing. Had I not just heard her sing that, I would have considered her the type to sing happy, uplifting songs, or maybe those fucking sappy romance ones. But this, this is real. Within an instant, my image of her is completely changed. There is a lot of potential in this woman. For what, I can't be entirely sure yet. But maybe, just maybe, it's worth spending the time to find out.

A/N: It's 1.15 in the morning on a Sunday. Lovely. The cicadas should be out anytime soon... I'm not looking forward to that... I'm kind of confused about what's going on in this chapter, but I feel pretty sick, and my throat REALLY hurts, so I'm really just... blehhhh. Like that. By the way, the song Kaoru sings in this chapter is "New Day's Dawn" by Hyde. That song fucking rocks.