The dinner rush was smaller than the lunch rush down here near the harbor, but still Akane's dining room was mostly full, keeping her bustling back and forth to the kitchen, passing around miso and noodles, setting up hot-pots, showing Aki how to cook tempura without burning it. She had run upstairs a couple of times during the afternoon to check on Kenshin; he was still feverish, but sleeping soundly, and she hadn't woken him.
The Yukawas had come in for dinner tonight. Akane plonked down five orders of fried fish at the big table near the door, put Eiko on serving duty, and went to chat with the couple.
Yukawa Eri was sipping her miso thoughtfully as Shinichiro munched his rice and tempura. Akane topped off their tea mugs and slid in next to the other woman.
Eri was one of her very best friends, though she'd only known her for a little more than six years. On the surface, Eri had nothing in common with her -- she was slim and elegant where Akane was broad-shouldered and earthy, soft-spoken and demure where Akane was loud and brash, a dutiful wife where Akane was defiantly single, a recent-arrived immigrant in a deep-rooted village where Akane's ancestors had lived for generations. But underneath, they understood each other deeply.
"Well, Eri, how's life?"
Easily, they fell into their old banter, trading stories of life and work and the latest gossip. Between Akane's harbor-side clientele and Eri's more upscale clothing customers, they had the town's news wrapped up. Soon Eri was smiling genuinely, her gray eyes twinkling. Shinichiro watched them quietly, his expression occupied and thoughtful.
It had been the autumn of the second year of Meiji when Eri and Shinichiro had come to this town, penniless and desperate. Akane and Hideki and their mother had taken them in at the restaurant for a while, Eri helping Akane run the restaurant while Shinichiro stayed in the kitchen helping Akane's mother, who had still insisted on overseeing the cooking. That had been around the time when Hideki was just getting started in the import-export trade, and he'd helped the Yukawas get ahold of a steady supply of fabric when they'd started their clothing business (initially out of the second floor of the Tobes' restaurant). That had been Eri's idea; she could sew faster than anyone Akane had met, and had an intuitive eye for patterns, being able to reproduce just about any fashion she saw.
Shinichiro had always been more withdrawn. He had never really become close to Hideki, who was a few years younger than the rest of them. He had followed Eri's lead on their major decisions -- the clothing business, then later building their house in the upper part of town near the main road east into the mountains. He never complained, at least not that Akane had heard about, but it was clear to her that his heart wasn't in it.
Another group of customers arrived, and Eiko shot her a desperate look as she hurried past. Akane chuckled. "Eri, Shinichiro, can you stay for a while? I'd better go rescue Eiko-chan before she panics."
The dinner rush had died down. Hideki had arrived a little while ago through the kitchen door, shaking water out of his spiky black hair. The wind had brought in a steady cold rain, which showed no sign of letting up.
Akane lent Aki her umbrella and sent him to walk Eiko home, then went to rejoin her friends. Hideki soon joined them as well with a fresh pot of tea and a jar of sake. Eri was asking after the red-haired rurouni.
"Yes, how is he?" Hideki asked. "He's not in the kitchen. He didn't take off, did he? Not in this weather, I hope." He glanced at the ceiling and frowned, tapping a finger on his bearded chin.
"No, he's still here," Akane said. "He's come down with a fever. I've got him sleeping upstairs."
Eri looked up, an idea in her eyes, and pursed her painted lips. "Hmm. Shinichiro dear, maybe you should take a look at him."
Akane knew Shinichiro had some medical experience; Eri had told her stories of how he'd supported them -- barely -- as a travelling herbalist in the year before they'd arrived in this town.
Shinichiro looked up. "Sure, ok. I'll take a look at him. But if he's bad you should probably call a real doctor."
Darkness. Quiet. Then a sound, which slowly resolved itself into someone calling his name.
"Kenshin. Kenshin."
Kenshin opened his eyes. He was curled up on his left side on the futon, nestled in the quilt, and the room was quite dark. An orangish blur resolved into a sideways view of Akane's striped apron in the dim yellow lamplight. She was kneeling in front of him with a reassuring smile on her square face -- really surprisingly similar to Hideki's -- and she was telling him something. He blinked a few times and concentrated harder.
"-- in for dinner this evening and brought her husband, Yukawa Shinichiro. He has some experience with medicinal herbs so we thought we'd ask him to take a look at you." She glanced up to her left. "Shinichiro?"
A man joined her, as she scooted over to make room for him. He was tall and lanky with a long aristocratic face framed by straight brown hair that fell to his shoulders. His level brows were drawn together and his wide mouth set in a frown as he looked at Kenshin intently, his hazel eyes narrowed.
Before Kenshin could sit up to introduce himself properly Shinichiro had gotten to work, feeling Kenshin's forehead and pressing two fingers into the side of his throat for a pulse. He had a quizzical expression on his face, like he was trying to remember something. Then he was talking to Akane.
"Since mid-day, you said?"
"That's right."
"And no respiratory symptoms, no cough or difficulty breathing?"
Akane shook her head.
"Good, then it's probably nothing serious. His fever's not too high; it should run its course in a day or two. But keep an eye on him anyway."
Kenshin had finally gotten it together enough to sit up. His body ached all over and he felt terribly weak, but he no longer had that awful sensation of being about to black out, thank goodness.
"Nice to meet you," Kenshin started to say, as Shinichiro turned back towards him. His eyes fell fully on Kenshin's face for the first time and he froze for a heartbeat, then recoiled, his eyes snapping wide. Kenshin drew back a little, feeling the change in Shinichiro's body language as a physical thing. His already elevated pulse rate quickened, and the sudden surge of adrenaline cleared his head and sharpened his vision, sending the aching in his body into the distant background.
Does he know me? Kenshin thought. He searched his memory frantically. No, he'd never seen this man before, nor had he recognized the name. What was going on?
Shinichiro had composed himself rapidly, wiping the shock off his face, though Kenshin could still feel tension radiating off his body as he got to his feet.
"Like I said, keep an eye on him; the fever should run its course in a day or two," Shinichiro said, his voice smooth and normal, as he gathered up the lamps and headed for the door, drawing Akane with him.
"Hang on a second," she said, taking one of the lamps and turning back to Kenshin, who was watching wide-eyed, still kneeling on the futon. "Kenshin? Can I bring you anything?" she asked, setting the lamp next to his bedding.
"No, thank you, I'm fine, that I am." His voice sounded thin in his own ears.
"Good, then, I'll leave this lamp here. Just put it out when you want to go back to sleep." She patted him affectionately on the shoulder and joined Shinichiro in the hallway, sliding shut the door.
Kenshin stared at the closed door for a long time after they had gone, his left hand raised absently to the cross-shaped scar on his cheek.
