Kenshin woke up slowly, gazing at the ceiling, letting it come gradually into focus. He'd had that dream again, the one he could only ever remember the end of. An outstretched hand, palm up, inviting, and a voice, warm and hopeful: Okaeri. Welcome home.
He sighed and looked around. It was mid-morning, judging by the angle of the light on the tops of the trees just visible through the half-open window. Broken clouds. The rain had passed. He felt drained, pulled down by gravity, like he'd been swimming for a long time. But he felt much better than he had.
He went over in his mind the things that had happened since he came to this town, since he came under this roof. Akane-dono's roof.
Oh.
He ought to have gone, no matter what Akane-dono had said. But by the end of the evening he'd felt too ill to argue any more; by that point it was all he could manage to keep from curling up into a ball and just wishing everything would go away.
Akane-dono had asked him to stay. Ordered him to stay. Even knowing what he had been. Where had she gained that kind of confidence? She was too kind, he thought. Anyway, it was lucky for him: a night out in the rain at that point probably would have killed him.
Well, now that he felt better, there were plenty of things to do. For one thing, he had to make sure everything was all right with Eri and Shinichiro. So Yukawa Shinichiro had been in Kyoto during the revolution. In retrospect, it was obvious that Shinichiro had recognized him the first time he'd seen him that evening, though Kenshin could have sworn he'd never set eyes on the man before. He wondered how Shinichiro had been involved in the revolution. Not on the side of the Ishin Shishi, he gathered.
Sounds of cooking were drifting up from the kitchen -- the rattle of pots, running water, the tok-tok-tok of vegetables being chopped. Soothing. Kenshin felt far too relaxed to move just yet. Talking to Eri and Shinichiro could wait a little while. In the mean time, he might as well get some more sleep.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway woke Kenshin some time in the early afternoon, and he turned his head to look a moment before Akane slid open the door to the room.
She saw him awake and faltered, her expression uncertain. "Kenshin?"
"Akane-dono..." His voice was weak and hoarse. He cleared his throat.
Sudden delight brightened her face. "You're awake! Thank goodness. Wait there, I'll get you some tea."
Before Kenshin could say anything more, she'd hurried away again. He heard her feet pound down the stairs, then vague rattling-around sounds coming up from the kitchen. He smiled a little at the ordinariness of it all.
When she returned he was ready, and spoke before she could interrupt. "Akane-dono, thank you for what you said last night."
She stopped, looking down at him quizzically. "What I said last night?"
Kenshin shifted his gaze a bit to the side, uncomfortable. "You kindly allowed me to stay here. Despite... everything."
Akane's round brown eyes widened suddenly, then softened into a look of sympathy. "Oh. That." She shrugged. "How could I do anything else?" She paused, pursing her lips. "But Kenshin.... That wasn't last night. Two days have come and gone since then."
Kenshin's eyes widened slowly as her words sank in. "Two days...?" He tried to sit up, but managed only to lift his head a little, with some difficulty. He felt shaky and much weaker than he'd expected.
"You were very ill." She knelt down next to the futon and offered him a cup. "Here, drink this."
Now that she mentioned it, Kenshin realized he was terribly thirsty. To his embarrassment, Akane slid her arm under his shoulders and propped him up, holding the cup for him. He drank it despite the taste, unpleasantly sweet and at the same time salty with a weird fishy aftertaste, the same nasty concoction she'd given him the day before -- no, three days ago. He was suddenly worried. What had happened in all that time?
He finished the tea, and Akane lowered him back down onto the futon. Exhaustion flooded through him. He closed his eyes momentarily, framing the questions that he'd ask Akane: what had happened during those two days? Shinichiro and Eri...? But when he opened his eyes again she was gone, and the patch of northwest sky out his window was rosy with sunset.
Kenshin sat up abruptly, disturbed by the missing time. He'd lost, what, four hours just now? But he felt stronger, and more clear-headed. He looked around critically.
First, his sword was still missing. Akane must have it with her somewhere. His clothes were stacked next to the futon, where he'd left them, but they'd been washed and re-folded. Likewise, the yukata he was wearing was not the one he'd put on the day before-- no, just call it the last day he could remember. It was darker blue and stripey, and there was no bloodstain on the hem. He felt his throat. No sign of the cut that Shinichiro had given him. It had healed already.
Someone had left a tray on the tatami near him, with tea and a few mini rice balls and a small bowl of pickled vegetables. Kenshin still felt thirsty. He got to his knees and reached for the tea. It was warm; whoever had left this must have done so recently, and it hadn't woken him. Troubling. He was normally a light sleeper.
He eyed the rice balls. He had no appetite, but knew he had to eat if he wanted to regain his strength, and the sooner the better. He nibbled at one of them. Smoked fish inside, yum! He smiled happily, eyes brightening, and finished the rice ball, then went for the pickled vegetables. From the incredible way they tasted, there must be something in them that his body needed badly right now.
Kenshin paused. He was starting to feel full and drowsy. The remaining rice balls stared back at him. Later, he thought. He ought to get up, go downstairs, do something useful now that he was well again. But his energy had drained away, so that even sitting up was becoming an effort.
He curled up on the futon and wrapped the quilt around himself. He was safe and warm and fed. That was enough, for now. He gazed out the window at the deepening twilight, watching as the stars appeared one by one, until he drifted off to sleep.
