Rain
By: Psychotic Tanuki
A/N: looking for anyone who'd be willing to BETA this story for me. Email me if you want the job; you can click my pen name to get the email address.
Chapter Five: Photograph
I hate kimonos. There was a reason why people invented the yukata but leave it up to a man to forget such things. Sure, kimonos are pretty but what little beauty I formerly saw in the traditional garment had evaporated into thin air. You try sleeping in one. I assure you, if you did, you too would hate them as much as I do.
I rubbed my aching back. My muscles were abused and battered, and any physical movement hurt. Hell, even breathing hurt. Still, I was relieved that he'd left me in a kimono rather than changed me into something else. That would have meant he'd have had to undress me, and that was something that I didn't want to think about.
But now all I wanted a change of clothes. Mom's kimono, which had been formerly pure as driven snow, was crusted with dried blood. The angry brown stain resembled a long trail of splotches; some dotted the white surface, others soaked it until you couldn't see the white anymore. My only comfort was that it wasn't my blood soaking the kimono.
The metallic scent of blood hadn't disappeared either; partly because it clung to Mom's kimono, partly because I still had dry blood crusted all over my face, hands and hair, but mostly because all I could see was that scene over and over again.
The glint of moonlight on cold steel; a demonic silhouette bathed in ethereal light; the feel of a blade against my throat; the harsh sneer in his voice.
I had been so sure that he was going to kill me. Yet, I was still here sitting on a bed in an unfamiliar room god knows how far away from home. It was a small simple room, nothing more than a twin bed, a dresser and a lamp. The décor left something to be desired as well—there was nothing but bare, white walls and a hardwood floor.
The bed lay pushed up against a wall and the lamp was so thoughtfully stuck in the farthest corner of the room from the bed. At the foot of the bed was a mahogany dresser and at the other side of the room, was the door. Everything except for the lamp was as far away from the door as they could possibly be and still remain within the confines of the room. A fact which only attested that this room belonged to Kenshin—only an assassin would be afraid of a door and just who might step through it.
Even if the bed had been placed right next to the wall, I would have still known it was Kenshin's room. It reeked of his presence—a tense air that was thick with masculine simplicity that belied a darker strength. He was present in the walls, the lamp, the bed—the very air I breathed.
Carefully, I pushed aside the thick dark blue blanket and set my feet onto the hardwood floor. While he hadn't slipped me into something more comfortable to sleep in, he had let me sleep in his bed. I suppose that was kind of treatment that I would receive from Kenshin; only what I needed, nothing more. With that thought in mind, I walked cautiously towards the door.
Outside this door could be an apartment, a house, a shack—anything. I could still be in Manhattan, or I could be somewhere in another state depending on how long I had conked out. How far away from home was I? Were Mom and Dad worried? Was Aoshi okay? How would Megumi react? The questions grew louder and more forceful as I placed my hand on the doorknob and opened the door.
There was no hallway—just a big rectangular room which was longer than it was wide. There were some other doors to my left and right but I hadn't the faintest clue as to where they would lead. Beyond the doors to my left was a small open kitchenette and a wooden table; to my right was a leather sofa which faced an obnoxiously small television set. Sprinkled around the rest of the room were other necessities such as a bookcase and a coat rack.
Yup, Kenshin was most definitely a minimalist.
Further past the television, however, was a simple fireplace with a sword rack on top of its mantle. Two shiny black sheaths of a wakizashi and katana stared straight at me; I was not unused to the sight of swords for Dad had two swords exactly like these at home too. Even so, I found myself walking across the room until I was directly in front of the fireplace.
The two swords reminded me of the beaten up sakabatou I'd seen at the museum. Not that these two swords were beat up—they were in pristine condition. The lacquered sheaths were polished until there wasn't a single spot or fingerprint visible, and undoubtedly the blade was probably polished until you could see your own reflection. However, emanating from the seemingly ceremonial swords was a raw power that was both dark and frightening. Whereas the sakabatou had been a source of quiet strength, these swords were a source of bloodthirsty malice.
"They're good swords. Don't you agree?" Sitting leisurely on Kenshin's sofa was Katsura Kogoro, dressed impeccably in a suit and tie, his long hair bunched into an elegant ponytail at the nape of his neck. I shook my head; I almost didn't recognize him in modern day clothing.
I hadn't noticed him sitting on the sofa before. Had he been there the entire time, or had he slipped in while I was observing Kenshin's swords? What was he doing in Kenshin's apartment in the first place?
"They're tainted. Like their owner." Katsura, who'd been sipping from a mug, promptly sputtered as if I'd punched him in the stomach. Obviously, he hadn't expected me to say that, but then again, neither had I. I was doing that a lot lately.
"What makes you say that?"
"Can't you feel it? They reek of evil. They're corrupting their owner." Again, the things I say aloud are never what I want to say. They're things I don't even want to think about—and most of the time, things I don't even know I think about. Ever since I was little I had a tendency to say things that made people, as well as myself uncomfortable. Normally I wouldn't say things like that out loud; not since the incident right before Aoshi was adopted. But ever since I met Kenshin, I was blurting out strange things left and right.
Katsura peered at me through guarded eyes, as if something he didn't believe was coming true before his very eyes. Very cautiously, he set down his coffee mug. I didn't like his train of thought, or at least, what looked like his train of thought.
"You're as strange as Shinsaku said you were. I didn't quite believe him when he said you'd stolen his title of 'black sheep of the family.'" That's because it wasn't something that obvious unless you were part of the family. Besides Uncle Shin, no one outside my immediate family had taken a liking to either me or Aoshi. They didn't like Aoshi because wasn't very friendly but I didn't know why they didn't like me. Even so, things were much easier if we placed the title on Uncle Shin, and he had always accepted it willingly—even if he wasn't really the black sheep anymore.
"Why are you here? This is Kenshin's home isn't it?" Katsura, once again choked on his coffee letting me know that I was indeed, correct.
"What makes you think that?"
"The décor…" I motioned to the bare white walls and vast amounts of empty space, "is lacking. You don't seem like a man of such simplistic tastes." Katsura chuckled a laugh of relief, seemingly happy I hadn't given a strange answer like my last one.
"You sound like you know him. Himura's running an errand for me now. I had been meaning to speak with you." I could feel my brow arch in a skeptical manner; what could he possibly try to say that would 'explain' without truly 'explaining' what had happened last night? What clever ruse would Katsura use to try and dupe me? That was the only logical reason Katsura would request to talk to me; to try and make me agree to never speak about Hiruma Gohei's murder.
"What you saw last night, don't forget it." I could feel my brows descend from their skeptical arches and furrow in confusion. Whatever I had expected him to say, that had not been it.
"Well…I think it's quite hard to forget someone getting decapitated." Katsura chuckled good-naturedly and my earlier apprehension of him returned full blast. No matter how well I played my cards, at this point, Katsura would always be one step ahead. It didn't take a genius to see that he was going to feed me filtered information to try and manipulate me. You could tell by the way he kept reaching for his coffee mug and the amused glint in his eyes. He didn't take me seriously enough.
"I wasn't talking about the murder—that you're free to forget. I was talking about Himura." The humor was gone from his eyes and his voice became heavy with ruthlessness. While normally a quite handsome man, Katsura transformed into someone quite subtly, yet powerfully frightening… this was the man that psychopathic killers, my parents and my uncle blindly obeyed. I didn't blame them.
"He's also quite hard to forget."
"I wasn't talking about the assassin Himura. I was talking about the man Himura. You know; the one that brought you here last night?" He stared at me pointedly, trying to get me to understand something that I didn't quite comprehend—yet again. I was getting tired of not understanding things that were happening to and around me. Taking in my reaction, Katsura sighed.
"You've already forgotten haven't you? Shinsaku told me about that too." I bristled; excuse me for not having a photographic memory. Besides…the man was the assassin—I had no clear indication that pointed otherwise.
"It's alright; but you're to stay here for the time being under strict confinement. Things are not…safe outside of these walls. Himura will guard you—and I've already spoken with your parents and Colombia University has officially granted you a sabbatical. Good day." He was leaving before I could even utter a protest.
At that precise moment, Kenshin stepped through the door and bowed briefly before Katsura, who merely nodded and walked through the door and down…a flight of stairs? Most apartments that I know of didn't open up to a flight of stairs…and houses didn't have kitchens on the second floor…
"It's the upper floor above The Fishbone. My friend owns the diner. This is his place." He must have seen my confusion because he'd explained without me prompting him. Instantaneously, I knew which diner he was talking about—it was the diner where that chicken headed rooster waited at. Likewise, I had a pretty good guess as to who his 'friend' was. Now I was inclined to believe that the minimalist décor was also inspired by a low budget as much as it was by Kenshin's personality.
Kenshin deposited his heavy black trench coat onto the empty coat rack I'd observed earlier—along with his shoulder holsters with two very unfriendly looking guns. I'd never taken the time of day to notice his wardrobe before, but it, like his 'apartment', was quite drab. Black shirt, black pants, black shoes—it contrasted sharply with his pale skin and made his dark crimson hair stand out more than it already did. To put it nicely, he looked gothic. To put it bluntly, he looked like the freaking undead.
And without even recognizing that I existed, he brushed past me and into his room. Ah…the infamous 'cold shoulder.' The prick viewed me as a waste of space, and an unwanted burden. Well, it wasn't as if I wanted to be here either and he wasn't at the top of my "People-I-enjoy-spending-prolonged-periods-of-time-with" list either. Jackass.
He had some nerve. If he thought he could just kidnap me, and then blatantly ignore me, he had another thing coming. Subconsciously, it registered that I had inherited Mom's short temper. It also registered that I inherited Dad's complete disregard of my subconscious and tendency to make stupid decisions. What did it matter? I'd already followed him into his room.
Like I said, I had a tendency to say things that upset people. Not intentionally, or at least most of the time it wasn't intentional. Still, at this point in time, the last thing a sane person would do is to piss off a crazy assassin. But regarding Kenshin, I had already shown time and time again that I was not exactly a sane person.
"So, did you decapitate this guy or chop him into twelve pieces? Riddle him with holes perhaps?"
He turned around abruptly clenching his jaw and fists, probably trying his best not to snap. Dark amber eyes rivaled that of a cat and if looks could kill, I'd be long past dead. I suppose it was a look made most men wet their pants—but somehow, it didn't look right on him. Somehow—I couldn't remember exactly why—those demonic eyes were the wrong color. And that irked me.
Unperturbed by my lack of fear, Kenshin's face was dark with righteous fury; an unbridled sense of anger that threatened to overwhelm my senses. It was almost as if his anger could manifest itself in the air, but I threw away such a silly notion. Who'd ever heard of anger manifesting itself outside of the body?
"Something tells me you didn't have much fun."
"Bitch." He hissed angrily as if I'd wronged him in some way. Hah. As if I had done him wrong—if anybody had been wronged during this whole fiasco, it had been me. Maybe I was just a tad angry and taking out a bit of my three-and-a-half-month-long, pent up frustration on him. Maybe I really was a bitch. Maybe I was just PMS-ing. Who knows, maybe it was a combination of all three. At the moment, I didn't really care.
"So who was it? Politician? Innocent bystander?" I glanced over at a small picture frame that I had formerly not seen on the dresser. As I made my way towards the picture frame, I was taken aback by the picture. It was a picture of a group of kids in their late teens, kids my age (I was nineteen thank you very much); one of which was Kenshin.
Of course, the Kenshin in the picture looked quite different than the one standing a few feet away from me, ready to rip my head off. His hair, for one, was much shorter and a much brighter shade of red—more like a flaming shade of orange. That and his eyes were dark violet in color, unlike the demonic shade of amber that I had come to know. The most noticeable difference, however, was the blatant innocence and the gargantuan smile on his face as he embraced a rather pretty girl.
The girl, of course, was a classic Japanese beauty. She was blessed with long dark hair, mysterious almond shaped eyes, an elegant wardrobe and a beautiful, yet graceful smile to offset his goofy one. Judging by the happy smiles, I guessed with a twinge of shock, that she was his old flame. Although, I glanced through my peripheral vision at the assassin, if he still kept a picture of her by his bed, he was probably still infatuated with her. I picked the frame up and held it in his view.
"Or perhaps your old girlfriend?" As soon as the words left my mouth, I found myself wishing that I could take them back. As it had been with Gohei, he'd moved too fast for me to see but the next thing I knew, was that I was crushed against the wall—his hands grasped firmly around my neck.
"Don't you even dare suggest that I would kill Tomoe." Yup…definitely still into her. Whilst Kenshin normally had a calm, icy, even somewhat handsome face, it had contorted into that of complete and utter fury making him quite unattractive. Then again, the most beautiful person in the world could make a face like that and become ugly. Heck, to illicit that kind of face, maybe he was still in love with her.
His grip around my neck however, that was painful. I'd heard somewhere (most likely from Megumi) that death by strangulation was quite gruesome, and I had no desire to die in a gruesome way. Bringing my hands to try and dislodge his hands from my throat, I noticed that my feet were dangling. Black spots began to creep into the sides of my vision occasionally creating moments of complete darkness before I was brought back to the sight of horrible topaz colored eyes.
Yes, I think I was quite certifiably insane.
"Jesus! Kenshin! What the hell are you doing?!"
The air had never tasted as sweet as it did at that moment. I greedily sucked in more of that precious air and gently massaged my tender neck. Loud shouts between Kenshin and another man reverberated through my brain, but I paid no attention.
Black edges began to obscure my vision. Wearily, I realized that I was going to black out again. I was getting really tired of fainting and blacking out. In fact, this was going to be the last time I ever black out until my dying day. A few inches in front of me, was a shattered picture frame and a picture of a group of teenaged kids.
Although the Kenshin in the picture was quite happy, she was not. The woman named 'Tomoe' was smiling yes, but her eyes were lonely—scared even. They were pleading for freedom, begging for liberation from a cage of her own lies. They were looking for something that was missing; they were looking for a place to belong. I know because I'd seen that look so many times before. Only this time, it was a picture of someone else and not my own.
AN: Gah. I was gonna go on for more, but thought that this was a good place to end this chapter. This chapter dropped a major hint about Kaoru, but no, she doesn't have any super powers or anything—just astute perception and a keen intuition. I also introduced Tomoe and let Kenshin's dark and bloody past begin to unravel itself. The next chapter hails the return of the Roosterhead wink.
And if you're wondering why Kaoru didn't freak that she was kidnapped or try to escape, that's to be explained in the next chapter.
I had an okay time in Korea [marred by the fact that we had to spend a LOT time at the hospital] but I had a bitch of a time trying to get internet access. Even when I got internet access I couldn't get it on my laptop where I had written this chapter. Then I got jet lag and then wouldn't let me log in…gah. So after much delay, this chapter is up and six will be ready soon.
Reviewers:
Ayame, in Kouga hating mode- Hm……maybe Kaoru's mom will get mad…then again the white kimono has not made its last appearance in this fic. )
MZ. Amber EYES- Well…judging by this chapter she's not only kick ass, but suicidal too. I keep noticing that Kaoru's getting more sarcastic as the fic progresses. XX: not exactly what I'd intended though...Though I think she'll mellow out a bit after a certain "incident"
Reignashii- ) Sano says hello from the next chapter. Heehee…
Rain angst- XD I love the pen name. It's perfect for this story… haha…Although writing this story is becoming one of my favorite things to do during the day.
SesshaWaRurouni- :D Yay. I'm always glad to find people willing to tag along for the entire ride.
nobody- sorry about the 'n' capitalization! I blame Microsoft Word's auto correct XX; Ahhhh as for Aoshi's dark and complex past, all I'll say at this moment is that it ties in directly with Kenshin's dark, complex and bloody past. :]
Neko Oni-chan- As much as I'd love to write a lighter-hearted fic someday, I think my talent lies with the dark stuff. It's much easier for me than comedy. XD I took your advice about Kaoru picking up some bitchiness though, as clearly demonstrated during this chapter. I find however, that the Kaoru in this fic constantly changes from chapter to chapter and in some ways, that solidifies her character. XX; Kenshin's actually harder to write and I agonized over him snapping at Kaoru during this chapter since he's been rather icy during the last few. Then again…Kaoru's never really provoked him before either. But it ain't the last time for sure.
Flaming-amber- Haa…there'll be more action as things move along. Though, I think if I have Kaoru black out one more time, I think she'll throw a hissy fit. I know I would if stuff like that kept happening to me.
Omata- Don't worry about it. I didn't really think it was disparaging, although maybe I wrote my reply a bit defensively? XX; I liked writing Kaoru's mom as well, and based her a bit after my own. As for this story, Kaoru is a normal girl placed in an abnormal situation. :D
The evil witch- That's okay, at least you reviewed :D. And here's chapter five, hope you enjoyed.
Jouko-chan- A Beta reader is someone who reads my work hot off the press and helps me edit. I've been doing my own editing thus far but whenever I read back I find something I've missed and I figure it would help to get some help. XD I went to South Korea because it's crazy hard to get into North Korea—that and Kim Jong Il is just whack. Glad you like that it's in the first person perspective; It makes me feel like my hard work is paying off :D.
Misumi kanegawa- Well its been about two weeks since I updated. Hope that was soon enough :D.
Nguardian: :D. Yay! I was pleased to see that someone remembered where Kaoru had heard Katsura's name before. Katsura will definitely play a humongous role in this story—so humungous that I think he just might be the most pivotal character in forming Kenshin and Kaoru's relationship. Him, Sanosuke and Tomoe.
Fresa- I would tend to agree. Fate may bring people together, and you may be "meant to meet each other" but it's two people's choices to stay together and love each other. Funny you should bring that point up because later during the fic you'll see how "meant to be" failed for Kenshin and Tomoe and "fated to meet" turns out for Kenshin and Kaoru.
Now click that "Submit a Review button" and make a Psychotic Tanuki happy. :D pretty please?