Standard disclaimer applies.

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The Sound of Jasmine

By: Luna

Part four: Guidance

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I sighed as I folded the last bit of Kenshin's laundry and set it in a basket.

That morning I went into town and had witnessed the charred remains of a lovely little inn. I hurried back home though, because I also smelt the lingering smell of charred flesh. I wondered what had happened. Maybe they left the oven burning over night and it caught something on fire. I shuddered, glad that I didn't live in town to witness such a horrible spectacle.

I shook my head and tried to focus on more lighter matters; anything would be better than thinking about how someone's house burn down and burning alive its occupants.

Oddly enough, Kenshin's image rose in my mind, and my thoughts started to drift back once more; a habit that I seemed to have developed as of late.

Ever since that day . . . the day Kenshin tried to explain to me why he does what he does . . . I haven't talked or seen him since. The only way I know he actually comes home is when I hear him getting ready for bed.

I wondered if he made noise on purpose, because he knows that I lay awake at night waiting for him. Because when he wants to be quiet, only the dead make more noise.

I didn't know why, exactly, I waited at night when I could be catching precious hours of sleep. But . . . it was like a build up of some emotion, worry, or anticipation or something to the like, but it always kept me awake . . . waiting for him . . .

I didn't like feeling this way. I didn't want the confusing feelings that seemed to clog my mind, which made do things that I never would have done before. Like daydream while my hands are pruning in a bucket of soapy spuds while I wash clothes, or sigh at just a glimpse of him working on different areas of the house . . . or just watching him . . . his gratefulness . . . his . . . kindness.

Mou . . . I shouldn't start to think about him if I'm going to do chores. I don't want to come out shriveled.

The suns rays were finally starting to fade, and I was thankful I got the line of clothes off before night came.

I sighed once more as I made my way inside the house. Life, at the moment, was very dull. Nothing interesting happened, and when something did, it involved someone else. I wished, for one crazy moment that it was me that something happened to. I wanted excitement in my life, or at least a little fun. And I didn't classify Kenshin living with me in either of those categories.

I shook my head once as I stood. There wasn't any reason that something interesting would happen to me. I've stayed away from the eye of others too long for anybody to actually take an interest in anything I do. Besides, they only think I'm stupid and can't talk because of it.

I headed towards Kenshin's room, opening the shoji without bothering to announce myself. He was never inside his room during daylight hours, so I never had to worry about it.

My eyes widened when Kenshin was, actually, in his room, but was dismayed by what I what I saw.

He was sitting in one of the far corners of the room, both of his hands covering the sides of his face above his ears, and was rocking back and forth, almost like a child. I wanted to rush over to him. I wanted to hold him close like the youth he seemed at the moment. But I couldn't. My feet were frozen to the floor, and I was afraid.

His eyes were like molten pools of hot steel, and burning with the same intensity. They were feral and wild; like a crazed caged animal that was nearly bursting with the effort to reign free. And because of that fright, that fear as I stared into his eyes, made me unable to take another step forward.

The laundry basket slipped through my nerveless fingers, making a hollow noise as it fell to the ground. Kenshin swerved at the noise, hands still in place on his head, and I took an involuntary step backwards.

"Get out." He growled, his voice sounding as animalistic as his eyes looked. And I felt a cold shiver race down my spine.

When he saw me backing away from him in fright, something akin to pain flashed inside his golden eyes, a pain that I recognized from my dream, and I suddenly didn't want to leave him.

I took a thoughtless step towards him.

"Get out!" His eyes looked panicked for a moment, but I ignored him as I took another step. Foolish, yes, but I've been called that too many times to care.

I guess he realized that I wasn't leaving by him yelling at me, and he jumped to his feet and marched with, I'm sure, the intention to push me out of his room.

But it never happened.

As his arm lashed out at my shoulder to push me back, he instead grabbed the fabric of my kimono and yanked me into his arms.

With wide eyes, I stood stiffly inside the circle of his arms as he crushed me to his chest, his face burrowing inside the fall of my hair that had been tied into a loose ponytail and draped over my shoulder. I was more frightened at that moment than any in my life, but . . . I couldn't pull away. I somehow knew that if I started struggling, he'd let me go immediately.

And yet . . .

He was shaking, and I widened my eyes in shock. What the . . .

I felt something wet on my neck, where his face was currently buried in. Wet like a drop of rain . . . yet warm . . . like a tear?

I gasped as realized he was crying. What was wrong with him? What had caused this strong man to cry?

His arms tightened, and we both sunk to the floor when his legs couldn't seem to support him anymore.

"Kenshin . . .? What's wrong? Will you tell me?" I wanted my voice to be strong and soothing, but it came out through a voice not used to talking; a voice barely above a whisper. But, like always, he heard me. And I knew he heard the fear threaded through my soft murmur.

"There . . . there was a fire today . . ." He started out, his voice no longer wild, but soft and flowing. I waited for him to continue, my arms still stiff at my sides.

"A family I knew was involved. And they died," he hesitated, and when he continued, it sounded like it was forced, and I detected a note of pain in his voice. "Because of me."

"But why? How was it your fault?" My eyes widened as a thought hit me. Was it the charred remains of the quaint little inn I saw? Was . . . was he the cause of the fire?

"No, Miss Jasmine, I didn't start the fire." He could have pulled away from me, but he didn't, instead he just loosed his grip around me. His voice was almost . . . resigned. "Before you invited me here, I was staying at her inn . . ."

Questions burned on my tongue, but I kept my mouth shut, knowing that I had no right to ask them.

"Her name was Asane, and she had a child named Ichiro, Firstborn Son, and a small daughter named Shinobu, Endurance. They used to always want to play with me . . . When people heard that I was lodging there . . ." He trailed off.

Gathering up my courage, I brought my arms up and cautiously placed them around his shoulders, then gave him a slight squeeze in an effort to encourage him to continue.

It wasn't good keeping things bottled up inside, something I new very well.

"They claimed the fire must have been an accident. But how can a fire that started at every exit be an accident?" He took in a shuddering breath, and took his face from my neck to rest his forehead on my shoulder. It was a very intimate embrace, and I felt no guilt in taking pleasure from it. After all, he came to me.

But I still held myself stiffly. This embrace was too intimate for me. I barely knew him, only that he was a hired killer and he was a . . . a gentleman. And yet . . .

I found that I didn't want to pull away, despite all my misgivings.

"It all started with me staying there. But I hadn't been there for at least a month; they had no right to do what they did! All had started with a mere rumor of my presence." He was quiet for a while, relaxed in my embrace. Slowly, however, as if he was reluctant to leave, he pulled away from me, and his arms came down to grasp at my hands. "I must leave this place."

Anger bubbled up inside of me swiftly, and despite the warning exploding in my head, I opened my mouth and I lashed out with words I had never dreamt on speaking, especially to him.

"No you're not. I don't speak to anybody but you! Do you know what that means? I'm not comfortable with anyone, only you!" My words were foolish, but I couldn't take them back. What I just said contradicted what I was feeling. I told him I was comfortable with him, but I knew he felt the fear that I held of him, and heard it in my voice.

"Kenshin," I started slowly. "You cannot leave yet."

His eyes had snapped up to mine in surprise while I was talking, but he didn't say a word.

I swallowed hard and continued to speak the hardest words I've ever said aloud, unknowingly sealing my fate forever. "My house still needs to be repaired, and I know I cannot do it by myself."

He stared at me for such a long time, searching my eyes for what, I did not know. But prayed with all my might that he caught the hidden subtleness-the hidden meaning behind my words. But also praying that he hadn't.

'I don't want you to leave . . . not yet . . .'

Not until I've organized my confusing thoughts, trying to put a name to the emotions I was too scared to recognize. Only then, I think, would I have the strength to be able to say goodbye.

He brought both of my hands up and kissed the palm of each. Then brought them to his chest and bowed his head over them. I knew I was as red as a rose, but I couldn't bring myself to pull away from the intimate gesture.

We didn't say anything else for a long time.

I was avoiding him.

He probably knew I was, but at the moment I didn't care.

The other night was too intimate for me; too close for me to feel comfortable around him. I don't think he minded much either, because every time he saw me he would revert his gaze and literally disappear from my sight. This went on for a couple of days, and I felt guilty with the knowledge that I was glad.

I didn't want to be too close to anybody. Being close to somebody left you open to pain, and I've had enough of that to last me for quite some time. What he did the other night . . . his embrace-my embrace-it left me too open to develop any real feelings towards my murderer of a boarder.

And my . . . friend.

It was true I wasn't comfortable around him, but over the weeks that he stayed here with me I've . . . I think I've come to like him. At least a little bit.

I wondered if he was hurt at my sudden withdrawal. I knew it couldn't have been because I wasn't speaking to him; because I didn't anyway. I sighed. It was no use thinking about it, because other than the night before, he never shared his thoughts with me. And I had the feeling he wouldn't again for awhile.

I didn't want to think about him. Whenever I did I thought too much, and when I thought too much, the million emotions I didn't want to feel rose to the surface of my heart and I nearly wanted to cry at the desperation I felt.

I wanted my mother.

I knew in my heart that only she would understand the emotions, so I gathered up my shawl, and headed out to visit her.

I took with my only a dried sprig of jasmine to place upon her grave. When I reached my destination, I felt unwelcome tears rise in my eyes. "Mother . . ."

The wind blew around me with its gentle caress, softly blowing the loose strands of my hair against my face, and I felt comforted. I closed my eyes as I sat to the side of her grave, my fingers brushing tenderly against the cold, faded lettering of her gravestone.

Mama . . . I'm so confused. What's happening to me? I feel the cold,
lonely ache of sadness with me, deep in my heart. But it's really
nothing new. So why does it hurt even more when He's not around? He
probably knows what I'm feeling, and that's the reason he's avoiding
me. Ano . . . wait, I'm the one avoiding him, aren't I?

I'm scared. I'm scared to have him around, but I'm scared to see him
leave.

I . . . I think I'm starting to like him, mama . . .

And I knew that I was a coward for wanting to run.

I sighed wearily. For a minute, I swear I hear my bones creak as I stand. Ano . . . I'm not that old. I frown as I shake my head. Today was the day I needed to go to the market, and I was wasting time.

When I reached my house, I quickly grabbed a basket and headed towards the city. It was always busy during the afternoon, so the mornings were the best time to pick out everything before it became a little too crowded for comfort.

I walk down the street, browsing the many shops with a mask of disinterest on my face. Like the saying goes, if you show an inch of interest, they shall surely take a mile and almost jump on you with the intent of squeezing every bit of money you had, while smiling the whole time.

I stopped at one stand that was selling rare fruits that were no longer growing with cooler temperatures caused by the oncoming of Lady Frost. I sighed. I hated winter almost as much as I hated mornings, not holding favor in either cases.

"These fruits come all the way from the foreign lands! The Americas! Do you know how rare these precious fruits are?" The sales person practically crooned the words to a tall handsome man that was inspecting some grapefruit with a critical eye, his dark glasses hiding the expression in them.

I gave an unlady like snort, an act way out of character for me, but I quickly covered it with a cough as the sales person turned a scathing glare in my direction. They looked like regular grapefruit to me. Sure they usually don't grow in winter, but with the long voyage across the ocean, I doubted they were good despite their ripe look to them. You never knew what kind of diseases could creep inside something while being stored away in a musty ship for who knows how long.

The handsome man turned towards me, an amused smile playing across his sinuous lips. His strange, white hair falling across his forehead in a hazardous manner. His dark glasses slid down his nose just enough to revel the startling color of . . . the sea. They looked blue, but also held a tint of green to them. He was no doubt a handsome man, but I kept the appreciation out of my eyes, my social mask firmly cemented on my face. Oddly enough, the image of Kenshin rose in my mind, and I found myself favoring that instead of the man before me. I ruthlessly pushed the thought and image away, as I turned and started to walk away.

If I bought anything from that stand, surely the person would over charge me from my rude snort.

"Hey, wait a minute." A deep voice called from behind me. I turned in muted surprise as the handsome stranger walked up to me. I shook my head with an amused smile as I continued walking, the stranger along side me.

"Name's Enishi Yukishiro. And you are . . .?" He stuck his hands in his pockets as he waited for my answer.

I pretended to be blissfully unaware that he spoke at all as I stopped to buy some tofu. When Enishi asked again what my name was, I smiled again as I peaked a glance at him from the corner of my eye. He was looking at me expectantly with a raised eyebrow.

When I handed over the correct amount of money for the tofu, the sales person sitting in an uncomfortable chair snorted derisively. "I wouldn't try speaking to her. She's empty in the brains department, and cant speak or possibly understand what you're saying."

Only tightening of my lips gave way to my very clear understanding of his words, and despite me not taking any steps to change my reputation, sometimes it really ticked me off.

Unfortunately for me, the stranger saw it before I turned away.

Without a word he grabbed my basket and started to walk beside me again. I frowned. If he turned out to be the domineering type, I didn't want anything to do with him. He saw my expression and laughed, and I found that it was a very nice sound. I wondered what Kenshin's laugh sounded like . . .

"You needn't look so petulant, pouting doesn't suit you." His grin widened even more at the irked expression I threw at him.

"I am a gentleman, you know. And letting you carry this heavy burden would not be very polite, now would it." I through him another glare over my shoulder as I grab my basket after paying for some salt and other supplies and hurry in the direction home.

He with his long legs of course catches up to me swiftly, his irritating grin still in place. His orange pants with a dark blue stripe running down the sides make soft swishing noises as he walked, and I was glad I didn't pay attention to his almost indecent black shirt that seemed to be a second skin to him. It was then that I noticed the heavy metal arm guards and the long sword at his side. Funny, but it reminded me how I never noticed Kenshin's swords until he was living with me for a couple of days. Hmph. So much for my observation skills.

As I step through my front gate, I gave a disgruntled look at him when he politely stayed outside, whistling a tune while looking innocently at the sky. My look turned derisive and I rolled my eyes. He was practically screaming for an invitation. He reminded me of Sanosuke, a dear friend of mine that I had met a long time ago, but had moved to Tokyo a few years back. Only this stranger held an even more disturbing quality. A quality that reminded me of Kenshin.

I realized belatedly why Kenshin's image kept appearing in my mind, but now I understood. This man held a dangerous air about him, one that practically reeked of . . . something I didn't know what to name, but it instantly put me on awares. Well, it would be rude if I just ignored him and walked inside without inviting him in, but I didn't want to be alone in an empty house with him.

I hesitated shutting the gate with my back still towards him, and I searched the yard for Kenshin. I nearly sighed aloud in relief. Relief that he was here and I would finally be able to see him; my trip to my mother making me realize that nothing will change if I keep avoiding him-and that I no longer wanted to avoid him. And Relief that I wouldn't have to be rude to the stran . . . Enishi-no, stranger, because I still did not know him.

My eyes seeked out Kenshin's, and when our gazes clashed, I almost felt the sparks I had been ignoring. I looked pleadingly at him, and he started towards me with the barest hint of question and concern in his cold amber eyes. I smiled slightly at him, then turned towards my guest.

When Enishi walked though the gates and met the eyes of Kenshin, all hell seemed to break loose.