A/N: I'll just shut up and let u guys read.
Disclaimer: doesn't the word, "disclaimer" speak for itself?
~~~~~~~~~~~~
chap. 7 ~ wishing
Winter came sooner than anyone imagined. The golden leaves literally melted into fat, flurry flakes, which floated dreamily down, softly molding onto the ground and forming mounds with other flakes. The air was chilly, and at times, a bit bitter.
New Year's was fast approaching, and it was decided that there would be a small party at the dojo. It was an opportunity to relax, and Aoshi and Misao would visit for the event, and perhaps stay until the baby was born. There was a flurry of excitement as Megumi, Sano, and Kenshin attempted to prepare for the coming of guests, while at the same time holding Kaoru back from doing any real work. They ran around like chickens with their heads chopped off, desperately trying to make last minute preperations and simultaneously keeping Kaoru still.
The rickety carriage pulled to a stop as Aoshi placidly stepped out, a blank, unemotional expression plastered on his face. The horse whinnied, and Aoshi flicked some money in the driver's direction, who almost fell over in an attempt to catch the flying coins. He stepped aside to allow a cheerful, anxious Misao out of the carriage, and retrieved their luggage in the back.
"Wolf, could you please help Aoshi-san with the bags?" Kenshin politely asked the young boy.
He nodded and trotted down the path, courteously bowed and said, "Konnichiwa Aoshi-sama, can I's help you with your bags?"
Aoshi looked down at the blonde, and merely ignored him as he continued his oh-so-interesting journey down the path to the dojo. Wolf put on a hurt face, but followed Aoshi, empty-handed, and watched as Misao squealed in delight, hugging Kaoru, and nearly squeezing all life out of her. (That can't be healthy)
Kenshin, who had seen what had happened, walked over to Wolf, and calmly explained, "Aoshi-san has not been through the best of times. He was the former leader of the Oniwaban Group, and watched the murder of his fellow members. I, personally, was not there...but I can understand the hard times he is going through."
The leader of the Oniwaban Group? Wolf thought. There were rumors...rumors that told of a legendary swordsman, Shinomori Aoshi, who was said to had helped in the downfall of Shishio Makato. This man....had been part of the prevention of a dictatorship run by Shishio. But these were mere rumors, mere whispers in the wind that nowadays, had any attention. People hardly took a second listen in an attempt to care. Shishio was killed, end of story. Who did it or what happened barely mattered anymore.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
They say Aoshi Shinomori is as cold as ice. They say that his glance could freeze you to the spot, that his cold, steel eyes pierced through your very being, petrifying you, turning you to stone. The Oniwaban had been his life....for he had become their leader at the age of fifteen. He had to become strong, had to be rigid and a leader. But it was all taken away from him. The Oniwaban had been taken away from him. And so, in turn, his life had been taken away from him. He now hid behind a mask of self-compassion, meditating often in an incense-filled temple.
How the famous Aoshi Shinomori knew Kenshin Himura, no one was sure... Years ago, people had talked of how a red-headed rurouni had sauntered around during and after the Revolution. Wolf had heard a villager tell his tale. He recalled the man telling of how the sky had been gray, and yet it was cloudless, the trees bare. The little leaves that were left were dry; dry leaves that crackled in the gusting wind that blew. A Sakabato had hung at his side, the most obvious characteristic that stood out, for the Meiji Era was a time of peace, and it was illegal to carry a sword. But still, no one dared to question him, not even the police, for his expression read that he was not a person to mess with. His eyes were a passionless amber, frigid and sharp, they were eyes that could cut through life itself.
But perhaps they were all just rumors, Kenshin had claimed he had never killed a person, nor had he ever wanted to. Wolf couldn't understand the illogic of it, could not put two and two together... Why had he heard numerous rumors that told of a red-haired man with a cross-shaped scar on his left cheek, who had the eyes, hands, and skills of a murderer....that fit the description of this easy-going, lax Kenshin he knew now?
Wolf remained quiet all throughout the party and celebrations, his eyes in a distant place as these thoughts swam in his head. His face remained blank as he watched the people around him joke and kid, pouring eachother cup after cup of sake (except for Aoshi of course, who refused any alcoholic drink, and merely stuck with tea). Misao kept slapping Kenshin's back whenever he was in the middle of a drink, causing him to choke, Kaoru to panic, and Sano to laugh. He didn't know why these thoughts troubled him so much, and decided to shrug it off, smiling warmly as they invited him to watch the sunrise.
The New Year's sunrise was watched in silence, not eery, uncomfortable, but satisfied, comforting silence that set the tone for the perfect atmosphere that would welcome the New Year with grace. Despite all the thoughts that still hung in the back of his mind, Wolf was happy. The day had been so magnificent, and he was glad to be surrounded by so many different, unique people. The variety was...interesting. And so, as the sun broke just over the horizon, he made his wish for the New Year. He wished that every day would be filled with the same beautiful people, the same beautiful life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Snow never stayed long in Japan. It seemed that as soon as it came, it was replaced by the brown dirt, barely dotted with clumps of spongy grass. The sky's gray clouds seemed heavy; heavy enough to dump the endless amounts of rain it held within its grasp. Oddly enough however, water did not pour down like everyone had pressumed. Rain in Japan was never predictable, and one had to have a back-up plan in case crystaline drops came falling from the sky.
Aoshi had retreated to a nearby temple, wanting to simply meditate, since he had not done so since before New Year's. Misao contentedly went with him, bringing with her extra tea, cusions, and an umbrella in case the rain came pouring down. Kaoru decided to stay in bed, not feeling quite so well after loosing last night's dinner and breakfast all in one breath. Kenshin stayed by her side of course, worrying his mind out, then leaving her to rest while he did a few chores.
Sano had invited a few friends to the dojo, to gamble and drink some sake. If Kaoru had known, she would have had a fit and thrown them all out, but she had no say in the matter as she was sick in bed with a damp cloth being held to her forehead. So, Sano had all day to throw the die around and loose a couple yen. After a couple of hours of whooping and cheering, they received a sharp reprimand from Kenshin, who scolded them on the principles of the common courtesy, then were forced out of the dojo by the red-head.
Wolf stayed out of the way, doing something or another in his room while Yahiko ran the few lessons that were to be held that day. Megumi was nowhere to be found, as she decided to stay in her clinic to treat the overnight clients. The day had pretty much been typical, and soon, the day had dwindled away, the sun no longer but a speck in the sky, slowly diminishing into the endless horizon. Soon, white specks of light scattered the navy black blanket held over the once blue sky, barely visible through the gray clouds that still threatened to pour rain. No moon occupied the space between the clouds and stars, for it was New Moon.
Wolf sighed and blew out the candle that lit his room, leaving him in the darkness. All day he had been reading old newspapers he had found in his room, newspapers from the Revolution that told of the numerous battles that had befallen Japan at the time. The battles that had been triggered with the coming of Commodore Perry in 1853... The coming of foreigners in Japan...
He shook his head in an attempt to relieve himself of his throbbing headache, and only assumed that sleep was the best cure as he settled down into his futon. His eyelids slid downwards, and soon, his mind was blank and relaxed. But perhaps he had read too many newspaper articles, or maybe it was his headache taking a toll on his sleep, but either way, his drowsy sleep soon morphed into a dream.
~ There seemed to be a sound of fireworks in the air, tremendous explosions that rattled his bones and shook his body with amazing force. He was face-first in the dirt, laying on his stomach behind a small hill. The ground shook, and he could make out the shouts of men above the din, yelling in Japanese, and if he listened hard enough, he could make out the sounds of English commands bellowing, their voices riding on the wind. Cautiously, he crawled up the hill, curious as to what could be happening.
He made his way to the top, and his eyes widened at the scene before him. Gun smoke polluted the air as shot after shot rang out of the numerous cannons that were aligned on the sea shore. Wolf averted his eyes to the target of the cannons, a heavy steel-plated ship with the letters "U.S." printed on its side. A foreign ship. Wolf watched in amazement as voices rang from the ship, its passengers scrambling this way and that to put up a solid defense. However, their efforts had little effect.
He watched as the few men that had obtained weapons on the boat fire their guns. The battle raged on, the smoke from the guns and cannons swirling into the air, producing heavy black clouds that gathered and crowded, blocking the sky that could have once been blue.
He suddenly found himself on his feet, precariously drawn to the battle between the Japanese and foreigners. Suddenly, among the many black- haired heads in the on-shore fort, Wolf spotted a sand-colored head. The man had aqua-blue-green eyes; eyes that at the moment, were filled with determination and pride. With every cannon ball fired, with every hole made in the foreign ship, and with every enemy that fell dead into the blood-red sea, the man became more steered to bring down his opponent, his face more set to the task ahead. A foreigner, it seemed, that was proud to bring down his own. Wolf watched this man light sparks that caught on the wool-threads that willed the cannons to fire. He watched the man laugh and smile at the sheer exhiliration the battle was bringing him. Wolf wondered why he was laughing when he was caught in such a serious matter.
But still, as his comrades fell beside him, his firm expression never faltered, and continued to strike, light, and fire the cannons into the near-sinking ship. He struck a match and lit the fuse, covering his ears as the cannon ball sailed straight for the boat. It seemed too much for the ship, as it began to slowly dip into the sea, slowly drowning into the dark depths. The man cheered and threw his arm up into the air, when suddenly a bullet caught him. The man watched as bullets dotted his body, piercing his flesh, pain now petrifying his being. He gasped as he crouched down on his knees, grasping his sides as if this would accomplish something. Startled, Wolf ran towards the man, avoiding the bodies that littered the blood-stained ground, and could only watch as the man fell onto his side, still holding his sides. In his last moments, the man exhaled fulfillingly, and softly muttered the words, "I'm sorry..." Muttering words as if the person he was apologizing to was there.
With that, the man took in an irregular breath, Wolf felt his heart tighten as the man seemingly looked at Wolf, as if in purpose, and smiled as he died there on the fort's ground. ~
Wolf's eyes shot open, and he remained lying down as he turned over to his side. After pulling off his blankets, he found he was drenched in sweat and simply panic-stricken. He sat up, rubbing his temples with his index fingers, attempting to set his mind straight. He had a strange a feeling that the dream had not been a dream, but something more... It seemed more like a vision of the past....but maybe it was his head playing with him. He gave up thinking about it as he stood up to open the fusuma. Perhaps some fresh air was in order, then maybe he could go back to sleep.
He breathed the fresh, musty air, feeling better already. He hugged his knees to his chest, resting his blonde head atop his knees, pulling himself into a crouching position. He suddenly heard a rustle in the bushes and tilted his head towards the source of the sound. He quirked his eyebrows and hesitantly decided that it was nothing, maybe a small mouse or something.
Before he knew it, a damp, strange-smelling cloth was brought over his nose and mouth, forcing him to inhale what ever toxins it had been drenched in. He struggled to breath, and desperately attempted to shake off the hands that had him pinned to his attacker. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't help but give in to the darkness that was calling him; the darkness that swirled around his mind and enveloped him, making his eyelids droop, and mind drowsy. He fell limp into the man's arms in less than a minute.
"Gotcha."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: for your convinience, I put spaces between each paragraph so as it would be easier for you to read (I hope it helped anyways...). But yea, I understand that this chapter had limited dialogue, and I hope I wasn't being too descriptive or dragging too much. But yes, please review! Arigato!
Disclaimer: doesn't the word, "disclaimer" speak for itself?
~~~~~~~~~~~~
chap. 7 ~ wishing
Winter came sooner than anyone imagined. The golden leaves literally melted into fat, flurry flakes, which floated dreamily down, softly molding onto the ground and forming mounds with other flakes. The air was chilly, and at times, a bit bitter.
New Year's was fast approaching, and it was decided that there would be a small party at the dojo. It was an opportunity to relax, and Aoshi and Misao would visit for the event, and perhaps stay until the baby was born. There was a flurry of excitement as Megumi, Sano, and Kenshin attempted to prepare for the coming of guests, while at the same time holding Kaoru back from doing any real work. They ran around like chickens with their heads chopped off, desperately trying to make last minute preperations and simultaneously keeping Kaoru still.
The rickety carriage pulled to a stop as Aoshi placidly stepped out, a blank, unemotional expression plastered on his face. The horse whinnied, and Aoshi flicked some money in the driver's direction, who almost fell over in an attempt to catch the flying coins. He stepped aside to allow a cheerful, anxious Misao out of the carriage, and retrieved their luggage in the back.
"Wolf, could you please help Aoshi-san with the bags?" Kenshin politely asked the young boy.
He nodded and trotted down the path, courteously bowed and said, "Konnichiwa Aoshi-sama, can I's help you with your bags?"
Aoshi looked down at the blonde, and merely ignored him as he continued his oh-so-interesting journey down the path to the dojo. Wolf put on a hurt face, but followed Aoshi, empty-handed, and watched as Misao squealed in delight, hugging Kaoru, and nearly squeezing all life out of her. (That can't be healthy)
Kenshin, who had seen what had happened, walked over to Wolf, and calmly explained, "Aoshi-san has not been through the best of times. He was the former leader of the Oniwaban Group, and watched the murder of his fellow members. I, personally, was not there...but I can understand the hard times he is going through."
The leader of the Oniwaban Group? Wolf thought. There were rumors...rumors that told of a legendary swordsman, Shinomori Aoshi, who was said to had helped in the downfall of Shishio Makato. This man....had been part of the prevention of a dictatorship run by Shishio. But these were mere rumors, mere whispers in the wind that nowadays, had any attention. People hardly took a second listen in an attempt to care. Shishio was killed, end of story. Who did it or what happened barely mattered anymore.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
They say Aoshi Shinomori is as cold as ice. They say that his glance could freeze you to the spot, that his cold, steel eyes pierced through your very being, petrifying you, turning you to stone. The Oniwaban had been his life....for he had become their leader at the age of fifteen. He had to become strong, had to be rigid and a leader. But it was all taken away from him. The Oniwaban had been taken away from him. And so, in turn, his life had been taken away from him. He now hid behind a mask of self-compassion, meditating often in an incense-filled temple.
How the famous Aoshi Shinomori knew Kenshin Himura, no one was sure... Years ago, people had talked of how a red-headed rurouni had sauntered around during and after the Revolution. Wolf had heard a villager tell his tale. He recalled the man telling of how the sky had been gray, and yet it was cloudless, the trees bare. The little leaves that were left were dry; dry leaves that crackled in the gusting wind that blew. A Sakabato had hung at his side, the most obvious characteristic that stood out, for the Meiji Era was a time of peace, and it was illegal to carry a sword. But still, no one dared to question him, not even the police, for his expression read that he was not a person to mess with. His eyes were a passionless amber, frigid and sharp, they were eyes that could cut through life itself.
But perhaps they were all just rumors, Kenshin had claimed he had never killed a person, nor had he ever wanted to. Wolf couldn't understand the illogic of it, could not put two and two together... Why had he heard numerous rumors that told of a red-haired man with a cross-shaped scar on his left cheek, who had the eyes, hands, and skills of a murderer....that fit the description of this easy-going, lax Kenshin he knew now?
Wolf remained quiet all throughout the party and celebrations, his eyes in a distant place as these thoughts swam in his head. His face remained blank as he watched the people around him joke and kid, pouring eachother cup after cup of sake (except for Aoshi of course, who refused any alcoholic drink, and merely stuck with tea). Misao kept slapping Kenshin's back whenever he was in the middle of a drink, causing him to choke, Kaoru to panic, and Sano to laugh. He didn't know why these thoughts troubled him so much, and decided to shrug it off, smiling warmly as they invited him to watch the sunrise.
The New Year's sunrise was watched in silence, not eery, uncomfortable, but satisfied, comforting silence that set the tone for the perfect atmosphere that would welcome the New Year with grace. Despite all the thoughts that still hung in the back of his mind, Wolf was happy. The day had been so magnificent, and he was glad to be surrounded by so many different, unique people. The variety was...interesting. And so, as the sun broke just over the horizon, he made his wish for the New Year. He wished that every day would be filled with the same beautiful people, the same beautiful life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Snow never stayed long in Japan. It seemed that as soon as it came, it was replaced by the brown dirt, barely dotted with clumps of spongy grass. The sky's gray clouds seemed heavy; heavy enough to dump the endless amounts of rain it held within its grasp. Oddly enough however, water did not pour down like everyone had pressumed. Rain in Japan was never predictable, and one had to have a back-up plan in case crystaline drops came falling from the sky.
Aoshi had retreated to a nearby temple, wanting to simply meditate, since he had not done so since before New Year's. Misao contentedly went with him, bringing with her extra tea, cusions, and an umbrella in case the rain came pouring down. Kaoru decided to stay in bed, not feeling quite so well after loosing last night's dinner and breakfast all in one breath. Kenshin stayed by her side of course, worrying his mind out, then leaving her to rest while he did a few chores.
Sano had invited a few friends to the dojo, to gamble and drink some sake. If Kaoru had known, she would have had a fit and thrown them all out, but she had no say in the matter as she was sick in bed with a damp cloth being held to her forehead. So, Sano had all day to throw the die around and loose a couple yen. After a couple of hours of whooping and cheering, they received a sharp reprimand from Kenshin, who scolded them on the principles of the common courtesy, then were forced out of the dojo by the red-head.
Wolf stayed out of the way, doing something or another in his room while Yahiko ran the few lessons that were to be held that day. Megumi was nowhere to be found, as she decided to stay in her clinic to treat the overnight clients. The day had pretty much been typical, and soon, the day had dwindled away, the sun no longer but a speck in the sky, slowly diminishing into the endless horizon. Soon, white specks of light scattered the navy black blanket held over the once blue sky, barely visible through the gray clouds that still threatened to pour rain. No moon occupied the space between the clouds and stars, for it was New Moon.
Wolf sighed and blew out the candle that lit his room, leaving him in the darkness. All day he had been reading old newspapers he had found in his room, newspapers from the Revolution that told of the numerous battles that had befallen Japan at the time. The battles that had been triggered with the coming of Commodore Perry in 1853... The coming of foreigners in Japan...
He shook his head in an attempt to relieve himself of his throbbing headache, and only assumed that sleep was the best cure as he settled down into his futon. His eyelids slid downwards, and soon, his mind was blank and relaxed. But perhaps he had read too many newspaper articles, or maybe it was his headache taking a toll on his sleep, but either way, his drowsy sleep soon morphed into a dream.
~ There seemed to be a sound of fireworks in the air, tremendous explosions that rattled his bones and shook his body with amazing force. He was face-first in the dirt, laying on his stomach behind a small hill. The ground shook, and he could make out the shouts of men above the din, yelling in Japanese, and if he listened hard enough, he could make out the sounds of English commands bellowing, their voices riding on the wind. Cautiously, he crawled up the hill, curious as to what could be happening.
He made his way to the top, and his eyes widened at the scene before him. Gun smoke polluted the air as shot after shot rang out of the numerous cannons that were aligned on the sea shore. Wolf averted his eyes to the target of the cannons, a heavy steel-plated ship with the letters "U.S." printed on its side. A foreign ship. Wolf watched in amazement as voices rang from the ship, its passengers scrambling this way and that to put up a solid defense. However, their efforts had little effect.
He watched as the few men that had obtained weapons on the boat fire their guns. The battle raged on, the smoke from the guns and cannons swirling into the air, producing heavy black clouds that gathered and crowded, blocking the sky that could have once been blue.
He suddenly found himself on his feet, precariously drawn to the battle between the Japanese and foreigners. Suddenly, among the many black- haired heads in the on-shore fort, Wolf spotted a sand-colored head. The man had aqua-blue-green eyes; eyes that at the moment, were filled with determination and pride. With every cannon ball fired, with every hole made in the foreign ship, and with every enemy that fell dead into the blood-red sea, the man became more steered to bring down his opponent, his face more set to the task ahead. A foreigner, it seemed, that was proud to bring down his own. Wolf watched this man light sparks that caught on the wool-threads that willed the cannons to fire. He watched the man laugh and smile at the sheer exhiliration the battle was bringing him. Wolf wondered why he was laughing when he was caught in such a serious matter.
But still, as his comrades fell beside him, his firm expression never faltered, and continued to strike, light, and fire the cannons into the near-sinking ship. He struck a match and lit the fuse, covering his ears as the cannon ball sailed straight for the boat. It seemed too much for the ship, as it began to slowly dip into the sea, slowly drowning into the dark depths. The man cheered and threw his arm up into the air, when suddenly a bullet caught him. The man watched as bullets dotted his body, piercing his flesh, pain now petrifying his being. He gasped as he crouched down on his knees, grasping his sides as if this would accomplish something. Startled, Wolf ran towards the man, avoiding the bodies that littered the blood-stained ground, and could only watch as the man fell onto his side, still holding his sides. In his last moments, the man exhaled fulfillingly, and softly muttered the words, "I'm sorry..." Muttering words as if the person he was apologizing to was there.
With that, the man took in an irregular breath, Wolf felt his heart tighten as the man seemingly looked at Wolf, as if in purpose, and smiled as he died there on the fort's ground. ~
Wolf's eyes shot open, and he remained lying down as he turned over to his side. After pulling off his blankets, he found he was drenched in sweat and simply panic-stricken. He sat up, rubbing his temples with his index fingers, attempting to set his mind straight. He had a strange a feeling that the dream had not been a dream, but something more... It seemed more like a vision of the past....but maybe it was his head playing with him. He gave up thinking about it as he stood up to open the fusuma. Perhaps some fresh air was in order, then maybe he could go back to sleep.
He breathed the fresh, musty air, feeling better already. He hugged his knees to his chest, resting his blonde head atop his knees, pulling himself into a crouching position. He suddenly heard a rustle in the bushes and tilted his head towards the source of the sound. He quirked his eyebrows and hesitantly decided that it was nothing, maybe a small mouse or something.
Before he knew it, a damp, strange-smelling cloth was brought over his nose and mouth, forcing him to inhale what ever toxins it had been drenched in. He struggled to breath, and desperately attempted to shake off the hands that had him pinned to his attacker. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't help but give in to the darkness that was calling him; the darkness that swirled around his mind and enveloped him, making his eyelids droop, and mind drowsy. He fell limp into the man's arms in less than a minute.
"Gotcha."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: for your convinience, I put spaces between each paragraph so as it would be easier for you to read (I hope it helped anyways...). But yea, I understand that this chapter had limited dialogue, and I hope I wasn't being too descriptive or dragging too much. But yes, please review! Arigato!