Disclaimer: Sadly Rurouni Kenshin does not belong to me, or I'd have a walking contingent of bodyguards consisting of Sano, Aoshi, and Saitou (okay, I like him, don't bite me- but wouldn't that be interesting?) with me all day long. smiles stupidly
revised thanks to Crunchy Snape for letting me know about my POV change.
Author's note: The definition of "aku" I use in this fic is the Chinese version; I don't know if the Japanese version has quite the same nuances or connotation, but I figured it made a good fic. So just go with the flow. Also, fanficnet severely screws over any formatting I may have attempted to do, so the lack of indentation, while frustrating, is also something we all have to live with.
Aku
"Yo, kitsune-onna!"
She sighed.
The familiar call.
She pushed her files to one side and left for the door of the clinic. He came into sight, standing with his stance relaxed and his usual cocky smile.
"Tori-atama," she greeted him, glancing at him for any obvious injuries. "Your hand?" His bandages and the lining of his jacket were stained with blotches of blood.
"Blood's mostly not mine," he said, following her gaze down to his hand, then turning to look at her with his usual self-assurance, "though some lucky bastard also managed to get at my stomach with a broken bottle, you think you could check that out too?"
She raised an eyebrow. "What were you, asleep? You don't usually get hurt during stupid tavern brawls."
"Dreaming about you, megitsune," he said, grin broadening. Daydreaming, more specifically. Though his words were teasing, he had in fact been reflecting half drunkenly about them.
The two of them.
Or the lack thereof.
She merely gave him a look, and turned to lead the way to the back. As they sat down, he held out his hand and she took it, unwrapping the bandages carefully and feeling for broken bones.
"Idiot," she murmured. "You need to stop injuring this hand," she said, lifting her head to look at him.
"Only for the pleasure of our meetings," he said, tugging his hand out of hers and flexing his fingers, winking and starting to beckon at her with a finger.
Another look, and she pulled it back, her fingers continuing to examine it.
"Sooner or later," she said, head bent over his hand, blue-black hair streaming past her shoulders, "you're not going to be able to do that."
"Under your expert care? Never."
"Seriously," she said, releasing his hand and looking up. The grin had never left his face, and she sighed softly. "Take off your jacket."
"Moving a bit fast, aren't ya?" he said, though he obeyed and dropped his jacket on the floor next to them.
Aku.
The word flashed in her mind's eye, its definitions rushing into her mind unbidden.
Bad. Bad, with ill intent, malicious will.
She pulled at one end of the bandages around his stomach absently, starting to unwrap them.
Bad. Somebody truly evil, somebody cruel, somebody out to deliberately hurt people.
She reached around him, taking another end of the bandage with her left from her right hand.
Bad. Somebody reviled, despised.
One layer, and another.
Bad? He wasn't like that at all. He might skip out on bills and have an unnatural love of brawling, but there was nothing malicious about him. He was honorable, and loyal, and when coerced, quite helpful.
He was a good man.
Another layer.
Bad? He flirted with all the pretty girls, but he never took advantage. He was a unconventional gentleman, despite his appearance. Not like some men…
Another layer.
Bad… He'd pulled the knife from her. She had made the drug that had killed his friend, and he had clenched his hand around blade to stop her from killing herself. Any man less than honorable would have let her die.
She reached the end of the bandages, and reached around him one last time.
Bad. The man next to her- she stopped for half a second, realizing for the first time how close she was to him. The man she had her arms around. She angled her head slightly, taking in his well chiseled stomach, chest; something stirred inside of her, and she quickly dropped her eyes and quickly finished unwrapping, pulling away from him and placing the roll of bandages to the floor.
Suddenly, she felt strange, leaning in towards his stomach to examine his cut.
You're a doctor, Megumi, she told herself. A doctor. You see half naked men- and more- everyday.
You've even seen him half-naked often enough.
She shook her head, trying to clear out the thoughts.
"Hey, megitsune."
She glanced up at him. "Yes?"
"Penny for your thoughts?"
Ah.
He had been strangely silent as she removed the bandages. None of his usual teasing, to be sure. Maybe he was being serious, for once. She decided to take a chance.
"Why do you still wear that?" she asked, pointing her pinky at the jacket.
He glanced at it.
"It's just…" he shrugged. "who I am, I guess."
"It's left over from your Zanza days, isn't it?"
She probed the cut. It wasn't deep at all. A little cleaning and some new bandages, and he would be fine.
"Yeah," he said, voice pensive.
They fell silent again, as they must have been while she unwrapped the bandages, she realized.
She left him to ponder the question as she stood to prepare water and bandages for the cut and his hand.
"Why do you ask?"
What do I tell him? she thought, reaching into a drawer for bandages to bide her time. She felt him watching her, waiting, his eyes never leaving her back.
Question with a question. "You're not Zanza anymore, right?" She sat back down next to him and took his hand.
He looked down at her. "There's some part of me that's still him, I think. Without him, I wouldn't have built myself up that way, and I don't think I could have survived, after the Sekhoutai. I would have never met Kenshin, never met… any of you."
His look was inscrutable.
"Ah," she replied, looking down, and starting re-bandaging his hand. His hand was big, fingers were calloused, skin rough. She held it steadily, wrapping the bandages around, around, suddenly aware of each brush of her hand against his, her knee touching his, his eyes watching her movements.
"Why did you want to know, kitsune?"
Tell him, a voice inside her urged.
Tell him that I spent that much brainpower on him? No.
What would be so bad about that, Megumi?
I don't want him to think…
Why?
He's the tori-atama, the irresponsible… but then…
Weren't you just thinking of everything positive, just now?
Mou, she swore silently.
"I just think…" she began, and trailed off. She tied off the bandage. "The 'aku'…it just doesn't represent you," she said, chancing a look at him.
His cinnamon brown eyes locked into hers and she heard words coming out of her mouth. "You're not bad at all, you're honorable and loyal and a gentleman in the end, despite what you look like. You…you saved me, even though I did…what I did, and you've stuck with Kenshin through it all. "
A half grin appeared on his face.
Oh, god, she'd done it.
"I'm a gentleman?" he asked.
"Ano…" she said, biding her time, and stood up. She carefully averted her gaze as she went to a corner cabinet to pull out a rolled-up futon, bringing it back to where he was.
She sat down on her knees, bending her head to let her long, thick hair create a curtain that blocked her view of him, and began to unroll it.
His fingers touched hers.
She jumped- then realized he was helping her unroll the futon. The job was quickly done; she pointed to the futon and asked him to lie down.
"I'm a gentleman?" he repeated, climbing onto the futon, leaning back on his elbows and grinning at nowhere in particular. "Imagine that. Me, Sagara Sanosuke, street punk and brawler, a gentleman in this respectable onna-sensei's eyes."
Was he teasing her? She couldn't quite figure out his tone, and she dared herself once more to look at him.
His eyes were shining.
She glared at him. "I said in the end, after much reflection."
"Think about me a lot, do ya?" He winked.
"Oh, just lie down."
He obeyed, and she started to clean the cut on his stomach. For several minutes, there was silence.
"It's… good to hear, Megumi."
Megumi?
"You can sit up now," she heard herself saying, but her voice seemed distant.
Megumi?
Her own name rang in her ear.
She began to wrap the bandages around his stomach, fully aware of his breath just above her head, the warmth of his body.
"Megumi?" she asked quietly. "Not megitsune? Not onna-sensei?"
And suddenly- he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, mouth closing over hers, claiming her mouth, tongue pushing into hers; his desire was overwhelming, his force and strength bound her against him.
"Megumi," he breathed against her lips.
Megumi… there was no regret; everything she said was necessary and worth it.
Worth this.
The bandages dropped from her hand as she reached up and braided her fingers into his spiky hair, pulling him down to her, and their lips met again.
Tori-atama. The phrase flashed through her mind for the barest flicker of a second.
No. He was Sano. Sanosuke. Here he was the man, not the rooster-head. Did she want-?
There was no question. Somewhere inside, she had already accepted him- knew him- as the man that she wanted.
He pushed her gently onto the futon, his strong arms bracketing her head. They broke the kiss, and she smiled up at him.
His eyes locked onto hers, and he said, very seriously, "You got it wrong, Megumi."
"Wh-what?" she said breathlessly, watching him come closer, leaning down until his lips were mere millimeters from hers.
"I can be bad."
"Oh?" she said archly, "Is that so?"
He laughed as the familiar fox ears emerged.
"Very, very bad," he said, and proceeded to show her how.
Owari.
Author's Notes: Well, that was fast. It only took me 3 hours to think of, write, and edit, and I've never written a RK fanfic before, but something about the word "aku" caught my attention… Thanks to anyone who reviews :-D