Don't Say it With Flowers!
By Starhopper
Disclaimer: I . . . don't . . . own . . . a . . . blasted . . . thing!
Ah, 18 credits are killers aren't they? Each one is like a nail on the coffin of progress I could be making on my stories. I'm actually writing this story for breaks between problematic history papers (Oh well, there's only two more left) and reading literature.
- Say it With a Celebration Part 9: Celebrate the Frustrations of Being in Love
Sano sneezed again and glared balefully at his beloved's side of the bed.
Damn Megumi.
About an hour ago, she had quietly disentangled herself from his embrace. Through the slit of his chestnut eye, Sanosuke had watched his fiancée dress down into her working clothes. She then bent down over the low table and pulled her purse free from its place in the pages of a medical book. However, after she had turned out the door, he watched her head bob up and down before the windowsill as if on her way to the Kamiya dojo. Shrugging, he had guessed that the girls were getting together for something, and with this sudden sneezing fit, he was now completely sure that his fox was talking about him.
"Ah," he coughed as he rolled over onto his back, loving the way he could laze about their bed without being reprimanded for once. "Let her talk about me," He couldn't care one way or another if she berated his habits, or insulted his intelligence. It was all for show anyway. A smug smile drifted across his features. He knew she loved everything about him. From his mussed hair to the charming turn of phrase he could spin for her ears alone.
She had certainly let him know that on more occasions than could be recounted.
"I suppose I should get up," he continued with a yawn, accompanied by a stretch that pulled every muscle taught to their breaking point. "But then again,"
Then again he could just stay here. The sun wasn't shining at its brightest horizon yet, the birds were just barely singing, and to make matters all the more delightful, he didn't have any pressing engagements at the local gambling alleys. There was absolutely no reason for him to get up. It had been quite along, long time that he had awoken by himself and been allowed such a luxury like this. Nope, there was no nagging woman batting at his nose, or tugging at his ear. Nor was the smell of a meal waiting to be wolfed down wafting through the door.
"I wonder what Jou-chan and Kenshin are up to?" questioning the ceiling, Sano started to raise himself off the futon and set his sights on the interesting scenery his stomach was painting before his eyes. A tray filled with dumplings, fresh vegetables, and rice balls suddenly materialized in his mind, and sent him tumbling out of the sheets to get dressed. He was even anticipating the quarrel with Yahiko over Kenshin's expertly rolled onigiri.
Across the way, the redhead in question still had a pleased smile plastered over his face as he snuggled into the futon on his side. It had felt right to kiss her the way he had. After all, his shishou had always stressed that an attack was to have the element of surprise, and thus his baka deshi was left clinging to the last imprint of his opponent's ki after execution was underway. That had always scared Kenshin to his wits end. But never before had not reading his 'opponent' caused such a delightful feeling of self-assurance. At the moment that his tongue had tasted her lips, he had no idea what his 'opponent' was thinking or feeling. For the first time in his life, all he knew was what his heart hesitantly whispered to him as if in fear of being caught by his strategic mind. And he had listened, obeyed, and fully enjoyed Kaoru's reaction to the tender advance.
The smile suddenly fell as his mind awoke fully to the danger he was placing himself in by lying unprotected in an easily accessible futon like this. "I don't deserve this," he murmured so low that he hoped his heart would not hear the admission. "De gozaru na." Calculating purple eyes grazed his trusty sakabatou propped against the wall not five feet away. Would he be able to reach it in time if 'they' were to attack from the porch? He could surely make a grab for it if 'they' decided to use the door, but that would just be foolish on 'their' part.
Kenshin rose suddenly on his left elbow and shook his head. No, he wasn't in danger. But he heard a small word of doubt uttered from his subconscious in disbelief. No, that wasn't right either. He WAS constantly in danger. In danger of not being able to protect the innocent, in danger of killing, in danger of accidentally killing the woman he lov-
The swift sound of a slap echoed about the ex-rurouni's room.
"Sessha is losing," Kenshin directed another palm to his already bruised cheek. "No, -I- am losing it, de gozaru." His eyes softened to the melting point as he whispered, "But she stayed. I will not lose her," his head sinking between his shoulders loosened a knot of his crimson strands and spilling over his shoulder, his hair provided the privacy curtain needed for his tears to fall.
"Kaoru deserves it," he sobbed into the darkness clouded by visions of snow bleeding with freshly spilt blood. "Kaoru says I deserve it – no, her." As his soul continued to split in two, Kenshin fought off the foreboding images resulting from his guard being smothered down into the comfort of the futon. It would happen when he was sleeping, a scream – Kaoru's scream – would waken him and as he sprinted from such a prone position, he would be overtaken by the image of his beloved's throat cut open, Yahiko's stomach gutted by a knife, and over their bodies, his undoer would be smirking. The blade would flip and Kenshin would renounce his life of non- killing. He'd head back into obscurity with the title of Battousai again.
"IIE!" he finally screamed, sufficiently silencing every voice in his head that had suddenly grown to a large din within his cranium. Another command of "ENOUGH!" pushed any dark thoughts from drowning the brightness that was his new experience of love.
Raising his head, Kenshin smiled at the idea of Kaoru slipping into his room, arms open wide to comfort him like she had last night. It was so much to hold onto, he felt it slipping from his grip at every moment he had alone. He hated it more than he hated his alter ego.
After a moment of silence, the questions started drilling through his head again. A certain amber-eyed character's voice rose hissing high over the others with a piercing edge of doubt.
'You'll never be able to escape the past. You killed, you'll kill again.'
Sessha does not kill. He'll never hurt the one he loves.
'You'll never be able to accept the past. You killed, you'll kill again.'
He had no answer. It was true; Tomoe's death had been branded into his soul as the one mistake he could never truly move over. He was caught, made lame by the memory of the feel and smell of her blood bleeding into the pure freshness of the snow. Running a finger down the line of his yukata, he could imagine the blood caked on it. Tomoe's blood, the nationalists', and anyone who got in the way of his intended target's.
'You'll kill her. It will happen again. A hitokiri is a hitokiri until the day he dies. You can't escape the past, you can't accept it, you're doomed to live in it. To fight in it. To die in it. Wallow in it pathetic man, you can do no less. '
That was when Kenshin knew this discussion had to end. It had worked before with his fight with Saitou, so swallowing, he shut Battousai up the only way he knew how. The same fingers that traced her outline so many times curled into his palm and met the space between his eyes in a flash. Now, a peaceful man commiserating over his fate abruptly replaced the twenty-nine year old blubbering into the futon he had slept in for the first time in ten years.
Taking a cleansing breath, Kenshin tossed his hair back to hang down his spine. Sitting there, he unwittingly called forth memories of how his hair had fallen over Tomoe, built dreams of how it would ripple over Kaoru. Such softness in the visage of liquid fire. And yet, with its own assassin strength, his tresses had broken free during his fight with Saitou, dripped over his shoulders and reminded him with a touch that the past existed no matter how he tried to outrun it or cover for it.
By firelight, by moonlight . . . the new fallen snow . . .
Kenshin shook his head again and sat up, running a tentative finger along the top-most scar that crossed over the first. "No. She stayed." And with that sobering thought, he rose to his feet to dress in his rurouni clothes and once the hakama was tied over the gi, padded out the door to get some air as he walked to the kitchen.
The form of Aoshi meditating in the garden stopped the ex-hitokiri from his meandering journey of self-reflection. Perched precariously on a stone, the ninja whispered words evoking the harmony and balance required to keep sanity.
Within the guarded frame of his old enemy, Kenshin identified a lost soul similar to his own. It was a spirit always searching, always wary, always fumbling for peace between two halves. The past and the present, saving the death of his comrades and slaying the lives of countless innocents. What man had Aoshi been before? A mechanic killer stilled only by the beauty of a single flower he called strength.
There really was no difference between killers, as Battousai had once believed.
There was no difference between those who had – been – killers, as Himura Kenshin now acknowledged with a step in Aoshi's direction.
Lids fluttered at the sudden crunch of grass under Kenshin's sandals, revealing clear sky-blue eyes that regarded the Battousai with no hint of unease. He was a guest in this man's house after all.
He nodded in the redhead's direction. "Good morning," Aoshi greeted in his usual monotone. "And what brings you out here so early in the morning, Battousai?"
Under the cover of the rurouni grin, Kenshin shrugged off his other name and composed his own sanity to a neat little non-killing package. "Ah, Sessha enjoys a walk in the garden soon after the sun rises de gozaru yo. What about you?"
"Ah," Aoshi leaned back on the rock and swung his legs out in front of him. "Misao left early this morning. There was no need to lounge about."
"Sessha found himself in a similar situation de gozaru," Kenshin continued to study the imposing figure, and found to his surprise that Aoshi appeared to be wavering between chiseling either a nervous smile or a clearly marked frown in his granite features. Still wearing the silly, non-slaying grin, Kenshin continued, "It's hard to let them go, de gozaru," He still wanted Kaoru to come home and offer sanctuary. Just holding her would keep his demons away. Even the ones of winter.
Aoshi blinked and whispered, "Aa," before taking to stand at his full height, peering down at the short man with a good-natured almost fraternal awareness of his height. If Kenshin didn't know any better, he could have sworn Aoshi winked. But it probably was just the light playing tricks on his eyes. "But we must let them go,"
"Or else they're sure to drive us crazy," Both men looked behind them to find Sanosuke strutting around the corner. His hair still retained the silky volume that Megumi had created with the replacement of shampoo for the block of lard. However, it seemed to suit a man who was happy, in love, and more than elated to show both off.
"Eh, Shinomori?" Sano cracked a grin over the stalk of straw clenched between his teeth. And in turn, Aoshi shot the man a glare that could liquefy steel.
The grin vanished mysteriously. It was clear there would be no talk of Misao while in Aoshi's presence. Least of all from the man who had made and continued to make fun of her for the traits her boyfriend loved most.
"Eh," Sano glanced at Kenshin for help.
"Sano," Kenshin's voice was reproving, but lightened with a shake of his head. "Let him be." The violet eyes caught those of the Okashira pointedly. "It isn't often that Aoshi-dono can relax into a friendly conversation, de gozaru na."
This time the slight nod in the ex-rurouni's direction was caught without sun-caused confusion. Kenshin didn't even need the gesture to know Aoshi appreciated and thanked him for understanding. Chi. It was a strangely wonderful thing. And like always and ever before, Kenshin's reading of Aoshi's cautious and distrustful aura had been correct. There was so much fear for the future, fear of himself, and fear for the life he placed above his own. In that moment, the battered soul of Shinta looked into Shinomori Aoshi's eyes and saw himself reflected from their depths. They both understood the turmoil shared by knowing the dual heartbeat of war-driven madness that thrummed against the pacifist's kind ways.
You see Battousai? There is no difference, no difference at all.
The nod of self-approval given by the magenta-clad man startled the other two males into changing whatever subject had dragged their friend into such a thoughtful state.
"So, Kenshin. What's for breakfast?"
. . . . . . . . . .
"So Misao, how have those exercises I prescribed been working out?"
Cutting the noodles with her front teeth, the shinobi in question let them splash into the beef bowl and swallowed what was left of her lunch. She smiled with a blush and said, "Oh, I think you can tell."
Megumi paused, setting a lady-like finger to her bottom lip and looked the seventeen-year-old over. "No, really. Any progress?"
Kaoru's shoulders sunk, and she settled her sights on the sponge cake sitting despondently in the rum sauce in front of her. As soon as the color in her friend's cheeks blushed to a stubborn disappointment, she hunched her shoulders around her ears and prepared for a pint-sized Fuji to erupt.
"PROGRESS?!" Misao jumped to her feet, her food forgotten. "There is no progress to be made!" With no thought to embarrassing herself in public, she cupped her own breasts and shoved them up to her neck in the futile effort to show off cleavage. The only problem was, what was definitely there could not be seen through the Oniwabanshuu uniform.
Kaoru only shook her head as Megumi's ensuing chortles were over-ridden by Misao's efforts to shut her up.
"Ah, forget it," the doctor waved off the youngest member of their entourage, finding the fun had been drained out of the battle without the Tanuki sticking her snout into the conversation. "I was hoping to draw Kaoru out of her stupor over there anyway,"
The maiden in question glanced up and narrowed her eyes. "What do you want with me?"
Taking a lock of hair into her fingers, Megumi placed a frown on her face that drew the attention of several men in the restaurant. She knew that if her betrothed had been there, he would have been driven equally crazy by the sensual pout of displeasure.
As for Kaoru, she read the look as the fox's bow to play a little game.
"You're trying to make me lose my temper." The Kasshin master breathed evenly. "Why?"
Misao relaxed as the memories of the reserved doctor breaking down at the wishing fountain replaced the visage of this woman acting like her typical- vixen self now. "Come to think of it, why are you picking a fight with Kaoru-chan all of a sudden?"
Putting her chin in her palm, Kaoru leaned over the table and grinned. "Yes Megumi-san, why?"
Megumi leaned back, countering her friend's elbow-on-the-table with an inspection of her split ends. "I have no idea what you're both talking about." She rolled her eyes after the obvious lie, embarrassed at her own lame excuse.
Misao flashed a grin similar to the one she forewarned her enemies with right before she thoroughly kicked their ass while Kaoru merely continued to lean in on the fox's personal bubble.
Fiddling with her hair, Megumi stayed their looks of inquiry with a glare of her own. "Doesn't getting engaged for the se – first time warrant some changes of behavior?" Flustered, the doctor continued to spout reasons without pause for an answer. "Aside from the clinic, I now have added stress, a cocky fiancé, and to make matters worse - "
"You're a bold-faced liar." Misao stated coldly from her corner near the window of the trendy restaurant. Even the fearsome flash of cinnamon fire wasn't enough to melt the unusual ice-coating her eyes.
"I'm not lying!" Megumi hissed indignantly. "I'm just not telling the entire truth, nor would I want to."
Kaoru's ears alone heard the remorseful downturn in the woman's voice. It almost bit off the end of her sentence before her cool repose could muzzle it. She held a hand out to placate her other friend. "Misao, let her be,"
The itachi's head turned, mouth agape with ocean-set eyes wide and disbelieving. "Why leap to her defense all of a sudden?" she snapped with little weasel jaws. "Isn't she a past rival for Himura's - "
"Yes she was," Kaoru answered her friend with a bold tone of curtness. Turing her sapphire eyes to the fox, she continued, "But the times have changed. At least for the rest of us it has."
The side tresses so elegantly flanking Megumi's cheeks swung belligerently as the doctor slammed her fists on the table, "And just what do know about it?" This time the lady-like demeanor was completely lost on the twenty- three year old. "Don't I deserve happiness for once in my life? Or is that only reserved for the young girls who pine over their hero and make them the reason for life and love?" Sending a predatory gaze at both girls who sat across from her, Megumi decided on attacking Misao first. "Did all your years of idolizing Shinomori tear away such pain and agony then that you can't stand to think of him at all now? Of course not, because what you felt was allowed to grow into something more damaging. If he left you now, you'd block him from your memory to save yourself the pain." Without pause, her blurry vision leapt from Misao to Kaoru. She had no idea that tears, hot and angry at being confined for so long, were slurring her words and rushing her speech.
"And you," Kaoru could not help but narrow her eyes at that accusatory tone. "You found such completeness early in life. Have you ever once thought that it can be taken just as easily as it's given? As strong and strong-willed as Ken-san is, he eventually will lose. And then where will you be? Can you survive without your protector? Do you see how it's so easy to sell yourself out just to know that the hope you have at surviving as a woman and an individual is at least existent?" Slamming her fist against the wood counter spiked more of her frustration and she let it out with a near shrill scream that drew all eyes from every corner of the restaurant on her shaking form.
"Just this once I deserve it, some time for a life of my own and a life with somebody who won't go down without a fight. Who'll protect – me – every chance he has and won't use me and slap me aside like I've been countless times before."
Both Kaoru and Misao shared a glance between themselves before turning it to the sobbing and curled form of the woman who they believed to be the strongest of them all. And she was still strong in their eyes as she stood and raised her head high, red-eyed and wet-faced.
"If you'll excuse me," and without an answer, Megumi walked out of the restaurant, her back arched just as exquisitely as ever before and chin held staunchly still from its quivering. It was only after she'd staggered a yard down the street that she leaned into the wall of some building and sliding down its surface, let loose the tears she'd held at bay.
"Sanosuke," she gasped, the struggle to keep herself together proving too difficult. With a hand over her mouth and the ground beneath her turning into a iridescent, oily mess before her very eyes, she coughed, "I'm sorry," before pulling her knees to her chest and settling into a little pile of self – loathing.
. . . . . . . . .
A/N: Ok, I know what you're all thinking, but the authors of those 94 reviews and any readers reading now have had faith in me before, and I promise all will be explained soon. (There's only a few chapters left anyway . . . and maybe an epilogue.) I also will apologize for turning this story a little Sano/Meg centric, or at least Megumi-centric. My fascination with her character and her mysterious past have crept into my story, but hopefully, I'm balancing angst for angst with Kenshin's dilemma.
Thanks for reading and if you feel so inclined, drop a REVIEW. Number 100 gets a little something special!
Starhopper
By Starhopper
Disclaimer: I . . . don't . . . own . . . a . . . blasted . . . thing!
Ah, 18 credits are killers aren't they? Each one is like a nail on the coffin of progress I could be making on my stories. I'm actually writing this story for breaks between problematic history papers (Oh well, there's only two more left) and reading literature.
- Say it With a Celebration Part 9: Celebrate the Frustrations of Being in Love
Sano sneezed again and glared balefully at his beloved's side of the bed.
Damn Megumi.
About an hour ago, she had quietly disentangled herself from his embrace. Through the slit of his chestnut eye, Sanosuke had watched his fiancée dress down into her working clothes. She then bent down over the low table and pulled her purse free from its place in the pages of a medical book. However, after she had turned out the door, he watched her head bob up and down before the windowsill as if on her way to the Kamiya dojo. Shrugging, he had guessed that the girls were getting together for something, and with this sudden sneezing fit, he was now completely sure that his fox was talking about him.
"Ah," he coughed as he rolled over onto his back, loving the way he could laze about their bed without being reprimanded for once. "Let her talk about me," He couldn't care one way or another if she berated his habits, or insulted his intelligence. It was all for show anyway. A smug smile drifted across his features. He knew she loved everything about him. From his mussed hair to the charming turn of phrase he could spin for her ears alone.
She had certainly let him know that on more occasions than could be recounted.
"I suppose I should get up," he continued with a yawn, accompanied by a stretch that pulled every muscle taught to their breaking point. "But then again,"
Then again he could just stay here. The sun wasn't shining at its brightest horizon yet, the birds were just barely singing, and to make matters all the more delightful, he didn't have any pressing engagements at the local gambling alleys. There was absolutely no reason for him to get up. It had been quite along, long time that he had awoken by himself and been allowed such a luxury like this. Nope, there was no nagging woman batting at his nose, or tugging at his ear. Nor was the smell of a meal waiting to be wolfed down wafting through the door.
"I wonder what Jou-chan and Kenshin are up to?" questioning the ceiling, Sano started to raise himself off the futon and set his sights on the interesting scenery his stomach was painting before his eyes. A tray filled with dumplings, fresh vegetables, and rice balls suddenly materialized in his mind, and sent him tumbling out of the sheets to get dressed. He was even anticipating the quarrel with Yahiko over Kenshin's expertly rolled onigiri.
Across the way, the redhead in question still had a pleased smile plastered over his face as he snuggled into the futon on his side. It had felt right to kiss her the way he had. After all, his shishou had always stressed that an attack was to have the element of surprise, and thus his baka deshi was left clinging to the last imprint of his opponent's ki after execution was underway. That had always scared Kenshin to his wits end. But never before had not reading his 'opponent' caused such a delightful feeling of self-assurance. At the moment that his tongue had tasted her lips, he had no idea what his 'opponent' was thinking or feeling. For the first time in his life, all he knew was what his heart hesitantly whispered to him as if in fear of being caught by his strategic mind. And he had listened, obeyed, and fully enjoyed Kaoru's reaction to the tender advance.
The smile suddenly fell as his mind awoke fully to the danger he was placing himself in by lying unprotected in an easily accessible futon like this. "I don't deserve this," he murmured so low that he hoped his heart would not hear the admission. "De gozaru na." Calculating purple eyes grazed his trusty sakabatou propped against the wall not five feet away. Would he be able to reach it in time if 'they' were to attack from the porch? He could surely make a grab for it if 'they' decided to use the door, but that would just be foolish on 'their' part.
Kenshin rose suddenly on his left elbow and shook his head. No, he wasn't in danger. But he heard a small word of doubt uttered from his subconscious in disbelief. No, that wasn't right either. He WAS constantly in danger. In danger of not being able to protect the innocent, in danger of killing, in danger of accidentally killing the woman he lov-
The swift sound of a slap echoed about the ex-rurouni's room.
"Sessha is losing," Kenshin directed another palm to his already bruised cheek. "No, -I- am losing it, de gozaru." His eyes softened to the melting point as he whispered, "But she stayed. I will not lose her," his head sinking between his shoulders loosened a knot of his crimson strands and spilling over his shoulder, his hair provided the privacy curtain needed for his tears to fall.
"Kaoru deserves it," he sobbed into the darkness clouded by visions of snow bleeding with freshly spilt blood. "Kaoru says I deserve it – no, her." As his soul continued to split in two, Kenshin fought off the foreboding images resulting from his guard being smothered down into the comfort of the futon. It would happen when he was sleeping, a scream – Kaoru's scream – would waken him and as he sprinted from such a prone position, he would be overtaken by the image of his beloved's throat cut open, Yahiko's stomach gutted by a knife, and over their bodies, his undoer would be smirking. The blade would flip and Kenshin would renounce his life of non- killing. He'd head back into obscurity with the title of Battousai again.
"IIE!" he finally screamed, sufficiently silencing every voice in his head that had suddenly grown to a large din within his cranium. Another command of "ENOUGH!" pushed any dark thoughts from drowning the brightness that was his new experience of love.
Raising his head, Kenshin smiled at the idea of Kaoru slipping into his room, arms open wide to comfort him like she had last night. It was so much to hold onto, he felt it slipping from his grip at every moment he had alone. He hated it more than he hated his alter ego.
After a moment of silence, the questions started drilling through his head again. A certain amber-eyed character's voice rose hissing high over the others with a piercing edge of doubt.
'You'll never be able to escape the past. You killed, you'll kill again.'
Sessha does not kill. He'll never hurt the one he loves.
'You'll never be able to accept the past. You killed, you'll kill again.'
He had no answer. It was true; Tomoe's death had been branded into his soul as the one mistake he could never truly move over. He was caught, made lame by the memory of the feel and smell of her blood bleeding into the pure freshness of the snow. Running a finger down the line of his yukata, he could imagine the blood caked on it. Tomoe's blood, the nationalists', and anyone who got in the way of his intended target's.
'You'll kill her. It will happen again. A hitokiri is a hitokiri until the day he dies. You can't escape the past, you can't accept it, you're doomed to live in it. To fight in it. To die in it. Wallow in it pathetic man, you can do no less. '
That was when Kenshin knew this discussion had to end. It had worked before with his fight with Saitou, so swallowing, he shut Battousai up the only way he knew how. The same fingers that traced her outline so many times curled into his palm and met the space between his eyes in a flash. Now, a peaceful man commiserating over his fate abruptly replaced the twenty-nine year old blubbering into the futon he had slept in for the first time in ten years.
Taking a cleansing breath, Kenshin tossed his hair back to hang down his spine. Sitting there, he unwittingly called forth memories of how his hair had fallen over Tomoe, built dreams of how it would ripple over Kaoru. Such softness in the visage of liquid fire. And yet, with its own assassin strength, his tresses had broken free during his fight with Saitou, dripped over his shoulders and reminded him with a touch that the past existed no matter how he tried to outrun it or cover for it.
By firelight, by moonlight . . . the new fallen snow . . .
Kenshin shook his head again and sat up, running a tentative finger along the top-most scar that crossed over the first. "No. She stayed." And with that sobering thought, he rose to his feet to dress in his rurouni clothes and once the hakama was tied over the gi, padded out the door to get some air as he walked to the kitchen.
The form of Aoshi meditating in the garden stopped the ex-hitokiri from his meandering journey of self-reflection. Perched precariously on a stone, the ninja whispered words evoking the harmony and balance required to keep sanity.
Within the guarded frame of his old enemy, Kenshin identified a lost soul similar to his own. It was a spirit always searching, always wary, always fumbling for peace between two halves. The past and the present, saving the death of his comrades and slaying the lives of countless innocents. What man had Aoshi been before? A mechanic killer stilled only by the beauty of a single flower he called strength.
There really was no difference between killers, as Battousai had once believed.
There was no difference between those who had – been – killers, as Himura Kenshin now acknowledged with a step in Aoshi's direction.
Lids fluttered at the sudden crunch of grass under Kenshin's sandals, revealing clear sky-blue eyes that regarded the Battousai with no hint of unease. He was a guest in this man's house after all.
He nodded in the redhead's direction. "Good morning," Aoshi greeted in his usual monotone. "And what brings you out here so early in the morning, Battousai?"
Under the cover of the rurouni grin, Kenshin shrugged off his other name and composed his own sanity to a neat little non-killing package. "Ah, Sessha enjoys a walk in the garden soon after the sun rises de gozaru yo. What about you?"
"Ah," Aoshi leaned back on the rock and swung his legs out in front of him. "Misao left early this morning. There was no need to lounge about."
"Sessha found himself in a similar situation de gozaru," Kenshin continued to study the imposing figure, and found to his surprise that Aoshi appeared to be wavering between chiseling either a nervous smile or a clearly marked frown in his granite features. Still wearing the silly, non-slaying grin, Kenshin continued, "It's hard to let them go, de gozaru," He still wanted Kaoru to come home and offer sanctuary. Just holding her would keep his demons away. Even the ones of winter.
Aoshi blinked and whispered, "Aa," before taking to stand at his full height, peering down at the short man with a good-natured almost fraternal awareness of his height. If Kenshin didn't know any better, he could have sworn Aoshi winked. But it probably was just the light playing tricks on his eyes. "But we must let them go,"
"Or else they're sure to drive us crazy," Both men looked behind them to find Sanosuke strutting around the corner. His hair still retained the silky volume that Megumi had created with the replacement of shampoo for the block of lard. However, it seemed to suit a man who was happy, in love, and more than elated to show both off.
"Eh, Shinomori?" Sano cracked a grin over the stalk of straw clenched between his teeth. And in turn, Aoshi shot the man a glare that could liquefy steel.
The grin vanished mysteriously. It was clear there would be no talk of Misao while in Aoshi's presence. Least of all from the man who had made and continued to make fun of her for the traits her boyfriend loved most.
"Eh," Sano glanced at Kenshin for help.
"Sano," Kenshin's voice was reproving, but lightened with a shake of his head. "Let him be." The violet eyes caught those of the Okashira pointedly. "It isn't often that Aoshi-dono can relax into a friendly conversation, de gozaru na."
This time the slight nod in the ex-rurouni's direction was caught without sun-caused confusion. Kenshin didn't even need the gesture to know Aoshi appreciated and thanked him for understanding. Chi. It was a strangely wonderful thing. And like always and ever before, Kenshin's reading of Aoshi's cautious and distrustful aura had been correct. There was so much fear for the future, fear of himself, and fear for the life he placed above his own. In that moment, the battered soul of Shinta looked into Shinomori Aoshi's eyes and saw himself reflected from their depths. They both understood the turmoil shared by knowing the dual heartbeat of war-driven madness that thrummed against the pacifist's kind ways.
You see Battousai? There is no difference, no difference at all.
The nod of self-approval given by the magenta-clad man startled the other two males into changing whatever subject had dragged their friend into such a thoughtful state.
"So, Kenshin. What's for breakfast?"
. . . . . . . . . .
"So Misao, how have those exercises I prescribed been working out?"
Cutting the noodles with her front teeth, the shinobi in question let them splash into the beef bowl and swallowed what was left of her lunch. She smiled with a blush and said, "Oh, I think you can tell."
Megumi paused, setting a lady-like finger to her bottom lip and looked the seventeen-year-old over. "No, really. Any progress?"
Kaoru's shoulders sunk, and she settled her sights on the sponge cake sitting despondently in the rum sauce in front of her. As soon as the color in her friend's cheeks blushed to a stubborn disappointment, she hunched her shoulders around her ears and prepared for a pint-sized Fuji to erupt.
"PROGRESS?!" Misao jumped to her feet, her food forgotten. "There is no progress to be made!" With no thought to embarrassing herself in public, she cupped her own breasts and shoved them up to her neck in the futile effort to show off cleavage. The only problem was, what was definitely there could not be seen through the Oniwabanshuu uniform.
Kaoru only shook her head as Megumi's ensuing chortles were over-ridden by Misao's efforts to shut her up.
"Ah, forget it," the doctor waved off the youngest member of their entourage, finding the fun had been drained out of the battle without the Tanuki sticking her snout into the conversation. "I was hoping to draw Kaoru out of her stupor over there anyway,"
The maiden in question glanced up and narrowed her eyes. "What do you want with me?"
Taking a lock of hair into her fingers, Megumi placed a frown on her face that drew the attention of several men in the restaurant. She knew that if her betrothed had been there, he would have been driven equally crazy by the sensual pout of displeasure.
As for Kaoru, she read the look as the fox's bow to play a little game.
"You're trying to make me lose my temper." The Kasshin master breathed evenly. "Why?"
Misao relaxed as the memories of the reserved doctor breaking down at the wishing fountain replaced the visage of this woman acting like her typical- vixen self now. "Come to think of it, why are you picking a fight with Kaoru-chan all of a sudden?"
Putting her chin in her palm, Kaoru leaned over the table and grinned. "Yes Megumi-san, why?"
Megumi leaned back, countering her friend's elbow-on-the-table with an inspection of her split ends. "I have no idea what you're both talking about." She rolled her eyes after the obvious lie, embarrassed at her own lame excuse.
Misao flashed a grin similar to the one she forewarned her enemies with right before she thoroughly kicked their ass while Kaoru merely continued to lean in on the fox's personal bubble.
Fiddling with her hair, Megumi stayed their looks of inquiry with a glare of her own. "Doesn't getting engaged for the se – first time warrant some changes of behavior?" Flustered, the doctor continued to spout reasons without pause for an answer. "Aside from the clinic, I now have added stress, a cocky fiancé, and to make matters worse - "
"You're a bold-faced liar." Misao stated coldly from her corner near the window of the trendy restaurant. Even the fearsome flash of cinnamon fire wasn't enough to melt the unusual ice-coating her eyes.
"I'm not lying!" Megumi hissed indignantly. "I'm just not telling the entire truth, nor would I want to."
Kaoru's ears alone heard the remorseful downturn in the woman's voice. It almost bit off the end of her sentence before her cool repose could muzzle it. She held a hand out to placate her other friend. "Misao, let her be,"
The itachi's head turned, mouth agape with ocean-set eyes wide and disbelieving. "Why leap to her defense all of a sudden?" she snapped with little weasel jaws. "Isn't she a past rival for Himura's - "
"Yes she was," Kaoru answered her friend with a bold tone of curtness. Turing her sapphire eyes to the fox, she continued, "But the times have changed. At least for the rest of us it has."
The side tresses so elegantly flanking Megumi's cheeks swung belligerently as the doctor slammed her fists on the table, "And just what do know about it?" This time the lady-like demeanor was completely lost on the twenty- three year old. "Don't I deserve happiness for once in my life? Or is that only reserved for the young girls who pine over their hero and make them the reason for life and love?" Sending a predatory gaze at both girls who sat across from her, Megumi decided on attacking Misao first. "Did all your years of idolizing Shinomori tear away such pain and agony then that you can't stand to think of him at all now? Of course not, because what you felt was allowed to grow into something more damaging. If he left you now, you'd block him from your memory to save yourself the pain." Without pause, her blurry vision leapt from Misao to Kaoru. She had no idea that tears, hot and angry at being confined for so long, were slurring her words and rushing her speech.
"And you," Kaoru could not help but narrow her eyes at that accusatory tone. "You found such completeness early in life. Have you ever once thought that it can be taken just as easily as it's given? As strong and strong-willed as Ken-san is, he eventually will lose. And then where will you be? Can you survive without your protector? Do you see how it's so easy to sell yourself out just to know that the hope you have at surviving as a woman and an individual is at least existent?" Slamming her fist against the wood counter spiked more of her frustration and she let it out with a near shrill scream that drew all eyes from every corner of the restaurant on her shaking form.
"Just this once I deserve it, some time for a life of my own and a life with somebody who won't go down without a fight. Who'll protect – me – every chance he has and won't use me and slap me aside like I've been countless times before."
Both Kaoru and Misao shared a glance between themselves before turning it to the sobbing and curled form of the woman who they believed to be the strongest of them all. And she was still strong in their eyes as she stood and raised her head high, red-eyed and wet-faced.
"If you'll excuse me," and without an answer, Megumi walked out of the restaurant, her back arched just as exquisitely as ever before and chin held staunchly still from its quivering. It was only after she'd staggered a yard down the street that she leaned into the wall of some building and sliding down its surface, let loose the tears she'd held at bay.
"Sanosuke," she gasped, the struggle to keep herself together proving too difficult. With a hand over her mouth and the ground beneath her turning into a iridescent, oily mess before her very eyes, she coughed, "I'm sorry," before pulling her knees to her chest and settling into a little pile of self – loathing.
. . . . . . . . .
A/N: Ok, I know what you're all thinking, but the authors of those 94 reviews and any readers reading now have had faith in me before, and I promise all will be explained soon. (There's only a few chapters left anyway . . . and maybe an epilogue.) I also will apologize for turning this story a little Sano/Meg centric, or at least Megumi-centric. My fascination with her character and her mysterious past have crept into my story, but hopefully, I'm balancing angst for angst with Kenshin's dilemma.
Thanks for reading and if you feel so inclined, drop a REVIEW. Number 100 gets a little something special!
Starhopper