Spanish Glossary: Mon Dios=My God, Me Padre=My Father, Hoji=Brother,
Glossary: Gomen-nasai=Excuse me, Onegai=Please, Ashikarazu=I'm sorry, Mou=Already, too soon, more, Kirei=beautiful, Kaawaii=Pretty, Chan=someone who is known, Arigato=Thank you, Doushita?=What is wrong?, Nani?=What?, Nanigato=Nothing, Negai=Prayer, Otou=father(slang), Okaa=mother(slang), Oya=Parents, Yousha=forgive, pardon, Gomen=Good-bye, Masaka=Never!,
Chapter Five
The Quest for Fire
Part One
The streets of Kyoto were teaming with turn-of-the-century activity as the wave of Western and European traders and businessmen continued to flood the wide open market of the devistated Japanese economy with their influx of endless varieties of foods, clothing, and everyday housewares. Women who were once seen on the narrow streets wearing only their form-fitting kimono's and colorful obi's, were now strutting around in the bustled gowns and frocks that were more commonly seen on an Englishwoman. Peacock feathers and other lavish head and hair ornaments were seen woven into the dark coils of the once conservative buns and rolls, and the din of female conversation had taken on a much louder tone as women began walking with heads raised instead of bowed in submission. Men were also being seen in more westernized atire as hats and overcoats became popular items to own and wear in almost any season of the year. Vests and thin neck ties graced pale white shirts as the era of the Japanese Gentleman was born.
The docks and piers were beginning to resemble the great trade ports of England and New York as ship after ship pulled in to unload its cargo of foreign influence into the once ancient, deeply traditional country. Japan was being forever changed by their new alliances and trade agreements with the wealthy Europeans, but if they were to survive as a Country and feed their growing population of homeless and penniless, their lives were going to have to evolve out of the traditional past and take a leap of faith forward into the terrifying future of progress. Otherwise, the young and the very old would never live through the harsh winters or the trying times of poverty, and Japan's future would and history would suffer tremendous losses that could not be recounted because the life of a child cannot be replaced just as the memories of the old cannot be recanted from a lifeless body.
Old buildings rich with Japan's Histories were either being torn down to make way for newer more functional structures, or they were being restored for use by the new Japanese Government; however there were several of the more important land marks that were being preserved as priceless historical links to the Old Japan that once was, but would be no more. One of the buildings that was chosen to be preserved was the ancient Imperial Palace which had been the home and central ruling point of Japan's Royal Emperor's for hundreds of years.
Inside of its great white stone walls thousands of priceless treasures pretaining to the ancient culture of the Emperor and his fierce warring Samurai had been discovered, including a cache of iron guanlets, breast plates, spiked helms, long swords, and iron tiped spears. The Governemnt had decided immediately that the Palace should be restored and turned into a Museum so that everyone in Japan could partake of these treasures and remember that their ancestors had once been a brave, ferocious race of warriors whose lives were lived by a code of honor and blood.
Beautiful intricatly painted murals were discovered beneath decades of moldering dust and ivy, and it appeared they covered almost every inch of the inner walls within the Royal Apartments, The War Planning Room, The Bathing Pool, and the entire ceiling of The Throne Room. There were many others, and each one seemed to depict a scene that was closely tied to the room it decorated, and once they had been carefully cleaned, the attention to detail and the remarkable beauty of the colors had astonished everyone who was allowed to see them. The murals in and of themselves were a priceless treasure worth preserving, and they had been the true deciding factor in the restoration process of the building.
But there had been one thing about the glory and beauty of the Palace that both the men working to restore it and those inspecting the progress of the restoration found disturbing, and that was the condition of The Throne Room when it was discovered.
There was evidence of either some sort of tremendous explosion or, worse yet, vandalism that had taken place inside the magnificent room because the amount of destruction found there was astonishing. Hundreds of the perfectly matched white marble blocks that constructed the massive snow-field of the floor had been smashed or crushed into thousands upon thousands of tiny razor sharp shards that had been found piled everywhere upon the entire exspance of the floor, lying outside of the doors in the hallways, and, to everyones confusion and consternation, deeply imbedded within the stone walls and the hard wooden doors themselves. They had also found the evidence of a headless human skeleton in the centeral point of the room lying near the base of a massive white granite block. The bones had long since settled into an unrecognizable form, and the clothing rotted into a powdery dust. The skull was found several feet away lieing on its side with the jawbone sitting flat beside it. None of the teeth were missing, but it was otherwise unremarkable and revealed no clues as to whom this individual might have been. The eeriness of finding a dead body within the Palace had left everyone with a sense of foreboding and unease, and many swore that a restless spirit dogged their steps through out the dusky hallways after that. Some even swore they had seen an apparition standing beneath the great yawning Sky-light that had been discovered in the ceiling hidden underneath hundreds of years of growth of ivy. They claimed to have seen a smoky-grey wisp of a figure swaying and twirling in slow circles with arms outstretched and head thrown back with the shadow of long hair snaking through the air behind it. Others were certain they had heard the high-pitched husky laughter of a woman floating through the room as they labored to replace the white marble stones in the floor, and claimed they could smell the scent of lavender and roses whenever they heard it.
Rumors began to fly and grow in number the longer the workers remained inside the ancient edifice, and soon the Government was having difficulties keeping those men working at all. It seemed none of them were willing to work with a ghost, and, as time wore on, they had come to believe this was more than just a ghost. This was the spirit of a very malicious and evil entity who was bent upon impedeing the restoration. As the work progressed, strange and frightening things began to happen. Things that no could explain, but had to claim as the truth because each and every one of them had seen 'something'.
Many was the time that one or more of them had been placing one of the beautiful pale stones in the floor when suddenly a gout of blood would bubble up from the ground and fill the space. This would effectively prevent them from placing the stone for several hours, until the blood receded and the dirt base could be cleaned. None of them understood where the blood came from or why the phenominon was happening at all. It was illogical and more frightening than any of them could describe, and it was getting worse.
The blood was beginning to manifest itself in other places around the massive room. Sometimes the walls would bleed. Great rivulets of the thick liquid would run and slid down the pale stone for 50 or 60 feet at a time. This usually prevented the hanging of new sashes and other ornaments for several hours, sometimes days.
Blood would drip from the ceiling like a heavy red rain quickly covering anyone who happened to in the room with its sticky foulness in a matter of seconds, and then it would continue for exactly six hours and stop. It would ooze out from the seemingly tight seams between the floor stones making slick puddles and tiny red lakes all along the snow-white field marring its purity, and creating hazardous traps in the process. Several of the men had slipped in the gooey blood and fallen because of it. One man had suffered a concussion while another a broken ankle. Neither was able to continue working after their 'accidents'.
But what was so very strange about these frightening manifestions of the blood was this... no matter how much there was, no matter how thick or how deep, when it receded, it always disappeared without a trace as if it had never been there at all.
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"Gomen-nasai," It was one of the only Japanese words he knew, and it seemed he was using it more often than any of the others. "Excuse me," He muttered in frustration as he bumped into yet another individual while struggling to make his way up the central street of Kyoto. It had taken him an hour to get this far, and he was beginning to feel like the sea of dark heads was never going to thin out. He had always considered himself small in stature, but these people were small even in comparrison to him. Some of the women did not even reach his nose, let alone his chin, and he had become accustomed long ago to looking most of the women he knew either directly in the eye or slightly above him, but not in this strange country. "Japan," It even sounded strange on his tongue when he spoke it, but his Father was supposed to be here... somewhere. So, he continued trying to fight his way up the crowded street towards his goal. A man named Shinomori Aoshi.
The man who had given Christian Aoshi's name told him that the ex-ninja was now a trafficker in information, and if he wanted to find his father or anyone else for that matter, then Shinomori was the man to ask for help. He had a network of 'spies' all over Japan, and there was not much that went on in the country that he did not know about. But he did not give his information away for free. Christian would have to pay a pretty price for whatever the man could find out for him, but he did not care. If this ex-ninja could fin his father for him, he would pay him anything he asked.
So, with a new found hope in his heart, and a new spring to his tired stride, Christian had set out to find Shinomori Aoshi. It had taken him several weeks to reach Kyoto where the man was supposed to live, and now he was desperately trying to reach someplace called 'The Aoyia', but he had entered the streets during one of the busiest times of day, and the going was slow. It seemed the only thing he had to keep him going was his unyielding determination and the warm presance that was always at his side.
'Keep going, Christian.' The soft musical voice seemed to whisper in his ears. 'You are so close now. You must not stop or give up now. Keep going. He is close, my love. Keep going.'
Alyse. She was always there beside him. He could feel her spirit just as strong as he could any human physical presance. Perhaps stronger because of the unique bond they shared as de'Angeles. She was his solace when he felt as though God and the whole world were against him, and she was his Angel of Light whenever he needed a beacon to follow through the darkness of his own soul. Many times the presance of her spirit and the urgings of her voice in his soul had saved him from despair and certain death, and he could feel her pushing him onward now. Pushing him, blindly pulling him up the street making him clumsy and uncoordinated as he went. Suddenly he felt the distinct 'thump' of a shoulder against his chests and heard the cry of surprise as the unfortunate individual fell prey to his head-long, single-minded ungainly stride.
"Gomen-nasai," Christian apolgized to the small girl that he had just bumped into rather roughly and knocked to the ground. "I'm sorry, I clumsy." He tried to smile through his embarrassment as he reached out and offered his hand to help her stand up. A frustrated sigh escaped the girl's small frame, but she accepted the offering of his hand and allowed him to help her get up. It was much easier to stand with assistance while wearing the restrictive kimono's anyway, unless the woman was kneeling in the traditional position. Then it was only a matter of leaning forward and getting her feet centrally beneath her weight, then pushing herself up.
"Arigato," The voice that floated up to his ears was surprisingly soft and cultured, and he could feel the reflection of his feelings shaping his features as he watched her try to brush the worst of the dust off her lavender kimono. "It was not all your fault, I was not watching where I was going either."
"Stop. Onegai, slower." He waved his hands in the air and laughed. "I no understand so fast."
"Oh, I am sorry." She turned and met his embarrassed smile and favored him with an understanding look. "It is OK. It was not all your fault." Her words were spoken slowly and concisely for his benefit, and he nodded his thanks for her graciousness.
"Hai. I no seeing good." At his respons, the girl covered her mouth with a delicate hand and tried to muffle a giggle, but was unsuccessful. That was when he noticed that she had very beautiful blue-green eyes, and at the moment, they were sparkling with merry amusement. As he smiled back, Christian suddenly realized she was also very pretty and not nearly as young as he had initially thought. She was a young woman of perhaps 18 to 20 years old, and that new fact made him feel just a little nervous. Now that he knew she was not a child, the feelings of male attraction began to tingle along all of his nerve ending making him very aware of every move she made, and how truly graceful and beautiful she was.
"Nani?" He spread his hands in question and shrugged in the face of her humor. Obviously he had said or done something wrong, but he did not know what it was. "I speak bad?" He asked sheepishly. "I speak bad thing?" This sent her into an uncontrolled fit of giggles, and he found himself smiling warmly at her mirth, even if it was at his exspense. The merry smile and wicked twinkle in her eyes made her look even more beautiful, and he did not feel half bad that it was his clumsy use of her language that was making her look this way. That he did not.
"You speak fine, for someone who does not know all of the right words."
"I hear better than I speak." He pointed at his ears and head indicating he understood more of the Language than he could talk it.
"Yes, you do." And she was giggling again and her humor was infectious. Christian found himself chuckling softly along with her. 'She has such a lovely smile to go with those dancing eyes.' He thought. 'She looks like a shining star the way her eyes sparkle.' He watched her in rapt fascination as one expression after another flew across her fine boned features changing how she looked moment to moment. 'Beautiful.'
"I am sorry, Sir." Her musical voice was filled with contrition, but the hint of laughter remained despite the apology. "I do not mean disrespect, it is just... the way you say things... it comes out very funny."
"It is?" A horrified look crossed his handsome face, and his deep blue eyes grew wide with alarm. "I speak stupid?"
"Well, not really... just funny."
"Mon Dios." He said in Spanish, and she looked at him quizically for a moment, and then began to quickly sober as the amusement faded from her face and was replaced by a look of self reproach.
"I can understand what you are trying to say. You are doing well, forgive me for laughing at you. It was not a nice thing to do. I am sorry." Then, with that look of complete submissiveness he had grown so accustomed to seeing with Japanese women, she put her hands palm to palm in front of her chest, and bowed low before him in respectful apology. Christian's mouth fell open in a show of abosulte surprise and he felt the burn of a blush rise up his throat and come to rest in his face. She was apologizing to him for finding his speech humerous. Why? Did she think she had offended him? Surely not... but then again, these people were very strict about proper protocal and manners, and they looked down heavily on any breach of politness. His mind started trying to put the pieces of their short association together and he realized that they did not even know each other's name and they had been engaged in, what might be considered, an intimate conversation. 'She must be feeling ashamed of her behavior because I am a stranger. We were acting like old friends, and we have not even been introduced to each other.' He decided the young woman was apoligiszng to him for finding him humorous without having the right to. 'What a mixed up confusing country this is.' He thought as a deep sigh left his lungs. 'I need to make her understand that I was not offended. She was probably right anyway. I probably do sound funny.'
"Onegai." He reached out and touched her shoulder urging her to stand back up. "Onegai, do no. Onegai." When she cast a shy look at him from under her thick black lashes, he motioned for her to stand up. She did so very slowly, and met the worried look in his dark blue eyes.
"Doushita?" She asked looking very confused as her eyes searched his face. "Please, I must apologize for my bad manners. I will bring shame to my family if I do not."
"No, is OK. Me baka. You kawaii-chan, you do nanigato. Onegai, do no." Then he touched her lips ever so gently with his fingers and pushed at each corner lifting her mouth in the mock imitation of a smile. "You be mou happy, onegai?"
To her complete astonishment, she realized he did not want her to apologize, and that it was actually embarrassing him that she was trying to do so. He seemed to feel like she had done nothing wrong even though she knew she had insulted him by laughing at his poor knowledge of her Language, and as she looked into his worried face, she realized something else. He was nervous. He was nervous and unsure of himself. She could feel it all over him and all around him, and oddly enough, she was somehow responsible for it. As that fact dawned on her, she started to feel all jittery and fluttery inside as the bazillion butterflies that lived in her stomach began flapping their tiny wings in excitement. A lot of people became nervous and uncomfortable around her for many reasons, but he seemed to be nervous in a positive sort way and it was making her feel a little nervous too.
This was the first time anyone besides her family had touched her skin without pulling abruptly away in confusion. No one understood her, and no one had ever tried to understand her. At least no man, and so she had remained unmarried and untouched, . At the age of 21 years, she was nearing the end of her betrothing years, and with no new prospects, it appeared she was going to remain alone. She had already begun to think of herself as a spinster, but the contact with this handsome young foriegnor today had set her heart on its head and then wildly beating out of control as her emotions blossemed to the surface of her porcelain soul. She was attracted to him like the pale moth is attracted to the burning flame of a candle, and she could feel herself fluttering closer and closer to the heat of him.
In truth, his Japanese was not bad for someone who was still trying to learn the language. It was a difficult language to master unless one had been born speaking it, and it was obvious he was trying so hard to speak with her as intelligently as he could. It made her feel a little special that he was making such a big effort to communicate with her despite the language barrier, and she could not help but feel a twinge of feminine excitement tickle along her nerves. After all, he was very handsome and seemed to be well versed in the ways of the Gentleman, and she could feel nothing threatening about his spirit. Rather, she felt perfectly safe with this stranger, and that was very odd indeed.
"Hai," A soft smile curved her full lips, and her eyes fluttered with shyness before looking down. "But I am still sorry. I should have been watching where I was going."
"No... I happy you no seeing." She lifted a questioning blue-green gaze and searched his gently smiling face in bewilderment. "If you seeing, I no see you. I go by and no seeing."
"Really? Your glad we bumped together like this?"
"Hai. I happy, kawaii-chan. Mou happy." The feathery soft touch of his fingers on her cheek made her tremble, and he smiled the most beautiful smile she had ever seen on a man's face before. "Mou kawaii." He whispered in a quiet almost reverent voice. "Mou kawaii Jou-chan I seeing in Japan."
"Arigato." Her own voice was barely above a whisper as she lifted her hand and let her fingers wrap around his wrist. "So are you."
"Speak shougou? Onegai... kawaii-chan. Speak shougou to me." He wanted to know her name, and she felt the breath freeze in her lungs for a moment. It was not proper to introduce one's self to a stranger, but...
"Kuumi," She spoke softly into his waiting face. "Saitou Kuumi." Their eyes met and held for several long seconds as he savored the sound of her name in his mind, and then he let the sound of it roll off his tongue as he attempted to pronounce it.
"Saitou Kuumi... Kuumi-chan. Kawaii-Kuumi."
"Shougou?" She asked as her world became centered within those enormous purple-blue eyes. " What is your name?"
"Christian," That was all he said.
"Chri-stan," She struggled with the strange name, but managed to pronounce it without too much difficulty. "Chri-stan," She said again with more confidence, and he nodded his head in acceptance of her rendition of his name.
"Hai, ka, Kawaii-Kuumi. Christian."
"What is the rest of your name?"
"No, nanigato."
"You only have one name?" Surprise colored her voice and was reflected in the depths of her blue-green eyes as she wondered how anyone could only have one name. "What is your Myo? Your family name?"
"No Myo. Christain nanigato."
"Only Chri-stan."
"Hai. Christian."
"Why do you not have a family name Chri-stan?" Her face was creased with confusion and concern, and he knew he was going to have to tell her something, so he quickly formulated an answer in his mind with few the words he knew.
"Kuumi-chan," He began gently as he took a hold of the hand that had been wrapped around his wrist, and carefully lacing his fingers through hers, he pulled her off the street and under the shade of an Elm tree. "Hear me, onegai."
"Hai." She nodded and focused her attention on his earnest face.
"I no Otou when ishii. Have no Myo. Have Okaa name. I no take Okaa name now. Come Japan seeing for Otou."
"Are you saying your Father is here? In Japan? Is that what you are trying to say?"
"Hai."
"And your Mother and Father were not married, so she did not have his Name?"
"Hai."
"You did not take her name did you?"
"Hai, no have Okaa name. No have Otou name. Christian nanigato."
"Ohhh, I think I understand now. You do not take your Mother's name because you are looking for your Father? Is that right? You want to find him and take his Name? You want to have your Father's Myo?"
"Hai." Closing his eyes and leaning his head back, Christain breathed a great sigh of relief. He had been able to make her understand. How? He was not all together certain, because his Japanese was so limited, and he was sure many of his words were wrong, but she had understood and that was all that mattered.
"Chri-stan?"
"Is your Father a Japanese man?"
"Me nanigato."
"You don't know if he is Japanese? Is that what you mean?"
"Hai, Kuumi-chan."
"Do you know where your Father is?"
"No."
"Do you know anything about him?"
"Otou Shougou."
"You know his name?"
"Hai."
"His whole name? I mean both of his names? Shougou and Myo?"
"Hai, Kuumi-chan. Shougou Myo."
"That is wonderful!" She exclaimed squeezing the strong warm hand she held with such confidence. "Tell me. Tell me what his name is. My Father is the Captain of Police here, and he has connections all over the country. He might be able to help you find him."
"Truly??" In his shock, Christian slipped back into Spanish as he stared into her dancing eyes. "He could truly help me find him? Mon Dios." Perhaps going to the Police would be more profitable that seeking out that Shinomori man, after all, the Police had more legitimate connections and they did not charge a small fortune for their information.
"What did you say?" Kuumi's eyes were squinted with confusion as she listened to the rush of foriegn words that fell from his lips. 'Spanish,' She thought. 'He is speaking Spanish. At least I think that is what it is. It sounds beautiful. Does that make him a Spaniard?'
"Ashikarazu," He blushed and favored her with an embarrassed boyish smile that made her heart skip a beat. "I happy. Negai long to seeing me Otou."
"I understand. Tell me his name, and I will try and help you. Please let me help you, Christian." Kuumi did not know why, but suddenly it was very important to her that she help this young man find his father. It was imperative. It was essential. It was her moral responsibility.
"Himura." The name fell from Christian's lips and hit Kuumi's heart like a stick of exploding dinamite. There was nothing he could have said that could have shaken her more.
"H-H-himura??" Kuumi's eyes flew wide open in bewildered shock, and she searched his face frantically even as her hand unconsciously squeezed his in a crushing grip. "Did you say 'Himura'?"
"Hai... Doushita, Kuumi-chan?" His purple-blue eyes filled with alarm and he carefully extracted his hand from the death-grip she had on it. "Doushita? Speak me. You hear shougou?"
"Yes. I know the name. It is not a common Myo in Japan, Chri-stan. Very few families carry the name of 'Himura'." Kuumi's face had gone ashen and Christian was beginning to fear she might faint. "I know a man with the Myo, Himura. He is my Uncle."
"Uncle?" He looked shocked as his faced paled beneath his light brown tan. He had heard the word before and knew it indicated that this 'Himura' Kuumi knew was part of her extended family, but he could not remember what it stood for exactly.
"Actually, he has been a very close friend of our family for many years... but my sister, my brothers and I have called him 'Uncle' since we were small children. He is a wonderful Uncle, and the most honorable man any of us have ever known. He was once a very powerful Samurai as well." Her head dropped and she considered her trembling hands for a moment. "He saved my life when I was a very small child." Her wide blue-green eyes locked with Christian's troubled dark ones. "He is a Great Man."
"Shougou? Kuumi-chan, speak shougou. Onegai, speak me."
"His name is Kenshin, Himura Kenshin."
"Mon Dios," Christian fell heavily to his knees and covered his face with his hands. His well muscled body began to tremble violently as his stunned brain slowly acknowledged the fact that this beautiful girl he was so drawn to not only knew his Father, but called him family.
Christian began to cry. He had been in Japan for nearly a full year and had found nothing, and now though a spontaneous twist of fate, he had stumbled upon the answer to the questions that had been burning in his heart for almost 12 years. 'Where are you, Father? Why did you never come for me? Did you love my Mother? Why did you not save her? 'Will you love me now?' 'Do you want me as your son?' 'Can we be a family?'
Tears streamed unchecked down his face and oozed between his fingers, and his strong shoulders shook with the force of his silent grief as the tole of the long years of searching finally showed through. Kuumi felt the pain of his broken heart as keenly as if it were her own, and the sting of tears burned at her eyes blurring her vision. With a heavy sorrow in her heart, she carefully knelt down in front of him and reaching out to touch the dark chestnut colored hair where it fell over his forehead, gently brushed it away and tucked it behind his ear. Kuumi had not realized his hair was so long, but she could see now that it nearly reached his waist. 'Just like Uncle Kenshin's.' She thought.
"Chri-stan," She tenderly stroked his hair trying to comfort that which could not be comforted. "I am sorry. Please forgive. I did not mean to cause you pain."
His tear stained face lifted and pain filled purple eyes looked deeply into her concern blue-green gaze. "No, is OK. You nanigato bad. I negai long to seeing Otou. Is... pain." One hand touched his chest indicating his heart. "I pain. I no Ikka when ishii. No Oya."
She looked into his sorrow filled eyes in horror as several terrible understandings came to her. Knowing 'who' he was now, she could see a definite resemblance between Father and Son. 'He has Uncle Kenshin's nose and mouth.' She thought. 'And their eyes are shaped the same, but the color is different.' Then she thought about the little boy that he had been and the kind of Father her Uncle was, and Kuumi's heart broke a little bit more. 'He would have loved you so much, Chri-stan. He would have loved you with his whole heart and soul.' And then the last realization struck her heart like an arrow piercing her flesh. 'You grew up without a family?? You had no parents? Who raised you Sweet Chri-stan? Where have you been?' The tears that had been threatening to fall finally eased over the rim of her eyelashes and slid a wet path down her face. 'You should have been here with Him. He would have loved you, and he would have never left you behind. NEVER.'
"You never had parents or a family when you grew up? Is that what you are trying to tell me? That you grew up all alone?" Her voice was as horrified as the look in her eyes, and she reached out to him and gently wiped the tears from his distraught face even as they were streaming down her own.
"Hai." Was the ragged response as he lifted his hand to cover hers and press the palm closer to his cheek. "Nanigato."
"Oh Chri-stan. I am so sorry. So sorry."
"Is Ok. Long time."
"No. It is not OK, and it does not matter if it was a long time ago. No child should have to grow up without a family and parents to love and care for them."
"Otou no come to me."
"The only reason Uncle Kenshin would not have come for you, Chri-stan, would have to be because he never knew about you. He loves his children more than anything in the world, and he would never leave one behind. He never would. He loves them all like they are the only one in his heart."
"All?? Many?"
"He has three other son's, Chri-stan."
"Three?" He looked astonished and the pain in his eyes increased dramatically. "Three."
"Yes. Two are boys he adopted because they had no families, but he had formed a soul-bond with them so he took them as his son's. The last, his youngest son, is his own blood. He is the child born to Uncle Kenshin and his wife, Auntie Kaoru. He looks almost exactly like his father."
"Age?"
"Soujiro is the oldest. He is in his 30's now I think, and then comes Yahiko. I think he is 24 now. Last is Kenji. Kenji will be 17 in a couple of months. The three of them are all very close to each other. If it were not for the variation in their looks and the knowledge that they are not blood brothers, one would think they were. That is how much they love each other and how loyal and devoted they are to their family. Kenshin is a good Father, and he has always loved his son's... and my Father says he protects them like 'A Great Tiger' standing over his litter of kittens with fangs bared and claws ready. Approach him at your own risk, for you will not survive unscathed if you survive at all."
"Me Padre'." He whispered sadly and felt the pain in his heart and soul grow. A great loving and attentive Father who had been denied to him all of his life. A Father that had been enjoyed and loved by three brothers he never knew he had, and whom had taken what should have rightfully belonged to him. At 27 years, he was the eldest Son of his Father's blood, and he should be the heir to his Father's affections and gifts. A great spirit of jealousy began to burn in his heart, and the fury of a nine year old boy filled his wretched soul. "Your love belongs to me, Me Padre'. Not my Hoji... to ME. I will kill them all before I allow them to take my rightful place in your heart and at your side."
Kuumi pulled back from the furious looks that washed over his usually gentle features, and her eyes widened in surprise as his eyes turned to a brilliant snapping indigo. A wave of burning hatred rose within him and it made her feel nauseous as she sensed the malevolence of its effect on his spirit-ki. It almost felt like a seperate entity within his soul that was trying to take over his conscious mind, and Kuumi felt an icy finger of fear slither up her spine as she watched the terrible change that came over him. She was not looking at Christian anymore, but instead, she felt like she was looking at 'something' that was wearing Christian's body, and she was afraid.
"Chri-stan? Doushita?" Anxiety and fear weighed heavy in her young voice, but he did not seem to hear her as a muscle began to jump wildly in his jaw and his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits of pure hatred. "Doushita?" She asked again in a louder voice. and still got no response from him so she tried a more desperate measure. "CHRI-STAN??" She practially shouted into his malicious face while giving his shoulder a violent shake at the same time. "Snap out of it!"
Suddenly his eyes cleared and his face softened and he found himself looking around in a state of total bewilderment. 'What... What was I thinking? Mon Dios, what was I saying? I-I cannot remember... Father... Kuumi?' "I..."
"Chri-stan? Are you all right? What just happened to you? It frightened me."
"Fear? What I do?" He looked terrified as he reached out and grasped both of her pale cold hands in his warmer ones. "Speak me. What I do, Kuumi-chan?"
"You got really really angry, and your face... your face changed and so did your eyes. You did not even look like you anymore. You looked almost... your face, it changed so much that it looked almost evil."
Christian's face turned a sickly ashen as he listened to her describe his transformation, and then he paled when he heard the last word she spoke. 'Hyakuhei.' He knew that word. 'Evil.' She was telling him he had turned into some scarey evil looking angry thing that had frightened her. He had frightened her and he could not even remember what had happened after... The last thing he remembered was her describing his Father as a Great Tiger. After that his mind was completely blank until she had brought him 'back', but 'where' had she brought him back from? 'Where' had he gone? Or, perhaps the more proper question would be to ask, 'Who' had he been, and what had he been thinking that was so horrible that it would change him into something he was not? Looking up, Christian met Kuumi's wary blue-green gaze and felt a new kind of pain tear through his heart. He had frightened this sweet girl when the one thing he found he wanted to do most was call her his... friend? or... what? He did not know, but Christian knew he could not let her walk away. He had to make her stay. He had to find a way to fix this. It was imperative. It was essential. It was his responsibility.
"Onegai, Kuumi-chan. Ashikarazu... onegai no gomen, onegai. Yousha, Kummi-chan... onegai yousha. I masaka to fear you. Masaka. I... I baka... I..." He finally raised his hands and ran them back and forth through the air around his head, and then shrugged. Kuumi looked at him quizzically for several seconds, and then suddenly her face registered an understanding thought.
"Are you confused about what happened too?"
"Hai." He nodded in relief and reached for her hands once more.
"Has it happened before, Chri-stan? Have you ever 'changed' like that before?" He dropped his eyes in shame while he shook his head.
"No. Nanigato." He began idly playing with her fingers as his discomfort grew.
"Do you remember what you were feeling or thinking before I shook you?"
"No..." The whisper was an agonized cry from his soul, and Kuumi felt another shaft of pain pierce her heart as she watched him struggling to understand what he had done and why.
"You truly do not remember getting angry, and speaking harsh words in your own language?"
"No, Kuumi-chan. No. Nanigato. Ashikarazu, Kuumi-chan."
"Oh my." That knowledge was very disturbing to her as she recalled the sensation she had experienced during the episode that had her feeling like she was not looking at the real 'Christian'. 'Could there be TWO Chri-stan's inside of him? Two spirits fighting for dominion over his soul?' Kuumi shuddered at the thought, but could not deny what she had felt, not could she ignore the fact that he could not remember what had happened in those few very intense moments. "Do not worry, Chri-stan," She sqeezed his hand in comforting support, and then wiped the wetness off her face. "Come, lets go." She stood up and pulled on his hand.
"Come? Come where?"
"To see someone special."
"Who, Kuumi-chan? Who seeing?"
"Your Father, Chri-stan. He and Auntie Kaoru have been staying with us for the last two days visiting. They are making 'the rounds' and we were first on the list." Her smile was brilliant and her eyes were dancing with expectation as she tugged on his hand again. "So, come on, unless you want to wait another lifetime to find him."
"No, Kuumi-chan. No. I come." His face was filled with so many different emotions that it was difficult to read what he was feeling.
"Good, it is about time the whole puzzle was put together anyway."
"Puzzle?" He looked confused. "What puzzle?
"You are the last piece of the family puzzle, Chri-stan. A piece we never knew was missing, but an important piece anyway, and Uncle Kenshin will be so happy you've come."
"Truth?" His voice was wary and untrusting as they made their way up the busy street with Kuumi in front pulling Christian behind her. She stopped so abruptly that he nearly walked over the top of her before he could stop, and then found himself looking into her fierce serious eyes.
"Yes, that is the Truth." She said in a clear and determined voice that spoke volumes to Christian about the depth of her love and respect for this Man who was his Father. "He will love you, Chri-stan, simply because you are HIS son. That is all he needs to know about you, nothing else will matter. You are his son, and that will be all he sees when he looks at you, and his heart will tell him the truth of who you are as well and he will love you as if you are his only son. Just the same as he loves your brothers."
"I..." He discovered he could say nothing as a lump of emotion formed in his throat preventing him from making any intelligent sounds at all. So he just pulled her close to him and wrapped his arms around her small frame and held her tightly for several moments. "Arigato, Kuumi-chan," He finally choked out into the thickness of her dark hair. "Arigato, to seeing me Otou."
"You are welcome, Chri-stan." Her arms had risen to clasp him about the shoulders and her face was pressed into the warm curve of his neck. "You are welcome."
They stood wrapped within the comforting circle of each others arms oblivious to the odd looks and strange stares they were recieving from people who passed by. At that moment, nothing else mattered except being close and feeling safe, and Christian felt both emotions burning brightly within his lonely soul as he held the lovely Japanese girl close to his heart.
Strangely, the soft warm presance that was forever loving him and comforting him had faded away, and the only presance Christian felt was Kuumi's, oddly, he was not upset over this fact.
Alyse was gone...
Glossary: Gomen-nasai=Excuse me, Onegai=Please, Ashikarazu=I'm sorry, Mou=Already, too soon, more, Kirei=beautiful, Kaawaii=Pretty, Chan=someone who is known, Arigato=Thank you, Doushita?=What is wrong?, Nani?=What?, Nanigato=Nothing, Negai=Prayer, Otou=father(slang), Okaa=mother(slang), Oya=Parents, Yousha=forgive, pardon, Gomen=Good-bye, Masaka=Never!,
Chapter Five
The Quest for Fire
Part One
The streets of Kyoto were teaming with turn-of-the-century activity as the wave of Western and European traders and businessmen continued to flood the wide open market of the devistated Japanese economy with their influx of endless varieties of foods, clothing, and everyday housewares. Women who were once seen on the narrow streets wearing only their form-fitting kimono's and colorful obi's, were now strutting around in the bustled gowns and frocks that were more commonly seen on an Englishwoman. Peacock feathers and other lavish head and hair ornaments were seen woven into the dark coils of the once conservative buns and rolls, and the din of female conversation had taken on a much louder tone as women began walking with heads raised instead of bowed in submission. Men were also being seen in more westernized atire as hats and overcoats became popular items to own and wear in almost any season of the year. Vests and thin neck ties graced pale white shirts as the era of the Japanese Gentleman was born.
The docks and piers were beginning to resemble the great trade ports of England and New York as ship after ship pulled in to unload its cargo of foreign influence into the once ancient, deeply traditional country. Japan was being forever changed by their new alliances and trade agreements with the wealthy Europeans, but if they were to survive as a Country and feed their growing population of homeless and penniless, their lives were going to have to evolve out of the traditional past and take a leap of faith forward into the terrifying future of progress. Otherwise, the young and the very old would never live through the harsh winters or the trying times of poverty, and Japan's future would and history would suffer tremendous losses that could not be recounted because the life of a child cannot be replaced just as the memories of the old cannot be recanted from a lifeless body.
Old buildings rich with Japan's Histories were either being torn down to make way for newer more functional structures, or they were being restored for use by the new Japanese Government; however there were several of the more important land marks that were being preserved as priceless historical links to the Old Japan that once was, but would be no more. One of the buildings that was chosen to be preserved was the ancient Imperial Palace which had been the home and central ruling point of Japan's Royal Emperor's for hundreds of years.
Inside of its great white stone walls thousands of priceless treasures pretaining to the ancient culture of the Emperor and his fierce warring Samurai had been discovered, including a cache of iron guanlets, breast plates, spiked helms, long swords, and iron tiped spears. The Governemnt had decided immediately that the Palace should be restored and turned into a Museum so that everyone in Japan could partake of these treasures and remember that their ancestors had once been a brave, ferocious race of warriors whose lives were lived by a code of honor and blood.
Beautiful intricatly painted murals were discovered beneath decades of moldering dust and ivy, and it appeared they covered almost every inch of the inner walls within the Royal Apartments, The War Planning Room, The Bathing Pool, and the entire ceiling of The Throne Room. There were many others, and each one seemed to depict a scene that was closely tied to the room it decorated, and once they had been carefully cleaned, the attention to detail and the remarkable beauty of the colors had astonished everyone who was allowed to see them. The murals in and of themselves were a priceless treasure worth preserving, and they had been the true deciding factor in the restoration process of the building.
But there had been one thing about the glory and beauty of the Palace that both the men working to restore it and those inspecting the progress of the restoration found disturbing, and that was the condition of The Throne Room when it was discovered.
There was evidence of either some sort of tremendous explosion or, worse yet, vandalism that had taken place inside the magnificent room because the amount of destruction found there was astonishing. Hundreds of the perfectly matched white marble blocks that constructed the massive snow-field of the floor had been smashed or crushed into thousands upon thousands of tiny razor sharp shards that had been found piled everywhere upon the entire exspance of the floor, lying outside of the doors in the hallways, and, to everyones confusion and consternation, deeply imbedded within the stone walls and the hard wooden doors themselves. They had also found the evidence of a headless human skeleton in the centeral point of the room lying near the base of a massive white granite block. The bones had long since settled into an unrecognizable form, and the clothing rotted into a powdery dust. The skull was found several feet away lieing on its side with the jawbone sitting flat beside it. None of the teeth were missing, but it was otherwise unremarkable and revealed no clues as to whom this individual might have been. The eeriness of finding a dead body within the Palace had left everyone with a sense of foreboding and unease, and many swore that a restless spirit dogged their steps through out the dusky hallways after that. Some even swore they had seen an apparition standing beneath the great yawning Sky-light that had been discovered in the ceiling hidden underneath hundreds of years of growth of ivy. They claimed to have seen a smoky-grey wisp of a figure swaying and twirling in slow circles with arms outstretched and head thrown back with the shadow of long hair snaking through the air behind it. Others were certain they had heard the high-pitched husky laughter of a woman floating through the room as they labored to replace the white marble stones in the floor, and claimed they could smell the scent of lavender and roses whenever they heard it.
Rumors began to fly and grow in number the longer the workers remained inside the ancient edifice, and soon the Government was having difficulties keeping those men working at all. It seemed none of them were willing to work with a ghost, and, as time wore on, they had come to believe this was more than just a ghost. This was the spirit of a very malicious and evil entity who was bent upon impedeing the restoration. As the work progressed, strange and frightening things began to happen. Things that no could explain, but had to claim as the truth because each and every one of them had seen 'something'.
Many was the time that one or more of them had been placing one of the beautiful pale stones in the floor when suddenly a gout of blood would bubble up from the ground and fill the space. This would effectively prevent them from placing the stone for several hours, until the blood receded and the dirt base could be cleaned. None of them understood where the blood came from or why the phenominon was happening at all. It was illogical and more frightening than any of them could describe, and it was getting worse.
The blood was beginning to manifest itself in other places around the massive room. Sometimes the walls would bleed. Great rivulets of the thick liquid would run and slid down the pale stone for 50 or 60 feet at a time. This usually prevented the hanging of new sashes and other ornaments for several hours, sometimes days.
Blood would drip from the ceiling like a heavy red rain quickly covering anyone who happened to in the room with its sticky foulness in a matter of seconds, and then it would continue for exactly six hours and stop. It would ooze out from the seemingly tight seams between the floor stones making slick puddles and tiny red lakes all along the snow-white field marring its purity, and creating hazardous traps in the process. Several of the men had slipped in the gooey blood and fallen because of it. One man had suffered a concussion while another a broken ankle. Neither was able to continue working after their 'accidents'.
But what was so very strange about these frightening manifestions of the blood was this... no matter how much there was, no matter how thick or how deep, when it receded, it always disappeared without a trace as if it had never been there at all.
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"Gomen-nasai," It was one of the only Japanese words he knew, and it seemed he was using it more often than any of the others. "Excuse me," He muttered in frustration as he bumped into yet another individual while struggling to make his way up the central street of Kyoto. It had taken him an hour to get this far, and he was beginning to feel like the sea of dark heads was never going to thin out. He had always considered himself small in stature, but these people were small even in comparrison to him. Some of the women did not even reach his nose, let alone his chin, and he had become accustomed long ago to looking most of the women he knew either directly in the eye or slightly above him, but not in this strange country. "Japan," It even sounded strange on his tongue when he spoke it, but his Father was supposed to be here... somewhere. So, he continued trying to fight his way up the crowded street towards his goal. A man named Shinomori Aoshi.
The man who had given Christian Aoshi's name told him that the ex-ninja was now a trafficker in information, and if he wanted to find his father or anyone else for that matter, then Shinomori was the man to ask for help. He had a network of 'spies' all over Japan, and there was not much that went on in the country that he did not know about. But he did not give his information away for free. Christian would have to pay a pretty price for whatever the man could find out for him, but he did not care. If this ex-ninja could fin his father for him, he would pay him anything he asked.
So, with a new found hope in his heart, and a new spring to his tired stride, Christian had set out to find Shinomori Aoshi. It had taken him several weeks to reach Kyoto where the man was supposed to live, and now he was desperately trying to reach someplace called 'The Aoyia', but he had entered the streets during one of the busiest times of day, and the going was slow. It seemed the only thing he had to keep him going was his unyielding determination and the warm presance that was always at his side.
'Keep going, Christian.' The soft musical voice seemed to whisper in his ears. 'You are so close now. You must not stop or give up now. Keep going. He is close, my love. Keep going.'
Alyse. She was always there beside him. He could feel her spirit just as strong as he could any human physical presance. Perhaps stronger because of the unique bond they shared as de'Angeles. She was his solace when he felt as though God and the whole world were against him, and she was his Angel of Light whenever he needed a beacon to follow through the darkness of his own soul. Many times the presance of her spirit and the urgings of her voice in his soul had saved him from despair and certain death, and he could feel her pushing him onward now. Pushing him, blindly pulling him up the street making him clumsy and uncoordinated as he went. Suddenly he felt the distinct 'thump' of a shoulder against his chests and heard the cry of surprise as the unfortunate individual fell prey to his head-long, single-minded ungainly stride.
"Gomen-nasai," Christian apolgized to the small girl that he had just bumped into rather roughly and knocked to the ground. "I'm sorry, I clumsy." He tried to smile through his embarrassment as he reached out and offered his hand to help her stand up. A frustrated sigh escaped the girl's small frame, but she accepted the offering of his hand and allowed him to help her get up. It was much easier to stand with assistance while wearing the restrictive kimono's anyway, unless the woman was kneeling in the traditional position. Then it was only a matter of leaning forward and getting her feet centrally beneath her weight, then pushing herself up.
"Arigato," The voice that floated up to his ears was surprisingly soft and cultured, and he could feel the reflection of his feelings shaping his features as he watched her try to brush the worst of the dust off her lavender kimono. "It was not all your fault, I was not watching where I was going either."
"Stop. Onegai, slower." He waved his hands in the air and laughed. "I no understand so fast."
"Oh, I am sorry." She turned and met his embarrassed smile and favored him with an understanding look. "It is OK. It was not all your fault." Her words were spoken slowly and concisely for his benefit, and he nodded his thanks for her graciousness.
"Hai. I no seeing good." At his respons, the girl covered her mouth with a delicate hand and tried to muffle a giggle, but was unsuccessful. That was when he noticed that she had very beautiful blue-green eyes, and at the moment, they were sparkling with merry amusement. As he smiled back, Christian suddenly realized she was also very pretty and not nearly as young as he had initially thought. She was a young woman of perhaps 18 to 20 years old, and that new fact made him feel just a little nervous. Now that he knew she was not a child, the feelings of male attraction began to tingle along all of his nerve ending making him very aware of every move she made, and how truly graceful and beautiful she was.
"Nani?" He spread his hands in question and shrugged in the face of her humor. Obviously he had said or done something wrong, but he did not know what it was. "I speak bad?" He asked sheepishly. "I speak bad thing?" This sent her into an uncontrolled fit of giggles, and he found himself smiling warmly at her mirth, even if it was at his exspense. The merry smile and wicked twinkle in her eyes made her look even more beautiful, and he did not feel half bad that it was his clumsy use of her language that was making her look this way. That he did not.
"You speak fine, for someone who does not know all of the right words."
"I hear better than I speak." He pointed at his ears and head indicating he understood more of the Language than he could talk it.
"Yes, you do." And she was giggling again and her humor was infectious. Christian found himself chuckling softly along with her. 'She has such a lovely smile to go with those dancing eyes.' He thought. 'She looks like a shining star the way her eyes sparkle.' He watched her in rapt fascination as one expression after another flew across her fine boned features changing how she looked moment to moment. 'Beautiful.'
"I am sorry, Sir." Her musical voice was filled with contrition, but the hint of laughter remained despite the apology. "I do not mean disrespect, it is just... the way you say things... it comes out very funny."
"It is?" A horrified look crossed his handsome face, and his deep blue eyes grew wide with alarm. "I speak stupid?"
"Well, not really... just funny."
"Mon Dios." He said in Spanish, and she looked at him quizically for a moment, and then began to quickly sober as the amusement faded from her face and was replaced by a look of self reproach.
"I can understand what you are trying to say. You are doing well, forgive me for laughing at you. It was not a nice thing to do. I am sorry." Then, with that look of complete submissiveness he had grown so accustomed to seeing with Japanese women, she put her hands palm to palm in front of her chest, and bowed low before him in respectful apology. Christian's mouth fell open in a show of abosulte surprise and he felt the burn of a blush rise up his throat and come to rest in his face. She was apologizing to him for finding his speech humerous. Why? Did she think she had offended him? Surely not... but then again, these people were very strict about proper protocal and manners, and they looked down heavily on any breach of politness. His mind started trying to put the pieces of their short association together and he realized that they did not even know each other's name and they had been engaged in, what might be considered, an intimate conversation. 'She must be feeling ashamed of her behavior because I am a stranger. We were acting like old friends, and we have not even been introduced to each other.' He decided the young woman was apoligiszng to him for finding him humorous without having the right to. 'What a mixed up confusing country this is.' He thought as a deep sigh left his lungs. 'I need to make her understand that I was not offended. She was probably right anyway. I probably do sound funny.'
"Onegai." He reached out and touched her shoulder urging her to stand back up. "Onegai, do no. Onegai." When she cast a shy look at him from under her thick black lashes, he motioned for her to stand up. She did so very slowly, and met the worried look in his dark blue eyes.
"Doushita?" She asked looking very confused as her eyes searched his face. "Please, I must apologize for my bad manners. I will bring shame to my family if I do not."
"No, is OK. Me baka. You kawaii-chan, you do nanigato. Onegai, do no." Then he touched her lips ever so gently with his fingers and pushed at each corner lifting her mouth in the mock imitation of a smile. "You be mou happy, onegai?"
To her complete astonishment, she realized he did not want her to apologize, and that it was actually embarrassing him that she was trying to do so. He seemed to feel like she had done nothing wrong even though she knew she had insulted him by laughing at his poor knowledge of her Language, and as she looked into his worried face, she realized something else. He was nervous. He was nervous and unsure of himself. She could feel it all over him and all around him, and oddly enough, she was somehow responsible for it. As that fact dawned on her, she started to feel all jittery and fluttery inside as the bazillion butterflies that lived in her stomach began flapping their tiny wings in excitement. A lot of people became nervous and uncomfortable around her for many reasons, but he seemed to be nervous in a positive sort way and it was making her feel a little nervous too.
This was the first time anyone besides her family had touched her skin without pulling abruptly away in confusion. No one understood her, and no one had ever tried to understand her. At least no man, and so she had remained unmarried and untouched, . At the age of 21 years, she was nearing the end of her betrothing years, and with no new prospects, it appeared she was going to remain alone. She had already begun to think of herself as a spinster, but the contact with this handsome young foriegnor today had set her heart on its head and then wildly beating out of control as her emotions blossemed to the surface of her porcelain soul. She was attracted to him like the pale moth is attracted to the burning flame of a candle, and she could feel herself fluttering closer and closer to the heat of him.
In truth, his Japanese was not bad for someone who was still trying to learn the language. It was a difficult language to master unless one had been born speaking it, and it was obvious he was trying so hard to speak with her as intelligently as he could. It made her feel a little special that he was making such a big effort to communicate with her despite the language barrier, and she could not help but feel a twinge of feminine excitement tickle along her nerves. After all, he was very handsome and seemed to be well versed in the ways of the Gentleman, and she could feel nothing threatening about his spirit. Rather, she felt perfectly safe with this stranger, and that was very odd indeed.
"Hai," A soft smile curved her full lips, and her eyes fluttered with shyness before looking down. "But I am still sorry. I should have been watching where I was going."
"No... I happy you no seeing." She lifted a questioning blue-green gaze and searched his gently smiling face in bewilderment. "If you seeing, I no see you. I go by and no seeing."
"Really? Your glad we bumped together like this?"
"Hai. I happy, kawaii-chan. Mou happy." The feathery soft touch of his fingers on her cheek made her tremble, and he smiled the most beautiful smile she had ever seen on a man's face before. "Mou kawaii." He whispered in a quiet almost reverent voice. "Mou kawaii Jou-chan I seeing in Japan."
"Arigato." Her own voice was barely above a whisper as she lifted her hand and let her fingers wrap around his wrist. "So are you."
"Speak shougou? Onegai... kawaii-chan. Speak shougou to me." He wanted to know her name, and she felt the breath freeze in her lungs for a moment. It was not proper to introduce one's self to a stranger, but...
"Kuumi," She spoke softly into his waiting face. "Saitou Kuumi." Their eyes met and held for several long seconds as he savored the sound of her name in his mind, and then he let the sound of it roll off his tongue as he attempted to pronounce it.
"Saitou Kuumi... Kuumi-chan. Kawaii-Kuumi."
"Shougou?" She asked as her world became centered within those enormous purple-blue eyes. " What is your name?"
"Christian," That was all he said.
"Chri-stan," She struggled with the strange name, but managed to pronounce it without too much difficulty. "Chri-stan," She said again with more confidence, and he nodded his head in acceptance of her rendition of his name.
"Hai, ka, Kawaii-Kuumi. Christian."
"What is the rest of your name?"
"No, nanigato."
"You only have one name?" Surprise colored her voice and was reflected in the depths of her blue-green eyes as she wondered how anyone could only have one name. "What is your Myo? Your family name?"
"No Myo. Christain nanigato."
"Only Chri-stan."
"Hai. Christian."
"Why do you not have a family name Chri-stan?" Her face was creased with confusion and concern, and he knew he was going to have to tell her something, so he quickly formulated an answer in his mind with few the words he knew.
"Kuumi-chan," He began gently as he took a hold of the hand that had been wrapped around his wrist, and carefully lacing his fingers through hers, he pulled her off the street and under the shade of an Elm tree. "Hear me, onegai."
"Hai." She nodded and focused her attention on his earnest face.
"I no Otou when ishii. Have no Myo. Have Okaa name. I no take Okaa name now. Come Japan seeing for Otou."
"Are you saying your Father is here? In Japan? Is that what you are trying to say?"
"Hai."
"And your Mother and Father were not married, so she did not have his Name?"
"Hai."
"You did not take her name did you?"
"Hai, no have Okaa name. No have Otou name. Christian nanigato."
"Ohhh, I think I understand now. You do not take your Mother's name because you are looking for your Father? Is that right? You want to find him and take his Name? You want to have your Father's Myo?"
"Hai." Closing his eyes and leaning his head back, Christain breathed a great sigh of relief. He had been able to make her understand. How? He was not all together certain, because his Japanese was so limited, and he was sure many of his words were wrong, but she had understood and that was all that mattered.
"Chri-stan?"
"Is your Father a Japanese man?"
"Me nanigato."
"You don't know if he is Japanese? Is that what you mean?"
"Hai, Kuumi-chan."
"Do you know where your Father is?"
"No."
"Do you know anything about him?"
"Otou Shougou."
"You know his name?"
"Hai."
"His whole name? I mean both of his names? Shougou and Myo?"
"Hai, Kuumi-chan. Shougou Myo."
"That is wonderful!" She exclaimed squeezing the strong warm hand she held with such confidence. "Tell me. Tell me what his name is. My Father is the Captain of Police here, and he has connections all over the country. He might be able to help you find him."
"Truly??" In his shock, Christian slipped back into Spanish as he stared into her dancing eyes. "He could truly help me find him? Mon Dios." Perhaps going to the Police would be more profitable that seeking out that Shinomori man, after all, the Police had more legitimate connections and they did not charge a small fortune for their information.
"What did you say?" Kuumi's eyes were squinted with confusion as she listened to the rush of foriegn words that fell from his lips. 'Spanish,' She thought. 'He is speaking Spanish. At least I think that is what it is. It sounds beautiful. Does that make him a Spaniard?'
"Ashikarazu," He blushed and favored her with an embarrassed boyish smile that made her heart skip a beat. "I happy. Negai long to seeing me Otou."
"I understand. Tell me his name, and I will try and help you. Please let me help you, Christian." Kuumi did not know why, but suddenly it was very important to her that she help this young man find his father. It was imperative. It was essential. It was her moral responsibility.
"Himura." The name fell from Christian's lips and hit Kuumi's heart like a stick of exploding dinamite. There was nothing he could have said that could have shaken her more.
"H-H-himura??" Kuumi's eyes flew wide open in bewildered shock, and she searched his face frantically even as her hand unconsciously squeezed his in a crushing grip. "Did you say 'Himura'?"
"Hai... Doushita, Kuumi-chan?" His purple-blue eyes filled with alarm and he carefully extracted his hand from the death-grip she had on it. "Doushita? Speak me. You hear shougou?"
"Yes. I know the name. It is not a common Myo in Japan, Chri-stan. Very few families carry the name of 'Himura'." Kuumi's face had gone ashen and Christian was beginning to fear she might faint. "I know a man with the Myo, Himura. He is my Uncle."
"Uncle?" He looked shocked as his faced paled beneath his light brown tan. He had heard the word before and knew it indicated that this 'Himura' Kuumi knew was part of her extended family, but he could not remember what it stood for exactly.
"Actually, he has been a very close friend of our family for many years... but my sister, my brothers and I have called him 'Uncle' since we were small children. He is a wonderful Uncle, and the most honorable man any of us have ever known. He was once a very powerful Samurai as well." Her head dropped and she considered her trembling hands for a moment. "He saved my life when I was a very small child." Her wide blue-green eyes locked with Christian's troubled dark ones. "He is a Great Man."
"Shougou? Kuumi-chan, speak shougou. Onegai, speak me."
"His name is Kenshin, Himura Kenshin."
"Mon Dios," Christian fell heavily to his knees and covered his face with his hands. His well muscled body began to tremble violently as his stunned brain slowly acknowledged the fact that this beautiful girl he was so drawn to not only knew his Father, but called him family.
Christian began to cry. He had been in Japan for nearly a full year and had found nothing, and now though a spontaneous twist of fate, he had stumbled upon the answer to the questions that had been burning in his heart for almost 12 years. 'Where are you, Father? Why did you never come for me? Did you love my Mother? Why did you not save her? 'Will you love me now?' 'Do you want me as your son?' 'Can we be a family?'
Tears streamed unchecked down his face and oozed between his fingers, and his strong shoulders shook with the force of his silent grief as the tole of the long years of searching finally showed through. Kuumi felt the pain of his broken heart as keenly as if it were her own, and the sting of tears burned at her eyes blurring her vision. With a heavy sorrow in her heart, she carefully knelt down in front of him and reaching out to touch the dark chestnut colored hair where it fell over his forehead, gently brushed it away and tucked it behind his ear. Kuumi had not realized his hair was so long, but she could see now that it nearly reached his waist. 'Just like Uncle Kenshin's.' She thought.
"Chri-stan," She tenderly stroked his hair trying to comfort that which could not be comforted. "I am sorry. Please forgive. I did not mean to cause you pain."
His tear stained face lifted and pain filled purple eyes looked deeply into her concern blue-green gaze. "No, is OK. You nanigato bad. I negai long to seeing Otou. Is... pain." One hand touched his chest indicating his heart. "I pain. I no Ikka when ishii. No Oya."
She looked into his sorrow filled eyes in horror as several terrible understandings came to her. Knowing 'who' he was now, she could see a definite resemblance between Father and Son. 'He has Uncle Kenshin's nose and mouth.' She thought. 'And their eyes are shaped the same, but the color is different.' Then she thought about the little boy that he had been and the kind of Father her Uncle was, and Kuumi's heart broke a little bit more. 'He would have loved you so much, Chri-stan. He would have loved you with his whole heart and soul.' And then the last realization struck her heart like an arrow piercing her flesh. 'You grew up without a family?? You had no parents? Who raised you Sweet Chri-stan? Where have you been?' The tears that had been threatening to fall finally eased over the rim of her eyelashes and slid a wet path down her face. 'You should have been here with Him. He would have loved you, and he would have never left you behind. NEVER.'
"You never had parents or a family when you grew up? Is that what you are trying to tell me? That you grew up all alone?" Her voice was as horrified as the look in her eyes, and she reached out to him and gently wiped the tears from his distraught face even as they were streaming down her own.
"Hai." Was the ragged response as he lifted his hand to cover hers and press the palm closer to his cheek. "Nanigato."
"Oh Chri-stan. I am so sorry. So sorry."
"Is Ok. Long time."
"No. It is not OK, and it does not matter if it was a long time ago. No child should have to grow up without a family and parents to love and care for them."
"Otou no come to me."
"The only reason Uncle Kenshin would not have come for you, Chri-stan, would have to be because he never knew about you. He loves his children more than anything in the world, and he would never leave one behind. He never would. He loves them all like they are the only one in his heart."
"All?? Many?"
"He has three other son's, Chri-stan."
"Three?" He looked astonished and the pain in his eyes increased dramatically. "Three."
"Yes. Two are boys he adopted because they had no families, but he had formed a soul-bond with them so he took them as his son's. The last, his youngest son, is his own blood. He is the child born to Uncle Kenshin and his wife, Auntie Kaoru. He looks almost exactly like his father."
"Age?"
"Soujiro is the oldest. He is in his 30's now I think, and then comes Yahiko. I think he is 24 now. Last is Kenji. Kenji will be 17 in a couple of months. The three of them are all very close to each other. If it were not for the variation in their looks and the knowledge that they are not blood brothers, one would think they were. That is how much they love each other and how loyal and devoted they are to their family. Kenshin is a good Father, and he has always loved his son's... and my Father says he protects them like 'A Great Tiger' standing over his litter of kittens with fangs bared and claws ready. Approach him at your own risk, for you will not survive unscathed if you survive at all."
"Me Padre'." He whispered sadly and felt the pain in his heart and soul grow. A great loving and attentive Father who had been denied to him all of his life. A Father that had been enjoyed and loved by three brothers he never knew he had, and whom had taken what should have rightfully belonged to him. At 27 years, he was the eldest Son of his Father's blood, and he should be the heir to his Father's affections and gifts. A great spirit of jealousy began to burn in his heart, and the fury of a nine year old boy filled his wretched soul. "Your love belongs to me, Me Padre'. Not my Hoji... to ME. I will kill them all before I allow them to take my rightful place in your heart and at your side."
Kuumi pulled back from the furious looks that washed over his usually gentle features, and her eyes widened in surprise as his eyes turned to a brilliant snapping indigo. A wave of burning hatred rose within him and it made her feel nauseous as she sensed the malevolence of its effect on his spirit-ki. It almost felt like a seperate entity within his soul that was trying to take over his conscious mind, and Kuumi felt an icy finger of fear slither up her spine as she watched the terrible change that came over him. She was not looking at Christian anymore, but instead, she felt like she was looking at 'something' that was wearing Christian's body, and she was afraid.
"Chri-stan? Doushita?" Anxiety and fear weighed heavy in her young voice, but he did not seem to hear her as a muscle began to jump wildly in his jaw and his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits of pure hatred. "Doushita?" She asked again in a louder voice. and still got no response from him so she tried a more desperate measure. "CHRI-STAN??" She practially shouted into his malicious face while giving his shoulder a violent shake at the same time. "Snap out of it!"
Suddenly his eyes cleared and his face softened and he found himself looking around in a state of total bewilderment. 'What... What was I thinking? Mon Dios, what was I saying? I-I cannot remember... Father... Kuumi?' "I..."
"Chri-stan? Are you all right? What just happened to you? It frightened me."
"Fear? What I do?" He looked terrified as he reached out and grasped both of her pale cold hands in his warmer ones. "Speak me. What I do, Kuumi-chan?"
"You got really really angry, and your face... your face changed and so did your eyes. You did not even look like you anymore. You looked almost... your face, it changed so much that it looked almost evil."
Christian's face turned a sickly ashen as he listened to her describe his transformation, and then he paled when he heard the last word she spoke. 'Hyakuhei.' He knew that word. 'Evil.' She was telling him he had turned into some scarey evil looking angry thing that had frightened her. He had frightened her and he could not even remember what had happened after... The last thing he remembered was her describing his Father as a Great Tiger. After that his mind was completely blank until she had brought him 'back', but 'where' had she brought him back from? 'Where' had he gone? Or, perhaps the more proper question would be to ask, 'Who' had he been, and what had he been thinking that was so horrible that it would change him into something he was not? Looking up, Christian met Kuumi's wary blue-green gaze and felt a new kind of pain tear through his heart. He had frightened this sweet girl when the one thing he found he wanted to do most was call her his... friend? or... what? He did not know, but Christian knew he could not let her walk away. He had to make her stay. He had to find a way to fix this. It was imperative. It was essential. It was his responsibility.
"Onegai, Kuumi-chan. Ashikarazu... onegai no gomen, onegai. Yousha, Kummi-chan... onegai yousha. I masaka to fear you. Masaka. I... I baka... I..." He finally raised his hands and ran them back and forth through the air around his head, and then shrugged. Kuumi looked at him quizzically for several seconds, and then suddenly her face registered an understanding thought.
"Are you confused about what happened too?"
"Hai." He nodded in relief and reached for her hands once more.
"Has it happened before, Chri-stan? Have you ever 'changed' like that before?" He dropped his eyes in shame while he shook his head.
"No. Nanigato." He began idly playing with her fingers as his discomfort grew.
"Do you remember what you were feeling or thinking before I shook you?"
"No..." The whisper was an agonized cry from his soul, and Kuumi felt another shaft of pain pierce her heart as she watched him struggling to understand what he had done and why.
"You truly do not remember getting angry, and speaking harsh words in your own language?"
"No, Kuumi-chan. No. Nanigato. Ashikarazu, Kuumi-chan."
"Oh my." That knowledge was very disturbing to her as she recalled the sensation she had experienced during the episode that had her feeling like she was not looking at the real 'Christian'. 'Could there be TWO Chri-stan's inside of him? Two spirits fighting for dominion over his soul?' Kuumi shuddered at the thought, but could not deny what she had felt, not could she ignore the fact that he could not remember what had happened in those few very intense moments. "Do not worry, Chri-stan," She sqeezed his hand in comforting support, and then wiped the wetness off her face. "Come, lets go." She stood up and pulled on his hand.
"Come? Come where?"
"To see someone special."
"Who, Kuumi-chan? Who seeing?"
"Your Father, Chri-stan. He and Auntie Kaoru have been staying with us for the last two days visiting. They are making 'the rounds' and we were first on the list." Her smile was brilliant and her eyes were dancing with expectation as she tugged on his hand again. "So, come on, unless you want to wait another lifetime to find him."
"No, Kuumi-chan. No. I come." His face was filled with so many different emotions that it was difficult to read what he was feeling.
"Good, it is about time the whole puzzle was put together anyway."
"Puzzle?" He looked confused. "What puzzle?
"You are the last piece of the family puzzle, Chri-stan. A piece we never knew was missing, but an important piece anyway, and Uncle Kenshin will be so happy you've come."
"Truth?" His voice was wary and untrusting as they made their way up the busy street with Kuumi in front pulling Christian behind her. She stopped so abruptly that he nearly walked over the top of her before he could stop, and then found himself looking into her fierce serious eyes.
"Yes, that is the Truth." She said in a clear and determined voice that spoke volumes to Christian about the depth of her love and respect for this Man who was his Father. "He will love you, Chri-stan, simply because you are HIS son. That is all he needs to know about you, nothing else will matter. You are his son, and that will be all he sees when he looks at you, and his heart will tell him the truth of who you are as well and he will love you as if you are his only son. Just the same as he loves your brothers."
"I..." He discovered he could say nothing as a lump of emotion formed in his throat preventing him from making any intelligent sounds at all. So he just pulled her close to him and wrapped his arms around her small frame and held her tightly for several moments. "Arigato, Kuumi-chan," He finally choked out into the thickness of her dark hair. "Arigato, to seeing me Otou."
"You are welcome, Chri-stan." Her arms had risen to clasp him about the shoulders and her face was pressed into the warm curve of his neck. "You are welcome."
They stood wrapped within the comforting circle of each others arms oblivious to the odd looks and strange stares they were recieving from people who passed by. At that moment, nothing else mattered except being close and feeling safe, and Christian felt both emotions burning brightly within his lonely soul as he held the lovely Japanese girl close to his heart.
Strangely, the soft warm presance that was forever loving him and comforting him had faded away, and the only presance Christian felt was Kuumi's, oddly, he was not upset over this fact.
Alyse was gone...