by baru-chan
Author's Notes: I apologize for errors, it's been a long time since I've written a purely RK fic.
REGARDING TSUTOMU'S AGE: I am aware that the historical Fujita Tsutomu was born on 1876. However, for the purposes of this series, I changed his age. My version of Tsutomu was born on 1866.
Summary: In the aftermath of the Shishio Makoto affair, Fujita Tsutomu awaits his father's homecoming.
The crimson sheen of the full moon chilling his heart.
A man, bruised and bloody, staggering towards the the house.
His rasping breath, his beating heart echoing loudly in his ears.
The agonied gasp of a woman, rushing towards the beaten form.
The soft cry of his mother...
I wake up with a gasp.
This is the third time this week that I woke up to the same dream. And everytime I wake up, I couldn't go back to sleep, and as my body is still growing, the strain is starting to show. It is driving me crazy!
Mother is worrying about me, I can tell. I see it in her eyes - the concern she feels towards her firstborn, the care and love that never ceases to shine from her eyes.
No matter how much I assure her that everything is all right, she gives me that Look, the one that says "yes, and your father does not teach you kenjutsu".
It's annoying to have a mother like her at times.
Carefully sitting up on my futon, taking care not to wake my brothers and Eiji-kun up, I stand up, make my way towards the shoji and slide it open.
Suddenly, my hand twitches and I have the indescribable urge to bring my shinai outside with me.
So I turn back, grab the bamboo weapon and walk silently outside, taking care to slide the door shut.
Feeling restless, I walk around the perimeter of the house, barefooted. My blood tingles, my muscles tense as anticipation sings within my veins. Nature seems to agree with me since I could feel a certain...expectation permeating the air, as if waiting for something to happen. Or someone to arrive.
I frown as I finish my circuit; nothing seems amiss. My nerves must be getting to me. There is no reason to believe that anything bad can happen tonight. We're safe. All of us are safe.
I breathe in deeply, trying to calm myself and attempting to enjoy the relative coolness of the evening. It is already summer, and though it isn't very hot, I miss the chill of winter. I much prefer the sharpness of the cold to scorching heat, something that amuses Mother to no end.
Apparently, Father and I share the same sentiments.
I sigh as my thoughts shift to Father. His demeanor when he left for Kyoto almost two months ago was...frightening. Not because it was as if he was walking towards a certain doom; no, not that. It was almost like as if he was going on a hunt.
Like a wolf closing in on its prey.
I harbor no delusions about my father. I am thirteen years old. I can still recall certain events from my earliest years and have gathered enough facts over the years to sketch a hazy picture of Father during the Bakamatsu.
I know he was once part of the Shinsengumi - of that I have no doubt - but I do not know exactly what he did during those times. And I hesitate to ask him what he used to do. That is Father's past and his past alone. I don't want to disrupt the peace within him, not during these peaceful times.
A steady gait on the street outside distracts me from my thoughts and I frown. It is unusual to hear such sounds at night - we live in a relatively secure neighborhood and the police do not pass through our street.
Gripping the shinai with both hands tightly, I walk as silently as I could towards our gate. Father entrusted the safety of the inhabitants of this house to me and I am not about to betray that trust.
I hear the footsteps more clearly now as the person walking down the street nears the house. My body tenses up as I pose a defensive position.
The wind suddenly blows, ruffling my hair, the air moving towards me, and I freeze. I can smell the unmistakeable scent of cigarettes...
Father?
The gate opens and Father's piercing amber eyes close in on me. He raises an eyebrow, looking as if arriving home late is normal for him.
I sheepishly lowered my shinai. "Ah...eh...welcome back, Father," I mumble, looking down at my feet, feeling foolish.
I could practically feel Father's eyebrow rise higher. "Tsutomu-kun, what are you doing up so late?" he asks as he walks towards the house.
I follow him. "I couldn't sleep," I respond.
"Ah. So the reason why I was mistaken for an intruder of my own house is because my son is an insomniac," he says wryly, turning to me.
"Er..." I start to feel tendrils of heat spreading up from my neck.
"Hajime?" I have never thought that the voice of my mother could make me feel this much relief. She walks towards Father and kisses him briefly on the cheek before looking at me. "Tsutomu-chan? Why aren't you in bed?" she asks concernedly.
I mentally sigh. Mother is the only one who could get away with calling me 'Tsutomu-chan'. "I couldn't sleep," I answer her query.
"Then why are you holding your shinai?" Her eyebrow raises. Father's habits must have rubbed off mother.
"I was practicing my kata," I quickly lie, briefly glancing at Father.
"Hn," he smirks. He undoubtedly knows I am lying, but apparently, he is going to let me off the hook. This time.
"Go back to bed, Tsutomu-chan," Mother commands, leaving Father's side to gently push me towards our room.
"Fine..." I grumble, carefully rolling my eyes behind her back. I really hate it whenever she calls me that!
Father shoots me an amused look and says, "Good night, Tsutomu-kun."
"Good night, Father," I respond, sliding the shoji shut.
"Come, teishu, I'll make you some tea..." I hear Mother's voice say. I can almost imagine her leading Father by the arm to the kitchen.
I smile softly as I lay back on my futon. The unease I felt earlier is now gone.
Father is back.
Slumber claims me quickly as I close my eyes.
Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin belongs to Nobuhiro Watsuki. No profit was, is or will be garnered from this work of fanfiction and no copyright infringement is intended.
