Lchan: Oh—kay…I suppose you guys are all mad at me for taking soooooooooooooooo long to update. Well, I'm sorry…what I said in my bio was true. The first written Chapter 10 got deleted from our PC, and I lost the heart to rewrite everything. Same went for the subsequent chapters of my CCS fic, Opposites Attract (that one, I haven't started on rewriting yet).
I'm really sorry, peeps. Anyway…so here it is—the tenth chapter. I hope with all that's in me that you guys will still review it after reading. I really appreciate all the people who dropped me feedback despite the looooooong wait. Thanks a lot, you guys.
So—RnR? ^_^
Counter Strike
Chapter 10—Two Yards
Kenshin slipped in and out of slumber as he crouched inside the covered cart's cooling shadow. He couldn't deny the comfort of the rider's offer. Apart from the advantageous lack of sunburn, sweat, and muscle pain, the ride also gave him some quiet time to think, without the way obvious whispers and comments trailing his back.
It was all getting rather tiring for him. Here he was, a peaceful wanderer, walking harmlessly through town on a scorching hot day with a reverse-bladed sword by his side for self-defense in case anybody tried to ambush him. People could accuse him of being paranoid all they want, but Kenshin knew that he understood the dangers of the streets more than any other inn-keeper.
Besides, one man had already tried…
Kenshin's dark eyes flooded with shadows as he recollected the man's bottomless eyes. Strange…how could a guy like that bother him so much?
Kenshin's hand slipped subconsciously into his gi, feeling the firmly wrapped bandages around his abdomen. Even during the most brutal period of the Tokugawa, he only had a small collection of battle scars. These days, very few swordsmen could challenge his skills.
Saitou…Shishio… Jineh…Soujiro…Aoshi…Shogo…and a few others—a very few others…. All of them were men who had withstood and won innumerable combats. All of them were men who carried swords that had carried them through victory after victory. All of them were men who had trained long and hard to be what they were—just like him.
So how had someone as common as a rice farmer been able to make him bleed?
Kenshin shook his head a little, his eyes darker than ever. He could try to deny it, but he knew it was there: he was insulted—insulted by his allowance of an ordinary fellow to dig a katana into his torso.
He didn't know why though. Shouldn't he even be happy that some men had finally learned to defend themselves?
Kenshin's lips curved slightly into a grimace. Defense? Che.
That man wasn't defending himself! He was just attacking a passerby who was carrying a sword. What he did was completely unreasonable and uncalled for. Now that Kenshin reviewed the clash, he could see no point wherein he had done something to deserve the assault.
Kenshin cursed a bit under his breath to vent his irritation.
He could hardly understand the people of the Meiji anymore, now that he had begun roaming again and saw beyond the walls of the Kamiya dojo.
It was hard to understand what had happened to the warriors of the past era. The sword was what had brought this Restoration to light, wasn't it? How could the people have so rapidly lost respect for it?
Kenshin traced his fingertips over the hilt of his sakabatou. He had reaped nothing from it except save a few, numerable lives and injure countless men who would learn to hate him as soon as they recovered.
Perhaps he would have been kinder if he had just ended it for them. Then they wouldn't have the chance to go on assaulting innocent people, those innocent people wouldn't have to go on fearing their return, and Kenshin wouldn't have to worry about fighting the same old adversaries and protecting the same old batch of innocent people…
Besides, it would have lessened their pain.
The cart gave a hearty jolt as the back wheel jumped on a stone. The horse asserted a little snort.
"Sorry!" the man called from the front. "Uh…you okay back there?"
Kenshin shook his head again, disapprovingly. The man sounded nervous. What, did he think his sword-toting passenger would attempt to murder him just for a little incident with a stone? Please. Kenshin has been through worse things without even breaking a sweat.
He returned to his musings without even responding.
It was such a senseless question. He was obviously still alive, wasn't he?
Or did the driver wish he wasn't anymore?
Huh. Now THERE'S a hysterical thought.
Tough luck though.
* * *
The driver moved his head to the side and wiped his temple on his already-dampened sleeve.
It was bad enough that the day called for the sun to beat down on Earth without a tinge of pity, he had to have a law-breaking, sword-toting, soon-to-be murderer at his back, basking inside his cart among the rattling boxes of fruit preserves that were very open for stealing.
Well…at least the sun was becoming gentler now…though it still seemed strangely bright at five o'clock… Besides, he hadn't recovered yet from that morning's heat wave.
He didn't really know whether or not the man was a killer. Not really. He just had this really unnerving aura about him that could make the hairs at the back of your neck twist on their roots. Most of all, that x-shaped scar…it gave him a total look of venom.
The driver sighed and burrowed under his meager bangs to deflect the sunlight. He really wasn't as young as he used to be.
He flicked the reins to the right and clicked his tongue to at least lift his tired, sweat-drenched horse's agony by letting him know he wasn't the only one suffering. His long, dark mane poured over one side of his neck, plastered to the glossy coat.
"Easy, Jeta, easy…" he whispered softly, causing the horse's drooping ears to flick back, wearily.
They turned into a narrow road. Two more turns and he would be at his destination…
But then his heartbeat picked up speed as a long-dreaded possibility again nagged at his mind—louder and clearer than ever before.
He hadn't really thought about it when the invitation popped out of his mouth upon seeing the tired-looking young man walking under the blistering heat of the sun four hours ago, but when he saw those dark, dismal eyes and (thankfully) sheathed katana, he began to think about it a lot.
What if this so-called wanderer didn't leave his cart before he could reach the village? What if he snapped suddenly and wreaked havoc in his niece and nephew's home? What if there would be bloodshed and death??
No!
His heart pounded mercilessly against his ribcage.
He didn't care anymore if the wanderer spoke with him in that raspy, subdued voice and scared the wits out of him just by saying he wanted to get off the cart—just that he will. It was very important that he left the cart immediately—important to the driver's blood pressure anyway…
He didn't know whether or not he should be happy when he directed his horse leftward in the second-to-the-last turn. He was nearer to rest, shade, and comfort now…but the wanderer and his blade were also nearer to his family…
He slackened the horse's pace just a little bit, to gain some time. The horse slowed to a heavy, somnolent stroll. He shook his droopy head, and the matted mane flipped to the other side of his neck.
The man again wiped the cold sweat from his forehead—this time, on his other sleeve.
He could see the village's back entrance now. Soon, he would enter it, coming closer and closer to his beloved relatives with his fruit preserves and deadly-looking extra cargo. He would bypass two streets, and then turn the last turn to his family's peace-loving home.
There was no sound from behind him. Not even a stir.
The horse plodded though under the wooden arc that welcomed the people into the drowsy little village. The streets were empty when he rattled by, except for a few faces that peeked from open windows. He was slightly relieved, but at the same time, hopelessly apprehensive.
To his dismay, the first and second streets passed by him…soon…so soon, he and his cargo would be at his destination's door…
He half-heartedly pulled his horse down the street, his chest growing heavier by the second. They passed the first house…the second…the third…fourth…fifth…three more and he would have to stop.
Still no sound from Kenshin.
The expressly perturbed driver let the fatigued horse drag the cart on to the next house, several meters past his relatives', and then pulled up. He would have to walk a bit.
He looked up at the ever so slowly mellowing sun and waited for an extra minute, hopeful for the swordsman's exit.
No such luck. He was merely wasting time.
He sighed and reluctantly lowered his sweat-dampened body from the rider's seat. He paused for another moment and ran his hand across his horse's glistening rump, giving him a soft pat of gratitude and reassurance. It didn't earn him much time though. The horse merely flicked his ears back and whinnied to show he was just keen on getting un-harnessed, so would his owner please just get going?
"Right…" the man, muttered, and he walked to the back of the cart to unload his packages.
He hesitated a little before he parted the dusty canvas and ever so cautiously peered inside. The swordsman was crouched against one wall, his blade protectively cradled against his shoulder, with one arm loosely draped around it. His breathing was soft and even. He was all covered in shadows, but the man could detect the slight rise and fall of his chest.
He inwardly breathed a sigh of relief and secured both hands on the first box of fruit preserves. With as small amount of noise he could muster, he hoisted it from the cart and approached the quiet house.
As soon as his was gone, a smirk lanced the darkness, and Kenshin again shook his head.
* * *
"Thanks again, Chizuko-san!" Kaoru bade, as she loosened her hold on her luggage to face her sweet-tempered host. "You've been very kind."
"It was nothing, Kaoru-san," the younger girl replied, shaking her head a little. "No sweat at all."
Kaoru smiled as cheerfully as she could. "Thank you all the same. Thank you very much." Then she dropped her luggage on the concrete that paved the way toward the gate and briefly embraced the younger girl. "I'll come by again another time to repay you, all right?"
Kisa nodded, emphatically. "All right, and bring Mr. Himura with you."
Kaoru smiled even wider. "Yes. He'll be so thrilled to meet you."
"Likewise, I'm sure…" Kisa replied. "Okaa-san told me much about Tomoe-san. I'm sure I'll come to respect any man she had loved." Kaoru flushed a little at that, and then Kisa nodded at her again, softer this time, to show her she owed her family nothing and that she was free to go. "Go on, Miss Kaoru…. He's waiting for you."
"Yeah…he is, isn't he?" It was whisper. Kaoru turned her face skyward, squinting her midnight eyes to resist the softer afternoon sear. I'm coming, Kenshin. I'm coming…just wait for me…I'll be there—
"Uncle!!!" Kisa suddenly shrieked, jumping up excitedly and waving her hand in the air. She darted down the steps and ran for the gate. "Uncle Gohei!"
Kaoru whipped around to find a man peeking tentatively through the entrance.
Kisa ran over, jumped up, and gave him a buoyant hug.
Uncle Gohei laughed, but he could only squeeze his round head down on the slender arms that wrapped around his shoulders as his hands were too full too return the warm embrace.
"Hello to you too, Kisa," he said, cheerfully. "Your aunt has sent me here to feed you with a box-full of her homemade fruit preserves!!"
"Oh! Oh, I'll take that…" Kisa said when she realized the weight that bore her uncle down. She held out her arms.
"What makes you think I'll let you, huh?" Uncle Gohei asked, shaking his head and smiling widely. "Come on. Just lead me inside, whirlwind."
Kisa laughed and pecked her uncle on the cheek. "All right then, if that's how it goes!" she said, laughing gamely…then two midnight studs a short distance away glittered and caught her eye.
She whipped around, remembering.
Kaoru. She was standing patiently a yard ahead, politely clueless.
"I'm SO sorry, I forgot!" she exclaimed, sheepishly, berating herself inwardly for her show of discourtesy. "Um…Uncle Gohei, I'd like you to meet someone." She led him up to the raven-haired kendo master.
"Uncle, this is Miss Kamiya Kaoru. Kaoru-san, this is my uncle, Tachibara Gohei."
Kaoru bowed her head in greeting. Gohei tilted his in return.
"I'm very pleased to meet you, sir," Kaoru said, a mellow smile on her lips. "But…I think I have to go now. Kisa-chan…" She bowed her head again, this time in farewell. "Until we meet again. Tachibara-san, sayonara (goodbye)."
"Sayonara, Kaoru-san."
And the raven-haired instructor took off for the gate after one last smile.
"Good luck, Miss, and be blessed!!"
"Hai (yes)! Arigato (thank you)!!"
* * *
Kaoru stepped outside the wooden gate and breathed in a lungful of fresh, calming air and determination to prepare herself for another long trek.
"Okay…" she whispered to herself. "I can do this."
She directed her nervous gaze down the vacant street. It was bathed in the strangely spry afternoon sun that, for the first time that day, was filtered meagerly by a tuft of cirrus. She breathed again, straightening her shoulders.
Then something moved! A clump of leaves, rattled by an unnatural breeze. A soft, breathy whinny erupted in the silence in explanation.
Just two yards or so ahead of her, parked tentatively in the front of Kisa's neighbor's house, was a horse-driven cart draped in dusty, white canvas.
Hmm…if this had been Uncle Gohei's way of transportation, he sure pulled up in an inconvenient spot. What could have kept him from parking right in front of Kisa's house?
Kaoru shrugged. It was none of her business.
She stared a while longer at the cart. And then she realized about a minute later, when she grasped that she was subconsciously refusing to look away, that she was curiously drawn to it. She scowled a bit in bafflement. Why were her instincts drawing her to that cart? Was there something else in there besides—what were those?—fruit preserves?
A breeze blew the gap in the canvas ever so slightly apart, as if to entice her all the more into looking. She had no right to look, of course, but the question still gnawed inside her mind, for whatever reason she couldn't perceive nor imagine:
What…? What else was in there…? What else…?
* * *
A sharp voice drew Kenshin to fix his eyes to the sliver of gentle sunlight that streamed through the narrow gap of the cart's cloth door. It was a female's voice, a sharp, joyful shriek…and then, a few minutes later, the same voice yelled out a brief call of blessing…
Hmm…so people still knew how to care for each other, huh? He suddenly had an urge to peek out of the canvas, see who was out there, and have a gloomy game of loosely assessing the person's view on swordsmen by sight.
But then he let it go. No use thinking on that. What business did he have with the women in this town anyway, wherever or whatever this town was?
He should have actually gotten off a long time ago. He knew that if this cart went any further, they would come into a dark tunnel of trees and emerge in the same town where he had met the bottomless-eyed man and Midori Yumi.
Well…whatever, right? Wandering didn't really require a plan. But Kenhsin decided that if that cart-driver didn't emerge from the house in an hour or so, he would leave. He would go back the way they came, take that crossroad that the driver bypassed, and spend the night in the next village's inn. The keeper there knew him well enough to let him stay in some vacant room…or at the least, the barn or the storage.
A gate somewhere nearby banged shut and re-attracted Kenshin's wandering attention. From the click of the footwear and the lightness of step, he could tell it was a woman. Probably the same one who had shrieked and called out.
He waited for more footsteps so he could know where she was going…but none came. Whoever this was had just stopped at the gate.
Kenshin waited some more, but still…nothing.
He then sighed offhandedly, not anymore caring. Nothing about the place seemed dangerous at all anyway.
He leaned back against the wall of the cart, tucked his hands into his sleeves and closed his murky eyes. He inhaled, exhaled…breathed for a few more seconds…and again fell easily asleep.
* * *
White canvas…ordinary wooden cart…dark brown horse with black mane and tail…have you seen them? Oh, really? So they're headed down—??
"There, sir, down that road. The driver turned rightward just before they disappeared from sight, way over THERE, near that tree bending out over half the road, about three hours ago or so. I saw the pony when I went out earlier to run an errand for my 'kaa-san."
"Yeah? Well, thanks a lot, kid."
"You're welcome, sir. But I have to go now. I have to give 'kaa-san these herbs from my grandma—see?"
"Sure, kid. See ya. Thanks again."
The pacifying sunlight reflected off the set of teeth that gleamed through a leering smirk.
Huh. This is too easy. We're…what…three? Maybe four hours apart? Please. You're traveling way too slowly, my FRIEND. Everybody knows that a few hours is nothing for a searching man.
You're not trying to hide, are you, Battousai? Well…you should. 'Cause I'm coming for you.
* * *
tbc
Lchan: Whee!! Okay, so that was a tad bit longer than the rest of my chapters, wasn't it? So! Did it lag or what? I'm really sorry, you guys, for taking so long to update this. I only recently managed to gather enough, let's say, resolve to continue this. Anyway, it's here now, and you guys are all still welcome to beat me over the head for the super-duper-duper-duper late update, constructively criticize my work, or tell me I did an okay job.
So…feedback anyone?
