Mune no Monogatari

by Mirune Keishiko

Epilogue

Part One: In Undertones

Three Years Later

16th year of Meiji (Spring, 1883)

The sakura in bloom throughout Ueno Park were even more beautiful than she remembered them to be. She had striven in vain many times the past three years to recall exactly how the blossoms smelled; alighting from the carriage and drawing a long, deep, delighted breath of the still-frosty spring morning, she savored now the delicate, ephemeral fragrance of home. With all the air filled with that unmistakable scent, she wondered with a smile how it had managed to elude her all these years, when she had craved its memory so much.

"Megumi-san! Over here!"

Though a thousand thoughts and questions were whirling inside her head, much like the pale petals being blown hither and thither by the wind, Takani Megumi gladly set them aside to follow that familiar voice.

She made her way along the path to where the Himuras sat beneath a stand of feathery trees—Kaoru in a festive kimono and unfamiliar hairstyle, cuddling rosy-cheeked little Kenji, and a serenely smiling Kenshin. "O-hisashiburi ne!" Megumi called out, hastily disguising her shock as she came near enough to confirm her first, stunned impression—Kenshin had cut his hair.

Megumi tried not to stare at him as Kaoru cheerfully explained about the others invited to the little party: Misao, Yahiko. Kaoru didn't mention one particular name, didn't have to; and Megumi wasn't sure whether she was glad of that or not.

At that moment Kenji began to fuss, drawing his mother's prompt, cooing attention. Relieved at the distraction, which drew Kaoru's too-bright blue eyes from hers, Megumi simply nodded. She turned toward Kenshin, fighting a fresh surge of unwelcome thoughts at the one name said, and the other left unspoken. We'll have time for that later.

"Hello, Ken-san." The old nickname slipped comfortably from her lips as she bowed and smiled at him. Over five years, what had been an impish, flirtatious tone had mellowed to a private, deeply banked affection. As he smiled back up at her, she knew he understood. He always had.

The haircut suited him quite well after all, Megumi decided at last. "How are you feeling?"

"Very well, thank you."

The scar was fading. Megumi beamed.

"It certainly looks that way."

She set down her things and sat down on the mat, gratefully accepting a cup of sake Kaoru poured. Megumi's heart was beating wildly in her chest, and not because of the springtime beauty around her. She welcomed the heat the liquor traced down her throat, drew the blue gi she wore as a jacket more closely around her shoulders and across her chest. It wasn't that cold; she was fidgeting, and she knew it and cursed herself for it—fidgeting, at her age!—but she couldn't seem to stop.

What would he look like? What would he say? After so long... so very long... what could she still hope for?

"And you, Megumi-dono?"

Startled, she looked up. Kenshin was smiling at her as kindly as ever. For a moment she merely stared at him, forgetting he had spoken at all.

How she'd missed him, these three years.

"How have you been?" he said cheerfully.

Megumi opened her mouth to speak, but—before that soft purple gaze—was interrupted by utterly unexpected tears moistening her eyes. She sputtered a laugh, wiping at her burning cheeks, smiling ruefully and shaking her head.

Kenshin met his wife's anxious glance with a gentle one. "I expect it will be too noisy around here soon enough, but you'll have to tell us your stories some time. I'm sure many things have happened."

Megumi smiled again, unsteadily, breath catching somewhat on her tears.

Tadaima.

And a voice raised in a cheery shout, somehow less shrill than she remembered it to be, came echoing through the trees.

"'Afternoon!" A younger Makimachi Misao might have greeted them with a flying kick, but at any rate, much the same energy showed in her long, confident strides, her frost-pink cheeks, her broad grin. Her hair, much shorter and no longer in its old braid, fluttered around her shoulders with the breeze. "Here we are!"

Here they were indeed. Megumi steeled herself with a deep breath and looked up with a ready smile, as Kaoru and Kenshin called back their greetings to the two figures rapidly approaching from the road.

Misao had grown much since Megumi had last seen her. What had once been a still-childlike roundness about the younger girl's face had given way to high, graceful cheekbones, and the austere lines of her gi and hakama served to emphasize the femininity of the slender figure within. With shining hair drifting in waves with the wind, softly framing her slightly suntanned face, she was very... charming, as the Englishmen liked to say.

With an effort, Megumi shifted her gaze to the tall man who loomed beside Misao, slowly removing a very battered-looking white coat.

Aoshi was looking straight at her.

Kaoru cast her friend a sidelong glance, grateful for Misao's cheery banter and Kenshin's ready reply that filled the air in what would have been an awkward pause. Megumi's smile had slipped; she looked stricken, her posture stiff, eyes shadowed as she stared at Aoshi's silently nearing form.

You don't know how beautiful you look, Megumi-san, thought Kaoru admiringly. Megumi's cheeks were bright pink, seeming to match the petals that swirled past her face.

And then, as if on cue, both Kaoru and Megumi turned toward Misao, who gave them both a jubilant hug before settling down. Aoshi bowed silently to the party and then took a seat on the mat next to Kenshin. As Megumi watched out the corner of her eye, the two men exchanged low words.

Yahiko finally arrived, with Tsubame in tow, still clad in her frilly Akabeko uniform. Megumi let slip a laugh at what was undoubtedly the indefatigable Tae's latest fashion innovation. Still, the design was quite—what did the French call it? chic—and judging by the faint blush across Tsubame's face, the little girl probably didn't know what a pretty picture she made.

Then again—Megumi smiled to herself—had Tsubame ever gotten over her habitual blushing?

"So, is everybody here?" chirped Misao. Her eyes glowed brighter than ever as Kaoru opened the bento boxes everyone had brought to reveal all kinds of snacks inside.

"Yup," said Kaoru happily. "Oh, but really, I wanted to invite one more person." Her eyes grew wistful. "But we don't know where he is, so..."

"Yes, that roosterhead!" And Megumi shook her head, her tones light although her heart was suddenly heavy. So, it seemed that truly none of them knew where Sano was—

"Oops." And Yahiko drew an envelope from his sleeve. "I almost forgot. Here's a letter from that roosterhead. I found it on my way out of the dojo."

Megumi glanced up. "What!" shrieked Misao.

And then there was a furor among the females as Kenshin unfolded the letter. "Open it, open it!" "Kenshin, read it!" "Where's that idiot been?"

He had been in America, Europe, and Arabia, it seemed, and was now in Mongolia. Kenshin paused as his audience buzzed with amazement. "Does that idiot mean to cross the whole world?" "What the heck is he thinking?" "Does he intend to be an adventurer!"

As Kenshin went on to read aloud Sano's closing request for rice and miso soup, Megumi couldn't help but laugh—partly in relief, partly in sadness. She almost wished that she'd somehow known when he'd been in Europe, they could have met, even for just a day or two, if he were too busy to meet her for much longer; she would have liked to see him again. Sometimes she'd felt so alone...

Kenshin tucked the letter away in his pocket as Yahiko, Kaoru, and Misao fell to excitedly speculating about the gangster-turned-world-traveler. Tsubame began pouring drinks for all, surprising everyone with a few timid comments on what she had heard of the foreign countries from working in the restaurant. Megumi noticed a bottle-like bamboo container that seemed to be sitting lonely and unnoticed by the other bento boxes.

"Shall I open this as well, Ken-san?" she asked, picking it up.

"Please do, Megumi-dono, thank you," said the former rurouni with a slight smile, accepting a cup of sake from Tsubame with a nod of thanks. "I am sorry that the water has doubtless lost some of its heat. But will you take tea with us, Aoshi?" he asked solemnly of the man seated next to him, who had mostly kept silent since his arrival.

Aoshi raised deep blue eyes. "I will. I thank you for your consideration."

The first words he had spoken aloud since he came. Megumi found she could not meet his gaze, kept hers firmly fixed on the tea things Kenshin magically produced from seemingly nowhere.

Suddenly it seemed as though all the others were miles away; through an odd hum in her ears, she could hear their lighthearted chatter—Kaoru, Yahiko, Misao, and the others—as though echoing across a great distance. With her thoughts racing too fast for her to focus them on the simple task of making tea, Megumi felt an a kind of detached amazement at how her hands seemed to move of their own accord in the well-practiced tasks.

Despite Kenshin's modest comments, steam began curling into the air as soon as the bamboo flask was opened. First, she warmed the empty pot by swirling water inside, then discarding it; still not lifting her eyes to his, she retrieved just the right amount of tea leaves from the canister, placed them in the pot, and finally poured in the water to the correct level. Replacing the lid on the pot to let the tea steep, she let out a long, shivering breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

He was watching her so closely.

Megumi forced herself to look up, to return his intense gaze with her own coy one. "I must say your conversational skills have improved vastly these three years, Aoshi-san."

"Hardly any more than yours, Megumi-san," he said smoothly.

At his calm reply, she had to bite back a smile of relief, even as her eyes filled with sudden tears for the umpteenth time that afternoon. She bent her head over the teacups to hide them. "I hope all is well in Kyoto?"

"As might be expected."

"Ah." Wiping an imaginary speck of dust from the cups, Megumi wished time would hurry up and give her something to do, such as pour the still-steeping tea. "Misao seems in good spirits after what must have been a tiring journey."

"She rarely seems otherwise," he said tonelessly.

"I suppose so." Megumi grit her teeth. Confusion, doubt, hope, uncertainty were fast giving way to plain old-fashioned irritation at the closemouthed man. We'll see who blinks first, she thought grimly, and chided herself for having begun the conversation at all.

She sank into a dogged silence, her initial irritation worsened by the apparent serenity with which Aoshi, for his part, responded in kind. For several moments Megumi forced herself to turn away and watch the others chatting, all the while terribly aware that Aoshi sat unmoving as ever.

I wonder if his heart is even beating, she thought crossly.

Every one of the three minutes that the tea steeped passed in an agony of tension for Megumi. When at last the time was right, she picked up the teapot—gripping the handle perhaps a little more tightly than was absolutely necessary—and poured its contents, wordlessly, into the cups.

Aoshi accepted the cup from her hands with a nod. Megumi looked away.

For a moment she sipped her tea studiously, determined not to speak. But finally she had had enough of his staring.

"Is something the matter, Aoshi-san?" Inwardly she winced. That sounded more blatantly annoyed than she'd hoped.

He said nothing for another moment, merely glanced up at her, then took another meditative sip of his tea. Megumi fumed silently as he savored it first before swallowing in an infuriatingly unhurried manner, and then looked at her again.

He was distinctly upset. Aoshi never had enjoyed being played the fool, and apparently still didn't. Megumi almost laughed, but her mirth would never have made it out past the lump in her throat.

"I was merely thinking," he said slowly, "that some would call the simplicity of your appearance refreshing when so many other Meiji women are draping themselves in Western gaudiness."

"Do you think so, Aoshi-san?" Megumi took a sip of her own cup, wrapping her hands snugly around it to stop their unexpected trembling. "I find that unnecessary ornaments hamper my movements."

"No doubt." His gaze was dark and unreadable as it weighed her down. "It appears that little has changed in you, Megumi-san."

Megumi's serene smile belied the renewed pounding of her heart. "Oh, but I have learned quite a few things in the West with regard to... ornamentation, as we say, Aoshi-san."

He stared at her, eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion, as she reached for something around her neck that had been well hidden beneath the collar of her kimono. "Not all of it is gaudy. And this way it does not disturb my work."

It was a curious mix of pleasure and pain, excitement and apprehension, that tightened in her chest as she brought forth a ring hung on a slender gold chain. Morning sunlight caught and gleamed in red, sparkled in blue.

She looked up at wide blue eyes, beautifully clear in their astonishment.

"Shall we have a talk?" she said quietly.

tsuzuku

A/N. The "Haru ni Sakura" ("Cherry Blossoms in the Spring") story here is adapted somewhat loosely from the Serizawa Kamo translation.

Whoever heard of a multipart epilogue? I sure haven't. Sigh. Hehe. Still, I am trying, O readers who have been extremely kind and patient all this time. I have for you overflowing gratitude, and a whole bunch of tangled-up ideas I'm striving very hard to give birth to for you all, before this fic comes to a close at last. Thank you so much for reading, and for waiting!