AN: Mmm. Weirdness. Going to get a bit dark for a couple of parts, but there will be some humor, and I, personally, am in love with the epilogue. I will squeal when I get to post it. Yes, I am that odd, but I'm happy, danggit XD Anyway, the summary should have clarified the fic a bit more - that's fixed now.
Chapter 2: The unsafe lands
There was a noise. Who was groaning?
Kenshin opened his eyes, and immediately slammed them shut. It was far too bright, the sun shining directly down into his eyes. Where...?
He tried to move, and instantly realized the pained sounds were coming from him. Wincing, he tried to stop, but found he could do no more than quiet them. Moving was, for the moment, out of the question. Unable to leave anytime soon, he fell to assessing his circumstances and wounds. How had he ended up - oh yes. The two swordsmen.
Two swordsmen had been fighting near a cliff - of all places, those absolutely moronic idiots - and he'd intervened to keep the smaller man from being knocked off the cliff, the price being himself going over instead. That explained the pain. How was he still alive?
Not that it mattered. He was still alive, he could still help others; dying now would not have been enough penance. Not by far.
He was grateful for his continued opportunity to help. He lay there several hours, incapacitated with pain.
-
By evening, he was able to move again. Slipping and stumbling, he made his way up the cliff side, pulling himself over to lay panting on the ridge. After a moment, he haphazardly lifted an arm to examine the wounds. Wiping the dried blood away, he could hardly see a thing. Brow furrowing in puzzlement, he dropped his arm, too tired to care. He stared at the heavens as the dusk faded and the stars emerged.
-
When he found a spring the next morning, the wounds were gone and his bruises faded. With a sense of the surreal, he washed away the dried blood, eyes wide in his tense frame. With trembling hands he redid his top knot and dressed.
-
When he'd passed through the small town, he learned the two swordsmen had continued their duel, one falling and the remaining not likely to live. His eyes had sparked gold, and even now, many hours along the twisting path, they still held an amber sheen. Animals avoided him, leaving the mountain road as still as death.
He felt it oddly appropriate.
Why would anyone do such senseless things? Disagreement and a few petty insults was no reason for death. Such pride as their downfall, in a senseless, senseless mess. Shame on them leaving their families over something so stupid as that. What were they thinking? Were they thinking!
Better not to think on such things. They were gone, by their own choices, and there was nothing to be done, no matter that he wished otherwise.
What to ponder?
Reviewing the previous day's happenings, he remembered his lack of wounds. Hm. That was still extraordinarily puzzling. Just how did one bleed that much and heal so quickly, like nothing had happened? That was a mystery likely to be a long time in solving. He had lain at the foot of that cliff -
He froze, blinking.
Drat. His bag - with food - was still sitting at the foot of that cliff.