Author's rant of the month: ARGH! MATH CLASS! #)&$#($ … Not a very good excuse, I know, but hopefully I didn't lose any readers because of my laxity. So I'll try to pick it up by graduation, I promise!
Disclaimer: Titaness showed up uninvited to one of Hiko's drinking parties. After two jugs of sake, again she attempted to abduct the 11-year-old Hiten Mitsurugi trainee, Shinta. This time she almost got far. The squirming redhead managed to fit into her duffel bag. The darkness, Hiko's distraction with the Oniwaban women, and the music made for a perfect route of escape. But alas, Titaness was too drunk to finish her routine and tripped over a large rock, letting the now-beyond-frightened Shinta to escape.
Sigh, Trix are for kids, not for rabbits…and Rurouni Kenshin is owned by Watsuki, not by Titaness…(
Chapter 6
The Origin of "Oro" and a New Patient
The insurrection is getting nearer. The tides are turning against the imperial government. Whispers in the high court among the high-ranking officers have been laced with sweat and anxiety. Every face is a suspect, every whisper could be heard by a spy. Ladies simper behind their fans, but inside they pray for their security. Tension is building up swifter than humidity on a summer night, and it eats away slowly behind every shut window, every locked door. There are hundreds of sects, groups, bands of assassins, and political parties just itching away to slit the first throat. The Battousai watches these foolish men, with their gilded pride and their fancy outfits, usually adorned with some kind of cult symbol, a dragon here, a noose there. He watches as the last predator, the last predator who's going to strike. It is always the last predator that survives, no matter how many before him. He knows that of all the groups who want to overthrow the government, Jinsa had the strongest soldiers. He knows, because he understands what the Jinsa is made up of. He's understood since he was a child.
The Jinsa originated, ironically, not as an army of idealists and warriors of justice, but as a travelling orphanage. It had a reputation for taking in the shabbiest, hungriest, filthiest, most beaten up abandoned children ever to stalk the streets of the world. But what outside reputation didn't know was that the Jinsa was also known for stealing children from factories and covert organizations of the government. As a mere four-year-old child, Kenshin was sold to the government as a child slave laborer, and every day and night he worked at a factory, eating a single bowl of watery brown rice at 12 am, the end of his shift. These factories were crowded to the brim with slave children, some of whom go blind or deaf from overwork. Lungs were charred, body parts broken, but every scream, every whimper, every cry was suppressed. Kenshin remembered the Plank. It was weld by a fiendish man named Shishio Makato, the boss of the basement, the very incarnate of Satan. He was called Satan by the bolder children, but only in the faintest whispers. Kenshin's memories of the plank always ended in blackout, and deep gashes and bruises. To this day some of his fainter scars were from that Plank. It had been only a simple piece of wood, but it was made ten times more gruesome when placed in the hands of Shishio-Satan.
They worked at a basement in the lowest pit, where even the sun of daylight was obscured. His eyes turned yellow from the dust entering his wide pupils. Pupils welcomed darkness, and since childhood he's always been accustomed to the dark.
He remembers the day Jinsa found his underground factory. It had been one of the better days in his life, when he was eight years old. He remembers two strangers slipping in through a rusted, beat-up door on the side of a machine. The children immediately stiffened when they saw these two faces, a muscular one with a broad jaw and flowing hair, and a puny one with a stump of hair resembling a ponytail. "Shhh, kids, we're here to bust you out," said the boy, who didn't seem to look older than eleven. "We've knocked out the guards in the front of this door, so this is the escape route we'll take. No time for proper introductions, but we're Jinsa and we're here to help you."
"My god," said the elder one who was at least twice as tall as the other. "These kids are even scrawnier than you, Okita-san."
"Shut up, arrogant seaweedhead," Okita retorted. "We've got to get them out."
"I'm not sure if we have enough to feed them all…"
"I said SHUT UP, we have to move faster than this…"
"Alright then, stump-head…"
So one by one, Hiko Seijuro gathered children in his burly arms, carrying four at a time. Kenshin, in his bewilderment, was dragged off by Okita. Judging by the complete silence of his fellow workers, he could tell they were just as struck by paralysis as he was.
After being dumped into a vehicle, they were carted off into an eerily bright sunlight without knowing what their situation was. So began Kenshin's relationship with the Jinsa, and his strange connection to the mountain of a man known as Hiko Seijuro.
Kenshin almost chuckled at the reminiscence. On their first day of swearing an oath to Jinsa, Kenshin remembered Hiko always being the one to talk to him.
"Seriously, kid, I think you are the skinniest one of the whole damn bunch," the big man lamented. "Even if I feed you an entire winter's storage worth of food I'll bet your bones won't grow any blubber."
"Hiko-san, I've always been this way…even before they took me," Kenshin replied. "Since I knew my parents…"
"Ah, your parents. What do you remember of them, kid?" Hiko asked.
Kenshin was a bit surprised to see this strange man inquiring about his short past, but he couldn't gather a proper reply. "Nothing," he realized, shaking his head. "I don't remember anything at all."
"Do you know if they're still alive?"
Kenshin's eyes fell. "No. They're not. That I'm sure."
"Well, that's too bad, kid, but let me tell you something," Hiko said. "Now you've found a place to belong. Here in Jinsa, we've plenty of kids just like you, the ones who had a home, lost a home, but found a home again."
"How can this be home?" Kenshin asked bitterly. "If you ask me, this is just a friendly abduction. It was very kind, certainly, of you to help us, but how can you say this is our home? You're not the boss of me."
Hiko smiled. "Hey, kid. You've got some opinions of your own." He gulped his jug of sake. "You just may be the one."
Be what one? Kenshin wondered.
"Tell you what, kid," said the pre-drunk babysitter. "I, Hiko Seijuro the 14th, will become your sensei and your legal guardian."
Kenshin scoffed. "And what good would that do me?"
"Shut up, baka-deshi, until I finish. I have never offered this before, but seeing that you're the skinniest, palest, strangest kid here, with the bravest mouth and the most feminine demeanor, I've reached the conclusion that you're no ordinary rat from a factory. Therefore, I decided to make my heir you. You will be the first to learn the ancient sacred swords style, the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu."
At this young Kenshin's eyes opened wide. "Sword style?"
Hiko nodded proudly. "Sword style. The art of kenjutsu. One of the finer things in life besides sake, boy."
"Sword…" Kenshin considered this thoughtfully. Every time he saw a sword, even in his younger days, he felt a bolt of lightening down his spine though he's only seen one held by Shishio Makato.
"Of course, I have conditions," Hiko stated, shattering Kenshin's contemplation. "You must drink five entire jugs of sake. I need to test your ability to handle heavy things, and in this case heavy drinks. Under no circumstances would I ever allow you to train with me should your skinny stomach be weak enough not to appreciate the world's finest water of life. Remember, boy, five jugs, not a drop less. You hear me?"
Kenshin's little eyes by this time jutted out from his head. "F..f-iv—s"
But it was too late. Hiko had already forced the first jug between the poor boy's teeth, and rivers of the liquor came pouring down his throat like acid. "Or-or-oooooor-or-oro-oro-oro-oro-oro-GLUG!" The sound Kenshin made was as earthshaking as Hiko's cape on a windy day.
The first jug had been emptied. "Good job, baka-deshi! One-fifth of the way done!"
"Orooooo-oro-oro-oro-oro-oro-oro…GLUG!" (repeat again twice)
Kenshin repeated his mantra until the fifth jug. "No….can't…take….any…more…Can't…feel…my stomach…Not worth it…This is pain…..Please, Hiko-san…Don't—"
"Tsk! Almost done and you still wouldn't give up!"
With that, the last jug was poured like a waterfall into Kenshin's mouth. "ORO! ORO! OROOOOOOO! OROOOOO! OROOOOORRRROROROROROOORORORORORO! OROROROR…GLUG!"
After that fifth jug, Kenshin passed out. Hiko smiled and said to himself, he is a worthy apprentice.
(This, my friends, was how the term "oro" came to birth :-)…)
Misao bought the tickets for the steamboat to Kyoto and they were to leave in two days. Kaoru decided to visit her father before leaving, just to make sure he was all right and didn't need anything before her month-long trip. She arrived at the hospital with a basket of rolls for the kind nurses who took care of her father for so long. It's only been two days since I saw him, but a month without seeing him…I'm not sure how I'd live, she mused to herself as she stepped up the stairs into the narrow corridor. The smell stifled her. Hospitals were never Kaoru's thing.
"Dad," she whispered as she opened the door. The figure on the bed didn't move as she sat by him. She looked at his face. Eyes shut to a cinder, but features relaxed and mouth a narrow line, as if basking in serenity. She smiled and wondered if his dreams were good.
"So much to say…but so little use," she breathed to herself. "When you wake up, I'll tell you everything I've wanted to say from day one, when I was born."
She remembered his account of her birth. She had been born prematurely, and when the doctor held her upside down, she didn't cry. She was a quiet baby, the quietest baby upon birth the doctors ever witnessed. But it was only when her mother first began to lose breath when Kaoru started wailing, crying, and a flood of tears ran freely from her eyes like little fountains. Her mother was losing breath, losing blood, but managed to smile before her last breath when she saw that her Kaoru cried, her Kaoru was going to live. Her Kaoru was going to live, but Kaoru would smile much more often than she cried.
And Kaoru did. She would smile until the very last drop of hope becomes parched. She would smile for those who have died for her, who have loved her. So little people in the world. Kaoru could be very outgoing, but she was not accustomed to having a lot of people. She understood loneliness, but she was grateful for the friends she had—Misao and Aoshi. They'd always been there for her. She didn't know whether she would have made it through that awful stage of her life where Enishi waltzed in and attempted to steal away every valuable thing from her without the continuous support of her friends. She knew that if she were completely alone, she may have been weak and gave into Enishi's pressure.
And then there were the friends she had in Kyoto. Sanosuke, no doubt, would greet her with his signature huge, fishbone grin when she arrives and fling her around in a giant hug. She smiled at the thought of this.
As she contemplated on the people she loved, she found herself resting her head on her father's big, broad hands. One, two minutes passed and she soon fell asleep.
She was awakened by the shuffling of two feet.
"Ano…" said a beautiful feminine voice. Kaoru looked up, red-eyed, at a strikingly familiar woman, with long hair and gleaming red eyes.
"I'm sorry to bother you, miss," she said. "But I'm aware that they've moved my husband to this hospital room. Do you know where he might be?"
"Ah…" Kaoru rubbed her eyes and looked across her father's bed. Sure enough, there was new equipment stacked around the room and the blue curtain was closed. "Maybe he's beyond that curtain," she said. "Well, it looks like my father won't be so alone anymore. He'll have company." Kaoru smiled.
The woman smiled in return, her lips curved and rosy. "Is this your father? What is your name, Miss?"
"My name is Kaoru. Kamiya Kaoru. So pleased to meet you." Kaoru extended her hand. There was something so, so achingly familiar about this woman, but she couldn't pinpoint what…
"I am Hajime Tokio," the woman said, smiling. "Hopefully this is the place my husband is." She went across the room and opened the curtain. On the bed a thin man with slick, black hair and slit eyes sat upright, completely conscious, reading a magazine.
My God, Kaoru thought. I'd been here this whole time, but I didn't notice he was present in this room. His breathing must be faint as a moth's flutter…
"Saitou," Tokio whispered, reddish eyes wet with moisture. "Saitou, why didn't you say anything? Didn't you recognize my voice?"
The man merely stared at her, extending his arm. "Tok—"
"Oh, god, I forgot, you've just been treated, I'm sorry," Tokio cried, wrapping her arms around the man. Kaoru stared at them, speechless with awe.
Tokio looked back at the young girl. "My husband, Saitou, has a lung condition," she said. "Just recently he had surgery for it."
"I see…" Kaoru said, face bobbing down. "I'm so sorry."
"He's been this way for many months now. The amount of cigarettes he smoked per day…brings chills to my spine. But even the doctors are surprised how much he can withstand. They tell us he's got iron lungs." Tokio gave a small laugh. "But that's irony, isn't it?"
"No it's not," Kaoru said with a sad glance. "My father's been unconscious for two weeks, but they tell me he's got a body of steel. They tell me they're sure he'll pull through. He's got a stronger body than most people."
"What happened to your father two weeks ago?" Tokio asked with concern in her eyes.
"I'd rather not talk about it…" Kaoru murmured. "I hope you understand."
Tokio nodded. "Yes, I understand. It must be so difficult on a girl like you. I can't imagine how I'd be should I be in your place."
"I'm optimistic," Kaoru said. "I've always tried to be that way."
"I admire you," the woman smiled. Kaoru still couldn't pinpoint what was so familiar about that smile.
"Say…Tokio-san, there is something so familiar about you. Have we ever met before?"
"Well, I'm sure I certainly would have remembered a girl like you. Is there something familiar about me?" Tokio asked.
"Well…it's your face…your features, your eyes…" Kaoru mumbled, still trying to remember.
Suddenly Tokio tensed up. "I think I may know why I look familiar to you…" she said slowly. "Perhaps it is not me whom you remember, but my fraternal twin sister…Tomoe."
Please review my story so far… o.O I love feedback.
Thank you to my previous reviewers. I worship each and every one of you.
Tameka-Tanuki-Jouchan – Hehe, well yup, can't stand K/T fics huh…I don't read them, so well I don't know. P I think the fanfics about Kenshin being in love with Tomoe and Kaoru being his best friend but is secretly in love with him is SUCH an OVERUSED plot, I see it every five seconds, everywhere, so that's why I had to rant about it in my last chapter.
Softbalchick181 – The time period, I know, is a bit ambiguous, but this is an entirely alternate universe with a different history, I'm sticking to maybe the 1900s to 1930s prewar period. Broad, I know, but time period isn't that important to me at this point. And as for Kaoru obtaining a gun, because she used to live with her father she has access to his storage of weapons (which he doesn't KNOW she has access to ;) she just outsmarted him is all) Thank you for the review and I hope you will continue with this fic
Allie – You're very welcome! .
Achi – I'm sorry for not updating sooner…But this summer the chapters will come by faster I hope. Thank you so much :D
Nikki – Thank you so much for the lovely compliments! . Yes I will probably try to do some RK- universe fics soon, no plans for a full story but definitely a couple of one-shots Hope you keep up with this story as I think I'm probably going to make it pretty long.