Disclaimer: I asked for Kenshin for Christmas but I doubt it's happening. So he's still, and will always be, WATSUKI'S. NOOO!
I only got ONE review. But that's okay, 'cause it was the ideal review…ehehe.
Shadow61x – heheh. Thanks for the praise. I had borders originally, but they all came off when I uploaded it and I never quite figured out how to get back to the "edit" page. Hm.
Chapter Three: Finally
"Megumi!" A clear voice, one like a bell, shattered the crystalline silence. Seconds later, Kaoru stumbled into the clinic. Her blue eyes were clouded with worry as she scanned the rows of ill or injured people, looking for Ms. Takani.
She held a young man in her arms, about eighteen. His amber eyes were closed and his gi was soaked with blood that dripped to the clean mat below. His firey red hair was loose and soaked as well, and it had gotten blood all over Kaoru's green kimono. People who saw her looked shocked at the dirty, frightened woman and wondered at her strength to hold the man, although he looked frail. Looking and not finding, she tripped to the other room, she found her friend treating a old lady with a yellow look about her.
"Now, just take these herbs and mix them into your tea every morning and evening. Good day." As the huddling woman shuffled out, she looked up at the flustered, anxious Kaoru. "What is it you want?" Irritation showed in her deep brown eyes until she looked down at the man in her arms. Her lovely eyes widened.
"Megumi, he needs help!" The younger girl gasped.
"I can see that – put him down! Now!" Megumi ordered.
"Will he be okay?"
"Worrying will not make him better. Get me antiseptic, needles, and thread. As well as some warm water." The docter's smooth hands cut away the bloodied garment and never faltered even in the face of such a wound.
"Here!" Kaoru hurried back, holding the items.
"Good." Megumi took them and resumed working.
"Tell the other patients that they'll have to go home. I scanned them earlier and no one had anything that can't wait."
"Okay." Kaoru did as said and came back soon.
For the next half hour or so there was silence as she operated and Kaoru watched, scared. Finally Megumi spoke.
"What happened?"
"Well, I met him – that is, found him – outside the dojo as he is now, only a little while ago. I have no idea who he is, or what might have happened…"
"I see." Silence resumed for an hour longer.
"It's a sword wound." Kaoru whispered.
"What?" Megumi asked.
"It's a sword's wound. A strong man did this, I think from the Shinsengumi." She lowered her head. "My father had told me of the techniques of the warriors he fought, in his letters. One or two had a technique that would make a cut like this…the Hirazuki, I think it was. But this…this seems…much cleaner and deadlier than what he described." Kaoru's voice was calmer, and she seemed more in her element in the world of swordplay than in the atmosphere of medicine.
"No wonder. This is a horrifying wound."
"And it looks like it could have been much worse, if it had connected in a different place. It could have decaptitated him."
Silence. Megumi worked tirelessly, and Kaoru stayed by, wiping sweat from the beautiful docters brow and keeping the flame going. After a couple of hours, the young woman fell asleep.
At dawn, the last thread was stitched into the man. With a sigh of relief, Megumi woke Kaoru.
"Will he be okay?"
"If he has any fight in him, he'll live." Megumi smiled. "I can't keep him here, and he can be moved if you move him gently. And slowly."
"Thank you…" Kaoru sighed. "I'll take him to the dojo. Is there any sort of special treatment?"
"No. If you let him rest and keep him hydrated, then he'll wake up in no time. I'm going to go to bed now. Take him home, alright?"
"Thanks, I'll do that."
Megumi walked towards her rooms, then halted. Not turning, she said,
"You watch out, Kaoru. Who knows what kind of man he is when awake."
"I know." The young woman looked down at the redhead and brushed a crimson lock away from his face.
"I know…"
It had been five days since Kamiya Kaoru had discovered The Swordsman in front of her small dojo. Five days she had taken careful care of him, with Megumi dropping in occasionally to check on the patient. And still he had not waken.
Every day she sat by his side, watching him. His eyes were shut.
"I wonder what kind of eyes he has?" She speculated to herself. This occupied her mind for many nights as she cared for him. Would they be brown? Blue, like her own? Maybe a rare color, like green, or even red like his hair. She thought of it often, but never decided on what it would probably be. The Swordsman could have any eye color. And any personality.
"You watch out, Kaoru. Who knows what kind of man he is when awake."
She sighed inwardly. Megumi was right. He may be a criminal, or a fugitive, or a rapist. Or The Swordsman could even be a murderer.
That was what she had taken to calling him in her mind, ever since noticing the katana strapped to his gi. She had taken it out of it's sheath, gasping as she observed the smooth metal sliding from the metal sheath. But when she had pulled it completely out, she noticed the dried, flaking blood, marring half the beautiful steel with it's dull color. It was a work of art, this sword, and it made Kaoru sick to look at the death upon it. She could not leave it so.
She had quietly cleaned the weapon, and replaced it in it's scabbard. It seemed like it was a private part of the swordsman, something that she had no right to touch, even to clean the slaughter off of it.
The man with such a sword was no doubt a murderer.
But…
As she looked down at him, she felt that this man was not evil. No, he was a good man. Maybe misguided, but good. He was probably a warrior. Maybe he had even fought alongside her father.
Or even against him.
She pushed away the thought. No. Her father did not fight this man. Father had died bravely, in battle, the way he had told Kaoru that he had wanted to die. He had lived the life of a warrior, and died right. This man didn't even know her father.
She ran her fingers over the well-cut, almost feminine features of his calm expression. His nose was delicate, not big or bony. His lips were soft. His skin was tanned, but smooth and unmarred but for the scar on his cheek.
Like the sword, the scar had hidden meaning. It had an aura of despair and death and the sadness of love. The one who would look upon it would remember the death of a loved one, or a hope unforfilled, or eternal resignation to a fate worse than death.
Kaoru thought of her mother. She was but seven when she had died. She remembered the whiteness of her father's face, the whispered words, the silent tears coursing down his face. She remembered not believing her father, throwing away his hand, running to her bedside, urging her mother to wake up, to hug her, to open her eyes. She remembered every detail of her mother's white yukata, the peace on her face and resting on her eyelids and soft eyelashes, her pale, pink lips, her smooth raven hair. She remembered seeing no pain on her face from the disease that had haunted her for as long as she had known, but beauty, beauty she had never really had before in life. Beauty of death, like the cherry blossoms that fell on the day she had died.
Whenever she saw the scar, she remembered, and felt like dissolving into tears at the memory.
On the fifth day, Kaoru walked into the room and sat down, like other days, right after training in the morning, taking her bath, and changing. She saw the man she saw every day, and reached her hand up once again, to caress The Swordsman's face.
But a hand reached up with lightning fast speed and grabbed her slim wrist with enough force to break it. She cried out with pain and shock and writhed to get loose of the vise-like grip. The face she had seen, so calm before, was now twisted with an unfathomable expression. He sat up, still holding her just as tightly, and his narrowed eyes looked down at her with…rage? No, that wasn't it…was it?
She studied him with squinting eyes, pain still wrapped around her. His hair was shining slightly, and his scar stood out on his face.
And his eyes were amber.