Let's promise never to marry a man…
Unless he gets both our approval.
Why's that?
So we can protect each other from marrying someone we don't love.
Or from marrying someone that doesn't love us?
Yes.
Alright it's a deal. I promise.
Quiet whistles of rushing air sounded in the early morning as a worn practice sword slashed continuously at an invisible opponent. The slender figure of a young woman clad in breeches was highlighted as the sun's golden rays spilled over the horizon, bathing the Thousand Cranes Estate in a soft light. Slender fingers tightened upon the hilt of the blade as she lunged, striking forward with practiced force. A deft flick of her wrists brings the blade upwards into a defensive block. Quickly rotating her wrists, she brings the wooden sword downwards in an artful spin—straight into the heart of her invisible opponent. Paring to perfection with her intangible foe.
Sea-foam blue eyes were trained upon the empty space before her as slender shoulders rose and fell to the rhythm of her breaths. Several strands of black-blue hair, having slipped through the confines of customary pins, floated like so many delicate silk threads in the wind. The shorter strands, framing her pale and lovely features, plaster like painted designs against the arch of her cheekbones. The sweet scent of jasmine evident in the air around her.
Soft steps, the sound of finely embroidered shoes hitting the stone floor, pervade the ritual dance. A moment later, a gentle voice effectively shatters the tense concentration; the heat in the air. A pale face, much resembling Kaoru's poked comically around the corner.
"Kaoru?"
With a sigh, Kaoru Kamiya, sword in hand turned towards the woman who had managed to venture an entire torso around the corner.
"Yes, Tomoe? What can I do for you sister?"
A grin spreads over the other woman's face as she gambled the rest of her person past the protection of the wall.
"I thought I might find you here little sister." Tomoe said knowingly, a slightly conspiratory look upon her features as she perched herself carefully upon the stone steps lining Kaoru's favorite practice area. "Mother would have a fit if she saw you so mussed," She laughed, adding thoughtfully, "Then perhaps faint when she discovers you've been practicing 'vile men sports' again."
Kaoru grinned back. Yes, if their beloved mother found her dressed in unfashionable man breeches, and a scandalous white chemise made for gentle bred men—not women, it was indeed quite likely that their matron would take a graceful nosedive to the floor. Then lay upon the carpeted hall like a carved Madonna, until some poor bewildered dolt fanned her back to life.
Everyone knew that it was possibly the only cure to fainting spells of gentle bred women.
Baroness Kamiya had been known in her youth for exceptional beauty and grace. Tomoe had inherited both of those divine qualities, down to the very last wave of her perfect hands when she laughed. Kaoru on the other hand, was not so conventional. While most of the ton would consider her a possible beauty of the first water, her complete disregard for the English fashion as well as her equally infamous knack for being unusually loud spoken and brash, effectively wilted any chance of a blossoming debut. Of the few gentlemen that dared to tackle the monstrous task of courting Kaoru, the youngest Kamiya of the Thousand Cranes quickly diced the suitor apart with her quick wit and cutting remarks.
If that didn't work—a few good chops with her sword usually finished the job.
"Good morning to you too sister." Kaoru said, wiping a sleeve across her forehead. Sheathing her old sword into an equally aged scabbard, worn and cracked around the edges, Kaoru hung the practice sword lovingly upon a rusted nail. Flashing her sibling a smile, Kaoru proceeded to plop unceremoniously upon a generous portion of stone step; shifting uncomfortably as the cold seeped through the thin material of her breeches. Kaoru stole a wondering glance at Tomoe, but if her sister was ever bothered by the un-scrumptious temperature on her bottom, she showed no signs of it. Crossing her long legs, Kaoru trained her wide and luminous eyes upon the dignified figure sitting across from her.
Tomoe watched Kaoru's familiar antics, one cream colored hand placed gently against a soft cheek. A quick assessment made over her sibling's wardrobe, "I suggest you burn those articles of clothing, lest you really want to incur a maelstrom in the halls." Tomoe remarked. She had said those exact words to her sister for years now, and although the chance of Kaoru actually listening this time was next to nil, it was nevertheless her duty to warn her little sister of the impending wrath of their high classed mother.
And of course, Kaoru was quite practiced in her answers, humoring the little drama they've made over the years. "Of course," She waved airily mimicking the voice of Baroness Kamiya to perfection, "Dignified women such as yourself should be adorning the latest fashions, not horse-smelling servant boys shirts and breeches..."
A telltale smile, halfway between amusement and exasperation spread across Tomoe's lips at Kaoru's answer. "You're not going to listen are you?"
"Heaven's no." Kaoru chirped happily.
"Didn't think so." Tomoe agreed. "Well in that case, I'm sure you're just dying to know about the debuts?"
Kaoru shifted, running long and slender fingers across the grainy steps upon which they sat. "Not really." She grinned wryly. After a withering look from Tomoe however, she quickly reconsidered. "Of course I am."
Tomoe shook her head, continuing. "In any case, you'll be glad to hear that I've encountered yet another admirer at the ball last night."
"The usual?"
"And then some."
That got Kaoru's interest.
If there was one thing more fearsome in all of English debuting than courting Kaoru Kamiya, it was getting past Kaoru Kamiya to court her sister.
"Duke of Elbourne?" Kaoru asked, tilting her head.
"No"
"Earl of Vastings?"
"No"
"Lord Sanosuke?"
"Goodness no."
Kaoru blinked. "Its someone completely new then?" A predatory gleam seemed to have cast over otherwise oceanic blue eyes. Tomoe almost winced for the poor fate of the chap that could be unfortunate enough to cross Kaoru's path when she was on her ego-deflating crusades. Ego-deflating being the milder word used.
Tomoe could only imagine the irreversible damage done to previous unwanted suitors. Her mother had been horrified the last time Kaoru had cut up the breeches of some unpleasant pig that insisted upon Tomoe's presence. Or the other time Kaoru had punched, non- too lightly, some male chauvinist leering at Kaoru's beloved sister.
Tomoe sighed. Sometime she wished that she too, could be more outspoken, adopting some of Kaoru's devil-may-care attitude. But she, unlike Kaoru was reared and tempered to be the perfect woman. At that thought Tomoe grew serious, lavender eyes staring off into the distance.
Kaoru, noticing her sister's sudden mood swing, dropped her havoc planning ways. "What's on your mind Tomoe?"
"I think perhaps you should not be so harsh upon this one." Tomoe said carefully.
Kaoru wrinkled delicate brows. "You like him?"
"No."
"Then what's the problem?"
"Well, I'm not getting any younger. You and I both know that I started my debuts late to delay the official courting of some older gentlemen--"
"Swine." Kaoru corrected immediately.
"Swine" Tomoe agreed. "But perhaps we were too naïve to think that our marriages could be solely based upon our choice. Our line is a noble one, Kaoru, one of us will need to keep our bloodlines pure. Father and Mother will expect no less. This means, one of us must marry a noble equal to our status in title or wealth."
Kaoru grew silent contemplating Tomoe's words. It was true, the price of aristocracy was that one actually needed to continue to retain the selective and refined blood of nobility. And of the meager pickings this season, things were not promising.
Kaoru hugged the slender shoulders of her sister.
"I'll try to be nice." She promised.
Kenshin Himura stood outside his large panel windows, one hipbone pressed lightly upon the sinfully beautiful black marble that lined his carved balcony. Glass of wine in hand, he sipped thoughtlessly at the polished rims, vacant gold eyes staring off into the distance. It was all incredibly picturesque, and would have made an impeccable post card.
That is, except for the frown that marred the handsome Marquis' face.
A moment later, muffled sounds of boots on carpet, and the familiar swing of a heavy oak door announced the arrival of none other then Sanosuke Sagara.
"Kenshin!" He bellowed.
Kenshin Himura, rubbing delicately at his temples with long fingers turned to look at his friend with a rather testy. "Yes?"
"Ah!" Sanosuke grinned. "There you are." Marching past the opaque cloth covering the crystalline windows, he promptly slapped a large hand on Kenshin's back grinning.
"So did you see her? The Kamiya girl that is?"
Kenshin eyed him warily. If there was one thing Sanosuke Sagara was good at, it was getting to the point.
"I see you're not beating around the bush." Kenshin remarked dryly.
Sanosuke grinned. "I know what I want."
"Obviously."
Sanosuke frowned, folding his arms in impatience. "So did you see her or not?"
"I saw her."
Throwing his arms up in the air in exasperation at Kenshin's short and most unsatisfying answers, Sanosuke exclaimed (rather loudly) "WELL?"
"Well what?"
"WELL WHAT DO YOU THINK?"
"What do I think about what?"
"…"
Sanosuke stared at Kenshin long and hard through narrowed slits, the knuckles of his fists twitching in a manner that most people would find uncannily threatening. Sanosuke raised his arms, fists clenched, index fingers extended as he drew out a box shape in the air, no doubt enlightening Kenshin on exactly what he meant.
"The girl!"
He waved his hands in a figure eight shape.
"The GIRL!"
He posed, swinging his hips from side to side.
"The girl!"
"The girl!"
"THE GIRL!"
Kenshin smirked wryly.
"She was pretty."
Sanosuke could have throttled him.
He settled instead, for a long and scathing look. Kenshin, for his part, managed a look of perfect indifference at his friend's obvious displeasure. Sanosuke marched over to Kenshin's lavish couch and plopped obligingly within its cushiony embrace, arms crossed stubbornly over his chest.
"You know I won't leave until you tell me exactly what I want to know."
He wiggled deeper into the couch. "Your house is very comfortable; I would have no trouble staying." He threatened, simultaneously eyeing the promising bottle of rare wine hanging belligerently on the wall.
Kenshin sighed. The blasted man was insufferable.
"Alright." He conceded. It was far faster to just humor Sanosuke than try to convince the man to drop the issue. "Pray tell, what do you wish to know?"
"What do you think of Miss Kamiya?"
"She's quite lovely."
Now that was the understatement of the year wasn't it? Miss Kamiya of the Thousand Cranes had been nothing short of ravishing. Large and smoky eyes had pierced him quite effectively the prior night, and admittedly, the feeling of intoxication had not left him since. Her air of mystery and womanly softness had both enticed and charmed the aloof Marquis.
There's no question about it. Miss Kamiya was nothing if not an enchantress; one that was every bit as powerful as the rumors say.
Sanosuke tucked a long arm behind his head, long legs brushing the surface of Kenshin's thick carpet.
"Well is she's so damned lovely, what are you doing mulling about in your room?"
Kenshin fixed cold flaring gems on his impetuous friend, but said nothing. A bristling 'I'm not mulling' hardly seemed a dignified response.
Sanosuke rolled his eyes, deciding the question wasn't important enough to wage a small battle over—he was saving his ammunition for bigger targets anyway. Waving his hand over his head nonchalantly, he continued, "So are you going to go after her?"
Kenshin shrugged.
True, this girl was beautiful, but so were the other fifty some that had tumbled in and out of his bed. Was she so different that he needed to go out of his way to court her? His perfect record more than spoke for itself.
"I suppose the great rake finally met his match." Sanosuke mused a little too loudly.
Kenshin started, raising an elegant brow. "I beg your pardon?"
Sanosuke grinned. "It's alright Kenshin, you can't win it all."
Kenshin scowled. "I'm quite sure I have no idea what you're prattling on about."
Sanosuke gave him the largest look of sympathy he could muster. "I understand," he continued. "I mean, she really is quite in a league of her own. Beautiful, smart, and wealthy…" Sanosuke grinned up at Kenshin's displeased face. "Don't worry ol' chap, no one will blame you for failing to charm this one, after all, every single male has been turned down so far—no one will blame you for being any different."
Sanosuke's heartfelt speech was promptly rewarded by the most contemptuous glare that Sanosuke had seen Kenshin give him thus far. But Sanosuke, ever the sensitive, added.
"That would explain why you're mulling about."
"I was not turned down."
Sanosuke raised his brow.
"And I am not mulling."
Sanosuke grinned.
Kenshin stared hard at his best friend through frightening narrowed slits. Any other person, noble or otherwise, would have been scrambling for cover wherever shelter could be found. Granted, Kenshin knew the Heir Viscount was merely baiting him. He wanted Kenshin to go after this Kamiya, and secure the Drakgon line—and fulfill his duties. Unfortunately, Sanosuke's appalling immunity to Kenshin's death glares, and his offending goading was not exactly the type of inspiration Kenshin had been hoping for.
But a little prodding was better than none at all Kenshin wryly supposed.
"A case of Drakgon Chardonnay."
Kenshin's attention returned to his most insufferable friend. What was he raving about this time?
"I beg your pardon?"
"Let's make a wager. I'll wager your heirloom worthy Chardonnay that you cannot get this girl. You lose, and I'll take home your rare case of wine for my drinking pleasure."
Kenshin suppressed an urge to roll his eyes. Drakgon Chardonnay was the most expensive, and time mongering drink to make in the history of alcoholic beverages. Trust Sanosuke to make a bet with someone else's possessions.
"And if I win?"
"I shall bay like a hound at the next debut at the prettiest girl in the room."
Kenshin sighed softly to himself, inwardly shaking his head. He was in need of entertainment lately—though granted, while he had not expected one to come in this form, he recognized a challenge when he saw one. Although from the surface it would seem like a rather off balanced bet, the odds were certainly in his favor. Kenshin had yet to find a woman alive capable of resisting his wiles. This Kamiya of the Thousand Cranes was about to get a taste of Drakgonian charm.
Kenshin smirked at his friend.
"You better start practicing then Lord Sagara."
The smell of the market street was something that Kaoru had come to appreciate. The incredible medley of salts, sugars, and spices, wafted in the air like so many clashing siblings, each bubbling past the other for dominance. Kaoru for her part, loved the life that seem to pulse within the simple atmosphere of the place.
Large and fathomless eyes watched beneath a fan of lush lashes. Watched, as the peasant children chased each other in a simple game of tag, as the merchants hollered their goods—hoping for a sale, as the young maids bustled about-- fresh and beautiful beneath a thin cloak of dust that seem to prevail in the streets.
Kaoru had long learned that life was not so perfect as the one painted on the surface. Behind the smiling faces of children, were hungry bellies. Behind every wily merchant was someone desperate to improve their circumstance—to escape the life of the streets. Some were successful—others were not.
Kaoru did her best to help.
On days such as this, Kaoru would slip out of the Thousand Cranes estates dressed in the garments of a young page. Today however, her clothes were still being secretly mended from the last time she had gotten into a scuffle at the market. Today she opted for a young hand maid's disguise instead. Granted, it wasn't as useful, because in a male dominated world—there were disadvantages to being a young unprotected hand maid.
Luckily, Kaoru was far from defenseless. Her worn practice sword was carefully wrapped up in the coarse material of a commoner's carrying sack, strapped neatly to her back.
If the entire bulge looked suspicious, it never occurred to Kaoru.
A faint buzz of excited mummers swept through the crowded streets, as the sides of the roads became even more crammed with people. Kaoru started at the sudden change, gingery weaving her way to the front, poking her head through the wall of whispering bodies.
She was sorely disappointed, as the object of everyone's attention came into full view.
Sitting inside an overtly decorated carriage was none other than the Earl of Vastings. The translucent shades, normally hanging over the windows, were swept to one side, so that the common people could see the entire profile of his delectable face. And there he sat in all his splendor-- awing the crowd with his expensive tastes.
Kaoru suppressed the deep and sudden urge to roll her eyes.
Vastings was nothing, if not a pig. While most of the ton found his clean cut good looks infinitely desirable, Kaoru could not think of a worst candidate for marriage. Although he commanded a healthy bank account, his boorish attitude, flaming arrogance, and an innate desire to spend money was reason enough to trash the man from this life to the next. His insatiable desires for young and unwilling virgins merited him a trip to hell.
At least, in Kaoru's opinion, there was nothing worse than a man who used his influence for selfish gain.
The Earl of Vastings had been one of the first candidates to try for the hand of Tomoe Kamiya. He was also the first of many chumps that had hereto suffered the infamous wrath of Tomoe's little sister, Kaoru Kamiya. If her memory did not fail her, Kaoru surmised that he was the one she had slugged.
It had been most satisfying to see him tumble across the lawn.
That was only bested by his look of indignation combined with a swelling black eye. Kaoru sniffed, not the least bit sorry. Serve him right—the leech.
Kaoru watched his extravagant procession— complete with a troop of classy decorated horses, trained to prance to the heavens. Shaking her head, she turned around, trying to weave discreetly into the crowd. Well—as discreetly as she could with a huge sack that suspiciously resembled a hogtied loaf of French bread, strapped to her back.
A sudden muffled scream caught her attention as she turned her head just in time to see a young boy run laughing into the streets, no doubt trying to pet the prancing white horses. She watched in horror as he stumbled straight into the horses' path.
What ensued next was a small disaster.
Clomping hooves scattered in disarray, as six white horses puffed and reared in startlement at the sudden appearance of a young boy. A young woman's scream, perhaps the sister of the young child, prompted an uproar.
The crack of the carriage driver's whip and the sudden opening of the carriage door silenced the crowd before they lost complete control.
"What is the meaning of this?" Thundered the Earl, apparently annoyed at being jostled about in his carriage.
"Sir—this" the driver looked down derisively "...boy, startled your horses."
The Earl of Viscount looked down at the small child. It was an amazing feat really, considering that he managed to snub the infant of a boy without moving the level of his chin. Kaoru had always wondered what exactly these pompous men saw through their haughty colored visions. Did they see a frightened child? Someone's son?"
"Whip him."
Obviously not.
Another small girl ran out, just as the driver hoisted the long whip from the niche on his belt. She couldn't have been more than a couple years older than the boy. Throwing her slender body over his protectively, she held him, baring her own back to the impending lashes of the whip. Kaoru gritted her teeth.
Grabbing the long cloth she had tied around her hair, Kaoru promptly tied a makeshift mask over her face. The last thing she needed was the Earl to go prattling to her father, or identifying her in public. Granted, it wasn't the most brilliant disguise in the world, and she probably couldn't explain why she had a hair cloth tied around her face if anyone asked—but Kaoru had little time to ponder such trivialities.
Running forward in practiced strides, she simultaneously pulled her old sword from its sheath. Bringing the blade past an area of loosely tied cloth, purposely fashioned for speedy use, she brought the shiny rapier over her shoulder and sliced upwards in a definitive stroke.
The whip laid in two even pieces at her feet. The long snakelike part twisted in defeat on the floor.
The driver looked somewhat bewildered at the stump of what had once been a magnificent piece of horse whip. Flushing angrily, he looked up ready to lash out verbally at the culprit, but as he did so, the color drained from his face just as quickly as it had appeared. He now resembled a pallid sickly white; much like an overripe melon… for the shiny tip of a rusted sword was poking precariously at his stubby neck.
He swallowed uncomfortably.
Kaoru spared a glance at the Earl. He had been standing in a stupor for several seconds before he snapped from his reverie into full blown anger.
"How dare you raise a weapon against me commoner!!" He fairly boomed the words across the narrow market place. "Put your sword down at once! I'll have you hanged for this."
Kaoru smirked wryly to herself beneath her makeshift mask. If only the pompous ass knew whom he was speaking too. Kaoru imagined that he'd be speaking a few octaves lower, with a much better vocabulary.
Well... maybe not the vocabulary part.
Kaoru ignored him.
This however, only served to incite him. The Earl marched slowly towards her, dark as a storm cloud. Kaoru looked steadily at him with flaring blue eyes. If he struck her now, she would be able to do nothing in self defense without revealing her title. A peasant—a hand maid, could not raise a finger against one of nobility. Doing so could mean certain death.
But revealing her title would mean another severe verbal lashing from her mother. A young lady of her status, dressed in peasantry clothing, wielding a rusted sword was not only unheard of, it was social suicide. Her mother would slaughter her for ruining the good name of the Thousand Cranes.
The Earl raised his hand to smack her. Kaoru glared fiercely, bracing herself. She would just have to pretend to be an insolent maid—even if it meant living down one of the Earl's slaps. She would not subject her sister or her family to ridicule.
She closed her eyes just as his hand came down.
The contact however, was never made.
Kaoru dared to open her eyes to discover that the Earl's arm had been caught in mid-air by a restraining hand. Azure eyes followed that hand, up a handsomely tailored shirt to a devastatingly beautiful face.
A beautiful face, with terrifying gold gems for eyes.