Here we are, Chapter 4 already. Are you all ready for Ran?? I know I am! No vocab really, just some quick culture notes:

Seppuku : Seppuku is the act of committing ritual suicide. Normally, this entails the participant to basically gut himself from his stomach to his chest with his own sword or dagger. (Sounds like a wonderful way to go, ne?) A comrade or witness usually stood nearby, sword at ready, and once the err...participant had done this, the witness lopped off his head, so he wouldn't have to bleed to death slowly and painfully. Seppuku was considered to be an honorable act. Often, a samurai who's lost his master, or was disowned by his master (the ultimate disgrace) ,was expected to commit seppuku honorably and follow after his master. Or if his master had disowned him, committing seppuku was a way to right all dishonor. So your reputation would be cleared, but you would be quite dead. Acutally, it often meant that your family did not have to live in disgrace after you were dead, but I'm not sure how true that is. Often, as punishment for crimes against the Shogunate, a samurai was forced to commit seppuku. This was considered a favor as it allowed the samurai to die with honor and acknowledged that he indeed had a human heart. Isn't that nice of the Shogunate? ::sunny smile::

So while we're on the subject of seppuku, let's talk about Ronins, or for you Kenshin nuts, Ruroni, seeing as how both of these terms are actually almost the oppositte of seppuku. Oh dear, did I say there wasn't really any vocab? Sorry. ::blush::

Ok so, a Ronin (lit. 'wave-man')is a masterless samurai. Basically, he's either lost his master in battle, etc., been disowned by his master, or left his master. Ronins started popping up quite often during the late Tokugawa (Edo) period, if I remember correctly, due to an increase in poverty and bad economy. This resulted in many daimyos having to let their retainers (samurai) go since they could not afford to pay them. This in turn, made many ronin. Ronin were generally outcast in Edo society, as they were considered dishonorable in not following their master and committing seppuku. (Tough crowd, ne?). Also, because they did not pledge loyalty to any one master, they were seen as more dangerous and less moral. Regardless of whether they were actually good men or not. Although there are reports of Ronin who banded together and behaved more like ruffians and bandits than honorable men.

A Ruroni is almost the same as a Ronin basically; a samurai who has lost his path. I think it's a little better and less dishonorable to be a ruroni than it is to be a ronin. I'm not quite sure on the diffrence outside of that though. But it does seem to me that ruroni is a more respected term.

Finally, some more notes on a Ryokan. In Japan, it is not rude to call for a waitress or maid. Usually, it is done by raising your hand and yelling 'summimasen!' (Excuse me! or I'm sorry!) If you wait around for the waitress/waiter to come to you, you'll be waiting all night. Heh. It is ettiquitte for a maid or server to say 'Excuse me.' (Summimasen/Shitsureishimasu!) before entering a room. In very formal or traditional settings they will sit seiza, or traditional style with the legs folded beneath them, just outside the door and bow before entering. They also bow before leaving and say Shitsureishimashita! , which translates roughly to something like...oh wow...it's kind of hard to explain. It's basically the past tense of Shitsureishimasu. So maybe like 'I'm done, please excuse me!' It's another one of those terms that we don't have an equivalent for in the english language.

And an Ofuro is a traditional style bath, and often commonly used to describe modern baths and showers as well. The traditional style is a real treat! It's very hot water deep enough to soak in up to your neck, and feels marvelous. Proper etiquette says that you must first wash yourself thoughroughly with a hand shower or bucket of water first before getting into the tub. The tub isn't really to cleanse so much as it is to relax. It's really wonderful...Poor Ken Ken could probably use it right about now...

Finally, long ago, when a kimono had to be cleaned it was actually physically taken apart; each peice cleaned individualy, and then stitched back together again. Sounds like a lot of work to me...

Ok, was that confusing or what? I won't keep you from the story any longer!

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Chapter 4

"Being awake

He says he is already asleep

Autumn chilly night."

Buson Yosa

Edo

Ken awoke slowly, like a man wandering through a forest blanketed in deep snow. The first thing he became aware of was the quiet hiss of a rain storm surrounding him soothingly. The next thing he realized was that he was, in fact, dry. Putting two and two together, he figured that it was raining steadily and he was lying on something relatively soft in a…shelter of some sort. For a moment, he didn't move, and half expected his mother or one of his siblings to come in any moment and ask him how he was feeling; tell him he'd been horribly sick and had them all worried. Somehow, he knew in the back of his mind that wouldn't happen.

He felt stiff and dizzy. His brain muzzily informed him that he was, in fact, quite ill. He felt both hot and cold, and incredible, searing pain. At the moment, breathing was even a challenge. There was a horrible, nagging sensation in the back of his mind that was threatening to come forward and overwhelm him with something important he was supposed to be remembering. Something about a mission? Ken stomach was starting to do some strange flip flops that had nothing to do with the dizziness, and his head began pounding double time in order to keep itself quiet. Neither seemed to work, and that sick, 'something's horribly wrong' feeling began to worsen rapidly. Ken felt it might be a good plan to open his eyes.

Instantly, he regretted it. Even the dull, grey light from the one tiny hole that served as a window in whatever shack he was in was too much for Ken to take right away. Sliding his eyes shut again, he tried desperately to pretend now that he was home, and sick, and that his mother would be in at any moment with a worried, sympathetic smile and some sort of foul-tasting tea. He wondered how long he'd been out and if his parents were worried. Come to think about it, why was he alone? Weren't there other men on this mission? Gods, had something happened to them?!

Ken snapped upright in sudden panic, eyes flying open. After the first, horrible, dizzy wave of pain, he was able to take in his surroundings a bit better. He coughed, and tasted blood; a good deal of it. Alarmed, he put his hand to his mouth and stared hard down at his red tipped fingers when they came away. It was then that he noticed his state of undress.

A blanket that had been covering him was bunched at his waist, and Ken almost thought that he was naked for a moment before he caught sight of his grubby and stained navy-blue hakama peaking out. For all the covering they provided, they were torn and badly damaged, and Ken may as well have been naked anyway. Although the comfort of still having his pants was a strange relief. Above his hakama, his entire abdomen was swathed in snowy-white bandages tinged here and there with patches of faint rust. He was wounded too? Judging by what he was seeing, he had been wounded badly. Further up, his left shoulder was bandaged heavily, as well as his chest. Whoever had bandaged him may as well have made a shirt out of the bandages, and been done with it.

Shakily, he stood, and staggered blearily towards the doorway. Peering out, he recognized the large road that connected his village to other villages, and by default next recognized that he was at the edge of the neighboring village. Why on earth wasn't he in his own village instead of the neighboring one? Thinking about it made a sudden sharp pain lance through his skull. When it cleared away, he remembered why he wasn't in his own village. He remembered everything as if someone had flicked a switch, and wished to the gods that he hadn't. The mission, his men, Ryuuta, Kase…

For one horror-filled moment, Ken couldn't move. He couldn't even breathe. He sank to his knees slowly inside the doorway, like a man moving through water, and stayed there; empty, horror-filled eyes staring at slivers of falling rain.

Gone.

Everything was gone.

His life, his friends, his family, his lord.

All of it was gone, and he could never have it back.

A low moan rose in his throat and became a high, anguished keen. He rocked himself to and fro on his knees, hugging himself; trying to ease the pain that was far worse than any of his injuries. With a shudder, he burrowed his face in his hands and tangled them in his hair. And he simply sobbed. Just fell apart at the seams like an old kimono taken to be cleaned. He would never be whole; he'd never be sane again. He was going to see all of their faces in his nightmares for all eternity. He was going to hear their voices and smell the scent of charred flesh and wood for the rest of his days. Why had the gods left only him? Was this some kind of punishment?

When he finally came back to himself; clawed his way out of the grief, his body was shuddering from the cold and exhaustion. He had stopped rocking and his arms hung limply at his sides. He realized, dimly, that he was probably still dying, despite the kind efforts of whoever had bothered to tend him. A pang of guilt assaulted him for their wasted efforts. Not only was it pointless, but he didn't deserve it. They should have let him die; bleed to death in the woods and suffer until he slipped off to hell. They should have just…

Kase.

Gods, Kase. Kase was still alive. They'd taken him. Ken had to find him. He had to find him now, before it was too late, before he was dead. He rose unsteadily, like a zombie, and went inside in search of his weapons. They had been laid neatly to one side of the hay palate he had lain on, and he gathered them into his hakama once more. He scooped up the discarded blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. He didn't want to attract attention.

His brain had shut down coldly. Already, it had formed a plan of action. He would go into town. Find any information on Kase. Somehow, he was going to find Kase. When he did, when Kase was safe, Ken was going to do the only acceptable thing left for him to do and commit seppuku. And even though he didn't deserve it, maybe Kase would stand as second for him Maybe…If he could even bring himself to ask such a favor.

As if in a daze, Ken staggered from the shack and into the rain, not even feeling the cold or the wet. It matted his hair to his forehead and soaked through the wool blanket around his shoulders. His already filthy and torn hakama dragged through the mud churned up as he walked. And he murmured. Softly, to himself, reassuringly, so that he could walk, take one step at a time. Find Kase. And then he could finally end this nightmare. He was going to find Kase, and then he was just going to let himself go. It was the honorable thing to do. The honorable thing….

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Fujimiya Ran sat sulking in a corner of the Fujiyama Inn. He scowled at anyone who even glanced his way. The rain had slowed his progress considerably, and as a result his mood had fallen into the gutter. The sake he drank seemed to do nothing but keep it there. Adding to his foul mood was the news about the neighboring village that had been completely obliterated. He'd gone this morning to see it, and had almost been sick. He'd hoped to find some survivors to talk to, find out what had happened and how. But one look at the charred bodies scattered around had told him that there simply weren't any survivors. This in turn had told him that someone had gone to great lengths to ensure that there wouldn't be any survivors. A few well placed questions and remarks helped him put things together. He was dead sure the village had been deliberately eliminated once he'd discovered that it was a ninja clan who'd had loyalty ties towards the recently uprooted emperor's court. Ran had been so angry then he'd hardly been able to think. When the rain had come in, he'd decided to stay at the inn and perhaps help to bury the bodies later. And now, here he was, drinking sake and staring down anyone who tried to approach him. He wanted to be left alone.

He was so tired of watching the Shogunate fuck with people's lives, so they could bring about their 'peaceful vision of the future'. It was just their way of covering up the fact that they were getting all of their opponents out of the way, and it was a horrible injustice that Ran knew all too well. Innocent people were being killed and ruined to ensure that the Shogunate had absolute power. He should know. They'd done it to him too.

Ran clamped down ruthlessly on the memories of his family; of Aya-chan. Remembering them right now would only make things worse and possibly shake his common sense loose. And Ran had no intention of loosing his cool until he'd finished his life's mission. Since that mission was rather long and complicated, he had a long time to practice reining his temper in.

The bar keep had been staring at him in open suspicion since he'd come downstairs and skulked over to a corner to drink. Ran wanted to punch his face in, but settled for blatantly ignoring him instead. He hated the fact that simply because he had been forced to become a ronin people now looked at him like he was going to attack them for no reason. Sometimes, he was tempted to do just that…

He was startled from his dark thoughts by a sudden, collective hush that fell over the room. He looked up to see a figure standing near the doorway, soaked and bedraggled. His head was down and his shoulders were slumped with a variety of emotions Ran couldn't begin to comprehend at the moment. Slowly, as if realizing he'd wandered into a building, he lifted his head and gazed around with glazed, dead eyes. They roved the room emptily, as if searching for someone, and Ran started at the intense fire that lit in them when they settled on him. More specifically, his red hair. Suddenly the man stood straight up, posture erect and stiff, and he strode purposefully towards Ran; rain-soaked hakama dragging behind him with a soft hiss hiss on the worn tatami floor. All eyes in the room traced his movements with shock, waiting to see what he would do.

Ran himself waited in anticipation, wondering what on earth a drunken lunatic wanted with him particularly, and braced himself for a fight. His hand sought and found the hilt of his wakezashi, and he held it delicately, at the ready for any attack. A cold, furious recognition burned in the newcomer's eyes as he simply stopped a foot from where Ran sat and glowered down at him. Ran rose slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements, and faced him. He was relieved to find that he was a bit taller than the stranger, although that didn't necessarily mean anything. It still felt good to have to make the man look up to meet his gaze slightly.

"Can I help you?" he asked coldly.

"That's all you have to say?! 'Can I help you!!?'" the stranger mocked, his voice rasping and weak; inconsistent. It made Ran frown. He sounded more like an invalid than a drunk lunatic. He wondered what on earth this man could possibly want from him, and waited silently to find out, a foreboding feeling in his gut.

"I see. Then if you won't tell me what you've done with him I'm going to beat it out of you, you fucking dog." the man hissed in fury. Ran started. Anger was one thing, humiliation was another. This man had picked the wrong day to pick a fight with Fujimiya Ran. Before he could act, however, he was startled to find a fist down across his cheek. He was even further startled to find that despite his unprepared-ness, he was still standing. A punch like that while he was caught off-guard should have leveled him. Was this guy for real? What the hell was he playing at? Why was he insisting on trying to humiliate Ran in front of an inn full of people who disliked him already?! When the man lunged for him again, Ran simply dodged and brought his sword hilt to connect with the man's gut experimentally. He wanted to get a feel for this man's skill and speed.

He was more than shocked at the loud cry of pain. When he looked down into his opponent's face, he saw surprise and a sudden guilt there, mixed with what appeared to be very real pain.

"C-crap….wrong….guy…..s-sorry…" The man coughed up a substantial amount of blood and fell forward, unconscious into Ran's chest. Ran blinked and stared down at the man he'd caught in his arms in surprise, as everyone else in the room did. After it was clear that he wasn't going to be awakening any time in the near future, they soon returned reluctantly to whatever drinks or meals they had forgotten, the air already buzzing with gossip. Ran cast another glower around the room to be sure everyone's attention was diverted again.

"Take care of that Fujimiya." the barkeep growled, like Ran had invited the man into the inn to attack him and cause a scene. Ran elected to ignore him again, instead lowering both himself and his burden onto the zabuton and leaning the man against the wall gently to check him over. He'd coughed up a lot of blood, and Ran was feeling guilty for wounding someone who'd obviously been no match for him so seriously. In the name of the Gods, he'd only given him a nudge in the gut with a sword hilt. That sort of thing was painful, but not enough to elicit blood. His hands froze in the middle of lifting the blanket as he caught sight of a substantially bandaged stomach and torn, bloodied hakama.

This man had already been hurt. Badly. And Ran had a feeling that it had a lot to do with the empty, burned out village close by. It would certainly help to make the man's last comment make a bit more sense. Who apologized after a display like that, wrong or not? Carefully, he lowered the blanket back into place and cast a discreet glance around to be sure no one had seen him. The stranger's head slid down the wall and fell unceremoniously onto Ran's shoulder. The heat from his skin seeped through the thick fabric of his gi. This man had a fever. But someone had tended to him. Whoever that person was, they obviously either hadn't bothered keeping an eye on him, he had snuck out on them (which Ran couldn't imagine this man being able to pull off in his state. ), or had simply left him to his own. In any of those cases, Ran somehow had a feeling that if this man was not residing in the home of a doctor, or beneath a doctor's care, there was a good reason. The fact that there was no news of any survivors furthered this reasoning. Ran would have bet that any survivors would have been the center of all kinds of attention. He sighed as he realized the man was also soaked. He was going to have to do something, and as upset as he was about the sacking of that village, he did not want to be saddled with an invalid. It would slow him down immeasurably.

He was quite startled and understandably unnerved when a young woman slipped onto the zabuton across from him reeking of the fish and salt of a harbor. When his suspicious glower met her eyes, she took a deep breath and bowed formally, surprising him for the umpteenth time that afternoon.

"I'm sorry if he's been any trouble to you. He's hurt and with fever. I take the blame for any damage he has caused. I'll take him off your hands now." she murmured quietly, glancing around and trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Ran only frowned.

"What happened to him?"

"Nothing that concerns you. Please just give him to me."

"And how were you planning on getting him out of here?" he mocked, raising an eyebrow. Anger flushed her cheeks a rosy red and had her eyes sparking at him.

"I'll manage." she ground out. Truthfully, she didn't know how she'd manage, but every minute that he was out in the open was dangerous for both him and herself. She cast another nervous glance around.

"He came right at me and punched me." Ran pushed. Not so much because he was indignant, but to see what information he could push her into giving up. He was rewarded when the spark in her gaze ignited into flame.

"Excuse me?? He's sick and delusional with fever for the Gods' sake! Can't you just let it go!? He's got it bad enough as it is! " she hissed at him.

"What. Happened. To. Him?" Ran ground out.

Her eyes suddenly switched from angry to pleading.

"Please, stop asking that. Just let it go ok? If you're that mad, then hit me instead, but please, just let me get him out of here. You don't understand. Every minute he stays out here makes everything that much worse…" she trailed off. Ran stared at her , and then looked down at the man slumped against him, frowning thoughtfully. So obviously, someone wanted this man. Why? Who was he?

"Who's chasing him?" he growled, changing the subject. She blanched.

"No one, as far as I know. But if you don't let me get him somewhere peaceful so he can recover, he just might make a few more enemies." It wasn't a complete lie anyways, Yuriko thought. Ran stared hard at her.

"You aren't going to be taking him anywhere, even if you had the means." when she opened her mouth to argue, he pressed on before she could even draw a breath. "Moving him any distance now would be a bad idea. I…hit him in the gut with my sword hilt and he coughed up a lot of blood." He admitted reluctantly, suddenly unable to meet her gaze. "Added to that, he's got a fever and he's soaked and cold. You can't drag him out into the rain like this. He'll die." He continued, scowling at the tabletop.

The woman's eyes spit fire. "You hit an injured man!?" she hissed, visibly almost loosing the battle to keep her voice lowered. Ran scowled at her. "I didn't know he was injured when he flew at me and bulldozed his fist into my face." he growled. "It was self defense." She glared at him skeptically.

"A man looks that pathetic and you don't pick up that he could be injured or sick?" she asked incredulously. Ran glared hard. "Funny, I wasn't the only one. He looked like a drunk bum." he ground out. He didn't need this. He was already feeling guilty for hitting an invalid. She huffed and looked away.

"I…I have to risk getting him out of here. I don't have a choice. It's too dangerous for him to be running all over the place like this." she said slowly. Ran shook his head.

"No. You can't. He will die." Then, surprising himself, he heard himself say "I'll take him up to my room, and we'll keep him there until he's stable enough to move." when she looked ready to argue, he fixed her with a frosty glare. "Obviously you couldn't take care of him anyway, if he's here. I'll be able to keep an eye on him in my room. I don't have any work to do at the moment." he pressed on in clipped, cold tones. Her mouth thinned into an angry line, but she said nothing.

"If you want him, you'll have to take him and manage to get him away from me." he continued. He understood her concern, and her heart was certainly in the right place, but he had a feeling that this man needed a bit of a stronger and less occupied protection. Especially if someone was looking for him.

"Since you're giving me no choice, his name is Ken. I'm Yuriko. My male friend will be here tomorrow. I'm sending him to your doorstep. If anything happens to Ken, you had better believe he'll skin you alive." she threatened. "And I'm at least helping you get him settled." Ran smiled at her grimly, more a bearing of his teeth than anything, and said nothing, wondering how he'd wound up forcefully putting an invalid under his care when moments ago he'd wanted to avoid it. He told himself it had everything to do with the fact that Ken was yet another victim of the Shogunate and nothing to do with the strange feelings he got when he looked at the fevered brunette leaning against him. Of course. He'd injured this man further. He would help him recover, assure the Shogunate couldn't slaughter him, and then wash his hands of the whole thing.

He had another strange feeling that those plans would get complicated before the week was out as Yuriko helped him heft Ken into his arms and the barkeep glared at them as he staggered upstairs, Yuriko helping to balance out Ken's dense weight. And this was to say nothing of this 'male friend' Yuriko had mentioned. More headaches. He really didn't need this shit. He needed to work on getting his mouth to check up with his brain first before speaking.

It was going to be a long night, he decided.

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SinceKen was unconscious, he was adjusted rather quickly. Yuriko left Ran with a stern glare and a rather large cloth full of every medicinal item he could have ever thought of. She also left him with an extra blanket.

Once she had left, Ran set about checking the young man and getting him out of his wet belongings. He started with the wool blanket, heaving it across the room and onto the entry way floor in disgust. It landed with loud thump and a dull splat, probably ruined for good. In this sort of weather, it was going to mildew rather quickly.

Next came the torn, dirty hakama. Ran peeled them back gingerly, having no desire to let his hands touch the filth and blood clinging to the material. He hung those carefully in the closet. Why, he wasn't sure, but he had a feeling that Ken wouldn't be happy waking and discovering the last stitch of clothing he owned to be gone. Ran knew if it had been himself he certainly wouldn't have appreciated it. Beneath the cloth were the bandages and the bruised, battered skin. He studied the body before him as he listened to the uneven, ragged breathing. Ken's body shivered beneath his hands with cold and fever, and Ran turned to build up the fire in the small hibachi he'd ordered up to the room upon his arrival. He needed to check Ken quickly and then get him covered and warm. And he needed a compress for the fever. He also needed hot water for a bath. There was no way he was going to be able to drag Ken down to the Ofuro. Covering Ken momentarily, he crawled to the door and slid it open, bellowing for a maid. One showed up reluctantly.

"I need hot water and clean cloth for bathing. I also need tea and broth." he informed her curtly, not bothering to waste formalities. She nodded and then closed the door, and he heard her footsteps hurrying off down the hall. Within, he turned back to Ken and set about removing the bandages since they were now wet and grimy and needed to be replaced. He noted that whoever had wrapped them had obviously had considerable experience in doing so. Ken had been tended almost professionally.

When the first and most daunting set came away from the brunette's abdomen, Ran winced in sympathy. His guilt at having hit Ken assailed him full force. There was a dark, discolored bruise that had spread angrily over the man's stomach, still painfully swollen, no doubt no thanks to his sword hilt. Running along his left side was a thin red gash that connected his ribs and his hip. There were other, smaller bruises that looked just as painful but not quite so alarming.

The bandage on the right shoulder revealed a deep stab wound that had exited out the back rather cleanly, much to his releif. The bandage on Ken's chest revealed another stab wound. Judging by the ragged ends of the wound that had been sewn shut and the swelling and bruising, Ran guessed that the blade had somehow been twisted or wrenched, and he curled his lip in anger at the though of such a dishonorable cruelty. At least the shoulder wound looked cleaner, although there was another dark angry bruise and a considerable amount of swelling around it. Taking a deep breath, he turned the man over and examined the wound that ran like a slash from the right shoulder to the left thigh, and hissed a breath in sympathy. Nearly all of it had been stitched shut. Definitely more than one attacker. Definitely a dishonorable attack. Definitely the possibility that whoever had done it would come back if they found out Ken was still alive. Ran didn't like this at all.

He was startled from his thoughts by a slight rapping on the door.

"Come in." he barked. A young maid slid the door open and entered after bowing and excusing herself. She bore a tray of hot tea and a bowl of what he guessed to be broth along with a bowl of rice. Another, older woman followed her bearing a large tub of hot water, and several cloths flung over one shoulder. They put their burdens where he indicated and then stood aside, casting curious glances over Ken's prone form and then blushing at his nudity. Ran noticed with an inner, bitter leer that this didn't prevent them from continuing to stare. He dismissed them with a nod of his head and an icy "Thanks." before they could ask any questions. When the door slid shut quietly behind them, Ran set to work gently bathing Ken's wounds and applying salve to them before re-bandaging him with fresh bandages. He bound Ken's stomach with several strips of torn linen he found in the cloth sack Yuriko had left in hopes of possibly easing some of the pain and swelling. Ken groaned as he tightened them and tied them in place, but didn't stir.

He ran a comb through Ken's short, tangled hair, and fanned it out as best he could in the hopes that it would dry faster. Finally, he soaked a cloth in the hot water and folded it into a compress, laying it on Ken's forehead gently in hopes of aiding the fever in breaking. He studied the bruising pattern that danced along the man's temple with a frown. No doubt he was concussed as well. Ran would have to be sure to wake him frequently. Pulling the wool blankets back up and adding the extra one Yuriko had left, Ran sat beside the futon, his sword resting against one shoulder, and watched as Ken shivered and slept. He was still wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into when his own eyes slid closed in exhaustion.

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Poor Kenken. He's in good hands now...sigh :)

WAI! And there you have it. Boy is Ranny in deep do-do. He has no idea. ::giggle:: Stay tuned for our next exciting episode! Same Weiss time, same Weiss channel!!!

How was it? How was Ran?? He's a nice little Ronin, isn't he?? . He's certainly hard enough to write...

Ok, the next chapter will be up as soon as I have time!!! Thanks so much for reading! Ja na!

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