SHADOWS OF RED
by Hime-kou
Author's notes: I'm actually happy with this chapter! Then again, I do have weird taste. Sorry I haven't updated...it's like I had an updating frenzy in the first few chapters which then went kaput.
Soo...In response to the sacred night's question: A juban is the undergarment worn under a kimono. It's usually two pieces of fabric. And I guess you're right, that she could wear a shorter kimono, except that it was usually not very polite or proper to do so and Miyuki is a really proper and polite person. As can be seen. Misao...as also can be seen...is not. Sorry Misao. About the asian men cooking thing, I'm asian and my dad cooks, but in those days, it was extremely rare. Square that "extremely."
And my thanks to ShadeSpirit your review made me feel all nice and happy. Thank you! And thanks to the sacred night of course.
Disclaimer: A way to make these interesting...um. Huh. Not mine.
Chapter 11-Perfection
They ate together, even Miyuki, seated around the kotatsu. Rice porridge and thinly sliced turnips, cooked with spices, made the air fragrant. They were each seated on one side of the kotatsu. Nobody said anything, and yet the silence around them wasn't as tense as it had been earlier.
When they were finished, it was Sachiko who took the bowls back to the kitchen. Miyuki followed her, and soon they were talking quietly. He could hear them.
He sat at the table alone.
Today, he had nothing to do. His assignment wouldn't come until the evening, so he had the entire day to do…nothing. Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair and stood. I think I'll go practice, he thought.
Once more, he climbed the dusty stairs and reached the second floor. This time, bright daylight streamed in from the windows, making the room seem warmer and comforting. He centered himself to the room, to himself, and drew his sword.
Deadly steel whistled through the air, savage amber eyes followed the gleaming arc. Smooth and flowing steps, arms, and legs. To an observer, it would seem like a dance. Grace flowed from him, perfection embodied.
The dance was so beautiful it made her breath catch when she saw it.
She had finished washing the dishes and said goodbye to Miyuki. Battousai had disappeared. She'd decided to go upstairs and find out what was up there. But first, she changed out of her kimono. If Miyuki is there, I'll wear it, she decided. Otherwise, it isn't me and it never will be. And of course, she kept her katana.
Then she headed upstairs to be confronted by this sight.
He looked like a god.
Beauty and death, all combined and smoothed into his slender frame…red hair flying, eyes glowing.
The room was silent, and she made no noise as she came up. The only sound was his katana whistling and slicing through the air, and the sounds that he made. Deadly and utterly stunning, he made a picture she saw for days. A shaft of sunlight slid over him, and turned him into a figure of molten gold, amber, and crimson, dazzling in its deadly beauty.
This was true swordsmanship.
And it raised something to her, it brought out the power she hid; watching Battousai made her itch to let her sword—and soul—free.
"Hoh!" He yelled and brought his katana down.
Except, it didn't.
A flash of steel, a clang, and sparks skidded along the bright metal blades. He looked up to see her, a strange light in her silver eyes.
"Blocked, Battousai-san," she drawled, the sword speaking to her, telling her to fight, bringing her blood to ring in her ears. The terrible peace and power and unrest of a duel caught her and wouldn't let her go.
They stared at each other for a moment, for an eternity. Then he gave her a grin, a grin that told her what she wanted to hear, a dangerous grin, a humorless grin.
A grin that shut his fears and his normality behind thick doors and let out the dangerous creature he held within.
All right then.
Katana met katana again. A flash, a brilliant blur, and one jumped towards the body of the other, dancing an intricate dance. Blue gi, grey hakama, black gi, grey hakama, shadow against shadow. They flew in and out of pools of sunlight, momentarily brightening and melting.
They matched each other, sword stroke to sword stroke. She watched as he pushed out the hilt of his sword, and she understood. He watched as she crouched to spin, and he understood. No matter what they did, their powers matched.
He shouted towards her, as they ran at each other, "Why don't you use your most powerful move!" They slid by each other, swords grazing and steel clashing. Both turned and began again.
There was an easy companionship in the air now. It was as if fighting each other brought down the barriers between them.
Sachiko felt totally comfortable in Battousai's presence. Somehow, despite the fiery atmosphere, the exhilaration on each stroke, the passion and power in their katana, there was ease in the air. This was common ground to them both.
She parried his downward stroke ferociously. It forced his katana upward, and he disengaged then darted forward.
"A promise, never to use it unless in utmost need," she yelled out, blocking the sword at her throat.
Battousai listened and understood what she meant, just as he understood her moves, just as he had begun to understand her.
Suddenly, they both heard the creak of stairs.
Miyuki stood there, amazement and some other emotion written in her clear dark eyes. However, it disappeared when she bowed her head to them both.
"Someone is here to see you both," she said quietly and meekly.
Sachiko dropped her blade, and sheathed it. Battousai did the same. They followed Miyuki down the stairs, each feeling the same thing.
Some barrier had been broken there, some gap bridged. Sachiko felt easy in Battousai's presence, as if somehow, she knew him and had known him for a long time. There was a link that had been forged between them by their gleaming steel swords. It was as if they were…companions now.
She stopped when she came to the door. Behind her, Battousai stopped also. Sachiko turned to him. "Tomorrow again, Battousai-san?"
The question hung in the air, and Sachiko waited for the answer. It came, quietly, and totally unexpectedly.
"Please…call me Kenshin."
Of interest (or not)
1. Kotatsu...a heated table on which most meals are eaten in the winter. Before these modern days of electricityand whatnot, it was heated with a charcoal brazier, hidden underneath. Now, it's heated by an electric heater. Usually has quilts and suchlike over it, I do believe.
2. Kenshin's "molten goldness"...hahahahahaha! I had soo much fun with that. Trying to describe him to the utmost. Does it work? Or just make you think of pools of gold?
3. BattousaiKenshin...I actually don't know if Kenshin went by Kenshin in his Battousai days, I mean, to his close friends and companions. I didn't really plan for this, but like I said, the story writes itself. It seemed right somehow.
Okay, thanks! Again, this is one of my favorite chapters. Probably my favorite. Heeee, thanks for reading! Please give some input?