SHADOWS OF RED
by Hime-kou

Author's Notes: It's been such a long time since I updated. I'm terribly sorry! Gah, I kept hitting a cement wall whenever I thought of this story and it just sort of went into a corner and rotted. Plus, school's catching up and all, and my computer's been logging a lot of "productive time." And I'm cold (and you wonder how that adds up) I've noticed that my story's become more serious and less...ascerbic. Rather dark and angsty. Somehow, my talent at sarcasm seems not to fit into this story anymore. I'm sorry the sacred night. I love sarcasm too.

I've decided that time needs to go on faster. So, it went faster. I love how time is at my disposal in stories. Wish that were true in real life. Then I could just have break over and over and over and over...again... ANYWAYS! I'm sorry again.

Chapter 13-Cleansing

Sachiko and Kenshin had nothing to do.They heard nothing from either Katsura or from the mouths of their own victims, though they made sure to ask. Everything seemed to be at a standstill. As colder weather drew near, their assignments grew less. For once, their lives were at their own beck and call. And now that they had found freedom, they didn't know what to do with it.Their mornings were occupied by breakfast and then a duel upstairs in the abandoned training room. After that, time lay thickly on them, like honey settled onto delicate butterfly wings. They talked often and a lot, now.

Their conversations covered everything but their pasts. Oh, the talk often brushed over it, but they weren't willing to see how deep they could probe before one of them broke. Instead, they talked of Kyoto and the changes in Kyoto.

As time passed, they began to speak of what they did. It was hard at first, talking of their swords that killed and quenched their thirsts on blood. It was too much like touching on a wound that wasn't healed, that couldn't ever be healed. But they did talk and over time it grew easier.

They were upstairs one day, nearly two weeks after Katsura's visit, when Sachiko stood and walked over to the window looking outside. It was winter proper, now, and there was clean snow lying around the house, cloaking the ground in its pureness. Snow was falling now and Sachiko could almost feel the cold winter wind that was gusting the white flakes down. Outside looked bleak and chilled. She turned back to look inside.

Kenshin was sitting against the wall, methodically running a finger down the sleek metal of his blade. As he turned it, the silver caught in the light and sheens ran down its long sides. It was a warm glint on metal and the light that flickered from the braziers Miyuki had installed was also warm. The house was quiet, but it was a peaceful quiet.

The light danced off of Kenshin's flame-colored hair, turning it into a glowing mass of color. Sachiko could feel the warmth of the house inside and she knew that somewhere downstairs was Miyuki, probably working quietly. For the first time in her life, for once, she did not hate the winter and its cold or darkness. There was light enough inside.

"Is something bothering you, Sachiko-san?"

Kenshin's voice startled her, but it did not break the peace. For a moment, she regarded the him. There was an easy companionship around them now. A friendship. And perhaps something more, she admitted. On her part.

Over the flow of time, Sachiko had finally glimpsed the true nature of Kenshin—a nature too gentle and kind to live the life of a hitokiri. So he locked it away, tried to throw it out, barricaded it from ever emerging. It was the only way for him to stay sane. It was that Kenshin that Sachiko…that she…

One day Kenshin had told her the smallest bit of his past. He told her of a time when he had been sold to slavers, and attacked by bandits. He told her of the three girls who had tried to save him, who had fallen under the merciless blades grown men. He told her of the vow he had made then, a vow to protect anyone he could and grow stronger so that no one would ever have to protect him.

As he had spoken, Kenshin's eyes had softened and their fierce amber light had gentled. Perhaps it was then that Sachiko knew somehow or other, Kenshin had made his way into what heart she had left.

Not that it made any difference what she felt.

She knew that she would never act on it. And he acted just as he always did, gentle since the weeks had gone by. However much that time had acted as a friend to them, it always reminded Sachiko that her three weeks with Kenshin were almost up. Funny, she thought. I can't see him as Battousai anymore. He's Kenshin. I hated the thought of having to live with him, earlier on. Now, I dread our parting.

"I was just thinking," she said aloud, "about a time on a day just like this one." Her voice was painful, distant, and Kenshin looked up from his actions, his finger stilled.

"The wind was blowing harder than today though, and I remember it as being darker. Darker outside and darker inside too…" Her voice was low as it trailed off. Kenshin sat up in alarm.

"Sachiko-san, you really don't have to tell this—" His voice was concerned, concerned that she was doing this for him. Well, she was. She owed it to him, at least. And some minute part of her, safely squashed by her bigger self, wanted him to know.

"No, Kenshin-san, you have a right to hear this. Or do you not want to?" Said minute part of her was dying, slowly, as she considered that thought. But then her heart began again, for Kenshin said, "If you would like to tell me, I'd be honored to hear."

Sachiko took a deep breath. She didn't know how far she'd be able to go but she wanted to find out.

"I can't remember much. I can't remember who I was or where I lived. I can't remember my parents or if I had any family. All I can remember is holding a bokken when the tsuka was too large for my hands. Dimly I can remember a training room and lots of swords on the wall. It was a big house, with lots of servants and a beautiful courtyard, as I remember. And I remember…one night."

She stopped and took another deep breath. The memories she didn't want to confront. But she had to, didn't she? Sometime or other. And she might as well now, tell them to the man she trusted. Trusted, and…

"I remember flashes. Someone screaming. Long, loud screams. Screams of agony. To my ears, it sounded to painful to be the screams of the flesh. It sounded like the screams of the soul."

Kenshin looked up suddenly and startlement was written clearly across his face.

"Someone was screaming. And someone was screaming for me to run. She—it was a she, I know—called me by my name. She told me to run, run away from them, leave them to die, leave them all…"

Sachiko's hands were clenched into fists against the window. For a moment, she stared into the snow and the greyness outside threatened to swallow her up and take her down into nothingness with it.

"I remember a blade. Long steel, dripping something red. And I remember…kami-sama, I remember holding someone's head in my hands. A girl's. It had long black hair and the eyes were looking at me pathetically, pleading me to run even through death. Kami-sama," she broke off roughly. Tears were somehow welling up in her eyes. She brushed them away angrily.

"Then there was a man, Katsura-san I suppose, who called me hime and took my hand. I remember I couldn't hold onto his hand because mine was too slippery. Too slippery with blood, so he took it and he held it, and he walked me out of that house, to somewhere. Where I woke and where I began to live again. I didn't speak for two months, Katsura-san said. And when I did…"

Sachiko laughed shortly. "Even I can remember what I said. I asked for a sword."

Kenshin stood and made his way over the floor to stand beside her. His feet were silent but she could tell when he came to a stop next to her. "And what did Katsura-san say?" His voice was low and somehow understanding, as if he understood her pain, as if he shared it.

Sachiko turned to face him, her silver eyes catching his amber ones and holding them, drawing them in.

"He gave one to me."

They were quiet for a time. Kenshin remained standing close to her. She could feel his warmth and his aura, and it comforted her. It sent the darkness away, back into the snowy night. His presence sang of amber tones and gold hues, of warm colors, and it warmed her chilled soul.

"Arigatou, for listening," Sachiko finally said softly. She felt better. That day had stayed locked inside her for so long, fermenting and rotting, and spreading its seeping poison into the rest of her soul. Now she was free of it and cleansed. Kenshin's calm fire had burned her clean. Her only regret was that she had pushed the sodden and ugly mess onto Kenshin's soul too.

"It was nothing, Sachiko-san. I should thank you for telling me," Kenshin answered just as quietly. She wanted to reach over and touch one of his crimson strands of long hair but held back, knowing she would receive no welcome. Instead, she stole glances at the man beside her and in doing so, she somehow felt as if all her killings were on the opposite side of a thick wall from her now.

The silence descended again. Then from below came a clattering noise, a shuddering bang and then shouting. Miyuki's voice rose above the din and it sounded frightened. She ran then, to protect what had unknowingly become her home.

Thank you for reading this! If you like it, you have good taste! No, if you like it, I'm honored.

Of interest

1. To love or not to love... have you noticed that Sachiko still hasn't said the word love? It goes against her ethics. She does love him but to say so would make her feel endangered. She loves him. Sorry die-hard K&K or K&T fans! Of course, it's not like Kenshin loves her back, hey? So I guess you have nothing to complain about.

2. Her history revealed, not... I have decided to put this into the plot at a later time. And I'm already writing the next chapter so I hope to upload it soon.

Thanks for reading again! Please review!