Usual disclaimer--Rurouni Kenshin is the creation of Nobuhiro Watsuki, with the manga and anime rights belonging to Jump Comics and Sony Entertainment, respectively. FF is non-profit, meant for entertainment only and can be archived anywhere, just let me know where. Please send no flames, I'm sensitive. But for all other comments you may contact me through the review button, alright. All right. Oh, one last thing, this chapter is rated PG+13, mainly for violence and mild language. But nothing else, sorry.
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CHAPTER TWO: From a distance . . . .The first came out of nowhere. And though he'd been slightly distracted, he'd still managed to catch him before the effort to scream ever entered his body. Slashing upwards in a perfect arch of silver, as he cut across the man's the chest. Catching enough of his throat that the man fell, gurgling and bleeding all over the leaf covered road.
Watching him a moment as he lay there, bleeding—something prickled along his senses and he turned, aware of the Shinsen-gumi approaching before they even called out a warning. He waited, knowing that running at any point was useless they'd follow him where ever he decided to go. And so, he turned, fully around this time as the first man approached.
His draw was automatic—the katana, leaving its sheath without thought, precise as he blocked and struck. Impaling the man on his blade before he pushed him off and turned, slightly left this time as he swung—severing a man's head from the rest of his body as he moved further up the temples stairs, aware, even with his back turned to the others as one of them broke rank, trying, despite earlier attempts to sneak up on him. Until he turned and struck with such ungodly strength, he heard the sound of muscle and bone, crunch beneath the weight of the blow. The man, in pieces, fell to the floor with several thudding sounds. Unheard as metal crossed metal, cutting muscle and clothes, severing torsos and arms, with a series of nine consecutive strikes . . . he came back down, like a shadow from the bowels of hell. He leapt off the last few steps. Using that momentum, to strike down, right on through his opponent's blade and into skin and muscle, as his blade slid right on through the man's flesh, down to the very bone before he pulled the blade back—before he turned. And caught the last Shinsen-gumi by the sleeve as he ran up the stairs—he pulled him back, thrusting the blade deep into his stomach before he twisted him around tightening his grip around the others throat, as the sharp edge of his sword cut deep into the man's skull.
"Himura!"
He looked up. Pale-violet eyes narrowing on Iizuka as the source of interruption before his gaze fell to the man's hand, the glint of steel, and his grip on a woman's neck.
"I'm going to kill this one too!"
And before Kenshin could reach them—could think of why he wanted to stop him, he saw the body of the woman fall, her beautiful blue eyes falling shut as he reached them, the sound of laughter and metal, pinning Iizuka to the ground for the woman his heart seemed to know.
"Kaoru."
He tripped and fell, coming awake as water surrounded him on all sides, over head and coming into his lungs. Kenshin struggled, surfacing with some difficulty as his clothes tangled around him, putting a strain on his muscles as he fought to stay afloat. So that for a moment, as he splashed around, surveying his surroundings. The muscles in his arms began to burn, protesting as Kenshin spotted land, and began to slowly head towards it, swimming, a short distance before he pulled himself on out.
His clothes thoroughly soaked, dripped thick little streams of water as he set foot back on dry land. More than a little confused as to how he'd ended up there. He had no idea what'd happened. All he remembered was falling asleep against the dojo wall and the dream of course, which was nothing new. He'd been having nightmares all year; this one though he had to admit had been a little different. For one, he'd move with the hitokiri's speed, though it still hadn't been enough, he'd at least had the satisfaction of driving his sword deep into Iizuka's chest—that is until he'd realized it was Kaoru and not—
Kenshin heaved a deep sigh and was thankful at least that there'd been no screaming involved as he awoke this time. Not that anyone could blame him if they knew what he dreamt. Still . . . he shook his head, putting away those thoughts for later. He finished wringing out his hair before grudgingly setting of through the woods and back to the dojo. It was still quite early and he knew she wouldn't be awake yet but if she were to see him this way . . . well, he knew she'd have fit. More than that, she'd probably never again let him out of her sight. Which should probably bother him, he thought, walking briskly out of the woods. But it didn't. Some small part of him liked that she worried; it reassured him that she cared, and in a way, proved that she loved him.
Not that it mattered, of course, no matter how tempting she made it; he couldn't allow her to love him. Just look at where it got Tomoe, he thought, bitterly reminded once again of the love he'd lost. "Because of me—" she was dead now.
But not Kaoru, he reminded, swearing on all he'd ever loved that to keep her safe, whatever that might mean, he would never hesitate again. For her safety and his own peace of mind, he would not let the same fate befall her . . . ever.
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"Kenshin."
He turned at the sound of her voice, concerned at the worry etched on her face. He turned completely around, facing her fully. "Yes," he prompted, becoming increasingly uneasy as she just stood there, deep blue eyes, fixed firmly on the paper she held.
"Someone left this out front."
But as he approached to take it, she seemed to blush and hide it behind her back. "Umm," she detained, slowly backing up. "It isn't what I thought it was," she said, waving him off. She seemed to blush an even darker shade of red as his eyes slightly narrowed and stepped even closer as he looked into her eyes. Trying, she knew, to discern whether she lied or not. It didn't occur to either how close he'd truly come until his chest brushed against her own and she gasped, in a surprised kind of way, that jolted him right out of his thoughts. Watching her eyes dilate, however snapped him out of it, and he quickly backed up, banishing everything out of his head. His hands fisted at his sides, angry at himself for being so weak and at her for provoking his so easily.
He suddenly turned away, continuing his chores as though uninterrupted—as though she weren't there, watching him intently as he worked, so that for several minutes, as a deep resentful silence stretched between them—neither really moved.
Kaoru, so clearly confused, hesitated; thinking now, that perhaps her embarrassment was of no consequence if her hiding something he thought important made him this mad. Sighing, she stepped forward and quietly put down the paper by his side before she returned back into the dojo. Hoping, for whatever it was worth, that he'd simply just read the article and laugh.
Battousai's woman, honestly, what were those people thinking . . .
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He thought they were thinking an early grave sounded just about right, fucking idiots. Sano couldn't believe they'd printed such an article. Idiots! If Kenshin weren't Kenshin—the least they could expect was a cold blade between the ribs come sundown; Battousai's woman. He could just image the smirk on Saitou's face, "Fucker."
How had the government allowed for such a thing to come to light anyways? Couldn't they see what would happen—what could become of him if they made him angry enough? Che! And with Kenshin now acting less and less himself . . . yeah, he could imagine. "Dumb Bastards," he spat the fish bone out of his mouth and headed out for the dojo. Thinking that maybe, if there were more people around the rurouni would be less inclined to act on those instincts, he'd seen resurfacing as of late. "Fuck!"
It only took Sano, five minutes to reach the market place, and from the looks he was receiving he imaged they'd already read the paper. What this would mean for Kenshin though—his guess was trouble. It seemed, when it was convenient, the lot of them would forget that it was thanks to Kenshin that they now lived in peace.
"What!" he roared, "are you looking at?" He glared fiercely at a man, who'd looked at him too long. "There something you wanna ask me?"
But the man turned, leaving Sano even more frustrated. "Guess you people forgot it's because of Battousai, that all of your husbands and brothers are walking around now ain't it."
Ungrateful bastards, he wanted to stand there and punch in a few faces. But it was more important that he get to the dojo now. For all the harm he could do, he knew it would be ten times worse if Battousai stirred. It'd been more than a year and half since they'd last caught a glimpse of the demon, Kenshin kept within. But even so, they all knew that in fit of anger, and if provoked with just the right bait, he would awaken. Especially if he felt, Kaoru was being put in harms way. And fuck it all, if that isn't what they'd just done. They hadn't named her by name. Oh no, but they'd been sure to say she had her own dojo and that she was the only female kendo instructor in all of Tokyo. He knew, they might have as well just written down the address for all the problems this would cause.
"Sano?"
The underlining edge to his voice, made Sano's posture droop. It had been too much to hope for of course, that no one would have pointed out the article or that he, himself would have avoided picking up the paper. But of course . . . Sano turned, half expecting amber eyes and a menacing air to surround him. But as he turned and faced the rurouni, he could only see worry etched on his features. Which in turn, worried him more; Kenshin was only really afraid of two things, loosing Kaoru and returning to what'd he'd been.
So which was it—"Kenshin?"
"This."
The ex-gangsters' anxiety increased as he watched the rurouni produce an article from his sleeve.
"Kaoru-dono, gave sessha this article."
He was reluctant to take it, even as the smaller man placed it in his hand. He didn't want to read. It's not like hadn't already read it but—just something about the rurouni been right there had suddenly made him very nervous. "Kenshin—" he didn't want to admit he'd already seen it but— "I read it, already." Kenshin's eyes narrowed. It was only a fraction and hardly noticeable, but Sano noticed and it put his guard on high alert.
"Do you think then," Kenshin asked, calmly, forcing his voice down to the rurouni register. "That they're doing this simply to draw me out?"
Of course! But he refrained from saying it. Instead he scratched his head and looked around, almost absentmindedly as he stalled for what to say.
"Sano?"
"Yes," he answered, quite unable to meet the rurouni's intense gaze. They landed on the crumpled little piece of paper he had given him. Only as his eyes focused and he read over what the rurouni had placed in his hand, did he realize two things. One, they weren't talking about the same thing and two, he didn't know. Kenshin's attention had been diverted to a murder, whose article covered three quarters of the paper. And so, he must have never turned the paper over.
"This murder," Sano asked, stuffing the article into his pocket. "How is it supposed to flush you out?"
"The way that man was killed Sano, could only have been done by someone of a 'particular' skill."
Sano, confused, shook his head. "I still don't see what this has to do with you?"
"Sano," he began ever so patiently. "Maeda is someone who hurt Kaoru-dono. Everyone in the market place saw . . . sessha try and draw—"
"But he died in a house fire."
"No Sano, he was dead before then. His body was found in pieces. The blade went right through the bone. The fire was only a cover."
"So," Sano asked, not liking where he was leading. "You're saying, people will think you did it?"
"Not yet, no."
"What the hell do you mean by that?" Sano could unabashedly admit he didn't know what the fuck was going on now.
Kenshin sighed. "Kumamoto is missing?"
"So what, the man's old and senile."
But the rurouni only shook his head, a bit disappointed. "You can't see it, can you Sano? The way this ties into me?"
"No," he retorted. "I can't"
"He was stealing from Kaoru-dono."
"Oh," he remembered now. The old man had kept on giving Kaoru the bad tofu and overcharging her until Kenshin had gone down there and politely, asked that he either give her another bucket of tofu or return her money. Neither of which had appealed to the old geezer. And though he'd given Kaoru another bucket full of fresh tofu, he'd made sure to put it down hard so that it'd splashed and ruined her kimono. "He made her cry, didn't he?"
Kenshin nodded. "It was a new kimono."
The five word statement was enough for Sano to realize that Kenshin would never forget anything anyone ever did to Kaoru and if he'd been the hitokiri still— "Che!"
Kenshin nodded again. But before he could elaborate any further, he turned—tilting his head at an angle, as he listened to the whisperings of the wind. Or that's what Sano, thought it was until they grew louder.
"Busu!"
Sano and Kenshin exchanged looks as they stepped away from the shadows of the trees and further out into the road, right into Yahiko's path it seemed as he nearly knocked Sano over.
"Watch it you little runt!"
But he was already on his feet and running; laughing from a distance at Kaoru and Sano as he dashed on further ahead.
"One of these days I'm going to kill that little punk."
Stupid brat, he turned back around, half expecting Kaoru to contradict him or to deny him first dibs but . . . the words never came. He realized, because no one was really listening, at least not to him. Kenshin had moved close to Kaoru and was looking her over for scratches and bruises, as they talked quietly amongst themselves.
Just as well, he thought, I wouldn't know what to do if Battousai decided to emerge. Better that he stay near Kaoru, her presence alone appeased him, even if he never dared admit it. She kept him whole.
Something akin to envy rose within him but as always, he pushed it back. Shaking his head in silent denial, of what he dared not admit. He stuffed his hands back into his pockets, before silently, leaving them to be.
And though Kenshin heard him, felt the shift and sadness in ki, he paid it all very little heed. He was, as always, just the slightest bit more concerned about her than anyone else.
"Kaoru-dono?" He was sure that somewhere along the way while chasing after Yahiko no doubt, she'd taken quite the tumble—a bad one from the looks of it.
"I'm fine." She blushed, patting the quite visible dust out of her kimono. "It was just a small tumble," she admitted, quietly looking down. "I'll be fine." Still, quite unable to meet his gaze though she glanced at him beneath her lashes. "Will you come down to the market with me?"
He nodded. Ignoring how his heart leapt at the look she spied him. He remained quiet and typically distant, as they walked down the road and into the crowded market. Never thinking twice of the glances thrown his way, people, had after all always cast him a second glance when they realized he still carried a sword.
All that ceased, however as Kaoru stiffened and broke away—and the last of a woman's thought, ". . . she must be good to him in bed," fell over the murmur of a circling crowd.
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Kenshin did not known what happened then. One moment, she'd been at his side and the next, he'd had to physically restrain her from attacking the woman she'd already knocked down. Absolutely furious—he felt the trembling in her limbs and the sudden flaring of her ki as a murderous protectiveness seemed to well inside her.
It made him afraid to let her go. And all he could do, all he could think of as he pulled her closer against him, is that he had to get them out of there before she managed to get away—but as her feelings intensified, filled his senses with them, something stirred. He felt it, as fury and hate, blanked around his senses, and he let her go.
There was screaming and shouting before his mind registered the smell of blood and he snapped out of his confusion, grabbing her from around the waist and carrying her away. He didn't think. Didn't know what to think—what had happened. All he knew, or at least could discern is that, she must have slipped away while Battousai had managed to resurface. Before he'd managed to shove him back into that dark place, that prison, his mind had created.
Kaoru eventually, stopped thrashing. Aware of the increasingly tightening grip around her waist, she, in the end decided to simply let him carry her home. Either way, they were almost there and what strength she possessed, she would need to run off into her room before he managed to somehow corner her and ask what'd happened.
Stupid woman.
Kaoru smiled grimly, at least satisfied that she'd managed to split her lip before Kenshin had lifted her off. That, she thought, would teach the other for making such remarks. Especially so close to the ever dense rurouni, whom she was sure, had not heard what the woman said.
Honestly, she knew the article would stir a bit of trouble but she never imagined it be her whom reacted first. Though better her than the rurouni her conscious whispered and she whole heartedly agreed.
Watching the gates come into view, she wondered what he thought had set her off. She didn't want to lie to him but more than anything . . . She didn't want to admit why she'd gone off the way she did. Other than she'd been thoroughly insulted. She had been appalled by the idea that someone—anyone, could ever stay with another individual simply because they could satisfy them like that.
Her rurouni wasn't like that. And to suggest such a thing, in her eyes at least, was just asking for it. Stupid woman, she had better never come across her while alone or she would really be sorry then.
The sight of flowers and trees caught her focus, diverting her attention to the fact that they were now within dojo walls. That knowledge set her on the brink of running, and as he set her down on the foot of the porch, the gates easily visible from her standing point, she had half a mind to attempt it. She almost did.
But it really wasn't in her nature to run, she knew, as she sighed, and met his gaze. She was briefly surprised by the dark pools she encountered. Darker than the warm-violet she had become accustomed to, she thought . . . . He looked mad. But as she opened her mouth to ask him if he truly were, the look vanished, leaving nothing but concern etched on his handsome face.
"Gomen nasai," he began voice soft and low. "Sessha should not have . . . interfered but . . ." He had been worried and confused and he'd reacted before thinking. Dragging her away like she was his . . . "gomen—"
"It's all right," she interrupted, reaching for an arm that didn't pull away. "I'm not mad." Her hand, so small on his sleeve, ventured down the edge, to where the hem met his wrist, "I—" but before she could say it, say, that she loved him with all her heart. He pulled away—as oblivious as always. "Sessha will go and start lunch then." He said, giving her a small smile before he turned and went inside, leaving her with words unsaid and the feel of his skin, still warm on her hand.
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He didn't ask her what'd happened. He didn't even ask her why she hadn't been mad. At the time, he'd simply figured he needed to leave. He needed space and breath that wasn't all filled with the scent of jasmine.
But now, alone in the kitchen, cutting things into slices thinner than the finest rice paper, he wondered what had set her off. What had Shimizus' woman said—what could she say, to have provoked her like it did.
". . . she must be good to him in bed."
What did she . . . whom did she mean? Not Kaoru-dono . . . certainly, his hand paused, the blades' end glinting razor sharp in the dim light. He knew there had been rumors, in the beginning; of course there had been rumors. But they had gotten to know him and even those that liked to listen to gossip, had in the end, relented to the truth. He was a man of honor. He was honest and by most people's standards, a poor lamb, as he'd once been called. Coincidentally by the same group of women who'd been huddled together today.
So what, he wondered, could have happened to make them turn on them like that. He'd never—he'd never so much as looked at her inappropriately. The restraints on his emotions were so strong they flowed into every aspect of his life. The way he smiled, spoke, and laughed, the way he looked at things and touched them. There was never any double meaning in what he meant. He did everything, if unconsciously, to warrant peoples trust. So what, he wondered had made them think different. What was it about now—why did they think he'd touched her. More than that, how did her been good to him . . .
She had understood, he realized. To some degree she had understood, and reacted every bit on her behalf as much as his. That's why he'd felt her ki flare. That murderous wave of protectiveness—it'd robbed her mind of common sense as much as his. And with fear always fueling him, the way it did, he'd reacted without thought, taking her away from the danger—the fear—he'd sensed coming from all those people.
Only now, he had to wonder, if that fear hadn't all been his own. Since for days now or weeks or maybe even months—he'd had this small growing suspicion that there was something not quite right. But lurking, like a fiend in the dark, hiding within the shadows, where he couldn't quite seem to find the source, as much and as carefully as he'd scanned his surroundings. There was nothing there. And so he'd looked inward, briefly thinking if there was something wrong he'd know, because he always knew. Despite, the life he now led, he knew how the world worked. Knew what murderers thought and at what angle, to drive a blade through a man's skull—he knew too much. Too much of things, he'd rather forget and too little, of what he wished, he didn't have to push away.
If only—but it did him no good to want, to wish, to desire with all his heart because when it came right down to it, he couldn't touch. He couldn't allow himself to feel those types of feelings. Even when it seemed she returned them. Like today, when her small hand had reached for him—the way her fingers had curled around his wrist, had tried to pull him towards her, and her lips had parted. Though whether to speak or be kissed, he hadn't dared stay and find out. He'd fled like some sort of coward. And he'd never been a coward. But like Saitou had said, ten years had been enough to ruin him, to weaken him. So much now, he ran away from temptation—from love. Afraid of what might happen, if the past tried to repeat itself.
Kenshin sighed, saddened and frustrated, as he continued his task. Chopping the last few strips of vegetables as small and thin as the previous, hazardously unaware of the mush he'd created. He took it all to the pot and dropped it in; watching it a moment, as it disappeared beneath the watery surface before he turned and left the kitchen—fighting against, the thought that no matter what he told himself, he needed her. He wanted her. And no amount of self persuasion could ever make that go away.
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They whispered, between the two of them, quietly and with their heads bowed close so he wouldn't hear. So he wouldn't find out, what they discussed behind his back. Aware of how he might react, if he knew. They sat huddled together, throwing glances at the door. He had left them alone, but they weren't sure for how long. And so for the moment they were free to discuss, what'd happened.
"I just couldn't stand it."
"I know but you have to be careful, you know how he is. How easy it is for him to pick up on things like this."
"I know . . . but . . ."
"Fighting will only make him wonder."
"It never has before."
"But it will now."
"You worry too much."
"And you don't worry enough."
"There's really no need, he's vowed—"
"Never mind that, don't you see where this is heading . . . what this could make him do?
"He wouldn't break that promise."
"He would for me."
"Jou-chan," Sano found himself at a loss for what to say. It was true but at the moment he was trying to reassure her, not add to her worry. "I'm sure . . . He has more common sense than the both of us and he wouldn't let himself get baited the way we do. I'm sure if you can keep him out of the market place—"
"You think after today, he'll let me go alone!"
"Shh," he frowned, throwing a cautious glance towards the door. "Well then just go with him, stay near enough that you hear whatever he hears. And I say if you have to pop'em one like you did Mayako today then do it."
"But Kenshin—"
"—will understand one day." Sano interrupted, clasping an arm around her shoulders. "Now be a good girl and wipe those tears."
"Fine," she said, a bit irritated that he could be so calm after having almost six fights that day. "But if he stops liking me," her voice dropped menacingly, even as she used the sleeve of her kimono to wipe away the last remaining traces of her tears. "I'm going to make you sorry."
He laughed; outright amused that someone so small could be so bold. "I gotcha Jou-chan, don't worry."
At her perplexed expression, he merely shrugged. "I'll find you a husband, don't worry."
"Sano!"
His arm slipped off her shoulder immediately. As they both turned their heads as one towards the door. To where Yahiko stood, smiling like a madman. "You're gonna help her. Isn't that like the blind leading the blind?"
"And what's that supposed to mean, you little runt."
"It means chicken head, that the only person who would marry ugly—" He didn't get to finish. Sano had slapped a hand over his mouth in time to make him stop but the jest of his thought had gotten across. And it hurt; he could tell from the way, silent tears bloomed and spilled over her lashes, marring the paleness of her cheeks.
"Kaoru," he hadn't meant to make her cry. He was just teasing, "I—I didn't meant it." He looked to Sano for help but he only shook his head. "I'm sure there's someone—Kenshin." He called, relieved to see the rurouni standing in the door way, his arms full of food. "You'd marry Kaoru wouldn't you?"
Time stood still. For a moment as the question hung there, and as Kenshin looked both confronted and confused, his eyes intent on her rigid back. "Kaoru–dono," he questioned. "Have . . . have you found someone you wish to marry?"
A million thoughts ran ahead, flashed across her mind and pointed out how he should have answered, pointed out he cared and that he must have cared because his voice had slightly wavered and what did it all mean if he didn't love her—if he didn't and wouldn't ever want her. "I thought I had." She said simply, rising from her seat. Keeping her back to him as she left the room, and as more tears streamed down her face.
Kenshin looked at them, an unreadable mask covering his expression, neither cold nor menacing, but unusual with the amount of indifference forced upon it. His eyes, no one saw as he turned and left, taking the food with him as he headed back out, a direction opposite the one Kaoru had gone. Lost to his own thoughts as he left them, starring after him and wondering, just what, exactly was going on.
Though Sano had a better clue, there wasn't anything he could do to fix it. But if he stops liking me . . . Sano closed his eyes, feeling, deeply for the woman crying her eyes out. I want him to love me . . . And if only, he thought, it was that easy to make him see Jou-chan. I would make him. But I want him to love me . . . I know he thought, I know. Hesitating a moment, as he stood there thinking, deciding on whom—he went after her, convinced that he could be strong enough, that he wouldn't turn as her face filled with disappointment that it was him and not Kenshin coming after her.
His hands fisted tightly at his sides, he knew it wasn't right. It wasn't his business to interfere, to sooth or comfort her the way she needed because . . . It wasn't him she was in love with.
But . . . as a friend he reasoned, reaching the end of the veranda, coming around the corner and towards her room, he reasoned, it was all right. He was Kenshin's best friend and—
Kenshin took care of what was his, he realized. As he spotted them—not in her room but out in the yard, beneath a canopy of leaves and shadows, as his hand stroked over her hair, soothing her with words, he was too far to hear.
And glad all the same he could not, as he turned and left, unaware of Kenshin's pale-violet gaze, following him as he walked back into the dojo, away from them and out of sight. Before eyes, as warm as sunlight flickered down to the dark-head nestled in the arms she belonged—would always, only belong to.
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Score-cards! Who's keeping track. Raise your hand . . . Raise your hand . . . One . . . Two . . . And not counting beyond. I'm glad you all joined me. It's 4 am in CA and I'm tired and hungry but I'm finished with chapter two and I think that's all that matters. Hooray, for winter break.
As you can see a lot is going on and this is only chapter two. Well two of twenty, but still you have to remember the story is broken into two parts. Chapters 1-10; belonging to Echoes, counts down one day at a time to the one year anniversary of Enishi's Jinchuu. While the Sounds of Yesterday, chapters 11-20, begin four years from that day. Now, glad that's out of the way. Let's move on . . . .
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Small Notes: From a distance . . . dream and memory look quite the same, distorted by echoes that haunt him still. Kenshin is sometimes unable to discern the difference between dream and reality and hesitates when he still ought not to . . .
Killing Iizuka—a wish from so long ago, to hurt the one traitor, the one who set it all into motion so long ago, twisted into something unbearable as he realized even within the dream that Kaoru had once again taken Tomoe's place. Jolting him awake in the middle of a lake, unaware of how he'd gone there but sure, more than anything that the place he'd fallen asleep at, had been the dojo.
This ought to have worried him, ought to have made him wonder and scrutinize the subject until he found a plausible answer but this had not been the first time.
Kenshin, as the dreams have worsened, have become harder and harder for him to bear, has decidedly given up more and more—until he barely sleeps now. The fact that he's not waking where he's fallen asleep has very little bearing on him . . . at least at this point the subject is ignored as he heads back home.
Later in the day, as he's washing clothes, Kaoru interrupts him before it seems she's even had a real chance to examine the 'article' someone left out front for her to find. When she realizes what it is however, she becomes flustered and tries to hide it. And funny, how he reacts . . .
Who is Kenshin, really? Is he the soft spoken man who would rather get hurt than fight. Or hurt another before harm can come to the one he loves. Is he both . . . two sides of the same coin. The man who would turn on a friend if he saw betrayal?
It ought not to matter, he is human after all but . . . his life is defined by two main characteristics; hitokiri and rurouni, killer and protector. And he forgets that once he was both. Or how close, those two natures can become when he's under stressful situations like now, suffering from so very little sleep. Tormented by what could have been and what could happen if he gave into those emotions—that want.
Kenshin is acting odd, unaware of close his personalities have become in the last few months, so that when Kaoru tries to hide something, something he deems important, he's first reaction is to shun her. Not a rurouni reaction but the hitokiri's . . . when upset.
And how important is this article she gave him? How important a help or obstacle will it become? Already Kaoru's had one confrontation. And Sano, it seems has almost had six.
What is the meaning of the article in the first place? Why would the government let it be printed and why, above all things is Kenshin more preoccupied with some murder than what is going on now. The people have basically been told where he lives. More importantly, what Kaoru's connection to him is?
But all this seems unimportant, as Kenshin struggles with his feelings. Such traitorous feelings . . . he can't help but want to runaway. Because the alternative . . . He can't let himself think about it—doesn't want to think about it. But . . . he can't seem to avoid it. Sano has come too close, too close to what's already taken—to what's his. And though the rurouni might shy away from such things, such behavior, Battousai does not.
I hope these small notes help you understand a bit better. As always though, email if you have any questions. Thank you all for reading. And please, don't forget to review.