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 this website or my own.
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CHAPTER SEVEN: The scent arises
Even in a tumble of rain, shielded by an overgrown crown of thick heavy branches, the snap of bones echoed like a twig beneath a boulder. As Hano's neck bent, falling at an odd angle as his body hit the ground—the figure of a man approached, veiled by the surrounding darkness as he sat on his haunches, tightening a noose around a now limp neck before slowly easing back. Straightening with fluid grace as he almost casually tossed a rope overhead, aim nothing short of perfect, as it coiled around a branch that little by little helped him lift the body. Blank of all emotion, as he decidedly secured the rope around a stodgier-still form; using one against the other, to keep them off the ground, forevermore silent, in a forest that an all too many thought as haunted—hidden deep among the foliage would ensure no one ever came across them, at least not until it was all too late . . .
Silently, the figure left the forest grounds, dirt and blood washing off as he stepped out into the rain, ki spiked in degrees by the maddening turn of events. As he smiled, in his own twisted way, face upturned towards the sky beneath a veil of dark wet hair; a sick parody of a caress coiled around him as a lock of hair curled around his neck, the memory of the rurouni coming to mind as he had watched her from afar—eyes distant as the wind had curved around her, hair outstretched towards him invitingly as he had lingered near the yard . . .
He knew better than most probably, how easily she could turn the rurouni back into what he'd been. And yet, it was a wonder, really, if she even knew that at all. She could do it more easily and more calmly than any of his known foes and still, manage to keep him under control.
Why she chose not too, perplexed him still—at least to some extent, she seemed to prefer him weak, willing to forgive and loath to let him kill; to show them all whom they knew him to be—the rurouni had done well to find himself someone sweet, keen to let him be, like he couldn't always pretend to be . . .
All the same, one or two more men still had to die. The rurouni was not so far gone but no amount of pleading would ever bring him back, he thought, eyes still closed beneath matted locks. The beginnings of smile curving his small mouth, as a familiar ki bounced off his own; a dark wash of anger, echoing distantly as he headed towards his home. Silent as a shadow as he shot over a wall and into the dojo yard, straight on through and over the other wall as he led him back home.
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It was sprinkling, when he arrived. Dark heavy clouds moving through the sky like origami swans on a moving pond, flowing like the familiar scent of dirt and trees, whispering of gentle flowers—like they did the faintest trace of blood. Familiar in the way a fading ki stirred the echoes in his mind, inevitable and as unavoidable as the rising scent emerging from his thoughts. Danger so palpable, he could taste it on his tongue. He was not calm, by any means, the anger he'd felt brewing in his blood before he'd left; only intensified as he looked around the yard. Catching traces of a scent and Yahiko in what appeared to be the middle of cleaning up.
"Yahiko," Kenshin called, surprising the youth, who dropped his broom. "What happened here?"
"Kenshin?" The youth asked, surveying the wet dirt beneath their feet with such anxiety, Kenshin's gaze refocused on his face.
"What happened?" He growled, as bits of anger slipped past his tightly held control, the young boy paled, eyes wide as they stared, transfixed by the changing shade of his eyes.
"Are . . . you alright?" Yahiko asked voice low and un-provoking, a slight nervousness in his limbs, the only indication of his fright.
Kenshin understood his mistake; "Who—" He asked, voice carefully tempered to something recognizable— "Was it?"
"I don't know. I mean no one we know." Yahiko said. Wary eyes cast on his blank face.
He understood and nodded, taking it in strides and truth, for the time being. "What happened?" He asked, able to pull on the rurouni mask briefly through his anger.
"There was . . . a thieve," the youth began, nervously eyeing the front door before breaking eye contact all together and strategically looking away, "He was . . ." Mumbling, trying to put off the inevitable for as long as he could.
"What?" Kenshin prompted, sharply taking him by the arm and forcing his eyes to meet him.
"He hurt Kaoru." He admitted and almost immediately regretted his choice of words. Kenshin's face grew pale, faded violet eyes turning silver-blue of their own accord as he let him go.
"Wait!" He called, running after the rurouni as he rushed into the house. Afraid Kaoru might kill him if she found out what he'd said had been the reason Kenshin went on a rampage. "Kenshin wait," he pleaded, hurriedly chasing after him—"Wait!" As Kaoru's shoji snapped open, Yahiko stopped, slowly taking in a breath before stepping in front of Kenshin as he stepped out of the room. "He slapped her." He corrected, eyes, imploring him to understand his mistake. "It was just a thieve Kenshin. He somehow knew you weren't at home and thought it'd be easy to take . . . whatever." He hedged, "When we surprised him, he didn't think we'd fight back. But we did and he hit us, that's all."
"What do you mean he knew—" Kenshin began only to pause mid-word, head slightly cocked to the side as his eyes narrowed. "That can't be—" because, who had he chased home then, he thought, blinking past his anger to rethink his statement.
"No one else has been here?"
"No," the boy answered, expression furrowed in concern as he gazed at him.
"You didn't see anyone else?"
"No," he assured, watching the rurouni nod to himself, before blinking back the odd expression off his face.
"Where's Kaoru-dono?" He asked, face and voice, gentle as he gazed around them, genuine concern, masking every crevice of his expression.
"She's taking a bath. She should be done soon." The youth offered, suddenly trailing off, as really looked at Kenshin and the floor around them. "Kenshin," he groaned. "We've dragged water inside . . . And you, you went into her room. She's gonna kills us," he whined, shoulders drooping theatrically as he looked around them in despair; making Kenshin smile, despite the situation.
"Sessha will take care of it, that he will." He reassured, flashing a small rurouni smile at the youth before gesturing him away. "Go and get yourself changed," he ordered, "before Kaoru-dono sees you."
"Ok," he nodded, beginning to walk away when he paused suddenly. Dark brown eyes, narrowed once more as he glanced at the rurouni. "She was really worried, you know . . . because of your fever and all. She's going to want to know where you were." He warned, hinting enough for Kenshin to understand and nod his head.
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He was in the kitchen, setting out their evening meal when he sensed her light approach. Her worry and anger, permeated the air like then scent of jasmine often did the end of spring. He was glad, at least, that he'd had some time to calm down since he'd gotten home. Think about how things had been and admit that though he'd being terribly confused about certain recent events, his leaving here earlier hadn't been one of them. He had no valid excuse to offer her, he thought, feeling his heart grow small at the imagined repercussion, his thoughtlessness might have incurred.
As Kaoru walked in, dark blue eyes, cast around him and his surrounding, he felt her resolve begin to waver; a flow of concern overtaking the anger that had once surrounded her. "Kenshin?" She asked, pitching her voice low as she came a little closer. "Are you alright?" She wondered, nearing him enough to smell but not quite enough to touch. "I was worried . . ." She trailed off, eyes suddenly drawn to his hands and the tight hold he had on the knife.
"Sessha's fine," he assured, easing off the death grip on the blade before slowly turning back, eyes, a dark constructed purple that looked genuine enough.
"You aren't supposed to leave like that when you're ill, you know."
"Sumimasen," he apologized. "Sessha did not mean to worry you, that he did not."
"You didn't even take your medicine Kenshin. You just left. You could have ended up seriously sick, do you even understand that?"
"Aa," he nodded, meeting her eyes for the first time and almost wishing he hadn't. "Kaoru-dono. Please—"
Don't cry over me, he thought, closing the space between them and brushing a thumb across her cheek, slowly drying off a trail of tears before moving to the next.
"Kenshin," Kaoru winced, moving away from him as his hand touched the bruise on her face.
"Don't," he warned, taking a firm hold of her chin as he tilted her face.
He meant only to see the bruise, to be reminded of the consequences of his actions once again before he let her go . . . The gesture wasn't meant to mean anything more but his anger was still too close. Always so fucking close to the surface now, he didn't often realize a slip of the tongue or gesture here and there that might remind someone from his past, of who he'd been.
"Kenshin . . ."
His eyes weren't muted; some part of him recognized this and understood her hesitation. They weren't quite the color she was used to. They were too light for the rurouni and yet not quite the color she had seen when Saitou had been here last. He wasn't in any type of battle so he knew the only shade possible resembled something like a pale lavender.
"Are you worried," she asked, making no move to touch him or in any way move her head—just, watched him. Carefully noting the way his eyes narrowed, with an interest he suddenly found uncomfortable.
"No," he lied, pulling away completely before turning back around, continuing the task at hand in the type of silence that suddenly made it wrong for her to be there and still, she did not leave.
"Kenshin?" She called, tentatively moving to the side, edging close but never close enough—not anymore, he thought, sighing inwardly as she stopped near his arm.
"Where did you go?"
He had known she would ask almost from the moment he had realized where he'd ended up. He knew he would have to give her some type of response, she needed an explanation or she would worry otherwise. And as it had proven to be true in the past, anything that made her unhappy, made him unhappy. No other way around it though he knew, even if he didn't like the fact, he owned her an explanation.
"Kenshin?"
"Kaoru-dono," he began, composing enough of himself, to string her name together with the honorific. "Sessha just needed sometime . . . to think, about things." He hedged, distantly aware of the tremor that ran along her limbs.
"Things?" She repeated, furrowing further into a frown. "What kinds of—" Things, is what she had meant ask but instead she paused, tensing in a way he could feel in his heart—the fear that seemed to be pooling in her eyes, he knew, even without turning, he knew what it was she feared. "You're not leaving . . ."
"No," he assured, interrupting her mid word as he finally turned around again. Surprised suddenly by the angry determination he found staring back at him. And he couldn't help but wonder then, if briefly, had he not interrupted her so soon, would he have found out 'that statement' hadn't really been about to be turned into a question.
"Then . . . I don't understand."
"Kaoru-dono . . . It's nothing." He said, offering her a small waning smile. "Sessha just . . . There's a lot going on—" he explained, without really having to explain at all—"with the fires and reports of people missing," he trailed off, watching her expression suddenly change.
"But that kind of stuff happens all the time." She reasoned, watching him a lot more closely than he would have liked. "Wait—have the police been by here already?"
"No," he denied, quickly shaking his head. "Kaoru-dono—sessha's not involved . . ."
"Really," she asked, not bothering to hide the disbelief, he knew, she was entitled to have. But at the same time, he couldn't help but become mad.
"Really," he echoed back, eyes flickering in annoyance when she suddenly sighed, light moisture gathered on her lashes as she turned away from him, intent on walking away when he reached for her.
"Oi! Kaoru?" Yahiko yelled, coming into the room just as Kenshin dropped his hand, releasing a bit of her sleeve as they both turned around to face him.
"Kenshin," he sighed, exasperation clear in his tone as he stopped beneath the doorway; "Is dinner almost done?"
"Aa," Kenshin replied, moving away from Kaoru again without a backwards glance. Feeling her eyes on him only a moment longer before she abandoned him once more, turning her back on him as he had hoped she would—just never imagined, she actually would.
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There were a lot of things in this world he could never admit to not understand. But, Kenshin's behavior, he knew wasn't one of them. He was sure, he didn't understand at all, he thought, eyeing Kaoru closely as Kenshin took his seat. Silent as a statue as he regarded her a second before looking down, mouth stretched tight, as he began to eat. Saying nothing to either of them as he drew himself in, indifference stretched so tight against his skin, the air grew cold with it.
He seemed angry, Yahiko thought, glancing up casually as Kaoru took a bite, blinking back tears in such an unmistakable fashion. He wondered why Kenshin had yet to notice. He never let her cry; it was the one thing he always seemed to avoid. Always ready to remedy too, if someone else had being the cause, which it hardly ever was since Megumi had gone.
A sudden draft through the house made Kenshin pause, dark eyes narrowed to warning slits as he looked away from his bowl.
"Where are you going?" Kaoru snapped, setting her bowl down with clank as Kenshin stood, back stiff, as he looked out towards the door.
"There's someone here." He began, when Kaoru's abrupt rise behind, made him turn.
"Yahiko can get the door."
"No," he broke off, in a steady, serious tone that left no room for argument.
"Fine," Kaoru replied, walking past him before he could grab her hand.
"Kaoru-dono." He called back, hesitating only a second before going after her. Yahiko following closely behind got there just as Chief Uramura entered through the front. Surprising a look of panic on Kenshin's face for a second before it vanished and was replaced instead, with the steady look he'd worn inside.
"Uramura-dono," he greeted voice strangely deep, as they regarded him.
"Himura-dono," the chief replied, walking past and angry Kaoru, who snapped the shoji closed. "I'm so glad you're home."
'Where else would he be,' Yahiko wondered, trailing behind Kenshin as he led them back towards the table. Taking his earlier seat, as Kaoru offered the chief the same along with a bit of tea.
"I'm sorry to trouble you like this," the chief apologized, looking honestly troubled by his interruption but—"Hamada Shouko, the only eyewitness in the Kunii House Fires has gone missing."
"Missing?" Yahiko echoed, looking stupidly at the chief as Kaoru glanced at him.
"What fires?" She asked, looking a lot more perplexed then Yahiko suddenly felt.
"The fires in Yokohama," the chief explained, setting down his cup of tea as he noticed their blank expression. "It's been in all the papers. Every one of the Kunii publishing houses has been set on fire. Always past midnight though, so there have been no more casualties other than—"
"Takomoyo Senishi," Yahiko thought, looking startled when the chief replied;
"Yes, actually. He was their star reporter."
"Yahiko, how did you know that?" Kaoru demanded, looking a little lost and lot concerned as she gazed at him.
"I . . ." He had meant to tell her, he thought, about the newspaper and everything he'd found out but, then they'd had their little tea session and he had realized that she might not even care. At least, not in the usual way most people did because, well, simply put, she loved them—loved him, it seemed beyond the usual limitations placed on that emotion.
"What does this have to do with your visit . . ." Kenshin asked, adding the chief's name almost as an after thought when Kaoru frowned at him.
"Aa," the chief nodded. "I was getting to that." He said, pausing for second on his thoughts before looking back at Kenshin. "He was being moved to a safe house here in Tokyo, you see. Fugita-sama had thought it best if we kept him out of harms way. But something happened along the way. His escort arrived at the station a couple of hours ago and . . ." He shrugged, almost imperceptibly. "They had similar blows to the back of the head. They don't remember what happened, exactly. But they do remember having seeing something through the rain, something like a shadow." He sighed, watching Kenshin with something like unraveling disgrace. "They're very vague on the details, I'm afraid. Dr. Genzai was surprised they even remembered as much as they did."
"Your captain, Fugita?" Kaoru asked, looking a little worried as no reaction crossed Kenshin's face.
"He was on assignment in Yokohama when the newspaper burned to the ground. But he hasn't checked in since he assigned Hamada to Tokyo."
"That doesn't mean his missing," Yahiko argued, watching Kenshin as he nodded in assent, a small rurouni smile flickering across his face.
"Saitou is anything if not resourceful," he added, unconsciously gripping the hilt of his sword before, blinking back some emotion he didn't want known. "He's fine."
"Himura-dono?"
"Sessha," he asserted, "Is sure, he followed your men home, hoping perhaps, for your assailant to show up. When he did, Saitou would have simply have had only to wait for your men to be knocked out before moving in to finish the job himself."
"But Hamada-dono—if he ran away during the fight, he could still be out there, wandering around in circles. Please, Himura-dono, you have to help us find him—Fugita-sama, always said, if we needed help to come and find you." He implored, bowing down respectively towards Kenshin whose expression, showed very little of his thoughts.
"What did you want him to do?" Kaoru asked voice deceptively low as Kenshin finally glanced at her.
"We need him to track down Hamada-dono and bring him to the station. If he's been . . . silenced, indefinitely, Himura-dono can at least tell us what kind of man to be on the look out for."
"I still don't understand why Saitou would bring him here though?" Yahiko asked, regarding the chief a little more suspiciously then Kaoru ever had. "I mean he's a Shinsen-gumi captain and all, he could have just guarded him-himself right?"
"It is not for us to question our superiors," the chief snapped back, looking aggrieved by even the suggestion of it. "We do as we are told, besides battou . . ." he trailed off, looking seriously guilty for a moment as he avoided Kenshin's suddengaze.
He knew, as he knew everything else when it came to an opponent; Hamada had been moved on Saitou's orders. He had wanted the killer and had moved him to Tokyo to draw him out. Knowing full well that somewhere along the way, Kenshin himself would become involved, because Kenshin wasn't just Kenshin to Saitou. He was Battousai. And hitokiri's and nemesis, that is, assassins and killers, always had the same kinds of thoughts . . .
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In the waning light, moving quietly into the room—"I think Hamada is dead." Yahiko confided. Surprising Kaoru enough to set the teapot on the counter before it slipped from her hands. As she turned to gaze at him, pale and concerned, he shrugged his shoulders, radiating distress like steam came off a train.
"Why would you say that?"
Yahiko sighed, glancing anxiously behind them before meeting her gaze. "A couple of days ago," he confessed. "When I went to run an errand for Tae, I went to Yokohama. I was getting back to the train, when a man dropped his paper. In the background, the newspaper boy kept yelling on about the fire in which that reporter died. How they thought it was an undercover official, you know. Someone working for the government, who'd silenced him for what he knew or wrote, I'm not sure." He paused, swallowing perceptibly before—
"The people gathered around kept whispering, something about a witness, they didn't believe too reliable. He had seen the person who'd set the fire but only in passing, from a distance and he'd already had too much to drink, so—" He shrugged again.
"Why didn't you tell me before?"
"You've been sort of worried, already, with Sano leaving and Kenshin getting sick, I didn't want to make it worse."
At this, Kaoru frowned. "Why would you think this would make it worse?"
"Hamada—" Yahiko began, stumbling over his next words, "He couldn't have been that close but he said . . . He assumed, that because of his long hair and sword—"
"Yahiko," she interrupted, closing the distance between them, until there wasn't any room left at all when she finally kneeled in front of him. "Is this why you were asking me about Shigeru?" She asked, holding his face as he nodded. "And did you think; I would automatically assume it was Kenshin, if I read that paper?"
When he nodded again, Kaoru sighed. "You're still young Yahiko and I know there are things you don't always understand but you can believe me when I say you can trust me, trust Kenshin." She told him, smiling a little before brushing a hand through his hair. "I wouldn't have believed some speculation in a newspaper simply because it sounded plausible."
"I know," Yahiko admitted. "But they really made it sound like it might be him, you know."
"It wouldn't have mattered." She said, rising to her feet as she heard the front gate close. "I know Kenshin." She whispered. Smoothing the front of her dress before putting away the teapot she had washed. "I am however, curious about this article. Do you still have it?"
"Aa," Yahiko replied, leaving to fetch the article when Kaoru called him back.
"Yahiko," she stopped, motioning him to be quite as the figure of Kenshin began to near. "Will you do me a favor and just show me tomorrow."
"Sure," he replied, catching Kenshin's eye as came inside. "Night, Kenshin. Night, Kaoru."
"Goodnight," they replied, watching the youth for a second longer before turning back towards one another. As an awkward silence fell between them, Kaoru looked away. "Did he say anything else?" She asked, turning back around as she continued to wash a cup.
"No," he whispered, coming a little closer to the basin as she moved to put away her cup.
"Sessha can do the rest Kaoru-dono. You can go to bed . . . If you like," he added, not sure what it was he meant to offer but—"Saitou can handle this on his own." He said, feeling her pause behind him as he continued to wash a dish. "He has to be nearby."
"Maybe so but I don't want to keep you from helping someone else."
"But you worry," he argued, keeping his back to her as he washed another dish.
"I will always worry." She said, sighing deeply before she turned around to leave again. "Do what you must." She whispered, "Just be careful."
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Her response wasn't cold, not by far; she had bid him to take care after all. But being allowed to go anywhere on his own, chafed violently against some part of him because his temper elevated with her retort. Do what you must—like she didn't care enough to stop him anymore, he thought. Breaking the teacup in his hand, with such undeniable strength he could only blink back a bemused expression as the basin water began to be tainted red.
She hadn't even noticed his hand, he thought, squeezing the shards still enclosed before letting them go. Sighing inwardly as he picked up a nearby towel, he used to wrap around his hand, noting at last, the silence that had descended upon the household. And he couldn't help but wonder; how long he had spent out here in the kitchen tonight; thinking of her and not Uramura's comments.
He had to help; she had said in none too many words. He had to help—without the worry of her going out after her him. He had to help because that's what rurouni Kenshin did, he thought. Picking up the basin and taking it out to the yard, tossing out the water with a hard splash that echoed in the silence of the yard.
It wasn't raining anymore and the distinct smell of blood in the water he'd just tossed aside, suffused his lungs immediately, brining back the old anger and resentment for a surrounding, that for a brief second, blurred to something more. Something known and familiar, almost, like the resonance of metal, like the color of his eyes and a distinctive battle cry, that echoed like the roar of dragons.
He could not let go. She wouldn't let him. No matter how hard he tried, to keep himself a safe distance away now—she was there, insinuated into his everything thought, like poison. Like death, he welcomed with closed eyes and open arms, because he wanted it so much, he ached to breathed without it another moment longer.
He wanted—too much now. He could feel it. When he looked at her and her attention wavered to something else, something in him uncoiled, made his blood run cold until something in his gestures or his words, brought her attention back to him. And he knew, because some small part of him had to know, he wanted her for himself, despite what he'd said and what he'd promised, despite that and the clear foreknowledge of his worth; he could not give her up.
He wanted her like her wanted dark things now. Things he had never let himself think before because he imagined; well, things, he thought. Smiling without humor at the dark skies above his head, clouds so dark a blue now, he sighed with something like regret before he carefully set the basin down. Jumping from his spot to the top of the wall with hardly an effort he cared to spare a thought for. Sensing for something like movement before he jumped down off the wall and headed—not home but away . . . from his thoughts, those tears, and dark angry eyes now because he couldn't help but lie.
It didn't matter that he lied to himself. He had for years on end and it had never bothered him once. He could still smile and laugh and pretend everything else around him was just fine because that's what this mask had afforded him to do. It had let him pretend, he realized, when everything had not been all right.
With something like hopeless blossoming in his chest, Kenshin continued down the empty road, thoughts turning over Kaoru's lack of concern as his subconscious carried him to Sano's favorite place. And again, for the second time in almost two days now, he didn't realized where he was until he found himself already seated inside, tucked into a corner of the bar with sake and anger, going bitter down his throat. Isolated by a wash of anger so strong, he could feel others sense his ki. And yet—
'Him . . . the Hitokiri Battousai, someone scoffed. Please, his wife must have tossed him out for not getting the job done, just look at him . . .'
They laughed, fastening his attention so quickly, Kenshin's head snapped around to meet them. Watching clear dread wash over unknown features as Kenshin set his drink aside, turning his body towards them with carefully, measured slowness.
Face and mind, blank alike as all emotion was replaced by this sudden burning hatred that licked at his skin like ShiShio's flames had almost once engulfed him.
"Hi-Himura-dono," the bartender called. "Please, please not in the bar." He begged, calling from afar as others turned to watch.
Watched as pale violet eyes, became a distinctive autumn tint of gold, burnished like brilliant colored diamonds as he gripped the hilt of his sword.
"During the Bakumatsu," he said, voice deep and smooth like silver—"Men were killed in the street for a lot less than that."
"Himura-dono, please."
"Fine," he agreed, reluctantly moving his hand from the hilt of his blade before turning towards the door. "Bring them outside."
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Well, this is much shorter chapter than I had hoped. It's only 19 pages long. But I hope, at least to have made it worth your while.
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Author's Note: (Well, what can I say without giving myself away, huh? Especially with the opening scene. Let see . . .)
Since the beginning there has been something or someone, the rurouni cannot sense. And at first, he attributed all this strange little happenings to someone, he knew shadowed his every step. But as the days to Enishi's Jinchuu have begun to draw from ten on down, Kenshin has begun to sleep less and less, sometimes, going only with an hours worth of sleep before a nightmare wrestles him from his slumber.
Eating, less and less, until it's reached the point, where he completely skips over meals now, wearing himself so ragged; a transition of personalities has slowly begun. Without notice, Kenshin temperament flies off the handle, swinging as wild as a pendulum—when he becomes angry, and it's so quick to happen now, he reacts without thinking. Lashing out at anything or anyone, he might think is provoking him; as is evident in the yard, when he first arrives.
(Continuing from the last chapter . . .) Very near the end of lunch, Kenshin left because he became extremely angry. And wonder of all wonders, he ended up at Toushi's (If you recall, that's Sano favorite bar.), where the bartender, seems to recall Kenshin being not just the savior of his bar but also, the legendary Hitokiri Battousai. Now . . .
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Small Notes: There is something, like a shadow of a man, with long-dark hair and a samurai sword carried at his side, which many have begun to think is Kenshin as Battousai. (This chapter's no different).
In the beginning scene, this shadowed-figure, is seen to be disposing himself of two individuals. Individuals, who have by the way, been a rather great nuisance to Kenshin, himself—and so one would think, it's got to be him.
Only, he can't chase himself, can he?
When Kenshin arrives back home, he's already angry, because not only has he not been able to shake it off from before but now someone else's invaded his home. He had sensed someone close. And when he arrives, not only does he find this to be true, there was indeed someone willing to come in to his home but they also dared enough to hit Kaoru, and that is something even the gentlest part of him can't forgive.
After a brief misunderstand Yahiko quickly runs to correct, Kenshin is left alone for sometime to ponder over the day's events. Eventually, he makes his way to the kitchen to begin dinner, which is where Kaoru finds him. And at first, it seems like it will be a typical fight, with the rurouni getting knocked out for being a complete idiot but all that halts mid-motion. As something about Kenshin stance, beckons Kaoru's patience.
Questioning and chiding him, have almost no affect on the rurouni but as Kaoru tries to move away, something in Kenshin instinctively changes. His answers become sharp and short, as do the movements of his hands. But Kaoru hardly takes any notice, between his closeness and the firm, hold of her face. Kaoru doesn't dare move. It isn't until his eyes begin to change color, that she recognizes something in his features; some type of sign or feeling, Kenshin catches himself displaying. And pulls back, making both him and her angry with evasive answers, she can't stand to have tossed at her like she's an idiot. It's why she leaves.
And though Kenshin-himself had wanted her to leave, when she does, he completely misinterprets her departure. Becoming angry once more, as dinner is set and served.
Yahiko knows something happened, during dinner, Kaoru keeps trying to blink back tears while Kenshin, he just can't understand because the rurouni would never just let her cry. But Kenshin does, never looking up, as Yahiko keeps glancing between the two of them, wondering what could have gone wrong when he notices Kenshin has suddenly stiffened.
Angry outburst and clipped retorts make no difference in the end. Kaoru opens the door, only to find Chief Uramura looking for Kenshin to help them with a case.
And at last, the witness is revealed. However unreliable, Hamada Shoujuko might be, Saitou had wanted him out of harms way, for what purpose, is yet to be seen. As Uramura explains, it is not for them to question their superiors. But to do as they are told. And in this instance, seeing as how he needs help and Saitou had once suggested it, he goes in search of the only reliable help he can find.
It is both interesting and unfortunate that once Yahiko had decided not to tell Kaoru about the newspaper clipping, someone else would bring it to her attention. And in the end, as Kenshin walks Chief Uramura to gates, he takes the time to come completely clean.
Despite earlier emotions, Kaoru's very understanding of the situation. Knowing when to press him and when to coax him. It is only Kenshin's inevitable return to the kitchen that keeps Kaoru from reading that damn article, which up until now, had gone unnoticed by both alike. All thoughts of him are quickly suspended however, as he offers her something, she doesn't immediately grasp because though he offers her a type of choice. She doesn't understand. He doesn't word it in way she will understand.
What he says, is— "Saitou can handle this on his own." As he feels her pause behind him, he admits, he knows, "He has to be nearby." And while these statements are both open to interpretation, there is one correlation that should be visible to all; he offers to stay out of it, to turn his back on Uramura and everyone else to with it, for her.
But Kaoru won't let him. Her rurouni helps people and she would never stand in the way of him doing that. No matter how she loves, Kaoru isn't selfish. She would never knowingly keep him from doing something; she knew he needed to do.
And so she says, "Do what you must—"
Which he completely misreads as a lack of concern, of her giving up once and for all, on anything to do with him. And still, he's going to help Uramura because it's what she's asked him to do because he could bare almost anything in this world but her disappointment. He could not, simply said, because he could never let her go.
And it becomes clear once and for all that our Kenshin might not be Kenshin anymore. Because though he admits, he could never let her go. She is perceived something like poison. Like death, he gladly welcomes. Because he knows, he wants her. And all those dark thoughts, what the rurouni imagines bad thoughts, are nothing more Kaoru filled images, reciprocating a simple touch.
But even then, he knows he turns his back on her because the truth of what he feels and what he senses are all twisted up inside him, driving a needling frustration he can't control—his patience has long since dwindled to threads and cobwebs, and without it, Kenshin can only remember a passing resentment that always goads him back to anger.
And it is in anger that Kenshin finds himself back Toushi's. Somewhat blank on how he got there or how long it's been, but he drinks, choking on the bitter taste of his emotions, as whispers of his appearance run through the bar.
It is in the worst possible moment then that a couple of men, began to make fun of him, provoking a reaction, he-himself probably isn't even aware of. But needless to say, he will soon, make them regret.
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