Disclaimer: Just using the characters for my mere entertainment. And hopefully yours.
Over the Sky
Chapter Three
He took a deep breath in, wrinkling his nose before letting the smoke escape the confinements of his mouth, watching it swirl in the air before him as it disappeared. With a flick of his fingers, the cigarette fell to the ground and he crushed the last of its lights dead with his heal.
Hands in his pockets, he continued to walk through the busy streets, dodging people left and right expertly, as if he knew how the crowds maneuvered. Sure, maybe it had been months since he was last here—two years, he realized grimly—but this was his home and he wasn't going to forget its special attributes that easily.
Ex-fighter, Sanosuke smirked.
Never.
And it's not like even if he tried, would the memories leave him. How can you not remember living with a pickpocket, poisonous doctor, hot-tempered sensei, and former manslayer for a good two years?
Unless you go and blow yourself up in a crummy old war . . .
With a disgruntled sound of distaste, he kicked a can in front of him and frowned.
Stupid Kenshin.
He wasn't even gone a month on a voyage to the American states he had heard so much about, when Sano received the letter from Megumi that Kenshin had died.
And left Jou-chan alone.
His fist clenched and uncoiled.
Selfish bastard . . .
And what made no sense was that Sanosuke had specifically told the hitokiri not to be a fool and go kill himself. And that he had a duty to protect Kaoru while he was gone. And that if he so found a scratch on her body, that he was going to pound Kenshin's frail skull to a bloody pulp.
If hell doesn't wring your neck down there, I will.
But all negative thoughts ceased to exist and Sano's face broke into an instant grin the minute he spotted the blue roofs of the dojo encircled by tall cement walls. And there, hanging near the open gates were the words he didn't realize he missed so much until his eyes fell on them, printed in black bold kanji.
The Kamiya Dojo.
The same blade that had made precise cuts on the carrots a few minutes ago was continuing the same fate to the fish that had been neatly cleansed of its scales and organs. Dropping the new slices into the bubbling water of his pan, he idly watched the steam rise in harmony to the aroma he had newly created.
And past all that simple act of cooking, anyone who had a good eye could have seen the true skill of the mastermind behind the knife and as to why the steel gleamed darkly in his grasp.
But Sano found it more amusing as opposed to the alarm he should have felt when his eyes fell on the midnight haired man he never expected to see upon secretly entering. Experience was important in the world and he had enough of it to understand that the smile the man wore was indeed false. In fact, the mere thought of the past caused his amusement to darken.
"I was so damn sure Shishio was dead. What's his right hand man doing wearing an apron in the kitchen making miso soup?"
The second those words escaped his lips, Sano felt cool metal brush his cheek and had he not been standing straight against the wall, the knife now wedged solid to the wall would have successfully given him one less ear.
He mentally cursed himself before glaring coldly at the hard narrow eyes of Soujiro, whose face marred an ominous frown that gave off an aura equal to killing intent. The fact that this same man had put up a heck of a fight against Kenshin, the legendary Battousai, at only eighteen, hit Sano like a punch to an old wound.
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
"When Kaoru spoke of an ex-fighter, I didn't expect of it to be you, Zanza." Soujiro carefully seized the knife, eying the impaired wall before continuing to prepare lunch. His tone was deathly calm. Even years later, Sano couldn't repress the shudder that it brought.
"People change. I'm not a fighter for hire anymore," he retorted smugly, only to have his arrogance explode right back in his face.
"Then learn to take your own advice sometimes." There was a tingle in Soujiro's smile, a bit of haughtiness almost mocking at Sano's lack of common sense.
He growled, his anger boiling. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Is it a sin at merely wanting a place to stay?"
"With the Battousai's woman?"
It was like a slap of ice, and Soujiro's barrier of confidence instantly shattered. "What?"
Bingo. Score for Sanosuke.
"Yeah, well, it's not really my place to say, but he and Kaoru lived here together for a good number of years. They had a special a bond. Some call it love." He shrugged. "And frankly so do I."
Soujiro glanced at him carefully, calculating, and Sano grimaced in a result, arms wrapping in a fold in front of his chest. His white attire had long since been discarded, replaced by a brown trench coat and a western cowboy hat that seemed so popular from the Americas. He idly wondered if Kaoru and Yahiko would be able to recognize him. There was also the matter of the beard he had grown . . .
"So," the shorter of the two men scoffed as he fingered the knife he had been so carelessly fiddling with, "he's the one who left her."
Surprised at the aloofness of his tone, Sano nodded. "Left, and buried his own grave while he was at it. Some sergeant of Japan's army needed his aid and ever-so-willing-to-help Kenshin thoughtlessly agreed,"
Their gazes locked for a time freezing moment. And behind the unreadable eyes of the samurai, Sano witnessed a glimpse of remorse, before altogether his threatening features melted into a sympathetic smile.
"That explains her sadness."
Sadness . . .
"How long have you been here?"
Soujiro turned to stir the soup. "Three days."
"Does she know about your . . . past?" Sano warily spoke the words.
"No," there was a momentary pause, "And if you don't mind, I'd like to keep it like that."
"Where are you staying?"
A small smile lit his face, at which Sano furrowed his brows. "Ah, I do so believe it is Himura-san's old bedroom, if I'm not mistaken. The one right across from Kaoru's?"
Sano was not pleased to hear this predicament.
"She didn't tell me. Just a guess, really." Soujiro added with a mild shrug.
The ex-fighter eyed the man currently innocently crafting lunch and then sighed. "Look . . ."
"I seriously don't mean any harm, Sanosuke, if that's what you're worried about. Honest to a man's true word."
"But you—"
"Worked for Shishio."
"And—"
"Tried killing Himura-san."
"So—"
"Ending up where he formally lived years later seems just sort of suspicious. Believe me, I understand." Soujiro grinned cheekily, pouring the meal into four small bowls that had been assorted and placed neatly onto a tray. Sano's nose twitch at the delicious smell, but pride held him in place.
Eating food cooked by someone who tried killing you at one point is not smart.
Soujiro continued speaking, as he effortlessly balanced the aforementioned tray with a finger. "As you may or may not know, I started wandering after my defeat in Kyoto, inspired by Himura-san's enlightenment to find my own clarification on life. In the three years that have passed, I have learned some things." He slid the serving dish onto the table. "But that is not the point. When my travels brought me to Tokyo, you have to keep in mind I had very little money. There was no inn I could have afforded. A young woman in the restaurant I was drinking tea in saw this and suggested I go the Kamiya dojo, for the owner was renowned for accepting those with a lack of funds."
Sano snorted. "Jou-chan's too damn nice. Someone's gonna take advantage of her one day." He gave the former manslayer a pointed look. "How long do you plan staying here?"
"I initially intended not to hang about for very long. But there is something odd about this place," Soujiro voiced, giving the kitchen a prudent look over. "I don't know what the sensation is, but it makes me feel . . ."
"At home. Like you finally belong somewhere," the tall brunette finished, leaning against the wall with a ghost of a smile.
I know that feeling well. He felt it all the time around Jou-chan. She was magical like that.
Soujiro nodded thoughtfully. "Precisely. And now that I've learned Himura-san lived here as well, I'm considering staying for as long as Kaoru will allow me to."
"Which," Sano sighed, scratching his chin forlornly, "may as well be nearly forever."
The dark-haired man gave an understanding smile. "Nice people like her are rare to find."
"I know." There was silence—heavy, choking stillness—as Sano raised his gaze and stared seriously at the potential new occupant of the Kamiya Dojo. He was far from happy with this—the creases on his face were evidence of displeasure—but it was not in his place to decide who or who did not live here. "If you hurt her . . ."
"I won't."
"I swear," he growled, making a tight fist. When it came to his Jou-chan's wellbeing, he never played around. "If you fuckin' touch her in any indecent way . . ."
There was no trace of a smile on Soujiro's face. "The thought won't even cross my mind."
And for some, startling reason, Sano believed him.
"I'm going to keep my eyes on you."
"I know you will."
"I don't trust you."
"I understand."
"I . . ." Damnit, he didn't know what else to say. Soujiro's placid expression was intimidating and he was at a loss for words.
The dark haired rurouni saw this and gave him a triumphant grin. "Now," he piped up and turned brightly to Sano, as he took off his apron, "would you like to join us for lunch? I'm not the best cook, but . . ."
He gave into temptation and plopped himself down. It was too hard resisting the alluring smell of miso soup when he hadn't eaten anything good for so long. "Let me tell you something, kid. First rule of the Kamiya residence: anything is better than Jou-chan's food."
Anata ga sora wo yuku nara
Watashi ha tsubasa ni naritai
Donna ni tsuyoi kaze ni mo
Keshite orenai
Shinayaka na hane
Itsuka kitto motsu kara
If you are going to fly
I want to be your wings
No matter how strong the wind is
I will never be folded
Because someday I will surely
Have supple feathers
To Be Continued . . .
A/n: Phew . . . The chapter's finally done. Took me longer than I wanted it to take, but hey, at least it's complete.
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