Disclaimer: Just using the characters for my mere entertainment. And hopefully yours.

Over the Sky
Chapter Five

Dust had lifted up with their steps in small wisps of clouds, floating lazily in the air just at their heels, before settling comfortably back on the ground. While it was still February, and therefore winter, the winds were moderately temperate now that spring was fast approaching.

In the breeze he could smell them. And if he closed his eyes just briefly, he could almost anticipate the feel of the jasmine petals against his cheek. When he would lift his free hand to flicker the tickle away, he would come to the sad conclusion that there were no flowers brushing his skin but the wind or, occasionally, a lock of her defiant hair—the tresses of her ponytail that, in a way, symbolized her nature.

He could see how strong she strived to stand next to him, to prove—maybe more to herself than to him—that she was not weak. That she was not, despite her gender, feeble. Oh, there was no doubt in his mind that was strong, even a bit hardheaded.

But in their joined palms, he could feel her heartbeat and its fast pace.

Through a pair of metal gates, they entered together, still peacefully engrossed in their silence even as they made their way deeper onto the trail. Tombstones passed them in neat lines—some decorated with flowers and others left untouched.

And just like that their walk had stopped and her fingers slid through his, leaving his hand bare in the cool.

She kneeled with a sad smile, setting her basket of jasmines to the side to rid the grave of webs and wilted plants first before setting the new flowers decoratively around the stone. She continued worked slowly and carefully.

And he continued to watch her with fascination and a new understanding.

She stood up, finally satisfied with her handiwork, to dust off dirt from her black kimono. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she intertwined her fingers in front of her chest and closed her eyes, moving her mouth to a silent prayer.

It was there, in the morning light that filtered through branches of trees and landed on her, did he truly see her through her barrier. He saw how her hands shook very slightly, how that accompanied to the brief quivers in her breathing. He noticed how under her eyes lived indications of bags, left from unsettling nights where he mind would not rest.

She was desperately clinging to whatever strength she had, but the pain, no matter what, was obvious.

He touched her softly on the shoulder. "Kaoru."

Big lashes lifted to reveal those marvelous eyes of hers, shining with held back tears. For a breathtaking moment, he lost all sense in himself.

She smiled her sad smile for the second time and he felt his fingers slide down her arm on their own accord, maybe in search for her hand, maybe for no reason at all. Yet the mission was left unsuccessful, and his arm dangled solo at his side once more when she bent down to the grave again.

"I try every month, you know, to realize that he's no longer here without emotionally loosing it." She traced the letters inscribed in the stone. H-I-M-U-R-A. K-E-N-S-H-I-N. "But . . . "

There it was again. That tremor in her voice. "But it never gets easier," he finished, solemnly.

She stood up abruptly and griped his forearms, eyes frantically—desperately—searching his for comfort he wasn't sure he was able to give. "Does it get easier, Soujiro? Does the pain ever go away?"

He stared off over the sky and into the distance, reminiscing on his past and all those he had heartlessly killed, feeling the all too familiar sinking feeling whenever he thought about them.

His mouth quirked and then came his answer. "No."

She stared at him helplessly, with wide unblinking eyes. Then her head sank and her bangs shadowed her face the way a curtain would a window. She loosened her hold until her hands were back to their proper side.

"Some how," she smiled painfully, "I knew that."

Cautiously he took a step forward and, in his unhurried pace, settled his arms loosely around her shoulders, questioning if she did not mind his motives. When she made no gesture otherwise, he took a chance and pulled her closer. He was not used to giving hugs so it was a bit of an awkward, loose embrace. But it was a warm one nonetheless and gradually she gave into the console.

In a rare show of weakness, she leaned against him for support.

"The pain never goes away as long as you remember." He heard her sniffle. "I am sorry."

Minutes passed—quiet, long minutes. Birds sang above them. The normal sounds of crowds in the street became evident. Neither spoke, nor moved; just breathed and blinked and savored the moment. The caretaker of the cemetery walked in casually, nodding compassionately at them as he passed by on his way to work. Clearly, he saw people's grief all too often.

When her sniffling subdued and she regained the strength needed to put up her barrier in front of Sano and Yahiko, he pulled away and she proceeded to wipe away traces of her tears.

She laughed, almost pitifully. "I got you wet."

He looked down at his collar, which was a bit wrinkled now and darkened from tears. He grinned, waving a dismissive hand. "Nothing the sun can't handle."

She laughed again, spirits rising as she looked up at him fondly. "Thank you."

"What for?"

But she simply answered by leaning forward, standing on her toes very briefly to make up for their small difference in height. Promptly she brushed her rosary lips against his cheek. "I owe you one," she whispered in his ear.

Before he had a chance to react to the sudden approach—the soft, without doubt unforgettable advance—she grabbed his hand, and with one friendly goodbye to Kenshin, hauled him out of the cemetery with a bright, true smile.

Himura Kenshin. (1849-1879)
In loving memory of a man who was larger than life.

The sun had risen fully into the sky and people filled the streets in the morning glory. Carriages were opened, bargains were yelled. "Tofu, only half yen!" "Great silk kimonos for the Sakura Festival! Buy your woman one today!" "Quality rice—only ten yen for a bag!"

Such great deals fell deaf to one man's ears. When his two miscreants, found missing when he woke up this morning, returned to the dojo, they were greeted by Sano's annoyed face, glaring and rubbing his newly shaved face in discomfort.

"Glad to have you joining us again. Where were you?" he demanded, staring pointedly at Kaoru. He didn't even spare Soujiro a glance. Damn samurai probably did something. If he did . . .

"What?" She bristled. "I can't go anywhere without your permission now?"

"Where were you?" he repeated with greater vigor.

She bit her lip, knowing that Sano was very much capable of picking out her lies. "I was—"

"—walking with me to that market to buy some tofu she wanted for breakfast," Soujiro, with his all too happy, twisted smile, interrupted.

Sano flicked his narrowed eyes over briefly to Soujiro, face clearly saying: 'Don't lie to me.'

Soujiro's face said back 'I'm not.' calmly

But you really couldn't tell from a guy like that.

"Oh yeah?" The ex-fighter observed their empty hands. "I don't see any bags."

Kaoru gave Soujiro a worried stare. But ever quick Seta...

"There wasn't any tofu left to buy."

Damn.

"Well," Sano scoffed, "I don't believe you." He folded his arms around his chest, watching and calculating the two as if they were delinquents who were not allowed out of his sight.

Kaoru seized this moment to distract him. "Sano," she grabbed his chin swiftly, turning it around in different directions, "did you shave?"

It was a new topic Sano took no problem shifting to. "Eh? Well . . ."

She observed him critically, lips pressed to a firm line. "Ah, I see you've missed some spots."

"What?" He reached for his face. But she slapped it away before dragging him along by his jaw. It was rather painful and made his joints sore.

"Let's go clean up your blind spots."

"What? But...ow, Jou-chan. How do you know how to use a blade?"

She shrugged. "I don't. But I'm sure with a few experiments I could get the hang of it."

Sano's eyes widened with fear and the future prospect of excruciating amounts of pain. If she couldn't cut carrots correctly, what made him think she would be able to use a blade without slicing his nose off?

'Help me!' He shot Soujiro a pleading look who turned away to admire a tree instead.

'Filthy bastard.' Sano glared as he was hauled around the corner, to his unfortunate doom.

Onaji yume mite sodatta ne
Shiroi hana saku machi de
Demo ima ha

We had and nurtured the same dream, right?
In a town where white flowers bloom
But now we...

To Be Continued . . .

A/n: I'm extremely sorry for the long wait and I know a million apologies wont make up for my tardiness. But I'm back, and Over the Sky is officially off hiatus.

Keep reviewing! It's all that keeps me going!

I'm going to be starting the ninth grade pretty soon. But that doesn't mean slower updates. In fact, it might mean quicker ones (if I don't drown in homework first). School seems to be a breeding ground for inspiration to me.

I'm angry because the Quick/Edit feature seems to be screwing up with my format. Now I'm forced to use those horizontal lines. Puu. This sucks.

Many thanks for the reviews!