Note: I have seen the first three OVA's, and only part of the anime. This takes place near the beginning/middle of the anime, before Tamoe's brother ever enters the picture, and before the Kyoto arc. If you don't know what either of those are, don't worry. They won't be mentioned again :) If you do not know who Tamoe is, I suggest you do some research. Every Rurouni Kenshin fan needs to know about her, since she has so much to do with the man Kenshin is today. Post a comment, and I'll be more than happy to include a short history explaining just who she is.
Note: Sorry for how short this chapter is, but the next part really needs to be it's own chapter. This is just a random idea I had, of how Kenshin would spend the anniversery of Tamoe's death. I wanted to go for the 10th anniversery, but I really couldn't -- he didn't know Kaurou back then, and I really wanted to include her. Some undertones of Kenshin/Kaurou can be found here, but mostly it's a Kenshin/Tamoe fic. Enjoy!
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The pain should have lessened by now.
Himaru Kenshin stared out across the river, a half-empty bottle of sake dangling from his fingertips. This was really more Sanouske's type of thing than his, but the temptation had been too great, this time.
12 years. It had been 12 years since … that day. His hand tightened around the bottle of sake, and Kenshin brought it his lips, noting with some back part of his mind how his hand shook slightly.
By the time he allowed his arm to drop back down, his breath came in harsh pants, lips parted and stained with the japanese intoxicant.
He had a bottle of Rum with him, as well, imported from overseas. He hadn't touched the stuff yet, remembering vividly how strong the alcohol was from when he had indulged in it, just after … just after.
He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to remember her gentle walk, or the way her hair would fall down her back, little wayward strands falling over her shoulders. How he would play with it, during their time in the mountains togeather ….
He had lived for that, had dreamed of living a life like that during cold nights in the barracks with the other men. In the beginning, they hadn't even had their own rooms, cramped all togeather in one or two small rooms as they waited for their orders. That was before he had been assigned to special missions, before he had been brought to Kyoto.
Kenshin brought the bottle of sake to his lips once more, drowning the rest of it in several large gulps before tossing the now empty bottle to the side, watching as it rolled down the hill towad the river with a kind of detatched interest, before reaching for the rum.
He didn't even glance at the label, simply unscrewed the top and took a large swallow, wincing at the intense aftertaste as it burned down his throat.
He could already feel the alcohol working through his system, the feeling of being overly warm slightly unpleasant against the coldness of this evening — being warm was all well and good, but this was taking things a bit too far.
He hated being drunk.
But he hated remembering even more. Espeically on this night.
This was the night he had done it. This was the night he had killed the last thing he could ever love. He wanted to love. He wanted to love Kaurou, the way she thought she loved him. He really did. But he couldn't. It was like he was incapable of feeling anything anymore.
Another few harsh gulps from the bottle, and Kenshin leaned forward, arms splayed across his raised knees and the bottle dangling precariously from his fingertips.