Author's note: These are just random one shots that I found in my computer from circa 2017. I have been trying to write another multi-chapter RK fic for the longest time and it isn't just happening now so this shall be a sort of repository for all the random RK stuff I have written over the years that have never seen the light of day, until now. Gasp. They are all stand alone stories. And if somehow, I managed to get over this massive writer's block, I might use them for a real story. For now, please forgive the chaos of my writing.
his one true dream
He stood over her, his shadow falling across her face. She was deeply asleep, all thanks to the drug Gein had administered earlier. Gein and his bizarre methods: dolls and clear, scentless liquid that could put someone to sleep for as long as they wanted.
It had been almost two days. He didn't think it was absolutely necessary. But he had to concede that he wasn't in the right condition to deal with her. Frankly, at the moment, no one in his employ was in any condition to face her and her wrath when she wakes up. This is just one of the many things he had to learn about her when he had started planning for his Jinchuu.
He had to leave some of his best fighters injured and bleeding at the Kamiya dojo. Reinforcement wouldn't be easy to come, not when the secrecy of this island is of the outmost importance. He knows about the Mibu Wolf too, sniffing around and trying to catch him. His connection with Shishio and the sale of weapons and the Battleship Rengoku had been discovered, though it had taken Saitou Hajime considerable time and effort and no doubt, many sessions of torture.
An inconvenience, the stubborn old wolf. But not one that he was overly concerned about.
He pulled up a chair, placing it right beside her. Near enough for him to see the slow rise and fall of her chest. He'd have her woken up. Later tonight. She would have to be fed. Two days without any solid food would've weakened her. Not much, but she was a girl who grew up learning how to fight. She had some skills, nothing to be actually worried about, but with his injuries still healing, trying to fend off her attacks will be quite messy.
Still, he would have to make sure that her movements around the mansion will be limited. If she behaved well enough, perhaps he could let her stay in the library during the day. He'd also have to clear the mansion of anything she can use as a weapon. The girl was relentless; the kind who could and would make a weapon out of a book. Not an effective weapon, but a weapon nonetheless. He admired her for that. Her unflinching, foolish courage.
However admirable her courage was, in the end it was no match of his jinchuu. Just like Battousai.
Enishi could feel the smile stretching his face. It was almost painful, but he could not help himself. Everything had gone as planned. It was perfect. His jinchuu was the most magnificent form of vengeance and justice.
He was tired, but he was extremely pleased; his body wanting nothing more than to rest and heal but his elation at having succeeded where so many had miserably failed, the urge to gloat was too much to fight off. Except there wasn't anyone he could share his glee.
His men were too injured to celebrate with him. And anyway, they wouldn't understand how much this meant to him. To have finally given Battousai what he deserved: ruin and despair. The Kamiya girl was the only one he thought he'd want to share his success with. She was still asleep, but he could imagine how she would react if he told her all the wonderful details of Himura's hell.
She had not intrigued him, truly. She didn't inspire in him any sort of emotion. He wasn't like other men who wondered what kind of girl she was to wield some influence on Battousai. He saw her merely as a tool for his revenge. That was all. He hadn't bothered to know anything about her that wasn't necessary for his plan.
Oh, he knew a lot of things about her. Probably more than Battousai, which was strangely, laughably ironic. For instance, he knew that her great great grandmother once daringly sailed to the west and came back to Japan, husbandless, but with a baby girl with startling blue eyes. Did anyone else wondered about her strange eyes and had managed to figure out how exactly a Japanese girl had eyes like her? Well, he figured that out all on his own, scouring through records about her father, and then her mother, and then her whole family. He had to know how alone she really was. How helpless she was once he had removed her from her "family" at the dojo. He had to be sure that no one else was going to come looking for her. All part of the plan.
He silently moved towards her, leaning closer, and for the first time, he found himself actually wondering about her. This was the first time he had ever really looked at her and he was not at all impressed. She had a woman-child face: rounder, unmarred yet, but not delicate. No, nothing delicate about her at all. She had a very plain face, to put it kindly. Her chin was small, a little pointed perhaps. But not too much to even actually notice it at first glance. She had a small nose. Small lips. Everything about her was small. Birdlike. Like a hummingbird.
Yes, that's exactly what she is. A yellow hummingbird.
He noted the thin strip of light from the moon cutting through her cheek. A phantom bloodless cut. Could he have hurt her, if he really had to? If there was no other choice?
He smirked. He'd have to try it out later. Just to test how far he would be able to go.
He tilted his head, suddenly remembering the flame-blueness of her eyes and how alive it had looked moments before he had taken her. She would've fought him, the brave silly girl. He let his fingers ghost over the plumpness of her small cheeks.
She looked nothing like his sister. He had known this of course; he had her followed for months. And no one ever found out. No one suspected. Not even the legendary Oniwabanshu or the Mibu Wolf had known that he'd been watching her from right underneath their noses. He'd been smart about it. It was as simple as that.
He didn't employ thugs for that kind of thing. He had little boys and young girls follow her around. Some even talked to her, had looked up at her face, had tugged at her kimono, asking her for help, asking her direction, telling her she looked pretty. She had smiled at them, mussed up their hair, and sometimes, even playfully pinched their cheeks. "Who are you with? Where's your okasan or otousan?" The children were instructed to vaguely point at an adult, smile and wave. People are predictably naïve. A small child waving at you, wave back, smile. So easy.
He'd gather all the children at night and he'd patiently listen to their sweet-voiced description of Battousai's woman. She wasn't remarkable, they all agreed on that. Not at first glanced anyway. But those whom she had interacted with had much to say about the way she smiled. The younger ones, the little boys, especially, were quite taken by her. One boy, when asked to describe her had shyly muttered, "she's very warm, mister. Like the early morning sun."
Enishi didn't know what that meant, exactly. But he took note of it all. He asked how long her hair was, what she smelled like, ("a little sweaty, but clean, not sweet or fruity, doesn't make my nose tickle"), the color of her eyes, which apparently, changes depending on her mood. If she's happy, it's "like the blue of the sky, before all the stars come out," When she's mad, a stormy-dark blue, "like the sea, when there's a huge storm, I've seen a lot of those, mister. We live near the sea, you know."
He ordered some of the boys to be unruly and annoy her. Call her names, tease her. She never got really angry, they told him. She'd pretend to be angry, she'd bend down so they were practically nose to nose and she'd sternly, wordlessly look at them, her blue eyes narrowed.
Her stare was enough to make most of the boys stop. When the older ones persisted, the little boy, Yahiko, would step in and very casually tell them to 'quit it, or I'll make you eat dirt.' The threats vary, but most of it involved some sort of physical pain or something embarrassing. It was reported that he once told a particularly enthusiastic boy, "If you ever lay another one of your filthy hands on Busu here, I swear to Kami, I'm going to make you eat dinner. With us. She's cooking tonight. Grilled eel. God help us all."
Again, another thing that Enishi did not understand.
Those who arrogantly ignored the warning from the kid would get a knuckle on their head from the tall, loudmouthed punk. They'd eventually scram after that, some would briefly look back to see the girl they were trying to torment, whacking her defenders on the head, "stop bullying those children! Shame on both of you!"
Battousai was useless, just stupidly grinning on the sideline, the children barely noticed him. Whenever Enishi asked how the red-haired man reacted, they would all tilt their head and ask, "what red-haired man?"
Even those who had seen him didn't remember him much. Only that he had a strange colored hair and an embarrassingly colored gi. He seemed to have done nothing but silently watch them, not at all concerned, or aware that all those times, he could've stopped those little urchins, he could've prevented – no, not prevented, but maybe delayed things a bit, or at least made it more challenging to get a real good, honest description of the Kamiya girl, but no, the legendary Battousai was just as clueless, just as stupid as the rest of them.
Enishi had tested the limits of his own patience, never actually seeing the girl, not even when Battousai had left her for Kytoto. It would've been so easy, but he didn't want to attract attention, didn't want to have an opportunity to slip up and have someone remember him. That would have cost him his one true dream.
The night he had taken her, that was the first time he had lain his eyes on her. He had been a little distracted, yes, but he had immediately noticed that this girl, this Kamiya Kaoru, she did not have the queenly bearing of Tomoe. She was nothing special. Brave, yes. Hopelessly, even. That was his first impression.
When they were aboard the hot air balloon, he had unceremoniously dropped her on the floor, completely unaware and disinterested in her. His plans had come into fruition. He had taken Battousai's most precious person. He had heard the anguished scream, had felt the explosion of grief and madness in Battousai's ki. And soon, his enemy, would be rendered not only worthless but completely and utterly broken. He would enjoy watching the monster that killed his beloved sister slowly dying every day. The same kind of death he had experienced when Tomoe had died.
- end -
