Please note that this is post "The Final" movie. This happened around 2 months after Kenshin and Enishi's fight.
Also: You all made me do this! HAHAHA. Ugh. What am I supposed to do with this now?
An Unexpected Visit
Part II
He had never really, truly known silence. Even when he was alone, there is always that buzzing sound inside his head. Sometimes if he listened closely enough it would sound like the sharpest blade slicing through silk and flesh. Or if not that, then the softest exhale of a last dying breath. Some days, it was like the whispering sound of snow falling on snow.
There's a Japanese word for that, shinshin.
One of the few things that he actually liked about this god forsaken country: the beauty of his own language. It was exquisite and he appreciated it more than he would ever admit. And although he so very rarely used it in all the years that he had spent in China, he was extremely pleased that it was not lost to him. Unlike everything else that tied him to his motherland.
Not that China as a country is any better than Japan, but at least it wasn't filled with ghosts that haunted him. And they were many; all the ghosts inside his head. Tomoe was just one of them. He wasn't especially bothered by it. It made him feel like neesan was always with him. He'd see her smile inside his head and everything else would just fade away. It was just her and her smile and he was content.
Yukishiro Enishi had not expected any kind of silence inside his cell, which unfortunately faced the alleyway that the police used to move captured criminals. In and out of the prison, they go. Day in and day out. Night after night. The Meiji era seemed to be filled with lowlifes, so much for a peaceful modern day Japan.
There was always someone unruly, heavily protesting the indignation of being bound and dragged inside the building. If it wasn't that it was pitiful wailing, asking for forgiveness and begging for another chance. Worst were the angry screams of denial, the insistence of their innocence. It annoyed him endlessly.
Reading Oneesan's diary diminished the vulgar noises hounding him. With her diary clutched in his hand, it was just him and her words. He would gently turn the pages, trace the ink on paper and as he read it, he could hear his sister's voice. It calmed him down. Most of the time, at least. There had been a night of pure rage and the agony; finding out how Tomoe had hidden her true heart from him. He'd slammed his fist against the walls, banged his head until he thought it would crack open and all of his craziness will just spill out from his split head.
Why, neesan? Why couldn't you have trusted me enough to let me know what you were planning?
But it had only been the briefest of moments where he felt betrayed. In the end, even with Tomoe's diary, nothing could waver his conviction that his sister had been faultlessness in everything that had happened to them. Neesan had taken care of him ever since he could remember. His first memories had been of her touch, her eyes, her voice singing lullabies well into the night. She had tried to make everything better. She was the purest and the bravest. She had the courage to marry the man that had slain her own love. But she had ultimately been too soft, too trusting. She had a woman's kind and gentle heart and had allowed Battousai's despicable lies to change her resolve for vengeance.
Would it have made any difference if he had known what neesan had really felt?
He doubted it. The mere presence of Battousai in their life invited danger and death. And he remembered how it made him feel so deeply ashamed that the hitokiri was living with his sister: touching her, tainting her with the blood of his victims.
There was no reason for him to feel deceived by his beloved neesan. Battousai would have, one way or another, caused her death. It doesn't matter how. Testament to this was the fact that even now, despite having distorted himself into the foolishness of a rurouni – a shameful farce of trying to atone for his sins – the woman he had chosen, the Kamiya girl that Enishi had taken and failed to kill, had been subjected to several abductions and all sorts of regrettable torture. From almost choking to death from Udō Jin-e's curse to nearly drowning when she'd been thrown out of The Rengoku. Battousa had turned her into a target and one that he had not been able to properly protect.
How many times had Battousai failed that poor, innocent girl? More times that Enishi could care count.
Battosai was cursed. All the lives that he touched, he befouls. And eventually, he does not even have to wield his joke of a sword, in the end, they will all turn into nothing but torn silk and spilled blood against pristine white snow.
It didn't take long for the Mibu Wolf to come and visit him. They had taken him to a room barely lighted by the lone overhead lantern, madly swinging and throwing dark, ominous shadows around him. He would have snorted at this childish game that Saitō Hajime, now known as Fujita Gorō, had chosen to play. Did he think that he was someone that could be so easily intimidated? Did he need any reminder of what he was capable of, weaponless except for a child's toy, on the train when he had allowed to them to arrest him? Or was this some sort of insult that he was supposed to angrily respond to?
Enishi felt no emotion to be honest, even when Saitō started laying down all the documents that he had been able to confiscate from his now abandoned mansion. Enishi winced, remembering the portrait of his sister. They better not have taken that and if they had, he would ensure that he would get it back. Whatever it takes. It wasn't until a signed confession from the useless Heishin that Enishi felt just a twinge of irritation. He should have just bashed that bastard's skull, instead he had let the weeping girl distract him long enough for Battousai to stop his intent at murder.
Wordlessly, he picked the paper, idly glancing at it before tossing it back. It silently fluttered to the floor, settling against Saitō's immaculately polished but cheap shoes. At this, Enishi actually did let out a snort.
The wolf bared his teeth.
Did the government ordered the ever-reliable Fujita-san to ask him the names of all the ten battleships that he had? Because Shishio's Rengoku was the smallest of those ships. Shishio Makoto was all fight and salivating insanity but he hardly had any money to sustain his quest for war. Enishi had practically given that battleship for free and it was purely out of curiosity. He remembered how much trouble he had gotten into with Chinese organization that helped him obtain those ships. They were expecting money and Shishio had none. In the end, Enishi had to pay for it out of his own pocket but it was all worth it.
He had wanted to see just how far Shishio could get in a fight with Battousai. Not so much as it turned out. Shishio couldn't even properly bomb Tokyo as he had boasted. It was all so very disappointing but not in the least bit surprising. These Hitokiri's were mere berserkers, nothing refined in the way they planned their attacks. To defeat their enemy was all, kill, kill, kill and it bored him. These manslayers have such simplistic, almost childlike views about how the world worked. In truth, the more he came to know them, he almost pitied them. Relics of the past, just like the Mibu Wolf.
Enishi kept his silence as Saitō explained how it had taken him this long to piece together everything that he needed to ensure that Yukishiro Enishi will be tried as a spy, a traitor to the Meiji Government and for that, they both know that the punishment is death blah blah blah blah -
Did the ex-captain of the Shinsengumi (first squad – he made you remember that at least, like it was supposed to mean something to anyone) and now special agent for the Meiji Government's Department of Internal Affairs, really think that he would be bothered by his impending death? Or a lifetime of imprisonment? Anything that they throw at him would only be a shadow of what he had gone through in Shanghai. The years of suffering from hunger and humiliation, disease and violence, training all on his own to perfect his own fighting style? Death seemed like the easiest thing in the world. He was prepared to die and meet his sister once again.
Unless, and here, the cunning wolf flicked his still lit cigarette – a foul thing – over Enishi's shoulder, the heat and ashes leaving a trail against his cheeks. He would kill him for that, Enishi thought, unblinkingly.
And then, the wolf leaned forward to tempt the tiger.
Freshly released from prison, all the necessary papers proving his pardon (so generously awarded to him by a government desperate to stop another war) was shoved inside the pocket of his jacket. There had been no assurance that all of the police would be informed of his new status, but just to be safe, he had asked to be provided with written proof of his newfound freedom. The last thing he needed was to be betrayed by the government who was planning to use him and his connections in China to get all the information they so very badly needed.
Enishi didn't particularly cared who he worked for. He did not believe in loyalty, only in being provided with the appropriate motivation. He had to admit though that the wolf's proposition had been intriguing enough for him to actually consider it. He calmly wiped away any traces of gunpowder residue from his hands. His now emptied warehouse, damn the government for confiscating everything, was lighted with flames that will spread quickly enough. It would be a massive fire and Fujita-san would probably disapprove, but he did not, quite frankly, give a fuck. He made sure there were no casualties. Well at least he hoped so. That would be a complication he was just too tired to deal with.
Shoving all of these thoughts away, he kept his head low, unhurriedly weaving in and out the crowd, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. His height has some disadvantages, true but he was still weaponless and without his watō slung against his shoulder, he looked like the usual foreigner traipsing around Tokyo, not a care in the world. And people were now too distracted by the billowing smoke slowly crawling up the sky to give him any attention. Maybe he over did the gunpowder, he thought as someone let out a gasp of disbelief. Well, nothing he could do about that now. He had far more important matters to be concerned with, starting with his watō.
The Mibu Wolf will only give him his sword back if he could get the Kamiya-girl to agree. And something tells Enishi that this was really more to piss off Battousai than anything else. What a tiring game these two old fools were playing, but he will play along. He had nothing else to do anyway. And besides, his watō was at stake. He could probably just steal it, escape Japan and just live out his life somewhere far from this madness but then, where was the fun in that?
He had allowed himself a leisurely walk towards the dojo, the constant sound of summer surrounding him: tiny voices of children playing inside their yard, parents calling out for a refreshing sip of cold water or a slice of watermelon; that buzzing sound inside his head.
He always had sensitive hearing, a secret weapon that he had incorporated to his Watōjutsu. It was a source of pride, how this swordskill is known only to him and how it could have finally defeated Battousai had that stupid Heishin not interfered and ruined his plan. Kami, if the wolf had not killed him yet, he would be looking for that cretin soon enough. He will squash him like the bug that he is.
Enishi stood by the familiar entryway of the dojo, tilted his head and confirmed the only presence inside. Only one ki inside the dojo and just a low, quiet hum of energy. Giving the wooden gate a light kick, enough to dislodge the lock, he wordlessly walked inside, heading straight to the engawa.
And there, for the first time in his entire life, he heard nothing but pure, blissful silence as he stared down at the Kamiya girl sprawled on the floor, napping it seemed.
Her dark hair was fanned around her head, loose strands curling against her face, not at all in a flattering way, to be honest. But the contrast of her hair against her skin, and her skin against the peach-colored kimono she was wearing - riding a little high on her legs and exposing her knees - made her look almost precious.
No, no. He shook his head. Not precious, but so exposed and vulnerable. He glanced around him. No bokken in sight. And defenseless.
Again, Battousai had left her like this? This supposed ruruoni must be as addle-brained and inept as Heishin. They truly both deserve to die.
But yes, how odd. Enishi thought, not even the sound of their breathing. Because he was certain that they were both breathing. He could feel the steady beating of his heart and as he squinted at her prone form, the rise and fall of her chest was quite obvious in her partially opened kimono.
The sight offered him a brief distraction and he had been just the tiniest bit surprised when she suddenly woke up and threw a tea cup at him.
Maybe not so vulnerable and defenseless then.
She was feisty. He hadn't known that she had it in her to fight like that. Clumsily and rather slow, but it could be that she was wearing a kimono, restricting her movement. He could not find fault in her fighting stance and with the way she swung her bokken, with outmost conviction, Enishi was certain she could lay waste to Heishin's pathetic bodyguards. Her skills were better than theirs and this was probably the highest compliment he was forced to give to a girl.
Her battle cry was also impressive. It brought back his hearing at least. Now he could hear every whistling sound the bokken made as it sliced through the air; her panting breath, the way she muttered curses at him.
She was so very, very angry and he had done absolutely nothing to her but ask her if was already married. A rather important detail that he needed confirmation on if he was really going to follow through with the wolf's sadistic plan.
Enishi needed her to calm down otherwise, he'd be forced to defend himself and then he would end up straddling her, arms pinned above her head because that was the only way to get her to stop trying to hit him. He didn't particularly want to hurt her. Or scare her. Although right now, she seemed incapable of fear as she launched herself at him, jumping and changing her stroke mid air.
Missed again and now she was ordering him to keep still.
He'd been motherless, true but he had grown up with his sister and Enishi thought he knew how to handle women or at least girls. But this Kamiya-girl, with her angry breathing and needless cursing was quite a surprise. The women he had dealt with in China were really almost similar to the women in Japan: all sweet and docile and soft spoken, but apparently not this woman.
Was this the ruruoni's choice? Or the Battousai? Enishi wondered if her violent temper triggered something in his worthless brother-in-law, because he could not understand how exactly did anyone take her so easily when she was like this?!
Another swing from her bokken and that was just an inch away from his nose.
The triumphant gleam in her eyes told him that she was aware of this and to prevent any further violence, Enishi finally stepped forward, which she must have taken as gesture of surrender, because she met him head on, bokken raised high on her head.
He grabbed it easily, tossing it away and wondering if he would have to break every damn bokken inside this training hall just to make her stop. Curiously he asked her, without his formulated explanation because, really, he had forgotten everything that he had been planning to tell her, if she had wanted to go to Shanghai with him and well, it effectively shut her up, her whole body suddenly immobilized by surprise.
He let two seconds pass before he provoked her yet again with, "Is that a yes, Kamiya-san?"
Her eyes blazed and then, completely out of nowhere and he was truly unprepared for it, her fist connected with his nose.
It knocked off his eyeglasses and now - now Enishi was pissed.
So I guess, tbc?! Okay but only one more chapter and it's like done.
Author's Note:
Okay *takes a deep breath* this was really meant to be a one shot zany crack-fic written in response to The Final because I just I went completely fangirl crazy pissed off mode immediately after watching it and then I vented out on tumblr and then there were so many Enishi x Kaoru fans who wanted Enishi to just snatch Kaoru away right after reading that diary because obviously, movie!Kenshin does not give the appropriate amount of shit when she had been taken (for the nth fucking time, what is this Otomo, our girl Kaoru was only ever taken twice in her entire life - well, not taking Hokkaido Arc into account because who knows what will happen there? But-ugh) so that is how this fanfic had been born. It nagged and nagged inside my head and your wonderful comments turned it into a three-part thing with a possible epilogue.
This has been the first RK fic I've written since 2017. I might have mentioned this already, I just to me it's like a huge thing. Gosh, I have how many RK fics have I abandoned as Yuki? Mismatched and Rabukome is suddenly calling out to me! And it's like riding a bike? I am still a little wobbly, hence the occ-ness but then I remembered this is post The Final and there is no occ-ness like the occ-ness of that movie.
Anyway, I am so sorry for the mini rant. Please forgive me. Thank you for reading this. I love you all.
