Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin, Aoshi and Kaoru do not belong to me.
Aoshi has never really enjoyed windy days. As a boy learning how to be a ninja, wind was an uncontrollable factor, a capricious entity. A sudden gust could influence the path of a thrown shuriken. A soft breeze could carry the sound of your footfalls to your enemies. A fierce gale could overwhelm your ears, drowning out the sounds around you. All kinds of dust and debris could be kicked up into your face when you were trying to concentrate. During the winter, it could chill you to your bones. During the summer, it could barely blow at all, making you stagnantly hot and uncomfortable. All in all, the wind was usually a force against his intentions.
How did the saying go? Follow the wind? Well, Aoshi had done that, when he was thrust into leadership at a very young age in the middle of blood and war and revolution. It had buffeted him and his men around, finally blowing them onto Kanryuu's doorstep. The days that followed were dark, but Aoshi couldn't hear anything other than whatever it was he was trying to prove. After the death of his men, windy days were nearly intolerable. All Aoshi could hear were the cries of his men, the booming gatling gun, and his own recriminations echoing in his ears. Every time the wind blew, they howled past his ears, bitter and cold and lost, driving him mad with a sense of helplessness.
Sometimes, Aoshi isn't sure if it's the wind, the ghosts of his past, or simply his own blood roaring through his ears.
It takes Kaoru a little time and far less effort than imagined to start rehabilitating Aoshi.
Whenever he approaches the dojo, he can hear her laughter, sweet and lilting, carried on the wind, beckoning him.
It is refreshing.
Closer still and if it is just right, he can smell her uniquely familiar scent of jasmine floating on the breeze.
It is revitalizing.
Closer still and he can see her, eyes alight and her long, dark ponytail dancing in a just-strong-enough current of air.
It is invigorating.
When an errant lock of hair is blown into her eyes, it is Aoshi's fingers that tuck the strands behind her ear.
He is rejuvenated.
Aoshi does not realize at first that Kaoru has overwhelmed his senses, filling them, and taking up his focus. Kaoru's laughter is warm and infectious, spreading to everyone within earshot. Aoshi is sure the sound reaches even Hannya, Beshimi, Shikijou and Hyottoko. These days, Aoshi hears less of the sorrowful cries of his men, and more of their whispers of approval, their entreaties to him to let them go. The wind is no longer biting and hard. It does not slice through his skin, cutting into his soul. Now he is reminded of the good things that have been blown his way; a soothing, refreshing caress on his spirit. He knows that Kaoru has given him this. At a most tumultuous time, she breezed into his life, blew away the darkness, and brought him a fresh start.
There you have it, another short piece. While reviewing random stories online today, I realized that Sakka-chan had written an AK story titled "Seasons" years ago. The title of this set of drabbles, "Seasonal" was coincidental (it should probably be called "Elemental". Oh well.) If you can find Sakka-chan's complete story, read it! It's terrific.