STANDARD DISCLAIMERS APPLY: When you still live with your parents and they pay for your schooling, what you think you own and what you actually own are very different things. That being said, owning the rights to an anime and manga when the chances that you actually own the T.V set or any of the manga booklets in your bedroom are pretty slim, is kindda out of the question…
Quick little message from author: I just have to say that the response I received for chapter 16… I have no words. For a person that can feel so unsure about everything sometimes, reviews like the ones I received have an amazing effect. I would just like to take a moment to thank you all collectively – the individual answers are, as usual at the bottom of the page – for your patience and your, in a sense, undivided attention. Every little word touches my heart and I know that sounds really corny and I'm not one for corny – though this chapter might just go on ahead and prove me wrong – but it's the truth. I don't know about you guys, but I think nothing can express anything better than the 'rarely pure and never simple' truth.
Read on…
Soundtrack: Tegan and Sara – 'Divided'; Alex Bauer and Zazie – 'A ma place'; Manu Chao – 'Me gustas tu'; Counting Crows – 'Mr. Jones'; Nine Days – 'Story of a girl'; Jem – 'Maybe I'm amazed'.
Chapter 17: Moments: Sparkles and Fizzes [PART I].
"If being bored is a crime, someone handcuff me!" Misao thought to herself as she counted the ceiling tiles for the umpteenth time. Monday nights were always such a drag…
She had called Kaoru to complete their daily ritual of phone 'I-wonder-what-it-would-be-like-to-have-sex' - which included that and many other girly topics of discussion – but, strangely enough, she was out studying. Apparently, she and the boy that held her hand in the palm of his hand – even if she blatantly denied the obvious – had found a way to patch things up: good for them!
Kaz was at his father's, which meant that he was locked up in his room and refusing to partake on all activities that required human contact of any kind: talk about a strained, in serious need of counseling father/son relationship!
Danielle wasn't even in the country – something about a deceased relative and an inheritance – and Terry was probably asleep already – too much wild partying on the weekend and not enough hours of shuteye.
With every single member of the gang doing their own thing, sitcoms that promised 'fun for the whole family!' airing on TV and pending homework that could keep on pending for all eternity if she had her way, Monday night was proving to be the dullest day in the calendar.
It didn't help matters any that tonight of all nights was Yuriko's birthday.
"Yuriko…"
Slowly, the young girl sat up on the bed, pulled up her socks and walked towards the window. Shoving the curtains aside gently, she peered through the glass at the lovely Victorian-style home that had stood beside her family's own house for ages and took in what little she could make out of the living room.
Two months ago, for undisclosed reasons, Aoshi Shinomori had flocked back to the nest three years after moving away to college, his position as the boy-next-door therefore reinstated.
Needless to say that Misao was one happy camper after this sudden turn of events but, nevertheless, she was also puzzled: it wasn't every day that after leaving familiar comforts and opting to fly solo a man like Aoshi stepped back through the front door of his mother's house, luggage in tow.
Determined to get to the bottom of this mystery, Misao had snooped, cross-examined, eavesdropped and lied until, eventually, the truth was revealed: she still remembered how her heart had dropped to the pit of her stomach and her eyes had promptly flooded with bitter tears. It truly was a day she never wanted to go over again and, for once, she wished that she had left well enough alone; some things one is better off not knowing.
Hesitantly, she lifted her hand and pressed it on the window pane: there was always so much more than met the eye. They both really looked happy – as happy as he could appear to be these days anyhow – and ever so normal.
A mother and her son sat before a long pine table talking and admiring the birthday cake that he had lovingly bought for her, as well as the still wrapped gift that he cradled in his arms. The moonlight pouring through the open outswing French doors, combined with the lighting emitted by the ceiling chandelier's eight light-bulbs, highlighted the scene, giving it a touch of warmth, serenity and homeliness that made all seem well with the world, at least within those four walls: in all honesty, they painted the picture of perfect normalcy.
"How can it be?"
Gripping tightly to the faded blue curtain, she steadied herself and bit her bottom lip hard.
He was lighting the candles now, fumbling with the matches as Yuriko smiled on tenderly and clapped her hands together in excitement.
Almost reverently, Misao lifted the window frame and poked her head out.
"How can it be?!!"
The lights went out, but the ignited wicks continued to shed a faint light upon the room making shadows dance on the walls, relatively obscuring both Yuriko and her son's features, her beautiful lavender dress paling to a dull lilac color. Her smile remained bright and infantile, but the rest of her seemed to be evanescing and wilting, the brilliance of hues from seconds before dying out too quickly to stop, too fast to catch.
"Why?"
She gritted her teeth whilst swallowing loudly, shaking her head, denying it all: what she was seeing, what she was believing, what she was hoping and what she knew, for a fact, was real; all had to be denied. She couldn't bare to watch anymore, to see how nothing hinted at what was to come, what had already started, what had begun to take its toll.
Unable to look on in without experiencing a breakdown, Misao took a step backwards, her grasp on the drapes easing up, her hand softly caressing the fabric in its lethargic descent back to her side, its rightful place.
Once her palm made contact with her thigh, the wind picked up and flying right out the window the gauzy, billowing material went, banishing the god awful truth from sight, but not from her mind.
"Aoshi…"
When the curtain fluttered back in, she decided it was time to close the damn window and go find something else to do, something that would not lead her thoughts toward the inevitable and the neighboring house. She could always reduce her brain cell count by reading the T.V. guide…
Now, Misao was never a person typically known for her restraint so, no matter how much she wanted to shut the world out, glancing over her shoulder one last time just as the lights flickered back on in the Shinomori's living room was a given.
Yuriko was laughing and rattling a gift-wrapped box gleefully, Aoshi's hand resting comfortably on her shoulder as he silently looked on.
Prussian blue and peridot collided abruptly, locking in a stare that communicated what a thousand words never would be able to. And though he did not sigh, though he did not blink, though he did not let any emotion show, she could all the same see the one question that had also been plaguing her reflected in his own eyes: why?
The thick mauve curtain that hung elegantly in the Shinonoris' living room quivered into undulating waves riding on the breeze, lifted upwards simulating flight twice and then took off through the open French doors, flapping in the night sky, whisking away the unyielding stare of penetrating slate blue eyes.
The wind settled and so did the draperies' swerving and nightly adventures: the moment was gone.
"I still stand by what I mentioned earlier: it wasn't the brightest thing to do."
"Well excuse me for trying to live a little! For your information, it wasn't meant to be a bright or even a bold move; it was something spontaneous and freeing that did not machinate itself with ulterior connotations of any kind."
"You could have hurt yourself."
"Sure, I could have, but I didn't."
"You didn't get hurt, but you could have been killed."
"You know what? I don't know why I even bothered telling you!"
"I asked!"
"Well, God only knows what Sano was thinking when he told you!"
"Probably that it's not everyday that his co-pilot stands up on her car seat and exposes herself to unnecessary danger."
"And just where did the guy spouting the advantages of a 'carpe diem' lifestyle at my front door fifteen minutes ago run off to?"
"He's revising his theories as we speak…"
"You can get so grouchy sometimes…" Kaoru badmouthed her table companion, choosing to blatantly ignore his truthful comments.
Kenshin sighed and wrote her off as a lost cause: he'd have better luck convincing random pedestrians that pigs could fly than getting this particularly stubborn female to admit to her recklessness.
"So… should I start getting comfortable and feeling at home here, or are you two ever going to order?" the unhappy busboy demanded, his sneaker-clad foot tapping away to oblivion.
Again, Kenshin sighed and wondered if it would ever be possible for them to spend more than fifteen minutes together without bickering: one glance at Kaoru, who was currently chiding the waiter for his insolence, and he let his head loll back in defeat.
"Forget it: I'd have better luck convincing myself that pigs can fly…"
Grumbling and muttering to himself, Yahiko made his way over to Jiro's side, ripped a page from his notebook and placed it in the senior's stout gloved hands.
"Table four placed an order?" the old man asked impishly, smirking at the crinkled piece of paper dangling from his thumb and index finger's hold.
"More like it sprouted an ugly, nasty microorganism with a big mouth. At least the redhead keeps it simple, but she more than makes up for it by requesting a slice of pie and giving me an unasked for piece of her mind in return. I swear, some people…" the young boy complained, just knowing that his day couldn't possibly get any worse.
"Some people are paying costumers and you seem to forget that sometimes." Jiro admonished, leaning away from the yellow counter.
Yahiko rolled his eyes and looked towards the annoying couplet: they were still at it! True, she seemed to have come to grips with reality a bit and he also looked less uncomfortable and twitchy, but he'd bet a whole month's pay that she was still whining about this or that and that the considerably patient guy in front of her was still trying to make her see the light, or his version of it anyway…
"Hey old man, can I get off work earlier tomorrow?" the teen inquired, making a clean cut from the previous subject of conversation that was doing nothing to get him on the chef's good graces.
"Considering that you shouldn't even be working right now, I don't see why not." his boss groused, squinting at the illegible scribble that was table four's order.
"I'm just taking over Helen's shift tonight: her mom's sick and you know there was no one else around to cover for her. Besides, my being here tonight works in your favor, old man, so quit complaining already; if it weren't for me, you would have had to wait on that weird couple over there."
"Yes, yes, you've already whined enough over them. Never mind that you aren't the only hired help around or that I'm glad you didn't leave me hanging when poor Helen had to run off about an hour ago: the point is that you're only a kid and it's past your bedtime."
Yahiko seethed: he hated it when Jiro pulled the 'you're-only-fourteen-years-old' number on him; and after everything he did around the diner too!
"Where do you get off calling me kid? Old age must be messing with your brains. Besides, the only one here who is up way past bedtime is you, you fossil!"
Jiro looked up to the decaying ceiling canvas for patience. The faded and chipped image of a brown-eyed saint smiling compassionately down at him always managed to somewhat soothe him. Despite all the renovations he'd made after finding the torn down chapel all those decades ago, he'd never quite convinced himself to paint over the frescos on the roof: he didn't have the heart to finish off what some demolition crew had started, it seemed by far too disrespectful for his standards.
"Oi Jiro, need a miracle ear or something? I'm talking to you!"
The whelp's voice and impertinent speech patterns brought him back from his thoughts. There was a reason why he couldn't desecrate those ancient images, just as there was a reason why he couldn't fire the brat: the only problem was that, as of now, he couldn't quite remember all the 'whys' and 'hows'.
"I get no respect…" he concluded with a sigh.
"So… I get off work early tomorrow, right?" the boy continued, paying no heed to his employer's disheartened murmur.
"Yes, yes, now go do your job: a party of five just walked in!" the diner's owner exclaimed crabbily, pointing a finger at the main entrance where five boys stood goofing around, looking out for a proper place to seat and enjoy a light meal.
Yahiko turned around and followed the direction Jiro's finger was pointing at with his eyes, only to have his face fall in dismay when sudden recognition kicked in: if those kids found out he worked here, he was dead.
Okay, so the diner wasn't McDonald's-humiliating; it just so happened to be closer to the school though, which meant that he could get harassed daily after school hours if the jerks were so inclined: bullying him was, after all, one of their favorite pastimes.
"They don't pay me enough for this…" he mumbled under his breath, slamming his head against the counter none-too-gently.
"Someone you know?" the elderly man interrogated with a quirked eyebrow.
"Just some kids from school…"
Old man Jiro chuckled. Just because he was well beyond sixty didn't mean he deserved no credit! He had seen that look before, and on his own, less wrinkled face, to be precise. So the kid got bullied around – as if he didn't have enough to deal with already!
"Suck it up, kid!"
Yahiko Mioujin's cheeks flared red and he wished that he very well could, but the bile rising in his throat was keeping him from accomplishing such a feat. He didn't like being made fun of and he despised seeing people get picked on, but he was a fourteen-year-old freshman against a bunch of influential sophomores; he was a nobody against several well-known creeps and that just meant that the odds were remarkably against him.
The fact that they were jerks and that he tried his best to make himself as invisible as humanly possible meant nothing. The fact that he worked hard for a chance at a half-decent future while they wasted their afternoons away shooting hoops at the park meant nothing. Life wasn't fair and he was the living proof behind that one miserable commonly held belief.
"And remember, I cook the food: just say the word and they won't know what hit 'em!"
Yahiko's eyes went as wide as dinner plates as he fixed his plump employer with a questioning stare. Life was unfair, that was an understatement unto itself, but that wasn't the only axiom known to mankind that revolved around the very notion of life: in some circles, it was also said that life is full of surprises. Thus, with a grateful smile and newfound courage in his heart, he spoke:
"Thanks Jiro but if there's another case of food poisoning linked to this place, they'll shut you down… or at least they should."
"Yes… 'Tis a pity that the penal system is so… flawed… isn't it?"
The old man's cheeky grin truly was priceless!
"Give 'em your worst you old geezer!" Yahiko proclaimed, a giant grin pleasantly easing itself onto his formerly grim face, dimpling his cheeks in all the right places – namely the corners of his now smiling mouth.
"Yes, yes, you just go get their orders and leave the rest to me: compliments of the chef and whatnot." Jiro said, waving the youngster away towards the recently arrived costumers' table.
"Yes sir!" the rowdy kid mock saluted before turning on his heel, all determination, professionalism and serious airs.
"Oh and Yahiko?'
"Yeah?" he called out over his shoulder, giving the man at the counter a backward glance.
"Tsubame is allergic to chocolate so, when you leave earlier tomorrow to pick her up and take her out for her birthday, stick with flowers."
Yahiko paused mid-stride, shaken up and dully embarrassed.
"Are all senile citizens of the world this nosy, or is it just you?"
With that rude remark, the teenage boy squared his shoulders, counted backwards from ten in his head and walked on, over to the table with the awaiting 'amiable' party of five.
The saint painted on the ceiling always looked pretty much the same, though every once in a while a new crack was made visible in his sympathetic features or dark robes.
"I get no respect." Jiro uttered with the usual sigh, tearing his gaze from the discolored icon.
He wasn't one for mass every Sunday, he wasn't a bible-spouting kind of guy and he didn't wear a silver cross round his neck. But, he believed in the sanctity of certain things.
Like the frescos painted on the roof of his workplace. Like the innocence of a boy being forced to grow up too fast too soon.
He knew there was a reason why he couldn't get rid of the paintings, just as there was a reason why he couldn't turn his back on the boy; sometimes he merely didn't want to remember why the reasons should exist, why the preservation of certain values couldn't be more implicit instead of a big chore.
Life wasn't fair, but he did believe in making one's own justice: after all, there needed to be some form of divine compensation for the forgotten…
Nodding her head, she slurped the last of her tall vanilla milkshake through a pink crazy straw. Nodding her head, she took a giant bite out of her turkey sandwich, a drop of ketchup trickling down the corner of her mouth. Nodding her head, she stuck a chili fry in his mouth: so what if they didn't sell donuts here? One thing was for sure, she was keeping the crazy straw – she hadn't used one of those since she was a child and, man were they fun!
After getting over the initial shock of suddenly having a chili fry rammed into his mouth – while he was explaining her history homework to her, no less – he realized that her attention span rivaled Sanosuke's five second's of deep concentration record time and that he was getting nowhere with her.
Slowly turning in his chair, Kenshin blinked a few times in her direction, curious as to when she would finally notice that he had stopped speaking…
Six to seven astonished blinks later, Kaoru's soft blue eyes landed on him and, at the sight of his slightly gaping jaw, she set her sandwich down on her plate, smiled dazzlingly his way and popped another delicious chili fry into his mouth, oblivious to the ketchup stain on the corner of her lips.
He tried to be mad at her, he really did, but she kept on smiling and chewing and smiling and chewing and smiling and chewing, utterly blind to the spot of ketchup blemishing her left dimple: it was funny and kind of cute, even if she had made him spend a good twenty minutes wasting his breath needlessly.
Resigning himself to the fact that sudden enlightenment was not going to hit her over the with a stick any time soon, Kenshin picked up a napkin and gently blotted it against the left corner of her mouth, wiping the red smear away at long last.
Kaoru was torn: should she be delighted at his delicate gesture or should she be embarrassed at the thought of sporting a stain on her face for an interval of time that she could never hope to know? Maybe she should just let it go; one way or another, she could end up reading too much into things – and to think that seconds ago she was as jubilant as can be at the prospect of owning a crazy straw again after that particular eighties fad passed, taking away half the excitement of blowing bubbles into a glassful of milk along with it.
"You had some ketchup there." Kenshin spoke softly, unhurriedly withdrawing his hand from her face.
"Is it gone?" she asked in a hushed tone, barely daring to speak above a whisper.
"All gone." He answered huskily, his violet eyes permanently locked on her own.
"Thank you." Kaoru breathed out, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks as she looked down at the open books on the table and unconsciously swept a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
She had never ever felt this nervous before. He was looking at her funny and she didn't know what to make of it. She didn't want to read too much into things, she was afraid of setting herself up for one heck of a fall, even if she was prone to land on her feet.
She was agile, but also pretty darn clumsy: who was to say that, instead of her feet, this time around her ass wasn't the one body part that took the full brunt of the crash? Better be safe than sorry, that's what her mom always said…
"So… you were saying something about liberalism being self-destructive?"
Kenshin sighed. The mood was broken. Not that he was sure that he would have wanted to act upon anything, since he wasn't really a person inclined to 'seize the bull by the horns' as his obnoxious guardian would better phrase it, but he couldn't deny that he was disappointed by her reaction to… the situation. At least he had gotten a blush out of her…
"I doubt that any political theory has much to do with the Self Kaoru, even if it is founded on ideals of individualism as is the case." Kenshin spoke, abiding to her subitaneous wishes of sticking to the original plan a.k.a boring homework and dull conversation.
"I know that!" She protested, before proceeding to explain: "What I meant to say is that said political current was indirectly responsible for the creation of the only enemy that could bring it down, right?"
"In a sense. According to Marx-"
"Not that guy again!" Kaoru wailed, frowning down at the remains of her sandwich.
"Oro? You don't like Marx?" he questioned, more out of morbid curiosity than anything else. To be truly honest, he couldn't give a toss about the Communist Manifesto and everything else he was tutoring her through; he never did like his sociology classes much.
"Personal vendettas aside, since we are obviously living in the same timeline as the man," she commented wryly, "I merely dislike what they did with his theories."
"How so?"
"Let's just say that 'misinterpretation' is not a big enough word for the sequence of events that took place in the name of sweet liberating freedom, Marxism and the misfits' flag."
"Rarely does an applied theory have anything to do with the model upon which it was based." He concurred solemnly.
"Rarely do I like what you have to say when we talk about stuff like this." She replied, with a roll of her eyes: that pessimistic streak of his really did rub her the wrong way most of the time…
"I don't blame you," he shrugged, "you are, after all, young and idealistic, I take it."
Kaoru scowled, his patronizing smirk an insult to her intelligence. He always did that, always put some form of distance between them that was nothing more than plain idiocy. He made himself out to be some sort of octogenarian when he hadn't even graduated from college and looked, for all the world, is if he hadn't even made it past high school. He could be so annoying sometimes, casting out signals that were, beyond mixed, more like all over the place!
"Oh please, and you're what, my grandpa?" she scolded, sick and tired of his cynical attitude, "You have no faith in mankind: there's no I age for that, I take it."
"It's hard to be a firm believer in the goodness of humanity when a world shaped like a perfect sphere spins, twists and turns itself into a deformed pretzel, Kaoru."
"So, in order for you to believe in something, it has to have achieved perfection? Boy! Are you setting yourself up to live perpetually disappointed!"
There she sat, arms crossed, eyes blazing. She never seemed to run out of things to say or ways to put his whole perception of life in question. She clearly wasn't one to keep quiet, about anything; then again, he had been made aware of that fact on their very first, fluke encounter.
As always, he tried to find words and phrases that would do him justice and rightfully defend his beliefs, but she kept shooting him down, which only served one purpose: to keep him rebutting like an attorney gone bonkers.
"I know that perfection is an impossibility Kaoru. However, I can't help but think that maybe the world shouldn't have to be as screwed up as it is." he calmly persevered.
Kaoru sighed and let her head plop against the table. The man was impossible: one minute he was damning the entire human race; the next, he was proclaiming that there might still be a chance. Of course, as he saw it, the conditions that could very well lead to a prosperous life on planet Earth were of standards that far surpassed what society, as a whole, was capable of.
Was he a Virgo or something? He was enough of a perfectionist to at least have an ascendant in Virgo… and maybe Misao was rubbing off on her a little too much…
"Existentialist anguish, here we come…" she deadpanned, heedless of the chili fry that glued itself onto her forehead once she lifted her head from the tabletop. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe you think too much?"
"Oro???" he yelped in shock, his eyebrows receding up to his hairline and hiding themselves away beneath his bangs. "I thought using my brain was supposed to be a good thing!"
"It is, only… you should be able to drink a glass of water peacefully without obsessing about the planet running out of good old H²O every two sips, or something."
"I don't think that I get that carried away with my concerns. In fact, if things are indeed as you claim them to be, I would have never picked up a cigarette in my life and, as it so happens, I was a nicotine addict for four years straight. Besides, if people aren't conscientious and-"
"And socially aware and blah, blah, blah." she cut him off, "I cannot believe I'm siding with Misao on this one, but you intellectuals, activists and asocial folk have really got to lighten up a bit!"
Rolling his eyes, he declared her a lost cause for the second time in less then an hour and… got over himself when he noticed the chili fry dangling from her forehead. She could be kind of cute when passionately thriving to make her opinion known, her body language and 'other' contingencies generally contradicting her intentions.
"If someone doesn't worry about our world's fate, then no one will Kaoru." Kenshin said softly, leaning forward, stretching his arm and affectionately picking the fry off of her.
"I understand…" she struggled to string the words out, her hitched breath suddenly becoming a slight problem. "I just don't see why 'someone' has to be you all of the time. It's okay to be selfish once in a while, Kenshin."
Before she knew what was happening, her hand was sliding across the table and curling around his own, the chili fry incident long forgotten in view of the bolder actions taking place.
Kenshin was speechless, thunderstruck and overwhelmed by the feathery touch of the fingers that hesitantly curved round his knuckles and squeezed his hand fondly. It had been a long time since he had been touched with such gentle reticence and endearing uncertainty. It had been too long…
"So… please be selfish for a while and… sit here with me and talk to me about… about your favorite band and… and let someone else worry about the doomed fate of the world for five minutes. Please Kenshin, just for a little while…" she quietly beseeched.
Her sincere plea… Honest to God, he could not find the right words to piece together what it meant to him to be sitting across from someone with such kindness in their eyes and caring in their voice. And that all this tenderness was directed at him, that all the tenderness sparkling in her azure irises rose to the surface for him was… beautiful.
And, suddenly, he realized that he was in the company of one of the most beautiful creatures on the face of the earth, that he had been blessed with the existence of Kaoru in his life and that that was everything. This moment, it meant everything…
It's in those little sparkling moments that you know your world is changing – fast – and that there's nothing you can do – or want to do – but tag along for the ride.
You know that there will be bumps down the road, that the ride will be far from smooth, but – ah! Those sparkling moments! Aren't they always worth it?
How could one regret or take back a turning point that inspires such pleasurable and new emotions? How could one pull away from such novel and entrancing sensations? How can one refuse the heart?
Allowing himself a rare, true smile, Kenshin met Kaoru's timid, uncertain orbs and lightly squeezed back, his fingers mellifluously threading themselves with her own.
"My favorite band, hunh?" he asked casually, tracing small circles on her fleshy palm with his thumb's calloused pad.
"Umh… yeah." she uttered dumbly, blown away by the feel of his velvety caresses and the amused look in his warm lavender eyes. "I… I… umm… don't even know what kind of… ah… music… you are… ah… into."
What was happening? One minute they had been arguing, then she got annoyed to the point of no return, all of a sudden she grew balls of steel and developed a forward personality without traces of her usual shyness and… voilá! They were holding hands over the napkin holder and she had come down with a phonatory disorder: was it just her or was the world spinning out of orbit?
She HAD to get a hold of herself and relearn proper articulation and the process that would permit the achievement of foresaid goals had better take up less than three minutes, otherwise… otherwise she was a goner and could just kiss all her prudence and sensibility goodbye with a slobbery, resounding SMACK!
Willing herself to regain her bearings and inhale sweet oxygen before she passed out, Kaoru's resolve hardened and, to her credit, she managed to lace together a well-structured sentence:
"Come to think of it though, the long hair pretty much gives you away."
"It does?" he inquired, still lost in a haze.
"Yeah…" she answered, fairly dazzled as well.
"So, what's my favorite band?" he urged her on, the air around the pair heavy and thick with electricity.
"If I had to hazard a guess?" the young girl drew out.
"Yes, if you had to hazard a guess." he prodded evenly, utterly taken by the image of her, their conversation thrust to the far off corners of his mind.
"Guns n' Roses." she stated easily, drinking her table companion in with her piercing sapphire gaze.
The architecture major's head was reeling and he was certain that some people would even go as far as to say that he was experiencing the effects of a ridiculous state of pure rapture best known as 'swooning'.
What was even more ludicrous – if such a feat was indeed possible – was that the situation that had two people transfixed and shaken beyond all they could comprehend could be resumed in seven measly words: two people sitting together at a diner. That was it; there was seriously nothing else to it.
Yet, for Kenshin Himura, the implications – darned little fiends that they were – ran much deeper. Because of that, he was miles away from that nondescript joint tucked away on the corner of a random street, in a city like any other, unwittingly falling in love with a seventeen-year-old schoolgirl like and unlike any other seventeen-year-old schoolgirl living in the twenty-first century.
The words 'Guns n' Roses', however, drove all that to a screeching halt and the magic, and the moonlight's spell and the chipped Formica of the table-tops that had seemed like old lovers' carvings just seconds before were now figments of an extremely overactive imagination and improper maintenance: had there been any mescaline in his iced-tea?
"Did you say 'Guns n' Roses'?" he croaked out.
"Yeah, that's what I said." she responded, confused by the change in atmosphere. Did she say something wrong?
"As in Axel's band?" he continued, eyes wide, his hand unconsciously withdrawing itself and slipping out of her warm grasp.
"Is there another 'Guns n' Roses' that I'm not aware of?" she retorted, unexpectedly feeling a bit chilly.
"Boy am I glad we had this talk, that I am!" he asserted, determined to clear up yet another misconception once and for all. Honestly, what was next? 'You have long hair so you must be a Hell's Angel?' He never got any respect, did he?
"What? Why?" she asked, completely thrown for a loop as to what suddenly crawled up his behind. Why could things between them never be stable or make sense, for that matter?
"Talk about misinterpretation…" he grumbled with a put out sigh.
It's in those little sparkling moments – the ones that in the big picture paint themselves out as short and inconsequential, simple snippets of daily life – that the soul finds sustenance.
It is the touch of a hand that breathes new life into a man that, for years, considered himself a lost cause.
Those little sparkling moments are that which give us all away… and take our breaths away, that make all the rest – past, present and future – ever worthwhile.
Those little sparkling moments, they hold the key to the undecipherable.
It's those little sparkling moments that mean everything…
Reviewer Responses:
To Melyan: Thank you for reviewing and for considering this story different from the most of the existent fanfics on the site. You are right, good stories and especially good writing are extremely hard to find and I am very glad that you don't think me lacking. The plot isn't really all that fancy, but I try to keep everything entertaining; I figure that the way you write really makes the story into something worth reading… or something to throw away in the trash. I put a lot of work into this fic – though it might not seem like it – and it is comments like yours that make me realize that the agony pays off. Keep reviewing, if possible and sorry for the long wait between updates. Bye!
To Aryanne: For starters, congratulations on the newest chapter of 'Silver Cross': it was lovely and I'll be sure to review. I love that you noticed the little hint I dropped with the horoscope reference! No one else mentioned it – isn't foreshadowing grand? Hahahah. You were looking forward to their 'date': in your opinion, how did it go? Wait till next chapter to see what I have planned; I don't think you'll be all that pleased, but that's the way the cookie crumbles. Ups and downs, ups and downs… I'll leave you to think on that then, okay? Thank you for reviewing: you always make me feel special!
To Vic'chonn: Your review had me repeating the word 'wow' over and over again. Freud? Sartre? I don't think I could ever reach the same level as those guys but, I suppose that it wouldn't be wrong to say that they're big influences. Just a few weeks ago I was reading 'Existentialism is a Humanism' for my philosophy class and some things stuck with me – whether I agreed with everything or not is a whole other story. I'm a big fan on reading and a few years ago this Ernesto Sábato book landed on my lap and I figured 'why not?' So I read 'On Heroes and Tombs' and… I spent months turning the pages until I managed to finish it because it's not easy to digest; like you very well said, there's a LOT going on in that guy's head. Thank you for complimenting my little exposé on love – it took forever and a day to write – and stick around because this story is only getting started! Bye and do review for the next chapter!
To Misato-Katsuragi2: In truth, I didn't intend to make Tomoe pregnant, but plans change and the best characters are the ones who tend to write themselves. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to e-mail you before writing this, other wise I would have told you that you can send me all your thoughts any time you like through mail, that's what my e-mail address is there for on my author's profile. On a curious note, as I write this, there's a storm going on outside my window: weird hunh? Till next time!
To missaw: I'm sorry I don't have that many funny little fragments in this chapter – I know you enjoy the comedy quite a lot – and that this chapter took an eternity to make its way onto your computer screen. You've probably seen Troy by now and you've probably therefore figured out that it's a crappy movie but… wasn't the Brad Pitt scene with the towel worth your money? Hahaha.
To Shaeya Sedjet: You love the Sano in this fic and in this chapter he didn't make one lousy appearance. Don't worry though, he was going to be in it, only it was going to come out too long so, as the title indicates, I've split this segment into two parts. This means that, next chapter, our boy will be back. If you found Kenshin's walk sexy, what did you think of the palm caressing? I wrote it and, I swear, it made metingly.
To kean: Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! I know it was very cruel of me to not update for so long and I also know that it's becoming a very bad habit but, I couldn't help it! I was sick – sortta still am – and, for some reason, this particular chapter took really long to write and sort itself out; it even got split into two parts! Thank you for the show of emotional support – no need to hack, cough or wheeze there – for even the slightest word can mean a ton.
To Rhapsody07: You know, Tomoe isn't quite out of the picture yet. I have plans for her – believe it or not – and you know, you might just end up liking her a little, after a while that is – believe it or not. Stay tuned, 'kay? Kissies.
To De: Now, this particular review was like the icing on the cake. I don't think beaming comes close to describing my behavior after reading it. Your words let me know that this story touched you and that, to me, is the greatest compliment. It delights me to hear that finding my fanfic was like coming across the proverbial needle in the haystack for you. The fact that the character you chose to praise was Kaoru also lifted my spirits. Generally speaking, everyone has taken a liking to my portrayal of Sano and, while I think that's great, it is nice to hear that other characters in the story, like Kaoru, also awaken the readers' interests. I hope this new installment failed to disappoint you and that you continue reading this tale of a simple girl with a simple life that, one day, starts and doesn't stop making 180º spins, twists and turns.
To VanyD: My darling VanyD, what can I say? The semester is finally over, you are INDEED loved and much appreciated, Kaoru spends a lot of time ARGUING with the cutest and most conflicted redhead ever, everyone seems to have a soft spot for Sano (don't worry, he makes an appearance next chapter), the Misao/Aoshi moments will be there, though I am going to be working them in slowly (what did you think about the beginning of this chapter?) and last, but not least, yes, I HAVE FINALLY UPDATED! I read one of your fics and I left you a nice little review (just as I promised I would) and, if time allows, I'll start reading one of your completed works real soon, okay? Till next time!
To EnjeruJoshin: In my author's note last chapter, I explained the trouble I had uploading and formatting. I presume that you might be back from A-kon right now (could you kindly explain what or where A-kon is?) and I hope that you've read the missing chapter as well as this one. I am a bit put down considering that I do not know if the marriage proposal still stands or not? Tell me soon enough please, otherwise, we might have to postpone possible engagement commitments and the flowers will most definitely have to get cancelled. Hahahaha I love you very much darling. Kissies and bye!
To Ocean Fish: First and foremost, I am not telling you who the father of Tomoe's baby is; you will just have to read about it when the time comes. However, I can assure you that there is no way – as in geographically impossible – that Kenshin has anything to do with paternity. Second: you catch on quickly my sweet little pookie-pooh! You are correct in your assumptions that I would not take my time telling the beginnings of Tomoe's tale if I didn't plan on developing her character in the slightest, which can only mean that, she's not quite out of the picture… yet. I am glad that you updated one of your fics and I already did the whole R n' R thing. Now, if only the piano people had new stories to tell… That's a big hint right there! Kisses and many thanks, see you soon!
And that's a wrap! See you all again next time for more flighty turbulence and comic melodrama!