STANDARD DISCLAIMERS APPLY: Ownership is so overrated anyways…
Quick little message from author: I apologize for the long delay but… yes, it's all my fault! I mean, how do I get myself into such strange situations? I finally ditch one writer's block only to fall knee-deep in another! I'll tell you something, though, it 'aint anywhere near pleasant. Moving along… has anyone ever considered how hard it must be to be Tomoe Yukishiro? Well, even if I don't really like her, I have been thinking about it and, all I can say is that, walking in her shoes is probably not all it's cracked up to be: being viewed as perfect 24/7 can land anyone straight on a psychoanalyst's couch. The secrets of her past… they also don't do much for comfort. Being Aoshi-Lama must be no picnic either; perennial quests for enlightenment must suck… especially if you're not actually on one but everyone seems to think that that's the only worthy excuse as to why you are broody and anal. I bet that takes the Zen right out of anyone… except, maybe, Aoshi. Oh, and please don't anyone get me started on how lame it must be to actually be Kenshin Himura, a guy so un-cool that his mind can go on a vinic tangent at the most awkward of times… But, if you don't get what I'm rambling on about, I suggest you read this chapter and see if it clears up a thing or two… or makes you add a question or two to the already long list. As usual, I deny everything since it's the characters that end up writing themselves. Enjoy.
Soundtrack: Part 1: "Falling away with you" – Muse; Part 2: "Walking on the Sun" – Smashmouth; Part 3: "There there (The Boney King of Nowhere) – Radiohead; Part 4: "We've been had" – The Walkmen; Part 5: "Big Blue Sea (acoustic version)" – Bob Schneider, "I've got you babe" – Sonny and Cher; Part 6: "Amie" – Damien Rice; Part 7: "Science Vs. Romance" – Rilo Kiley.
Chapter 22: Sub Rosa
Realizing that you might have feelings for someone is kind of like looking through an airplane window: no matter how real you know the clouds to be, they always seem fake and akin to a childhood fantasy.
There's always something compelling us to deny the truth, to underestimate the strength of our emotions, to consider the fluffy, cotton-like clouds, fixedly suspended in the pale blue heavens, too far from reach. We always seek to, above all else, save face.
As a little girl standing on a ladder, I held my arms out to the night sky, hoping to catch the stars in my outstretched hands.
As a young girl on the verge of adulthood, I gazed into a pair of sparkling violet eyes, hoping to read my future in the dark pupils cutting through me.
Once I began growing up, I stopped climbing up ladders, learned the difference between stratosphere and mesosphere and came to grips with the fact that gas wasn't tangible and that I was but a slave to gravity.
Once I managed to grab a hold of myself, I remembered fairytales aren't real, that no one can accurately predict my future and that if I got carried away with feelings I couldn't even put a name to, I would only make an ass of myself.
But, like I said, realizing you might harbor feelings for someone beyond the shallow end of the pool is pretty similar to looking out an airplane window: the plane's wing unexpectedly cuts through a hovering tuft of a cloud and all sense of reality crashes down.
The blue fades, beyond the small rounded peephole to the skies everything is white, you find yourself flying in the middle of nowhere and all the wonder that accompanies discovering the littlest of things, the childlike awe we are conditioned to suppress, resurfaces.
Shaky fingers press hesitantly against the small transparent window to what seems like another world, wanting to touch the sky, your mind knowing full well that you are encased in the very same unreachable cloud you had stopped believing in years ago.
Denying is one thing; ignoring is another.
Sometimes, I am fine, I am acceptant, I am blissfully in denial; then a cloud traps me within its misty whiteness and the truth slowly, almost gently, unravels and makes itself heard. The six year old in me rejoices, lost innocence once again fondly cradling in its heart the illusion of being able to hang on to a shooting star's tail of light.
Then, the plane lands, its wheels grating smoothly and speedily against the ground and you keep your seatbelt buckled tight and you feel terrible pressure in your ears and your stomach does a thousand flip-flops and your head pounds as if Lars Ulrich had mistaken it for a drum kit and your nostrils flare and… suddenly, all is still. And the truth remains. And it won't hide any longer. And it's terrifying. And until you can figure out what it all may come to mean, it stays secret.
For the most part, affairs of the heart are handled "Sub Rosa". Under the sign of the rose, we are all afforded the chance to save face, to protect others and ourselves from the one thing with the potential to change everything: the truth.
"Where's my tool belt?"
Steeping out of the shower, Kenshin heard Sano's muffled voice through the bathroom door. Shrugging, he headed for the sink and picked up a brown hairbrush lying on the marble countertop.
"Probably next to my headpiece, Sano."
Raking the brush though his wet hair, Kenshin realized that Megumi was also in his bedroom. He hoped the couple had no plans to fight this evening, because he really wasn't in the mood. Besides, he was short on time and having to clean up the mess they were bound to leave in the wake of one of their fall outs would only sidetrack him.
"Are you wearing red pumps?"
Frowning at the mirror, Kenshin considered the strangeness of Sano's last statement; it wasn't like him at all to notice what his girlfriend was wearing, let alone comment on it. In fact, one of the main reasons the pair fought so much was Sano's typical male behavior regarding haircuts, new earrings, highlights and lost weight: all these things simply flew below the radar.
"And here I thought you were colorblind. Do you like the shoes, Sanosuke?"
Tugging a pristine white towel off the rack, Kenshin thought to himself that Megumi's voice sounded unusually sultry. Maybe he was just imagining things.
"You bet your sweet ass I do, baby!"
Shaking his head at his own reflection, Kenshin snorted. Sano was always way too crass and the fact that he was acting so overly enthusiastic over a pair of shoes was pathetic enough to make one wonder if he was trying to score points with his other half after yet another disagreement. That much was, come to think of it, quite plausible.
"Tell me, you shirtless Neanderthal, what else do you like?"
Suppressing a shudder, Kenshin reached over the toilet seat and plugged in the blow-dryer. Those two had the most bizarre mating ritual known to mankind. Wait… did she just say shirtless?
"You wanna know, do you, you naughty woman? Well… I like this button… and this button… and this…"
Sputtering, Kenshin quickly readjusted the towel wrapped round his waist and stormed into his room.
"Would you mind doing… that… somewhere else, please?" He whined, belatedly covering his abused eyes with his hand.
What he had just seen looked like something straight out of a porn flick, even if both Sano and Megumi were still somewhat clothed. Sano, a yellow construction hat atop his head, was straddling Megumi, who was wearing a nurse uniform meant to only properly fit a ten year old, her hands running down the jean clad man's bare chest.
Heaving a sigh as heavy as a whole encyclopedia collection, Sanosuke buried his head in the crook of his beloved's neck while she redid the first two buttons of her skimpy satin outfit. Turning over and releasing Megumi from his hold, the brown-haired and currently very frustrated young man threw a meaningful glare at his roommate.
"Kenshin, man, you so need to get laid."
Sitting up on the large bed, Megumi slapped away her boyfriend's arm. "Must you always be such a pig?"
Blinking dumbly, the brunet stared at her as if the answer to her question were the most obvious thing in the world. "Yes."
"What is it that I see in you?" She wondered aloud, looking up to the ceiling pleadingly.
"Big hands?" He ventured, quirking his eyebrows comically.
The cold, cold glare she shot him let him know that, sadly enough, not even his construction worker costume would do it for her tonight. Oh well, he still had a few hours and a few drinks to his advantage; Rooney's party and Megumi's weird fixation with martinis might just turn out to be his saving grace.
"I am running late," Kenshin uttered crisply. "Unless either of you need something, I'd prefer to get dressed without an audience."
Both Megumi and Sano resorted to sporting confused expressions on their faces. What their friend had said was perfectly understandable and normal, if not somewhat rude. True, they more than deserved getting indecorously kicked out of the room; the only problem was that… Kenshin wasn't impolite… ever. Something was up.
"Well… Kenny dear, we…" Megumi hesitantly began to explain before trailing off.
"There's a Halloween bash at Rooney's tonight," Sano continued, eyeing the redhead curiously as he slammed one of his drawers shut.
"Sanosuke and I thought you might like to join us." Since Kenshin remained silent and carried on almost angrily searching for a missing something, the comforting hand tracing circles on the small of her back was very much appreciated. Just what exactly was going on? Did Kenshin secretly do drugs?
Suddenly, after hopping around the room like a bunny on crack for what felt like a lifetime, pulling handfuls of ties from the tie rack, putting them back, opening and closing shoeboxes and slamming drawer after drawer after drawer, Kenshin flopped down on the bed and sighed.
"I'm too old for this shit."
Alarm bells blaring in Megumi's head, she quickly turned around, crawled to the limp form on the bed and placed her hand on his forehead. "I'd say you don't have a fever, Kenny, and your pupils seem fine. What's wrong?"
"I'm meeting the proud parents of a teenage girl," he admitted sheepishly.
Sano was, of course, unable to suppress his laughter upon hearing the cause of such erratic behavior. "Robbing the cradle's a bitch, ain't it pal?"
There went Megumi, hitting his arm again; what was her fucking problem anyway? Sure, Kenshin wasn't that old, but Kaoru wasn't even legal. He had no qualms with the idea of those two getting together – the age difference really wasn't that big –, but an opportunity to crack a joke, in his opinion, should never go to waste. Damn conservative girlfriend…
"Oh Kenny, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about," the tall female said reassuringly. "She's too virginal and inexperienced to try anything and you… you were practically married and are bashful by nature so, it's not as if you're about to defile the girl, much less make the first move and kiss her. I'm sure her parents will be made quite aware tonight of just how boring and shy you two are and leave you be."
In all his life, Sanosuke had never seen his best friend's face go quite so red. Whether it was out of anger or embarrassment, he would never know. The only thing he would forever be certain of, though, was that he loved his girlfriend oh so very much.
From his bedroom window, he looked down, knowing that he had bigger fish to fry and absolutely no time to waste on silly love songs. That didn't stop his eyes from straying. His eyes were always seeing what he wasn't meant to gaze upon, what he had no time to contemplate.
Beyond his bedroom door, dreaming was nary an option, much less a choice; there was no place for dreaming in no-man's land, there were only bills to pay and shattered illusions gathering dust on a mantelpiece.
She was still beautiful, but broken. He didn't know what to do, how to remedy things, how to vanquish the invincible enemy that had taken over every corner of their home and more often than not set her against him, against herself.
He was fighting a losing battle, he was steering a sinking ship and, despite the plane suddenly nose-diving, he kept a straight face. If not for his strength, where would she be? If not for his inability to admit to failure, where would he be?
There she was, as lively as ever. Then there she was, as lost and scared as an abandoned child. His life had become a game of hide-and-seek wherein she always sought refuge by the rose bush. He had always hated games.
And, entirely unasked for, was the kicker. So many times, his eyes strayed. This she could never know. He had no time for her. He had no time for himself.
He had problems to solve, another life to care for, a future filled with hardships to consider. His heart could wait. His heart would have to wait.
Once again, his eyes strayed and, this time, like so many others, he caught a smile on her face. Sailing through her house's front lawn, she seemed genuinely happy. Her happiness, however, was not to be any of his concern. His concerns had little to do but lie elsewhere.
Turning his back on the window, the corners of Aoshi's lips lifted slightly, the memory of her smile tugging at his heart, before he went back to doing what he did best: ignoring what was there and that, despite his efforts, his eyes somehow always managed to stray.
Stealthily creeping in through the backdoor, Kaoru hoped to go unnoticed by her parents: fat chance!
"I always thought it was the carriage and not Cinderella that turned into a pumpkin."
Groaning, the teenage girl covered in orange goo, from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes, peeled her eyes off the kitchen floor and settled for giving her mother a helpless look.
"Trust me mom, the interior of Casey's car is equally icky and orange."
"Sounds like the 70s' all over again!" Kazuko Kamiya exclaimed, wiping her hands on her kitsch pink and yellow plaid apron.
"You certainly look the part," the girl uttered sardonically once the apron had come off and the whole of her mother's costume was revealed. "You… you didn't try cooking anything, did you?"
"Flan." Kazuko pointed a finger at a mahogany hued blob of char set to decompose in the kitchen sink. "It was a flop."
The silence reigning in the kitchen confused the short cyan-eyed woman, the buzzing of the fridge proving to be of little comfort. Usually, her daughter would be mocking her for yet another gastronomical failure on her part, not keeping quiet as she had been lectured to do since she had developed the ability to form semi-coherent sentences. Obedience was not Kaoru's finest point and the girl's honesty was known to be razor-sharp: this led the photojournalist to twist her hands together in worry, a bad nervous habit that her daughter had inherited.
"What?"
After a long drawn-out sigh, Kaoru shook her head, unable to believe her mother couldn't even guess what was bothering her. "I never thought I'd say this but… mom, I don't think you're wearing enough sequins. Or fabric, for that matter."
Looking down at her bare midriff, Mrs. Kamiya got the drift. "What's the matter sweetie? Can't handle your mother showing a bit of skin?"
"I couldn't even be graced with normal parents, could I?" Avoiding her mother's teasing smile, Kaoru gave her own bellybutton a look-see. "Personally, I think there has been enough navel action from the Kamiyas for the day."
"I see Misao finally wheedled you into acting your age," Mrs. Kamiya said, punctuating her words with a good-natured chuckle.
"I wonder if I could coax you into doing the same."
Though the insinuation was not entirely lost on the woman in her early forties, she was too enamored with her shiny red outfit and long, sleek wig to care.
"Now that we're done here and you've had your fun young lady, I presume I won't have to convince you to go shower, will I?"
"Well, I figured I could just go around hugging people in rented costumes as per Halloween tradition, but if you insist…"
Rolling her eyes, Kazuko Kamiya had to wonder just why exactly God had decided to bless her daughter with such a quick tongue; it made her feel as if she were atoning for something. As to what that 'something' was, she never could say.
"Make it a quick shower: we have guests."
"Which reminds me…" Kaoru trailed off, clutching onto one of the double door's doorknobs, desperately trying to hide her blush. "I have a guest coming over myself."
"Oh please, Kaoru; Misao is family!"
"More like a bad rash that won't go away, if you ask me," she muttered, walking away from the double doors and folding her arms.
"Don't speak ill of others when they're not around to defend themselves, sweetie."
With her back turned to the room's only 'emergency' exit – a threshold she planned to cross in a hurry very soon –, Kaoru failed to see her father step into the kitchen.
"Fine, fine, no more badmouthing for me," the teen remarked in a suspiciously placating manner. "Anyway, I wasn't talking about Misao – I have more than one friend, you know. I sort of invited someone over and… you're right mom, I should hurry up and shower real quick, otherwise… he'll get here and you will open the door…wearing that. I'll be doomed to perpetual embarrassment."
As she turned around, Koshijirou Kamiya's stern eyes caught the blush on his only child's flustered face – the one his wife had yet to take notice of as she was far too busy staring at her own reflection in a frying pan – and steeled himself for what was to come. His baby girl had invited the enemy over for their sacred annual Halloween gathering, which meant, unfortunately enough, that his little girl cared. He didn't like the thought of his spirited, yet naïve daughter, caring, not one bit. The secret smile she innocently wore on her lips and her nervous stammering when she tried to pass off the 'he' she smoothly slipped into her explanation as nothing, spelled trouble. There came a time in every father's life, when preparing for trouble and the taking of arms was necessary. It was the dreaded day that Mr. Kamiya, like any other red-blooded, loving parent, had hoped would never come.
"And just who is this guest you speak of?"
His rough, commanding voice, though laced with a hint of amusement, imposed itself and demanded answers; too bad that his attire didn't quite instill fear in the hearts of evasive, manipulative teenage girls.
"I'm sure Vegas could use more people like you dad," Kaoru blurted out. Laughter was swift to follow and, for the life of her, though she tried, she couldn't quite catch her breath and put on a straight face; it was simply far too funny!
As for her father, he wasn't exactly what one could call amused; 'irked', on the other hand, fit him like a glove, his narrowed dark eyes boring into the back of his wife's head.
"At least you're not – hic! – wearing tights this year, am I right?" Kaoru's voice was shaky and a hiccup cut her off once. For some reason, her index finger wouldn't stop pointing at him, not even when she wrapped her arm around her belly and doubled over, a new wave of laughter keeping her from standing upright.
"I blame your mother," Mr. Kamiya, growled. Folding his arms over his chest and glaring at his oblivious better half, he was the exact male and far older replica of an annoyed Kaoru.
He wasn't the type to get a kick out of being a laughingstock but, thanks to his lovely 'wifey', all he had done throughout the course of the evening was lighten up people's moods… which was just a clever, euphemistic way of putting things.
Looking up from the stove, Mrs. Kamiya donned the ugly apron once more and gave her hubby a confused look. "Hmm? So you did want to wear tights after you talked my ear off last year? Men!" Poking at the crab canapés frying in the pan with a plastic fork, she sighed absently. "I suppose that, in spite of your indecisiveness, Koshijirou, something can be arranged for next Halloween."
The poor man deadpanned. The already hysterical girl only laughed harder. The spacey woman continued unawares, cramming a tray of mini-quiches into the microwave oven.
"Dad does so love his Elizabethan garbs," Kaoru uttered, snickering when her flighty mother nodded her acquiescence while dipping a carrot stick into a bowl and promptly feeding it to her shocked husband.
"What do you say?" Kazuko asked her spouse. With her hands on her hips and question marks in her eyes, she patiently awaited the final verdict on the dip she had ordered from an expensive caterer.
After swallowing, Mr. Kamiya remained ponderously silent, tweaking his mustache pensively: the female conspiracy at his house was getting old. "I say that it's always two against one and that we should still have tried for a boy!"
"Yes dear, but I was talking about the dip. So… what do you say?"
Was it just Kaoru, or was her father turning purple? In any case, he was distracted enough at the moment and she should be counting her blessings; nay, she should be getting gone before he sprung a whole questionnaire on her regarding her, luckily, still anonymous guest! Sure, his gender had already been disclosed but, on the off chance that daddy dearest hadn't noticed or hadn't as of yet had the time to process the information, now was definitely the time to take her leave.
"Well, I've had my fun! Now, it's off to hit the shower!"
Mr. Kamiya opened his mouth to protest because he knew all to well just what his sneaky daughter was up to but, to his misfortune, Mrs. Kamiya chose exactly that moment to make him taste another fantabulous appetizer. Needles to say that a glob of herb cheese attached itself to his graying mustache and that he very nearly chocked to death on the cucumber tartlet she forced on him.
"So… what do you say?"
"I say we've been had!" He yelled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and nodding towards the kitchen double doors.
"No dear, you've been had." Dabbing a napkin against his upper lip, Mrs. Kamiya smirked as wide as Sylvester does when he happens to cage Tweety behind his teeth now and again, and said nothing more. However, since her sweet but terribly naïve husband remained puzzled, she decided to enlighten him. "I had an overbearing father too, remember?"
With a snort and a scowl, Koshijirou Kamiya pulled away from his tricky wife and looked off to the side, intent on ignoring her for a while and, though he'd never admit to it, sulking for just as long too. It sounded like a plan… that is until his eyes landed on the frying pan and his nose suddenly caught the smell of burnt plastic.
"You may be wily Kazuko, but you sure 'aint gifted. When will you learn that plastic forks and warm cooking oil don't mix, hunh?"
Straightening the collar of his magenta polo shirt, Kenshin readied himself to ring the doorbell. The gate had been open, which presupposed that the homeowners were expecting guests – the loud music gave away the party that was most likely in full swing inside the house – but the front door was closed. It was a good thing too, because it gave him a last minute chance to back out, not that he was chicken or anything…
"This girl… she has me reverting to first grade psychology, for Christ's sake!"
Looking down at his wristwatch, Kenshin congratulated himself on being punctual. It had taken him a while to find a place that was open and sold flowers at this time of night, but he refused to meet her parents empty-handed – a clear violation of etiquette #101 – and he didn't find it quite appropriate to show up with a bottle of Merlot; her father might have appreciated the gesture, if it weren't for the fact that the man's daughter was not yet twenty-one and he… he quite liked Merlot and would take a glass of it over a good old Budweiser any day. Though, if he could have his pick, he would have to say that he was more of a Pinot Noir kind of guy: those slight notes of ground pepper and chocolate, as opposed to the faintly sweeter hints of raspberry in some Merlots were just… opinions that he should keep to himself in the presence of a certain seventeen year old girl's dad.
"What the hell are you doing Kenshin Himura? There could not be anything more wrong with this scenario if Hiko Seijirou himself had staged it!"
Ridding his head of such thoughts – or at the very least trying to – Kenshin smothered down the loud, protesting inner voices and rang the doorbell. Then, he proceeded to wait… and wait… and wait… and wait. Sighing, he reached over to ring the doorbell again when the door swung open. As for the sight that greeted him… there just weren't enough words.
"Cue the Sonny and Cher music, if you please!"
"I told you I wasn't willing to discuss this anymore."
"And I think it's important that we discuss this!"
"Oh, so now it's important! How come it's only important whenever you say so? How come it only feels important whenever it's about you!"
"Don't go putting words in my mouth!"
Bewildered, Kenshin openly stared at the couple arguing at the front door: who were these people?
"It's not like you have to openly declare you have an ego the size of Australia! I'm your wife; trust me, I know what you meant!"
"Exactly, you're my wife, not Madame Mystique! You're not a mind reader and I'm tired of you presuming to know what it is that I mean or do not mean regarding this or that!"
Okay, so even if it was Halloween and they weren't really Sonny and Cher, but rather just two regular people dressed up as the aforementioned 70's pop icons, it still seemed a little unnatural for a would-be Cher to be tearing into a would-be Sonny. Heck, they were the happy "I got you babe" duo, not an older version of Sano and Megumi with enough red sequins to sponsor Carnival in Rio!
The man's red vest really was awfully shiny and, combined with the broad bow-tie round his neck and those horrible black tuxedo pants, he truly looked like a card-dealer from a glitzy casino.
"So, in your opinion, a person who has been married for over twenty years couldn't possibly begin to have an inkling as to how their partner's mind operates? That's what you're saying, isn't it!"
"There you go again, Kazuko! Would you stop putting words in my mouth!"
"Umm… excuse me?" As Kenshin figured it, what was going on between those two was none of his business; however, the twosome was standing in his way and, unless they moved off to the side a little and let him through, he couldn't get inside. "Would you mind…"
"I don't have to, Koshijirou!" The Cher look-alike shrieked, rapidly batting her fake eyelashes. "I don't need to lie to make you look bad; the things you say and the way you say things far surpass anything I could come up with!"
"Excuse me, but…" Kenshin was quickly growing tired of the charade. He had parents to meet and no time to waste on bickering married couples!
"Oh! So, you mean to tell me that the reason I end up wearing a ridiculous costume year, after year, after year is…me! Do you think I like looking bad? You don't need to blatantly lie; your manipulations work just fine!"
"Koshijirou Kamiya, I cannot believe that you would go there!"
"Kamiya? As in 'Kaoru Kamiya'? These are Kaoru's parents? Well... no wonder…"
An interjection or two had not gotten their attention, but resounding laughter made them both whip their heads in the direction of a red-haired boy in khakis.
"Who are you, kid?" Mr. Kamiya inquired rudely.
"A thousand apologies," Kenshin said, suppressing his sudden eagerness to keep on laughing. "I am Kenshin Himura."
"And?" Mr. Kamiya spoke, after a beat of awkward silence.
"I am a… uh… friend of Kaoru's," Kenshin offered, extending the yellow rose bouquet to Mrs. Kamiya, who cooed and cheerfully accepted the flowers. He recognized in her Kaoru's sunny smile.
"I'll go put these in water," Mrs. Kamiya said, rushing off with that pleasant smile still lighting her face.
Being left behind with Kaoru's father was certainly no picnic. Under the scrutiny of Koshijirou Kamiya's gaze, Kenshin suddenly felt very small. He had already introduced himself but, for reasons unknown, he was still 'out in the cold', sort of speak.
"Reasons unknown? If looks could kill, this man would have already turned me to ashes, dust and a heap of broken bones!"
"Umm…"
"…."
"So…"
"…."
"Okay, so he's not a talker; Kaoru must get that from her mother."
Going the extra mile, the affable young man fished for an opener that would finally break the ice between them. "So… how about them Yankees?"
"Don't you mean Red Sox?"
Sadly, affable just wasn't going to cut it.
Red. Soft. Fragrant. Delicate.
Red. Soft. Fragrant. Fragile.
Red. Soft. Fragrant. Ephemeral.
Red, like blood. Soft, like Egyptian cotton or Indian silk. Fragrant, like all flowers. Deceitful, like all living things.
Made of the deepest, richest red, the smooth petal trapped between her fingers never stood a chance: one second it was there, along the countless other scarlet components of the beautiful posy and the next, it was plucked away and lonelily discarded on the cool, round glass tabletop.
Resting her hand close to the crystal vase, Tomoe leaned in and breathed in a lungful, the thin tips of the roses gently caressing her nose and stroking her chin.
Pulling back, she beheld the lovely bouquet of red roses and frowned. With both hands, she proceeded to rearrange the flowers to her liking, digging one of her hands particularly deep into the fine Swedish crystal vase. Pricking one of her fingers on a thorn, she quickly withdrew her hand from the engraved container and grimaced at the crimson droplet that came into sight.
Transfixed by that tiny speck of vermillion marring her flawless skin, Tomoe forewent sucking it away and instead found herself thinking on the nature of things, of people, of memories and dreams.
"If you prick us, do we not bleed?" The young woman whispered sorrowfully.
A light padding of footsteps made her look up. Before the winding staircase in the entrance hall stood a stocky figure, silvery hair up in a bun, gray eyes glinting.
"What are you doing, Tomoe?" Grandmamma Sachiko asked, resting all of her weight against a wooden cane.
Staring at her forefinger, Tomoe remained silent, unsure as to what answer she could give the old woman. Would she deem her weak for thinking such things, for wondering why none of the things she had set out to do with her life seemed worthwhile and why she was afraid of what a new love meant when, if the past had taught her anything, it was that heartfelt emotion made to wound her like nothing else could?
Slowly stalking towards her granddaughter, Sachiko Yukishiro's cane beat against the porphyry floor, her strides markedly short, her pride driving her creaky bones onward.
"What is the matter, child?"
Holding her hand to her bosom, Tomoe smiled sadly and walked towards the large stairway. Modestly tugging on the hem of her beige flared crepe skirt, she sat on one of the cold marble steps and anxiously licked her lips, casting her grandmother a sidelong glance.
"It's always been for the sake of keeping up appearances, hasn't it?" Adjusting one of her camisole's spaghetti straps, she forged on without making eye-contact. "All the time, every day… that's what it has always come down to."
Sighing dolefully, she looked back down at her finger – the one that was no longer bleeding – and wondered if her heart would ever do the same.
"I was just reminding myself that if you prick a Yukishiro, he or she bleeds." Craning her neck, Tomoe took in as much of the spacious foyer as she could. "This house… it can easily make you forget."
Squatting down beside Tomoe, Grandmamma Sachiko mimicked the younger woman's earlier actions and plopped down on the hard step, lacking the grace her granddaughter had oozed when doing so. Being well over seventy did not come without its fair share of hardships and learning to accept the losses with dignity was an ongoing lesson. In her prime, Sachiko Yukishiro had been known to waltz into a room with the elegance of Grace Kelly, the defiant charm of Lauren Bacall and the mysterious airs of Greta Garbo, and own it. Nowadays, it was a miracle if she could roll out of bed, let alone risk glimpsing in the mirror; she no longer recognized the wrinkled face that stared back.
"Ah, well… perhaps you're right," she voiced raspingly – once upon a time, her voice had been strong and commanding, but now, she rasped. "Keeping up appearances is something of a family trait. But, you've been loved. It has been done out of love. Not everyone is as lucky."
A hollow chuckle escaped Tomoe. Lucky was the word most ill fit to describe her.
"Oh Grandmamma, I've been revered. All my life, I have been adored; I've been placed on a pedestal too many times to count. I have been the perfect daughter, the perfect student, the perfect friend, the perfect girlfriend: I've been the perfect everything, for everyone."
Her shoulders drooped and all life seemed to abandon her when she spoke. She was the wilted rose whose petals slowly fell away. She was the caged bird that would no longer sing.
"I've been loved for being a person so hard to live up to so purely and so blindly, to the point where it feels as though I've not been loved at all," Tomoe explained, her petrol eyes focusing on her pointy caramel slingbacks.
"It might not be much, but I've watched you grow Tomoe, and I've not seen a perfect woman or child." Placing a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder, the authoritative and mighty Sachicko Yukishiro smiled fondly in remembrance. "Though I know that you are a strong, daring woman who fights for what and whom she believes in, I've seen you make mistakes, I've seen you slip. Do you remember your dance number in the eight grade? Everyone clapped and cheered. You were truly beautiful that day."
"Yes," Tomoe recalled, "to the uneducated eye, that ballet routine was executed flawlessly."
"But your teacher saw that landing and so did I. You made a mistake then: it wasn't your first and it certainly won't be your last."
Tucking a strand of loose hair behind the pale woman's ear, Grandmamma Sachiko sighed and hugged her. Closing her eyes, Tomoe felt herself drown in the familiar comfort of her grandmother's arms, the smell of baby powder and Shalimar by Guerlain enveloping her in a hazy cloud of reassurance and warmth.
"The point is, my little darling," the wiser of the two whispered, "someone will always see. Someone will always know. Nobody is perfect and there will always be someone to let you know as much, to ask you not to try so hard."
Burying her head in the crook of her grandmother's neck, Tomoe breathed in the scent of her exquisite perfume and brushed her cheek against the string of pearls her late grandfather had given Sachiko on their one year wedding anniversary.
"Not once have they asked me what he's like…"
"Ah, you speak of the father…"
Sighing, Sachiko stroked her little darling's hair, made of the darkest shade of midnight, and wondered when her son would ever learn to get things right. As if things had not been difficult enough with that kind soul Kenshin, now Oibore had to go on ahead and ruin it all over again. When would he learn that hurting his daughter was not the answer?
"Yes, the father no one wants to give a name to," Tomoe stated, breaking away from the soothing embrace. "Of course, once my mother is done flipping through the pages of a select few bridal magazines and catalogues, then he'll have to show up for the wedding ceremony to end all wedding ceremonies."
Every grandmother has a unique scent. Some smell like peppermint and flowers, others like fresh laundry or medicine. Some grandmothers even smell like cigarettes and coffee beans or spices, flour, citruses and other ingredients they use while baking. With their aroma always comes a memory, one key moment in our lives when everything felt simple and as easy as one, two, three; with even the mere thought of their presence, a shy inexplicably happy child steps back into the picture, demanding affection, to be nurtured, to be loved.
But the child grew, the child got hurt, the child faced the end of a thousand illusions: the child is no more. At some point, we all have to break away.
"I do not believe that my son and daughter-in-law can control the situation anymore, darling. This is out of their hands. Your life is no longer theirs."
Getting back on her wobbly feet as she held on tightly to the bronze railing, Grandmamma Sachiko patted her granddaughter's head and began the long trek up the stairs. Pausing midway, the shriveled up woman that had once broken as many hearts as a glamorous cover girl turned around and fixedly gazed at a younger, less confident version of herself: were she the one to give the girl wings and let her fly free, if only wishes would allow…
"Forgive them, Tomoe. Forgive them for they bleed too."
Nodding her head, the raven-haired girl didn't so much as move an inch, she just sat there, pondering.
"Does he love you?"
Gradually, a change proceeded to overtake Tomoe. Out of nowhere and for no apparent reason, her moist eyes flashed to life and a soft, secret smile touched her lips, as if a treasure deeply buried within her chest had just been discovered, gold coins and large rubies pooling out of the disinterred coffer.
"Between us there's something more than silent admiration, mutual appreciation or an immense sense of comfort," she spoke, rotating her upper body in order to look at her grandmother comfortably. "It feels nice to finally be myself. It feels nice to be loved for who I am and not who I need to be."
A soft breeze tickled the forlorn rose petal on the round hall table's glass surface. Gently, the current picked it up, asked it for a dance and, together, they tangoed away through the bay window and into the night.
Sitting on her bed, with the radio on, Kaoru furiously combed the tangles out of her damp hair. Humming along to a catchy tune, she gnawed at her bottom lip and crossed her eyes as she concentrated on fighting against the Darth Vader of knots: why did every single day have to be a bad hair day?
Sliding off the mattress, she went over to her dresser and rummaged through its drawers for a pair of earrings that complimented her aquamarine racerback tank top. She just knew that they had to be around there somewhere! Tugging on a pale blue and white wristband, Kaoru mentally congratulated herself on her keen fashion sense and kept on searching to no avail for the small blue cat earrings that she had bought at the mall a few weeks back.
Giving up, she decided that being more organized was something she was going to have to add to her list of New Year's resolutions… and fruitlessly abandon by the second week of January of the upcoming year.
Chucking a candy wrapper at the mirror – an old toffee being the only interesting find she had made during her earring hunt – she stuck her tongue out at her reflection and tried to keep "the giddy" at bay. Unable to help herself, Kaoru shrugged, and then beamed like a madwoman: "the giddy" had to win sometimes, if not, then where was the balance? Besides, "the giddy" could be nice to experience; all those chemical-free happy thoughts ought to be nothing short of healthy for her brain, right?
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the happiest of 'em all?"
She knew it was silly, but she couldn't help it: "the giddy" had taken over her soul! Sure, it was every bit as frivolous and girly as it sounded but what did she care? Kenshin Himura was coming over to her house and he had no plans whatsoever of teaching her anything at all! Kenshin Himura was coming over to see her, not some other girl, not his ex-girlfriend, not some sophisticated intellectual with lustrous hair and long legs, but her, the plain schoolgirl Kaoru!
True enough it wasn't as if they were going out on a date or anything but… what did she care? Any minute now, he was going to be there and she was going to explode with joy at the sight of him willingly doing the stupidest thing that anyone on the planet could ever put themselves through: meeting her father!
With those blissful thoughts in mind, Kaoru skipped out of her bedroom and dashed down the stairs only to miss a step and nearly break her neck when she unthinkingly let her gaze wander off to the side.
"PUT IT AWAY!"
As if it weren't bad enough that her mother, dressed as Cher no less, had apparently let Kenshin into the house – how embarrassing! –, the photo album innocently spread open on the woman's lap was a surefire sign that the night would consist of a series of humiliating events and the retelling of dreadful camp stories, starting off with… the baby pictures. So much for "the giddy"!
Jogging over to the couch, Kaoru forewent greeting Kenshin, stammering shyly, blushing shamelessly and all those other ridiculous things that "the giddy" would have forced her to do. Instead, she ripped the photo album out of her mother's hands and sat on it: Kenshin was not going to see naked baby pictures of her!
"Kaoru, your mother kindly offered to show me pictures of you running around in diapers; it would be rude of me to decline, don't you think?"
Unbelievable! Kenshin was suddenly feeling playful and acting mischievous! Had his sudden change in attitude not sprung from the possibility of checking out mortifying baby pictures of her, the high school senior would have actually considered being flattered.
"Be as rude as you want," Kaoru stated firmly, resenting the laughter in his eyes. "She won't mind, will you mom?"
"Frankly, I would be a little hurt."
Sputtering stupidly, a flabbergasted Kaoru could not believe her luck. Matricide was looking pretty good from where she was sitting!
"Kazuko, I've got the grill going so… oh, he's still here…"
Turning her head to the left, she scowled at her ever inconsiderate father who just had to barge in and be his usual mean self, not bothering to mince his words for, if nothing else, the sake of decorum.
"That's it! I'm asking for new parents this Christmas!"
Both Mr. and Mrs. Kamiya seemed to find her comment and her subsequent pouting hilarious since they both went right on ahead and burst out laughing. Why was it that they never took her seriously or bothered to try and act normal for her sake?
Sighing, she buried her face in her hands and wished the earth would swallow her whole. Hesitantly peeking through her fingers at her very own guest of honor, she caught Kenshin intensely staring at her, his violet eyes sparkling in the room's bright light.
And it was then that she knew… something was happening, something she had been trying to deny all along. She liked Kenshin Himura; she really, really liked him. In fact, she liked him so much that, though she was loath to admit it, she couldn't stop herself from thinking that…
Her parent's laughs faded away. The sound of clinking glasses, music and the humming of many voices coming from the backyard vanished. Suddenly, all was still, all was eerily silent except for the loud beating of her heart. His beautiful eyes danced in her vision, an invisible pull drawing her every hope, dream and aspiration to his heart, her whole world falling away and rebuilding itself around him.
"I'm… I'm falling for him…"
Reviewer Responses:
To Shaeya Sedjet: What can I say: I love art! Jackson Pollock is, I have to admit it, not one of my favorite artists, but that doesn't mean that I don't consider him brilliant. I was actually going to take up Art History this semester, as one of my electives, but I am already taking so many classes that I didn't want to tempt fate and the very loose hold I have on my sanity. Oh well, there's always next semester. You said you needed more of this fic; I hope that this chapter was just the perfect fix! Bye!
To Kean: You are right, last chapter was more of a light transition, something to gently ease the readers into what is to come next chapter and certain things that transpired in this one, such as Kaoru's slow realization of her awakening feelings. Oh well, I hope this chapter was less boring; if not, I can't say that I didn't try. Don't beat yourself up about the lazy factor, it tends to get the best of all of us. Till next time!
To Ri-nee-chan: You know, maybe saying that keyboards sometimes make me break out into hives is cooler than owning up to the sorry fact that I am a very slow writer. I easily get stuck on one line and I simply can't move on from there. The amazing thing is that, on occasion, the writing flows so well that I could never imagine an upcoming writer's block to be round the bend. Also, you kind of left me thinking as to the "Kenshin meeting Kaoru's father" scenario. Making it anti-cliché, as much as I would want to, just doesn't sound entirely possible. I don't think that there is any way that Mr. Kamiya could take an immediate liking to the boy, especially given how he tortured Kaz when he wasn't even a threat. However, I do believe that, with time, Mr. Kamiya might actually come to respect the guy… but more on that next chapter since, here, I barely skimmed the surface. As far as the Juppon Gatana goes, I am not certain that all characters will be appearing and any questions pertaining to Soujiro… next chapter, my dear. Thank you for the New Year's wish-me-wells: a workaholic muse is something I could really use, not this lazy, maudlin one I have to put up with. Thanks for being so kind as to take the time and reviews: I enjoy reading your comments immensely! So… until the next installment, ne?
To Vic'chonn: About the low morale, I hear you. I've been there with people and their ugly words; it's unpleasant, to say the least. Thank you for the Happy New Year and I hope that 2005 has been treating you nicely thus far. Speaking of dreams – you know, in keeping up with the previous chapter's theme and all – I have been having really strange ones lately: in one of them I felt like Alice in Wonderland when she crossed the looking-glass, which was, let's face it, kind of creepy. And, as if that weren't bad enough, in most of my last dreams, I've been inside a school building, sitting in a classroom, taking a test… man, I think I'm traumatized! Yes, Sou is Smiley – in a previous chapter, Tsubame mentions him as Mr. Smiley – and… he will have something to do with K/K in the very near future… as in the next chapter. Thank you for being patient with my take on the M/A relationship… did my last Aoshi piece help you piece some things together? As for my future plans as a novelist… I was thinking that if I tweak this fanfic well enough and change a few things here or there, it might do as a first meager attempt at something beyond fanfiction writing. Also, I have a story in mind with a very complicated love triangle. The main characters would be called Claire and Alex: she is a morning person; he can't live without his daily dose of caffeine, otherwise he's more of a grouch than he already is on a regular basis. I think that that about sums it up! I'll let you know if the lives of these two characters prosper on to greener pastures, okay? Thank you for everything and have a lovely day!
To Rabid Turtle: Thank for reviewing and wishing me a nice day; it's always nice when a stranger sends out good vibes! Personally, I view the Kaoru-Misao dynamic as a tug of war: Misao pulls everyone to the bright side of the world and, though Kaoru is fairly optimistic herself, she would much rather remain on safe terrain, not risk that much and, in doing so, play the cynic card. Kenshin IS a coward though… maybe it's not only that; as I have said before, I believe that Kenshin has his reasons for being tentative about everything. Most things in life require that we take a leap of faith; Kenshin simply doesn't have that kind of confidence in life anymore, at least not enough to jump and see what happens – that's the partial reason behind his neat-freak tendencies, it's his own guaranteed fail-proof way of controlling his environment. It's because of that lack of trust that Kaoru comes into the picture: she's not that self-assured and many things in this life terrify her – failure being one of them –, but she possesses the innate innocence required to trust without over thinking things, to let go of herself once in a while because she know she can't control everything. Sorry to have bored you with my character analysis, but I guess that just reflects how much in love with writing this story I really am. Thanks again and I hope to hear from you next chapter!
To VanyD: Hi! Actually, I did have fun in Buenos Aires: that city totally rocks! In any case, that trip was a blessing in disguise for the lot of you because, although it did take me away from the computer screen for a while, it inspired me. For instance, part of the initial lines of this chapter were written on the plane – I sort of tweaked it and lengthened the piece when I got back home – and my Muse CD, which was one of the musical inspirations for this installment – music being my fuel – was one of my many buys in Argentina. All in all, it was a great holiday getaway, if not rather short. Thank you for always reviewing; it means the world to me.
To Aryanne: Apparently, nearly everyone was super interested in Kenshin meeting Mr. Kamiya: that just means that next chapter I have to write more interaction between the two. Though I am rather disappointed in myself – I thought that their first encounter would be rather bombastic – I'm not that down about it; I just figure that it could always be worse. That's me and my "optimistic" streak for ya! "Smashed Pumpkins season": initially, that came up as a weird homage to one of my favorite bands, "The Smashing Pumpkins" and it sort of unexpectedly twisted itself into Kaoru in a hula dancer costume… no, there was no brain damage involved although, come to think of it maybe there should have been, at least it would all sound less insane. Oh well. Till next chapter and good luck with "Silver Cross!"
To Ravyn: I'll tell you something: I liked the "raw edge" bit a whole lot, it gave me a nice ego boost. The way I see it, you must certainly did not make a mess of a review. I can't believe someone actually spent 2 hours reading this story: it definitely must have been an awful lot to take in since I know for a fact that I tend to ramble on endlessly! I am super duper happy to hear you say that you've fallen in love with this fanfic; I put a lot of time, thought and heart into this so, it's always wonderful to hear that all the effort is appreciated. In terms of the K/K age difference, in my head it's not only about numbers, it's about emotions too; Kenshin may be older but he still has a lot to learn about love and Kaoru is the perfect person for him to learn alongside with. Or, at least, that's just my humble opinion. Thanks once again for such an uplifting review: those are always more than welcome! As for the update you asked for… I hope it met your expectations.
To De Lazy Lime: Well aloha to you too, my friend! How's it hanging? You know, you are the only person around here who always comments on the music which, to me, is an essential component of the creative process. Very rarely do I write something without listening to a specific song. For instance, I am sure that you will perceive that the song that was truly at the very core of this chapter was Damien Rice's "Amie". True, all the other ones I mention are incredibly important – namely "Falling away with you" and Rilo Kiley's sweet ending theme – but, somehow, "Amie" sets the tone for the story's serious sub current and not just its cheery façade. It amazes me how you always manage to understand me when that is a topic that I generally don't talk about much with the other reviewers or in my longwinded A/Ns. Since I have lived in different countries, the musical background is sometimes pretty diverse – I don't know if you've noticed that I've put up French and Brazilian songs as well as British and American ones. As far as your addiction to Combat Baby goes, blame my friend Tai; she's the one who got me hooked and made me spend a month listening to the damn thing at least once every day. You, my dear, grasped the entire concept of this story: characters who are more than they appear to be. God I love you! Do you know why Kenshin was such a guy last chapter? Because, underneath all the politeness and the kindness and the issues, that's what he is, a guy: I think some fanfiction authors tend to forget that. No matter how nice a guy can be, in the long run, he's just always going to be a guy: that's one of the main laws of the universe. Well I'm ready to post now, are you ready to read? Thank you for reviewing; it's always great when you do.
To squishysquashy: You know, I think the only reason that my plot ideas don't get jumbled after three chapter is because I am slower than a happy snail or a content turtle when it comes down to writing. I am glad that you enjoyed my other RK fic "All I Wanted", and that it inspired you to read this one too. Thank you for the review and till next time!
To MZ.AMbER EYES: Wow! You're the first person to ever describe this fanfic as "sexy"! Thanks! Literature is kind of a passion for me and, though I am majoring in journalism, my lifelong dream is to became a successful writer and, by successful, I mean one that writes properly and comes up with ingenious plots, not just one who is famous. With that in mind, I figure that I have to prepare myself and so I'm always, always reading books. Thanks for liking the story so far and here's to hoping that this chapter was a pleaser!
To Rhapsody07: Advertising sounds like fun and, though hard to grasp, without a back-up plan you're just screwed from the get-go. I know it sucks, I went through the same thing when I started college because I really wanted to study English, journalism was more of a second choice, but the good thing is that, for a writer, the school of life will do. It still bothers me sometimes, but when I see how complicated things are and just how messed up the world is, I can't say I regret my choice. I wish you luck in deciding what it is that you want to do and remember, it seems like such a huge decision but, in the end, you will be what you were always meant to be, no matter which path you take. No one can fight destiny; it's almost a statistically proven fact! Kissies and till next chappie!
To Toastyann: You know, you sound an awful lot like this friend I have called Carol: we both study journalism together and end up working side by side most of the time. We both have to write a lot – obviously – but both our styles are completely different; she's more direct and straight to the point, whereas I dance a lot around the subject, something that tended to unnerve one particular teacher of mine who fondly kept repeating "this is journalism, not literature" nearly every time I handed in an article. The truth is that I appreciated your comments a whole lot, especially because I find honesty to be of extreme importance. There's no point to senseless adulation because nothing is ever perfect; it's imperative to hint out both the good AND bad points in someone's work to help them improve. That being said, I will make sure to take all your remarks to heart. One thing that I don't think I can do for you, though, is "tone it down a bit": I get where you're coming from, but that's my style, something I will not forsake because, though I aim to please, I also try to keep as true to myself as possible and a burst of emotion and long sentences is quite typical of me and the way I write. Thank you for rooting for me and of course you can e-mail me with your questions, that's what my address is there for on my profile, after all. I'm kind of taken aback by having been able to fool everyone into believing that I am American so well since I only go to New York to shop sometimes, but I've never actually lived or studied in the U.S. I am Venezuelan and currently reside in Brazil. I hope you liked this chapter: I fear I've done my best, which is, I know, not nearly enough. I hope you continue to review me throughout this story's development, alright? Bye now!
Well…that was long!
I dedicate this chapter to all grandmothers, two of them in particular: one who is in heaven and whom I love dearly and another one that I am not very close to or understand all that well, but is sick at the moment. Thank you both.