STANDARD DISCLAIMERS APPLY: When I wish upon a star… nothing happens… I've been put on hold by the heavens…
Quick little message from author: What to say about Chapter 24? The process of writing it was interrupted so many times that I'm surprised it finally got done. I had exams, projects, friendship issues – people just don't get me sometimes –, concerts – Placebo is incredible live, though the company could have been better; I have to stop bumming rides from people who don't like me –, and, last but certainly not least, my computer dying and my sister's boyfriend having to fix the damn thing so I could meet certain deadlines. Sometimes, I feel as if I live in dystopia, or something. Enough ranting; read away!
Soundtrack: Part I: "Laughing City" – Eisley / Part II: "Té para tres" (Unplugged version) – Soda Estereo / Part III: "There she goes" – The LA's / Part IV: "1979" – Smashing Pumpkins; "Le Monde Change" – Thievery Corporation / Part V: "My Sweet Prince" – Placebo / Part VI: "Fortunate Fool" – Jack Johnson
Chapter 24: Back to square one
"Couldn't you have picked a better place?"
"Your kind of place requires reservations made three months in advance."
"At the rate we're going, you should be making reservations every other day of the week."
"And deprive a couple who actually stands a chance from a nice romantic evening? Why bother?"
Smoothing the invisible creases on her beige corduroy miniskirt, Megumi stalled for time…and the right words, stuck to the roof of her mouth, heavy crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling that they were.
"Cat got your tongue? That would be a first!"
"You don't have to be mean…"
Gaze lingering on a water stain above his head, Sanosuke shifted uncomfortably in his seat, her soft whisper getting the better of him.
"I…" Sanosuke nervously licked his lips. "We need to be honest here, Meg."
"I don't want to fight," she stated fervently, eyes locked on the empty plate set before her.
"So you want to ignore the problem?"
"If you keep bringing it up, then we have ourselves a problem; if you let it rest for a while, then…"
"Then, maybe it will go away?" His eyebrows knotted themselves together. "Good luck with that, babe."
Sighing, Megumi signaled for the waiter and ordered a club sandwich and a glass of mango juice.
"I'll have a plain burger and a coke. Oh, and hold the mayo on her sandwich, okay? She'll just send it back to the kitchen otherwise."
It was hard, she realized. Because he was thoughtful like that. Because he knew she hated mayonnaise. Because he knew she only drank her coffee black. Because he knew what colors didn't go well with her skin tone. Because he loved her about as much as she loved him.
"Why couldn't you just-"
"Be a doctor? Be a lawyer? Be an engineer? Be good enough?" Sanosuke interrupted. "You knew who I was from the start."
"You had a goal when I met you and you were dead set on it." Her knee bumped against the table as she crossed her legs. "What happened to that kind of determination? What has made you change your mind?"
Looking off to the side, he couldn't help but feel mournful. She wasn't the kind of girl who could understand the situation. Being successful was very important to her and seeing someone get sidetracked wasn't something she could possibly fathom.
"It's not what I want anymore," he explained. "The kind of life that's for you and me, it's not gonna work out if I go through with this."
"But you like it! You've always been happiest out on the field! I don't get it, Sano. I just don't understand…"
"I've been happy with the idea that playing football can take me places, Megumi. Going places, I can keep up with you, I can offer you something more than… than this perfectly ordinary restaurant," he said, a wave of his hand encompassing the eatery, decorated like any other, with service like any other. "Turns out that I'd rather give you ordinary than pay the price of wanting more than I can have."
"You're not making any sense… not that you ever do, or anything."
Megumi sought refuge in an old ritual: cast the first stone and you're not the sinner, deliver the first low blow and spare yourself. Attack before you have to end up defending yourself. Raise those barriers real high before it's too late and all you find yourself holding on to is love and little else.
"It's too damn competitive, Meg."
"You're really good at what you do, I'm sure a little competition can't hurt."
"You haven't seen what those guys are capable of."
"Are you telling me you're afraid?"
"Hell yeah I'm afraid!"
"Of what, for crying out loud?"
"Of becoming one of them, that's what!"
"And what, pray tell, is so bad about being competitive, Sanosuke Sagara?"
"Doing anything to win."
"Coming from you, Mr. Perseverance, I'm sorry to have to say that I still don't get it."
"…You fucking think I would be capable of doing anything in order to win?"
"You won me over, didn't you?"
The waiter, tray in hand, came along and did away with what could only be called a nightmare. Sano could not believe his ears. Was that what his girl truly though of him? That he'd do anything to make it big?
Staring fixedly at the red and white label on the small 250ml soft drink's bottle, the young man's eyes trailed along and followed its movements, from the moment it was placed next to the plastic ashtray at the center of the table, to when it was uncapped, picked up and ready to be served.
Pouring into the glass, the dark liquid sloshed around, hissed and settled.
Taking a wad of bills out of his wallet, Sano threw some money on the table, stood up silently and walked away.
§
"I gave her some tea. It seemed to calm her down a bit," Misao said, walking toward the loveseat with her own cup of tea in hand.
Seating herself beside Aoshi, she swept her hand over the green lacquered coffee table and set down her drink.
"Aoshi, she can't go on like this."
"I'll take care of her," he declared in a tone that brooked no room for argument.
"No," Misao uttered gently, slowly shaking her head, "you already are; you have been for a long time now."
"What's your point?"
"My point is," she said, swallowing thickly, "she can't go on like this and neither can you."
In a flash, he was on his feet.
"As grateful as I am to you for helping out today, I do not think that you are in any position to presume to know what is best for my mother's care, Misao," he stated coolly.
"Had the clerk called the police, social services might have gotten involved. Frankly, I don't think that you are in any position to know what's best for you or your mother; you're too caught up in all of this!"
"She's my mother: getting caught up is natural."
His jaw was clenched so tightly, she truly feared for him; orthognathic surgery did not come in cheap.
"She's your mother and… and… you're being…selfish," she whispered, fretfully tracing the rim of the porcelain teacup with her index finger.
The silence engulfing the cozy sitting room was unpleasant. Aoshi's whole body had stiffened at the sound of her voice, but, other than that, no further displays of upset were evident, least of all angry words. The tall college student seemed to remain impervious to her accusation, quietly leaning against the mantelpiece, as he had been before; his back to her, his thoughts always locked away somewhere she couldn't quite reach.
"Don't get me wrong, I know your intentions are good," Misao rambled, tightly gripping the saucer in her hands, anything to hold on to more than welcome, "I just think that you can't… she needs help. You can't be watching her all the time. You have classes and stuff. My grandpa talked to you and so did my parents. They know you mean well, really, but that doesn't… you can't do this by yourself. She's too sick for you to be her caretaker anymore."
Establishing a solid friendship with silence whenever her neighbor was around wasn't that hard a feat, Misao thought. It was sad. They deserved better.
Yuriko Shinomori had been the most dedicated of single mothers alive. How she managed to reconcile time spent at the office with giving her son company and the attention he craved and deserved was a wonder. Everyone on the block had admired her for her determination, kindness and dedication.
She could cook a mean anything: from macaroni and cheese to veal saltimbocca to lemon meringue pie, Yuriko's cooking was heavenly.
Her good looks earned her a few jealous stares over the years as many a happily married husband checked her out when she was taking out the trash, picking up her mail or tending to her garden, worthy of more than a few pictures in publications such as Veranda or House&Garden, as the entire neighborhood saw it. The beautiful woman's green thumb was gold and, despite attracting unwanted attention from the male species, her friendly nature quickly won her a ticket into everyone's hearts.
The Makimachis had grown especially fond of their next door neighbor, a young woman who had overcome adversity and loneliness by raising a polite, respectful little boy, all on her own. Grandfather Okina had, time and again, set her up on a series of disastrous blind dates, insisting that any man would be lucky to have "such a sensible broad" in their lives.
As true as that might have been, Yuriko refused to marry or get too attached to anyone; at night, Misao would sometimes hear her parents talking, her ear pressed to their bedroom door, and her mother would often say that she bore scars from the past that would not heal, that a man had wronged her in a most unforgivable way.
As for little Misao, she could only hope that no man ever wronged her so because she liked having a daddy and she found it kind of sad that Aoshi wasn't as privileged as she in that sense. Then again, Yuriko was his mommy so, the way she saw it, that more than made up for not having a father.
Misao was not the only one that idolized Yuriko; most women who knew her thought her admirable, her cheerfulness contagious, her zest for life unparalleled.
When the decline came, confusion was commonplace. The best kept secret on the block suddenly became a childlike woman by the name of Yuriko Shinomori.
Peering down at her chamomile tea, Misao frowned. She missed Ms. Shinomori.
"Thank you for this afternoon," Aoshi said impersonally, without facing her still. "I'll take it from here."
Porcelain clinked against wood. Misao stood up, her eyes not once straying, green strobe lights shooting through him, trying to glimpse at any emotion that the rippling on his long sleeved shirt could suggest. Stiff as a board did he remain.
"If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me," the high school senior murmured, wringing her hands together, standing stock still in a room so foreign for a place that, once upon a time, had been as familiar as her own home.
"I'll walk you to the door."
As they walked, not once did he look at her. When he held the front door open, Misao hesitated slightly before closing her hand over his own. Wordlessly they stood, hands on the doorknob, neither shying away, neither inching forward or pulling back.
Theirs was an awkward position, her body leaning forward, slightly pressed to his own, her hair tickling his chin. Craning her neck, she looked up into his eyes, unreadable and penetrating.
"You know where I'll be, Aoshi."
Her whisper carried on the breeze, sounding all the more sweet and inviting.
"Goodnight, Misao."
His voice stung, the usual rejection seemingly louder each time.
Out she went and in he stayed, as was customary when it came down to the two neighbors and their encounters. She lived on the outside and he sought refuge within himself. She waltzed out the door and he shut himself in, boarding the windows and barricading the door.
Step by step, Aoshi made it back into the now empty sitting room. His long strides took him to the edge of the loveseat, upon which he decided to rest for a few seconds before getting on with his life, before checking up on his mother.
Picking up the cup on the coffee table, he took a sip of the now cold tea. It tasted very sweet. Misao preferred honey to sugar.
Aoshi liked honey.
§
Tap, tap, tap.
Scribble, scribble, scribble.
Erase, erase, erase.
Tap, tap, tap.
Scribble, scribble, scribble.
Erase, erase, erase.
Tap, tap, tap.
Scribble, scribble – oh to hell with it!
Rip! Rip! Rip!
The night would not prove fruitful for aspiring writers working on school plays hung up on scary feelings and cute boys, that was for sure.
Euphemisms…
The night was a crappy one for Kaoru Kamiya, who couldn't stop thinking about possibly having fallen for Kenshin Himura, a near realization that had ended badly as she freaked out over the little things in order to ignore her emotions.
Come to think of it, even that explanation sounded horribly euphemistic to her ears, but it was all she could come up with so as to not feel so lousy and angry at herself for playing the fool at the annual Halloween gathering hosted by her parents.
Fool, foolish, idiot, village idiot, state idiot, national idiot, continental idiot, globally idiotic, moronic, imbecile, etc; there were only too many words, too many nouns and adjectives that fit her neurotic behavior from the previous night all too well.
But, the one that rung truest as to what went down had an easy time fending off potential competitors; it stood alone in conveying the full weight of Kaoru's stupidity and cowardice:
"Mistake… it was all a mistake."
Leave it to Kaoru to figure out the chaos she was carelessly creating too little too late. Then again, the likelihood of the dreaded L-word finally entering one's life, whether true or not, holds the motivational power for people to make mistakes, preserving their hearts a plausible alibi.
For one night, and one night only, the real Ms. Writer was at a loss for words, and the cure to this terrible illness that had befallen her was evident: lest she apologize and set things right, the end of trees was oh so near.
In the name of all rainforests, tap, tap, tapping her pen away, she knew what needed to be done: it was time to switch to recycled paper… and, of course, to pay a wronged young man a visit with an earnest apology on hand; if her palm didn't get too sweaty she might actually be able to read the "I'm sorry" and the rest of the request for forgiveness that she had inked down on it.
Tying her sneakers, Kaoru smiled wide. She couldn't wait to see Kenshin again, despite the circumstances. After all, she now had a goal in mind to distract her on the way over.
§
In this life, there was only one certainty for a guy like him: there are no constants.
"Everything always stays the same."
"You met me; I'd say that was a pivotal point in your life, Ken."
"My life's the same."
"From your viewpoint sure; I'm sure the world around you sees it quite differently, though."
"I look the same, I feel the same."
"And then you'll fool around with some girl, and everything will look up and feel new. You'll take another hit, and everything will feel much more intense. You'll dress up for a cotillion, or something else equally un-cool and you will look different. Nothing stays the same, Ken, everything changes all the time."
"I want a change."
"And the immediate answer, my friend, is, as usual, in the palm of your hand."
The café wasn't too far, so he didn't really consider driving there. Besides, Kenshin might take note of the license plate and that wasn't something that needed to happen yet; if it could be avoided, then all the better.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Oh, this? Well, not to sound crude or anything, but I believe this is called payback."
"Are you insane? When he sees those flat tires and the state the bumper's in, they'll know it was you!"
"You and I, Ken, we don't look or act like vandals, now do we? It will be fine, so don't worry."
"As long as you don't let yourself get caught…"
"There's the spirit!"
"This is very wrong."
"…"
"Hand me the can of spray."
"You needn't have asked."
When he rounded the corner, he wasn't surprised to see him leaning against the building's wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Though he would have much rather sat in a booth sipping a latte, he hadn't been naïve enough to actually believe that something so pleasant would take place.
"If you don't mind my asking, what is it with you and leaning against walls at night, looking all broody and intimidating?"
"I mind."
"Answer me anyway."
"Go back inside."
"You're a strange guy, Kenshin Himura."
"You're hiding something."
"Perceptive too."
"I'm not in the mood."
"You never are, it would seem."
They weren't friends anymore and he was not considered trustworthy – with good reason – so he wasn't really expecting to find him inside, gladly awaiting their meeting, chatting up the waitress – not that he had ever been talkative –, warmly waving him over as soon as he walked through the establishment's door.
"Aren't you going to order anything?"
"I'm not thirsty."
"You know, I got the distinct feeling that that waitress was checking you out."
"It wasn't a feeling; she was."
"She's pretty."
"I'll have an Irish coffee."
"Order the coffee, the flask's on me."
Soujiro couldn't deny it, though: he missed the days when they had practically been Siamese. As teenagers they had been inseparable, rooming together at an elite boarding school, smoking in secret behind the bleachers, sneaking out every night, nursing their hangovers together; they had had a sweet deal going for them.
"You forgot to put a sock on the door."
"You found somewhere else to sleep."
"The other guys were sympathetic to my plight; they've all been down that road at least once."
"I, for one, lost track."
"Sorry, in the heat of the moment socks tend to be the last thing on my mind. Next time, I'll try and remember."
"Sounds like a plan."
"You remembered the sock, didn't you Kenshin? You did it on purpose, wiseass."
"You'll never be able to prove anything."
To be frank, this watered down version of the Kenshin Himura he had known was sorely disappointing and boring. Well, two years of peeing in a cup every week could do that to a person, he supposed.
Shuffling his feet and merrily whistling an old one hit wonder, Soujiro had to wonder just how much his world had changed. Then again, it wasn't all that surprising; he had always known that, in life, there were no constants, everything was merely temporary.
That being said – or, rather, thought –, the temporary aspect of things did not keep past happenings from reemerging in the present; were it so, it would be awfully simplistic, wouldn't it? And where was the fun in that?
"Good evening, Kenshin."
"Soujiro."
"Shall we go inside then?" he asked, gesturing toward the café's entrance.
"I'd rather you be quick about telling me why you set up this meeting… if you would be so kind," Kenshin said, arms still crossed, his back still very much against the wall.
"You and I Ken, we walk the same path," his former classmate stated, slowly tracing his fingers against the building's brick exterior. "Someday you will be able to understand that, I suppose."
Turning his moonlit eyes to the sky, Soujiro let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding in and patiently waited for the man beside him to say something, to seal his fate once and for all.
"You're right Soujiro," Kenshin voiced gently, his eyes locked on the other side of the street, on the stout woman pushing a pram into the bookstore, "we probably have more in common than I care to admit. That doesn't change anything, though."
"How many times must I tell you, Kenshin Himura, that everything is constantly changing?"
Smiling humorlessly, the redhead slipped his hands in his pockets and gracefully pushed himself off the wall.
"Have you changed?"
Threading his fingers together, Soujiro cradled the back of his head with his hands and gave the question some serious thought before breaking out into a face-splitting grin.
"Of course!"
"I'm impressed," Kenshin spoke mirthlessly, "you can still lie like nobody's business. In fact, and please, correct me if I'm wrong, you've probably gotten even better at being deceitful."
"Practice makes perfect, doesn't it?" Soujiro asked, nothing but innocence reflected in his stare.
Chuckling hollowly, Kenshin had to hand it to him: he was good.
"So, what do you want?"
"Always straight to the point," Soujiro considered, nodding his head in a knowing manner. "I rather liked that about you; it shows that you're a man of character."
"That's not precisely what I'd call it."
"Honestly? Neither would I."
They both laughed. How could they laugh at a time like this? Whatever was going to happen, whatever reasons Soujiro had for being in town were deadly serious, Kenshin was sure of it. So why is it that they found themselves laughing together, given the circumstances? Why would something like that happen?
Perhaps it was that the both of them couldn't help but appreciate the ridiculous state of their situation, the irony of their current positions.
Soujiro Seta and Kenshin Himura had been friends, roommates, very nearly brothers. They had always been on the same side, rooted for the same sports teams and had similar tastes in music.
All of a sudden, the pair was standing on a relatively busy street, unvoiced threats suspended in the stale air, looking at each other from different perspectives. It was as if they were both wearing new glasses, a trip to the ophthalmologist having made everything perfectly clear.
Suddenly, they were declared enemies: wasn't that a hoot?
"From an old friend to another, I'd advise you to watch your back Kenshin," said Soujiro after the slight ice breaker.
"That's what all of this was about? To give me a fair warning?"
"Do not be so suspicious or surprised; you know the way these things work."
"So now you're a man of honor Soujiro? Interesting."
"I don't care much for honor; I merely thought I owed you this courtesy."
"As much as I would like to believe you," Kenshin spoke, his face stony, "I know you too well to trust your words."
"You always were one of the smart ones Ken," the dark-haired man uttered cheerily. "It's a pity you didn't want to have a cup of Joe with me; I would have certainly enjoyed reminiscing on old times with an old friend."
"Leaving so soon?"
"Actually, I have a few errands to run and I do pride myself in being a punctual man: time is money, as they say. Not to worry though, we'll talk again soon."
"Another warning? What is it that you want Soujiro?"
"Oh no, you wouldn't dare make me ruin the surprise, would you?"
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Giving each other a final long, hard look, Soujiro at last deemed it time for them to part ways. With a tilt of his head, he turned around and headed off, throwing a wave over his shoulder and a lightly exclaimed "I'll see you soon!" that unnerved more than it did reassure. What exactly was Soujiro Seta up to?
Well, he had his plans, he had his orders and he had the occasional contemplative moment wherein he submitted his carefully constructed theories to the test. People like Kenshin, they only served to prove him right: yes, all the time, everything is changing... except the nature of man. Once a killer, always a killer, as they say.
If every rule has an exception, then there are no constants in life, but for men; one could always count on the predictability of one such as Kenshin Himura in an ever-changing world.
§
Running after him, her loose bun came undone and the heel of her right pump broke off – of all the times for Constanza Bastos footwear to fail her!
Limping toward his still figure, she was a pitiful sight: pale as she was, her lipstick looked too bright, her eye shadow too dark. Hair whipping against the hot wind, she looked wild and unprotected, far too thin and frail, her arrogant, challenging airs nowhere to be found.
It was truly a different Megumi that lightly tapped his shoulder, but the side of her standing behind him was a far cry from mysterious, nothing he hadn't seen before.
The silent creature that timidly stepped before him when he refused to turn around, took off both shoes and merely stood there, bare feet rooted to warm asphalt, was a stranger to the world, but, somehow, he knew her all too well, knew what would come next.
"Sanosuke, I didn't mean..."
There it was, her loose fumbling for apologetic words that never came because he was always too swift at putting an end to her misery.
"It's okay Meg."
He didn't mean it. He never did. But... she was the one. She was everything. Fuck, she even lit up the room like corny, hopeless romantics tend to say.
And so, he didn't mean it, but he said it anyway, for reasons that went beyond his understanding. He did it all for her.
"I want to support you."
He didn't doubt it. He wanted to understand her fixation on handbags and shoes, even support it, but it escaped him every time, the reasons as to why a person would be obsessed with such things.
He was sure she truly wanted to get him and stand by him on this, but, just as he would chalk up all her mysteries to the fact that she was a woman, his misgivings would most likely be interpreted as consequences of his narrow-mindedness and his lack of smarts.
"I know you do."
But she knew he didn't, not really. He wouldn't have walked out on her otherwise.
That was a first, leaving her to sit alone across from an empty chair in a restaurant. Sitting there while the other customers chanced pitiful glances at her was awful; it left the bitterest taste in her mouth.
He didn't understand. He put himself down so much – not that she was any help either –, thought so very little of himself, that he was blind to the real reasons behind their most recent cycle of nasty arguments.
She wasn't being selfish. She wasn't behaving like a spoiled brat. She simply wanted Sanosuke to shine, to live to his true potential, to challenge himself, to get over his inferiority complex.
He was incredibly talented; there was no way he wouldn't make it big. If he gave himself a chance, he could prove to be a football player of legend. He couldn't give that up just because he felt a little insecure. He couldn't settle for ordinary, not when the opportunity for much more was tugging at his jockstraps, doing nothing short of flashing him to grab his attention and reel him in. He couldn't pass it all up because he sometimes felt inadequate; she wouldn't let him.
"You're so talented Sano..."
And they were back to square one.
So what if he was? Was football the only thing he would get to be good at in life? He didn't want to be his father!
Oh yeah, he had met his biological father: what a piece of work! It had happened during the summer. He had also met his half-brothers. He had seen how they lived, how the kids were being raised.
His 'father' was a washed-up nobody who had, once upon a time, dreamt of being somebody out on the field.
Sanosuke had seen his future in a crabby, embittered middle-aged man's present, one with a glorious past that hit a dead end with an injured knee.
He didn't want it. He wanted to be more than a stereotype. He wanted to be like Captain Sagara or his sweet, hardworking wife. He didn't want a meager injury to be the end of his life.
"It's not enough for me."
"But cooking, that's fulfilling?"
"I like it," with a shrug of his shoulders, said he.
"You're going to end up flipping burgers somewhere Sano! That's your dream?"
"Yeah Megumi, hand me a Burger King uniform and I'll be fucking set for life!" He cried out angrily. "After all, that's all I could ever amount to, aspire to, ain't it?"
"I'm sorry Sano, but I don't know what you want anymore."
Sometimes, silence can be much more powerful than a presidential speech vowing famine's end; in it, there can be more sincerity than in any combination of words.
"Answer me this, Megumi: if I quit football, would I still have you?"
"How dare you think so little of me!"
Her voice trembled, her hands shook, her eyes grew misty.
"Would I?" He repeated softly, shutting out her indignation.
"...yes," she whispered, eyes screwed shut, huge hot tears rolling down her cheeks, bouncing off her chin and into the unfamiliar terrain of cloth and buttons that was her blouse.
Tightly he hugged her, burying his face in any available crevice of her, in any wisp and tendril that smelt of her, in the angora that touch alone could separate from a thousand impostors.
He knew it was a lie, but it felt nice to hear, to know that she would abandon honesty to spare him the pain that came with awareness that he couldn't shake off. He wouldn't be able to hold her much longer. She was never meant to be his in the first place.
As for Megumi, she drew her arms around him, enfolding him in warmth and breath that felt like home, and rubbed his back, tenderly slipping a hand beneath his shirt, his soft skin small comfort for a womannsideringonsidering that she knew he didn'enfohe first place.pain that came with awareness that he couldn that knew she wasn't being believed.
She meant it though; how couldn't she if he was the one?
Though atypical, Sanosuke Sagara was, in short and making good use of every loophole in the book, her prince, the one every little girl awaits. There was no white stallion, no castle, no gorgeous sunset to ride off into and no golden crown; in fact, all he had was a mouth on him that not even disinfectant could wash clean.
That, however, did not change the one true thing that Megumi was incapable of refuting: he was her Prince Charming. Even if the horse had been a bus, even if the castle resumed itself to the occasional B&B on spring break and such, even if there was in their relationship more prose than poetry, and even if nobility was not in his blood, it was in his heart, just as his way, his charm and his honesty had made the defective prototype of the male species that was Sanosuke seep into her bloodstream, every tiny bit of him, down to the last drop, clogging her arteries.
"Don't leave me like that again Sano," she whispered in his ear. "Next time, I won't come running after you, you know, so don't get used to it."
"I'll say jump and you'll say how high," he uttered cockily.
"You go and half your wardrobe will have been cut through!"
"You would leave me to parade around in my birthday suit?"
"Crotch-less pants, Sano."
"You sure are good at threats, babe."
"Just don't leave."
"Deal."
In the back of his mind, Sanosuke wondered if perhaps he shouldn't be the one begging for that same thing, pleading for her to stay.
§
First there came a ding, and then the elevator doors parted. Stepping out into the hallway, Kenshin felt the weight of the world settle between his shoulders.
The night had gone by in a blur, the city lost what little innocence it retained, the hours heaping up into an untouched pile of dirty plates, cogs and wheels as he lost track of time.
In other words, he had silently fumed for the longest of whiles, driving around with no clear destination in mind, and had ended up at Tomoe's house, seeking advice and comfort… neither of which he had found, at least not in a way that would permanently relax him.
On the other hand, he had managed to wash his plate after eating some leftovers before getting rushed out of the kitchen by an angry housekeeper – the slightly obsessive compulsive side of him had needed that small pick-me-up – and in the drawing room he had been able to take a siesta, albeit a restless, terribly prolonged one. In fact, he had been lucky that curling up in that horridly uncomfortable slipper chair hadn't caused permanent damage.
Driving back by the coastline had been somewhat calming but, all the same, he was worked up and anxiety ridden; not even the sea had the power to get Soujiro Seta out of his head.
Nope, not sleep, not good company, not the ocean, not surfers and other early risers, not soft light or the sunrise, not tapes of relaxing sounds that Megumi had left in the jeep… nothing.
And then he saw her…
It wasn't that his heart skipped a beat, that a thousand love songs rang out in his brain, that his breath hitched or anything like that at all; it was the fact that she was there that put a stop to all his anguish, such was his surprise.
See, when it's 5:30 AM, you didn't sleep in your apartment, you're distraught over the very idea of your less than spotless past catching up with you and your stomach is howling and demanding your undivided attention, not to mention a headache is slowly pounding every last brain cell in your possession to mush, a huddled form on your doorstep can freeze time and put even the most harrowing of thoughts on standby, a more pressing question canceling everything else out:
"What the hell is Kaoru doing here, draped across the floor at my front door?"
In Kenshin's own humble opinion, the girl sure had a way of putting things in perspective; or rather, she had a way of making herself the sudden center of attention without even trying.
And that was how, yet again, he came across the schoolgirl, asleep and inconvenient.
Suddenly, Kenshin couldn't help but crack a small smile.
§
Reviewer Responses:
To chibiBrEn: Thanks for the encouragement. What do you know, reviewing can actually be nice!
To gwkitty: First of all, thanks for your support. After my grandmother's death my father has definitely had his ups and downs, but all in all, the family – myself included – has dealt with it rather well. Again, thank you. As you can see by what your own eyes have read, Kenshin and Kaoru have not made up yet but, considering that she's asleep and in awkward position – yet again – what happens next is bound to be slightly memorable. I don't know how it's going to play out yet, but I'm hoping there will be some humor – I've been on far too serious a note lately. Also, though her general attitude can be classified as being self-centered, which I agree is entirely common amongst teens, I hope you now understand the darker side of Misao and how it relates to Aoshi in more than feeling infatuated. As far as my writing is concerned, yes, my mood can greatly affect the production so, in a sense, being something of a mood swinger helps; the story keeps undulating, different emotional scales flavoring it – or at least I think that's what happens. Anyway, the muse continues to be anonymous because, for the life of me, I can't get past Bob – apparently, we're both on the same wavelength here! So, until either you or I can think up something better, the ever elusive Bob salutes you and, as for me, the slave to his every whim, I bid you goodnight.
To AquaVerve: Well gee, I'm not sure that my story is the best one on the site – have you read some of the things Rozefire and Linay cook up? –, but thank you for the compliment! Writing through the mess can, at times be difficult, but for an aspiring writer I guess life without a pen just wouldn't be life at all. Thanks and till next time!
To Ri-nee-chan: So… reviews get longer and longer, hunh? And the problem with that would be…? Personally, I think it's awesome! Honestly, I can't believe you liked Chapter 23 that much! You must have been the only one! Sure, people liked it, but they were rather busy being frustrated at the characters' behavior – understandably so –, that I doubt anyone would classify that particular post as one of their favorites. Not to say I'm not happy about it, just surprised. Thank you for your condolences: what you said wasn't corny at all, it was what your heart felt was right to say and, trust me, I greatly appreciated it. You've been visiting my xanga? Hmm… I wonder why you haven't left an itsy bitsy comment… Oh well, I'm just happy you review as often as you do! I'm glad you like my portrayal of Sano; with that in mind, I hope this chapter's depiction of him was up to par. Also you seemed to really be into the Ms. Shinomori drama, which is why I hope this chapter helps you fill the blanks a bit, to get a sense of the person she used to be in the past. The idea for the class with the Hollywood movie actually sprung from personal experience, seeing as I am currently taking a cinema class – it's required for journalism students at my university. The actual scene came to me, more specifically, when the teacher – a really brilliant guy of questionable sexuality – decided to show us some parts of "Citizen Kane" and a teary-eyed blonde appeared on the screen. Your thoughts regarding my development of Soujiro's character… my dear, you know me too well. As usual all will be explained soon enough and, rest assured, not everything is as it seems. I won't spoil the Kiyosato revelation, but I guarantee, be it assumption a,b,c or d, that it's juicy. I'm relieved to hear that last chapter's K/K moment wasn't as cheesy as I though it to be – sometimes I go a bit overboard with the saccharine, I know. Okay, so in this chapter you didn't really get to see how their next meeting goes, but you at least got a glimpse of how it starts, with Kaoru snoring away at the loft's door at 5:30 AM: bound to be interesting, hunh? I know it doesn't seem as if Aoshi ever could have cracked a smile in his life and, as I see it, he was probably a very serious little boy, but I think he sometimes did laugh and smile. Not often, mind you, but he was probably much more emotionally stable and open than he is now. After all, there has to be reason for him to be so unbelievably reserved, am I right? In my opinion, the structure of your reviews is just fine; I have quite a nice time reading them and answering them, so stick around and be yourself and you will keep me happy and inspired. Thank you for your kind words, always. Sure, university can be a killer, but I'm nothing if not a survivor – no Destiny's Child association whatsoever. Good look with all life aspects and I hope you're having better weather over there than here – yesterday the temperature dropped 13º and it's been rainy ever since. Take care of yourself and, yes, your review was soon enough. Kissies! Bye!
To Vic'chonn: I just hope that I've managed to post this before you left for London! Sorry about the delay, but my friggin' computer died on me and very nearly gave me a heart attack. I totally got the point of your last review and I felt incredibly glad to hear – more like read – that you understood where I was coming from – how is it that you always manage to get what I am trying to say? What happens between four thin walls, behind closed doors, in private: those are most definitely my points of interest when it comes to developing this story. As for last chapter, you are right, Kaoru lacks patience – something that is completely natural if you consider she's only 17 (not that I'm much older, or anything) and she's never been in a relationship before (not that she and Kenshin have a relationship – and trust is something that only comes with time. Don't worry though, our gal might have some growing up to do but I think she's proved that she's smart and she will come to understand what it takes to be around Kenshin, considering that at the moment that is pretty much all she wants. As you can see, I agree with your views on the advice Sano gave Kaoru, and you, ever so skillfully, offhandedly discovered the root of his problems with Megumi: they keep too many things to themselves, they ignore the conflict rather than talk it out or work it out. In the future – not to give anything away or anything – that understanding is going to be very important. Thanks again for the Bonnie Pink translation, have a fabulous time abroad and take heed of your own advice: there is always a silver lining! I'll be writing to you shortly, okay? Besitos y buen viaje!
To vanyD: Sorry if the time everything took place in was a bit confusing. Let's see: the family meeting and the misunderstanding between Kaoru and Kenshin came before Kaoru's talk with Sano at the beach and Misao's encounter with Aoshi's mother at the pharmacy. I hope that cleared some things up for you. Your other concern: the soundtrack section. The list of songs I make reference to at the top of the page is a musical guide to let the readers know which songs inspired me during the creative process or which ones I think fit a certain scene. As you can tell, the chapter is divided in parts by a line and a squiggly symbol that I begun adopting since last chapter; the tracks I name off apply to either one or several parts of the chapter, in accordance to how I classify them (Part I, Part II, etc.). I hope that things make more sense now. However, if you are still unsure about something, don't hesitate to ask, alright? I'm not much of a Sano and Kaoru shipper but… let's just say, things might get interesting as the story unfolds, shall we? Good luck to you as well and see you next chappie!
To thime: I took your comment on metaphors to heart and tried to tone it down a bit. That being said, I do not believe directness to be a handicap, but I'm not much of an objective soul so… bear that in mind as you read on. Poetry means a lot to me and I will use a bit of a poetic brush at times when painting a scene or describing certain emotions; I'm not a great fan of the congruent triangle (feel, think, act) when applied to writing so may that be your warning label for future reading. Everyone seems to think Soujiro is an ass… I wonder why that is? Hahhaha. All in due time my friend: explanations will be forthcoming. Thank you for all the compliments. Let's hope I don't take as long to update next time, hunh? Bye now!
To Rabid Turtle: I'm glad you were into the time changes on chapter 23; I worked hard on those! When I started writing the story, I didn't expect Kaoru and Sano to get so close, but seeing as though they are both dating or hoping to date complicated people – though in very different ways and for different reasons – I guess it winded up being inevitable. And that is how we ended up with a big brother/lil sister dynamic: it was completely unplanned. It's good to know that the characters feel real and not made-up: that's what I'm aiming for. Sou, slippery? What could possibly make you say that? Hahahaha. Continuing with the confusing Aoshi situation, this chapter must have been more of an eye-opener, or at least that's what I was shooting for. Thank you for reviewing, for your patience, lots of love and till next update!
To Aryanne: I'm glad to have you back on the reviewers' lot: you were dearly missed! Yes, Halloween is a special time for people to let their inner weirdoes out without major repercussions, hence the Kamiya Sonny and Cher craze. So far, nearly everyone that has reviewed seems to have a bone to pick with Soujiro and I, for the life of me, cannot fathom why. After all, he was so nice and charming last chapter… wasn't he? Hahhaah. Good luck with your own story. I'll check your xanga more regularly, when my computer stops dying on me every few weeks, okay? Bye.
To Strawberry'd: I know, I've been far too serious lately. It's good that you like it, but I have to get back to my funny roots, if only for a short while, wouldn't you agree? Oh well, here's to hoping that aspiration works out – muses can be so unpredictable, you know. If you think Kaoru is going to break off what doesn't exist between herself and Kenshin, then you aren't giving the girl enough credit. She gets mad pretty often; she should get over it quite as often, don't you find? Or at least, suck it up and wait until bringing up her concerns makes more sense – they are at too early a stage in their friendship to bring up trust issues. May this chapter have answered a few questions you had regarding Aoshi and Misao; may it have brought up many more – I'm not a sadist, I swear! Kissies and until next update!
To Rhapsody07: You know, the stolen moments are my personal favorites as well! Though there weren't any between K/K in this installment, there were one or two in the Sano/Meg piece. I hope they were as good for you as they were for me.
To pyramidgirl89: Don't kick yourself over the quality of your writing; how do you think I used to write when I was in high school? How do you think I'm gonna feel about how I write now when I'm older? It's natural to improve with time, just keep practicing, get blisters from holding on to your pen too tight for far too long and keep it up. Time is what everything boils down to. Bye and good luck!
To missaw: I agree, Kaoru did overreact. However, she was very vulnerable and fragile at the time of her untimely meeting with Soujiro: the poor dear was freaking out over finding out that she was falling for Kenshin Himura! She can't really be blamed for being all jumpy and paranoid and overly emotional, now can she? I like cherries, but I don't think that my PC very much cares for them, seeing as it decides to quit on me whenever it feels like it. I'll do my best to update in a timely fashion next time, alright? Thank you for reviewing and let's see what happens next chapter; until then, keep safe and be curious – it can be a wonderful asset sometimes.
To De Lazy Lime: Thank you so much for the musical recommendations – too bad my computer died and I'm gonna have to download the songs all over again. I really liked the sound of "Thievery Corporation" – pretty damn eclectic, actually. Leaving you speechless mustn't be easy, so I will definitely be taking that as a compliment. What can I say, I am a drama queen with a capital D and a heavy golden crown as of late – it's time for some humor, wouldn't you say? I think Kaoru was right about her concerns but, in my opinion, she mucked up because they are just barely getting to know one another and she is going to have to deal with the fact that Kenshin is a rather reserved fellow if she plans on him sticking around. It's not that she doesn't have a point – nothing could be further from the truth – it's just that she's going to have to deal with the reality of having a problematic Kenshin in her life. Don't worry, disastrous nights are common for me and I'm not easily brought to tears: creepy guys who think they are the shit make me laugh way more than they make me cry. Your grandmother is right: men are frogs, and don't I know it. I still hope that I will one day meet a guy who is right for me – let's leave perfection to the clueless dreamers of the world – that will have plenty of pros and cons, but that will somehow complete me, as I will him – no sense in being selfish and wanting to get the better part of the deal. Relationships are complicated, that's for sure and men go on and on about women being undecipherable but what they don't get is that their "simplicity" baffles us to the point that we are no nearer to understanding them, than them us. Basically, we're screwed.
Thank you for being so incredibly supportive and for being so patient because, let's face it, I know I am a slowpoke when it comes down to writing and many other things. Have wonderful holidays now that you are off the hook and, hopefully, I'll be bale to say the same thing by the end of June. Take care and smile a lot – endorphins are important! Until next we meet again.
Okay, that's it for now, I am outta here!