180º Spins, Twists and Turns Chapter 27: As the heart beats, a rurouni kenshin fanfic

STANDARD DISCLAIMERS APPLY: I could add ownership rights of RK to my Christmas wish list, but I would only be setting myself up for major disappointment, wouldn't I?

Quick little message from author: It's been a while since my last update. Sorry. This year has been quite the year – I'd like to think that I mean that in a good way, though. Since I probably won't be updating again any time soon this year – December tends to be a pretty busy time for me – I would like to take a moment to thank all my wonderful readers and reviewers for bearing with me throughout the whole of 2005 and wish every single one of you only the very best for the upcoming year. Take a chance on your dreams is all I can say: that's going to be my motto for 2006. Season's greeting everyone! Introducing the latest installment of 180º ST&T, chapter 27, entitled "As the heart beats". I hope you all like it.

Soundtrack: Part I: "Love is everywhere I go" – Sam Phillips / Part II: "Cocoon" – Bjork / Part III: "Someone Something" – Spoon / Part IV: "The Frug" – Rilo Kiley / Part V: "Comforting sounds" – Mew / Part VI: "My doorbell" – The White Stripes; "Never leave your heart alone" – Butterfly Boucher / Part VII: "Never leave your heart alone" – Butterfly Boucher -- continuation of the song, letting it bleed into this part of the installment; "Where does the good go?" – Tegan and Sara

Chapter 27: As the heart beats

Love. It's the notion that, when one feels it, the word in itself sounds obsolete, tired and tried, insufficient and by far too abused.

When one finds oneself loving someone, one gets into the business of unwittingly inventing neologisms. Love becomes a term so poor in expression that one becomes almost ashamed to use it, for fear of making one's own feelings obsolete, tired and tried, for fear of abusing the word to the extent that it rapidly looses meaning.

To love is to want the very thought of loving to mean something better, something new, to think that Love, as defined in dictionaries and by popular consensus, urgently needs an upgrade because that simple definition just isn't enough. It isn't enough to convey a heart on the verge of explosion seeking a safe haven to mellow down the frantic haze of emotion that is falling in love.

Love. It's the notion that, given a thousand other names, no wording or phrasing could suit it, could do it justice, the travesty of a thousand hasty "Love yas" written at the bottom of too many e-mails and letters to count, spoken at the end of nearly every phone conversation ever made, rendering its use, its original meaning, flat and uninspiring. Love in language is denotative; love in soul is connotative: no word could ever capture it; no tongue could ever refrain from distorting its significance.

Yet, as the heart beats, we love.

Como bate o coração, nós amamos.

Como late el corazón, nosotros amamos.

Comme bat le coeur, l'on aime.

As the heart beats, we love.

The idiom is unimportant, the labeling, no matter which, at the ready to be taken advantage of and underestimated. If words could be made anew and a novel term was to replace those four letters, it would all boil down to the same thing: no mercy would be shown and it would be divested of its true implications. And it still wouldn't matter.

The important part would be the booming, the pounding, the flip-flops and the palpitations. A heart beating for another, a rhythm attuned to something beyond ego. Love.

Curled up on her side, Megumi simply stared.

Up…and down…and up again.

With every breath he took and every breath that passed his lips always came the rhythmical rising and falling of his chest.

Up…and down…and up again; in…and out...and in again.

The act of breathing was so methodical, so unlike him. It was strange. And yet, there he was, flat on his back, breathing in…and out…and in again.

Sanosuke, she had found out, tended to look the most unlike himself when he was asleep. The morning after he had stayed over for the first time, she had made an offhanded comment about it during breakfast. As was his custom, Sano had merely eyed her oddly, grunted and jerkily stated that a sleeping person was just that, a person that was sleeping and little else. He hadn't understood.

Rise and fall; inhale and exhale.

Under the pale moonlight streaming in through the window located directly above the bed's headboard, his tanned skin glistened ever so slightly, his three-day stubble tinged silver. Megumi could imagine wrinkles taking shape on the smooth planes of his face, crow's feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes, a shock of white hair on his head.

Suddenly metamorphosed, there laid Sanosuke, old and gray, and possibly senile, stretched alongside her, fast asleep.

In…and out…and in again.

Was she old too? Lifting her arm, she brought her hand up for closer inspection. Yes, she could make out creasing ridges on sallow skin, could feel the rougher texture of what had once been satiny soft – Clinique and Helena Rubinstein products sure were a Godsend! – pressed beneath her fingertips wherever they chose to roam.

In her mind's eye, both she and her lover had grown old together and, despite a world of troubles, still managed to share a common bed and life.

Up…and down…and up again.

Gently, Megumi slipped her hand beneath his forearm, curved round his middle, the exact spot where her waist tended to rest when the couple settled in for the night. Sanosuke stirred slightly and a soft smile touched her lips.

Vital, constantly on the move, fidgety even: that was the Sanosuke Sagara the world had come to know. But this, this deathly calm, this peaceful quiet, this was hers alone, this was her Sanosuke Sagara.

And as intimate, precious and delicate as that sounded, at times it unnerved her.

Rise…and fall; breathe in…and breathe out.

It was a question of nature, his nature. This Sanosuke was too peacefully quiet, too calm, too deathly still to be anything else if not an empty husk, a frigid corpse weighing down the left side of her bed. This train of thought never failed to frighten her, but as she greedily drank in the gentle rising and falling of his chest, insane ideas took shape, coffins and funerals being at the forefront of the dreadful onslaught of nightmarish imaginings that his unmoving frame inspired.

Up…and down…and up again.

Caringly, Megumi placed her free hand on his temple, the warm flesh beneath her palm chasing her imaginary worries away. He was breathing steadily and, though motionless, was very much alive. Tenderly, she planted a light kiss on his forehead.

His performance at the previous night's football game had been impeccable, his team had won and the scouts sitting at the bleachers had seemed considerably impressed.

Tracing her finger down his jaw, her face grew serious.

He should have been thrilled, especially when his teammates carried him off the field on their shoulders – wasn't that the sort of ego boost that every man craved? – but… Megumi sighed.

Sano had never been good at hiding his feelings, not from her anyway, and that distant look in his eyes at the after party was impossible to miss. Why couldn't he be happy once all he had ever dreamed about finally seemed to be materializing right under his nose?

In…and out…and in again.

She had been so shocked the day she had met him; he got off the bus before she even got the chance to ask him if he had recently escaped from a psych ward. From that moment on, wherever he was concerned, wonders never ceased.

As to how he had won her over? It was actually quite simple; he had been himself and brutally honest with both his feelings and intentions to the point that she figured that, when push came to shove, he would be straight with her always. He was noble and that was the uppermost quality that had persuaded the princess that locked herself in an impenetrable ivory tower to surrender her trust and heart over to the knight that awaited her – if quite impatiently – at the base of the winding stairwell.

Rise and fall; inhale and exhale.

He had always made her so happy. Not to say that he hadn't brought a fair share of sadness, frustration, anger and worrying into her life; theirs was a situation far from perfect.

Megumi could have had perfect. She could have pursued a relationship with the son of one of her father's esteemed colleagues. She could have had parental approval and spent Christmas every year at a different ski lodge, be it in Valais or Vermont. She could have been lathered in expensive gifts every anniversary, surprised with birthday dinners at seaside hotels year after year after year. At the movies, she could have rested her head on the shoulder of any of the Kenshin Himuras in the country – albeit one with less emotional baggage. She could have been the perfect Barbie doll to the perfect Ken, smiling behind the wheel of an expensive blue Corvette.

But, as fate would have it, she had gone for the GI Joe instead, sort of speak… Well, the Captain certainly had threatened to enlist him in the army plenty of times…

Breathe in…breathe out…breathe in…breathe out…

Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she buried her head in the crook of his neck, snuggling against him, relaxing when he reflexively wrapped his arms around her.

As she lived and breathed and as the pulsing of his heartbeat lulled her to sleep, she didn't regret giving up the fantasy.

This confusing reality was a mess and there was no denying that their future was frighteningly uncertain. Lately, Sanosuke wasn't the happy man she had fallen in love with and she had gone through far too many bottles of aspirin, there had been much more fighting and, what was worse, moments of uncomfortable silence seemed to stretch on forever between them far too often.

Up…and down…and up again…

But there was this moment, so fragile and fleeting, like many others.

Matutinal moments. Vespertine moments. Nocturnal moments. Intimate moments. Their moments.

Thump…thump…thump…

In this moment, there was his heartbeat, a lullaby meant to put her lights out slowly, to make her forget all problems and focus on how right it felt to fall asleep with him, to have fallen in love with him. Someway, somehow, with him, she was always falling.

In…and out…and in again…

It was past midnight, but he was past caring. Looking down at the wrinkled piece of paper in his hands, he ascertained that he had the right address. He rang the doorbell a few times, then waited. It seemed to him that all he ever did these days was wait.

After what felt like forever, he finally heard the padding of feet and the swishing of fabric on the other side of the door. When all grew silent again, he realized that whoever was behind the door was probably hoping he would go away; they certainly hadn't even bothered with turning on any lights inside the apartment, at least none that he could see peeking through the small gap between door and granite floor.

Jaw set and shoulders squared, as per usual, he rang the doorbell again, most likely startling the person hiding in the dark. Not that he cared. He was past caring.

"Who… Who's there?" a female voice hesitantly asked.

"I'm looking for Tadao Kinjo," he replied coolly.

"He's….he's not…uh…here at the moment," the disembodied voice stated waveringly.

He cocked an eyebrow. Of course he was in there, he probably just had so many people after his head that this woman – a wife or girlfriend, quite possibly – had little choice but to lie and pray it worked. His lips drew themselves into a taut line as he thought that there was no way in hell anyone's prayers were getting answered anytime soon; he had been down that particular venue and nothing had come of clasping his hands together, palm to palm, and waiting for divine grace to take pity on him and his mother. Praying was for the senseless.

"I need to see him," he persisted.

"I've already told you, he's not here!" The woman sounded thoroughly annoyed now, her previous nervousness nowhere to be found. "What kind of an hour is this for house calls, anyway!"

The tall man standing in the dimly lit corridor gave an irritated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. When it came to matters of such import, there was no 'right time' for visits and, if the woman wasn't a complete idiot, she could probably guess that this was no regular social call, which rendered the question in itself completely pointless.

"I'm his son."

Tense silence met his admission. It wasn't as though he were proud of having Tadao Kinjo for a father; a person simply can't choose the parents they're stuck with, after all. At the very least, he had been spared the torture of dealing with the man for an awfully long time.

In an ideal world, he would never have found himself standing in the hall of that old apartment building's fifth floor, no less seeking out as seedy a person as his father, but, as he very well knew, there was nothing ideal about life. Thus, he waited for the door he had walked up to about ten minutes prior to be unlocked, not an ounce of emotion playing across the planes of his blank face.

As the withdrawing of the bolt noisily alerted him to the turning of the key, he grew to hate the situation all the more. There was no room for love or God or any form of optimism in his heart. Beating inside him, there was only an anger that blotted everything else out, that made him see red all the time, that pointed out how unfair and cruel fate was, if such a thing as fate existed.

The door creaked open and a tall woman in a nightgown appeared before him, contriteness written all over her face.

"Come on in… Aoshi."

Though he did not give away that he was surprised, Sae, who was a mother, knew better: the young man might have been looking at her with as much stoicism as a zen monk could muster, but he had been terribly adamant about getting inside the apartment. Now that he had a clear path, he moved not a muscle.

"He told me about you," she explained, though Aoshi had as of yet to ask her one sole question. "Not that he said much, true, but I made it a point to remember your name, all the same."

Without a word, Aoshi let himself in. The raw anger, though he would not show it, burned within, now so all the more. He would not request his father's assistance; he had not sought him out to get on his hands and knees and beg. Tadao Kinjo owed him and he was there to collect.

"There was an emergency?"

"Uh…well…it's more like he forgot he'd already made other plans."

"Oh…Okay, then…"

"But he did say he was sorry."

"Yeah…"

"And he left your stuff with me, so it's not like you came all the way here for nothin'."

"Right!"

The silent pause was one more reason Sanosuke had for hating his roommate. Why the hell was it that Mr. Nice Guy always left him to do the dirty work? Couldn't he blow off the girl himself?

Well, no, not really; he was out after all. Next question, then: why the hell did he have to go out in the first place? What was so freaking important that he had to leave in such a hurry?

"Anyway, you get to see me, which is awesome, of course," Sano boastfully intoned.

She rolled her pretty blue eyes at him. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Don't kid yourself, angel; you know you love me."

"As much as I love maggots."

"You're so funny. You kill me. Really."

"I try."

Alright, things were going okay – it definitely could have been worse. As long as he kept the girl busy she wouldn't ask the question that would doom them all. Well, not him; he had nothing to do with the fucked up love triangle Kenshin, Kaoru and Tomoe seemed to be a part of, quite thankfully. Still, someone's bubble was about to get burst… if someone opened her pretty little mouth and attempted to hit the nail on the head.

"Why's Kenshin got your laundry with him, anyway?" he innocently asked as a means of diversion.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I puked all over my clothes the night we met."

"Oh that's right! I'd forgotten about that!" he exclaimed. "You barfed on his shoes too, right?"

Kaoru gaped, but quickly recovered. "Just hand over my clothes!"

Sweet! He was gonna get her to leave without having to deal with anyone's anguish and lovesickness! Just goes to show: when you set your mind on something, the results can be astounding.

Hurriedly, he placed the plastic dry cleaning bag in her arms. "We'll I've done my part; you're good to go now!"

"Why are you so eager to get rid of me?"

Oh boy, why was she frowning suspiciously at him? No, no, no. He had done a good job. She was standing by the door, for fuck's sake! She already had what she needed! Why didn't she just go away already?

"Someone's a little paranoid," Sanosuke suggested.

"You actually know what paranoid means?" Kaoru wondered aloud.

"You're still here?" he inquired.

"Aha! I knew it!" she yelled, pointing an accusing finger in his face. "You want me to leave!"

"Duh!"

"Why?"

"You mean there's gotta be a reason?"

"Yes, pea brain, there's always a reason!"

Kenshin had to die. A painful death, preferably. Maybe even with a touch of humiliation to the act in itself. Yes, Kenshin should die while sitting on the toilet. On a plane. Kenshin should die sitting on the toilet seat of an airplane bathroom, getting sucked out into the sky with his pants down. Or something.

"Fine, if you really want to know, Megumi is waiting for me…in my bedroom."
"I'm not buying it."

"What the hell do you mean, 'you're not buying it'? It's the truth, dammit! I want you to leave so I can go have hot sex with my girlfriend! There, I said it! Are you happy now?"

"Not really," Kaoru responded flatly, narrowing her eyes. "You're lying. Why are you lying?"

"I'm not lying! Now go away already!" he shrieked in exasperation. He was loosing ground fast, and he knew it. "We don't have much time – she's got class in a bit – and she really likes foreplay!"

"The fictitious woman lying on your bed will live," the young girl dryly asserted.

No wonder Kenshin had stood her up: she was a pain in the ass! Not that Tomoe had ever been any better, with her penetrating stares and measuring glances, but still!

"Alright, stay if you like then. There's the couch and there's the TV: make yourself comfortable. When the moaning and panting coming from my room reaches your virginal ears, don't say I didn't warn you!"

Hah! That had done it! She was gripping the plastic bag tightly now, her eyes downcast. He couldn't really tell, but he was sure she was blushing. She really thought she could outdo him? She clearly had it coming then, even if he felt a little bad for having embarrassed her by being so blunt. The rest of him, though, was super relieved and ecstatic, knowing that in order to save face she was sure to hastily say her goodbyes and walk out that door. Phew!

"Just out of curiosity," Kaoru voiced, so softly it was barely even audible, "did this emergency... did it have a name?"

Oh crap, she'd gone and done it now, hadn't she? Silly girl, of course it had a name: Kenshin wouldn't have left him in charge of picking up the pieces otherwise.