STANDARD DISCLAIMERS APPLY: Let's see…would I even be bothering with an internship at a local newspaper as opposed to wasting all of my days writing the grandest novel of novels if I owned RK? Think about it, I dare you.
Quick little message from author: As promised on my profile – those who look for answers there will, on occasion, find them – here is a brand new chapter of 180º ST&T. Yes, it has been forever since I last updated and, yes, next time will probably be no different. Currently, I'm supposed to be writing an article due yesterday, in a sense, but I figured it couldn't hurt to use my time productively in a non-professional way for a change. I worked hard on this – believe it or not – and I hope you all like it. My personal favorite was Misao's part, though I'm sure many of you will disagree. Until next time.
Soundtrack: Musically, this time around, every scene has a song to its name, but all of them are part of a whole, even though the chapter is clearly chopped up. All that means is that every song tends to continue at the end of its corresponding scene, bleeding into the atmosphere and first few lines or paragraphs of the following part of the installment. I sincerely hope that made sense. Part I: "Twisted Logic" – Coldplay / Part II: "Reflecting Light" – Sam Phillips / Part III: "Evil and Flowers" – Bonnie Pink / Par IV: "Changes" – Butterfly Boucher; "Is this Love?" – Clap Your Hands Say Yeah/ Part V: "Fix you up" – Tegan and Sara / Part VI: "Brand New Colony" – The Postal Service / Part VII: "Close your eyes" – The Chemical Brothers feat. The Magic Numbers
§ Chapter 28: Nothing happened §
"Fear is not a lasting teacher of duty."
-- Marcos Tullius Cicero--
The sun was out. He was sitting alone. Through the glass, he icily watched the cars go by. It was worth it, he knew. But...was it really?
"You Aoshi?"
The tall college student peered impassively up into the chubby face of a short, middle-aged man wearing a mustard yellow and gray jogging suit.
"Who I am does not concern you."
Pulling out a stick of gum from his pocket, the slightly balding oriental rolled his almond shaped eyes.
"So you're one of the tough guys, huh?"
Aoshi averted his gaze down to the menu. He was in the mood for poached eggs.
The stranger shrugged. "You sure as hell don't get that from your old man." He noisily unwrapped the cinnamon flavored stick and rammed it in his mouth. "I can see the physical resemblance, though."
The undergrad remained silent. The only sound to be heard for a couple of heartbeats was the one made by the newcomer chewing loudly.
"I hear you want to have a chat with your dad." Smoothly, the stout man slid into the booth across from Aoshi. "Kid, I gotta ask; why would you even want to get involved with a guy who has never given a flying fuck about you?"
"It's not any of your business," said Aoshi, without looking up from his reading.
A chuckle escaped the man who had not, as of yet, properly identified himself. "For future reference, anything regarding that damned junkie, I make my business."
Aoshi sized up his table companion. "Just to be clear," he said, boredom written in big block letters all over his face, "I'm not interested in his addiction, vices or your part in any of it. His problems have nothing to do with me."
"Then what do you want with him? If you look for Tadao, trouble's all you'll find, kid; everyone knows that."
"He owes me."
Slapping his leg, the man in the cashmere running outfit let out a hearty laugh. The boy might have been Tadao's kin, but he certainly knew nothing of his own flesh and blood's character, did he?
"Boy, if you're looking to collect, you're gonna have to get in line; this whole town wants your old man's head!"
"As long as no one gets to him before I do, it doesn't matter."
"I doubt anyone will. He's got…protection, if you will."
"Protection or no, we'll talk."
The man could not help the sigh that abandoned him. He was trying to do Sae a favor, per her request, but his charge was proving to be as stubborn as a mule.
"Look," said he, the mirthful, joking manner that had been his up to that point replaced by earnest seriousness, "Sae called me up and asked me to meet you down here, alright? She says you sound like a real nice guy, but hey, she married your father, which is proof enough that she's not the best judge of character. All the same, when she asks me for help, I'm incapable of turning her down and, by all means, at least you look like a nice guy. If you happen to be one, then listen to me when I say that you do not want to seeTadao Kinjo."
Aoshi set the menu down on the table with more force than was necessary. He had had enough. Good intentions led nowhere; he knew this for a fact. It was time to end the conversation.
"I did not ask for your advice." Piercing the would-be counselor with a frosty glare, he decided to set the records straight. "I am fully aware of what I am doing, and I assure you, despite what Mrs. Kinjo chooses to believe, I am not a nice man."
Nodding his head, the man pursed his lips and then chewed his gum thoughtfully for a few minutes, his yellowed teeth on display every time he widely opened and closed his mouth like some sort of mutant fish gasping for breath above water.
"Fair enough," said he at long last. "I'll let Sae know I did my best, but the fight clearly wasn't worth it."
He stroked his chin and yawned. It was too damn early in the day to be dealing with Kinjo's unresolved business. Openly staring at the young man who was pointlessly looking out the diner's window, he wondered what Yuriko would make of it all. She hadn't wanted to have anything to do with the kid's father once she got pregnant for good reason, hadn't she?
"Does your mom know you're looking for your father?"
Aoshi remained unresponsive. His silence spoke louder than words and for that, the older man sitting in front of him was sorry. How could she have known if she would never approve? Tadao had always been far from a saint and Yuriko had more than done right by her son deciding to raise him as far away from his father's influence as possible.
He wished he could tell the boy all those things, tell him that he had known his mother way back when, tell him exactly why she had run out on his old man… but, alas, it was not his place. He'd leave that to her, once she found out just what her son was up to.
"He's out of town right now, you know," said he instead. "Go back to the apartment in a couple of days; I'll try to get a hold of him and let him know you want to meet up with him."
With a nod, Aoshi confirmed he would do as he was told, seeing as it was truly what was most convenient and really all he could do for the time being.
"My name's Saburo Mori, by the way." Aoshi listlessly stared at Saburo's outstretched hand, who quickly realized Kinjo's boy wasn't much for pleasantries and set it back down on the table. "You ready to order?" Without waiting for a reply, he called over the waitress. "Tsu, sweetheart, get over here, would you? I'm so hungry I could chew off my own arm!"
"There are always flowers for those who want to see them."
-- Henri Matisse --
Smiling to herself, Tsubame leaned against the counter and sighed happily, nay dreamily. Ever since her mother had woken her up before the crack of dawn and told her the news a few days prior, she had been on cloud nine.
Truly she had never thought such a thing possible, but then again, there he was, listlessly stabbing at his breakfast. Her brother.
"Tsu, honey, he's going to think you have a staring problem."
Blushing furiously, the teen bit her lip and sighed, opting to look down at her feet instead; after all, was there a safer view than her own brown leather flats?
"I'm sorry; I just can't seem to help myself, Jiro." She fretfully tucked her hands behind her back. "Nothing this exciting has ever happened to me before."
The old man frowned. "Thrilling as it all may be, you take care of yourself, young lady." He chanced a glance at the men in the booth closest to the door. "This is all brand new and I don't want to see you getting your hopes up just yet."
Nodding her head, Tsubame let out a nervous chuckle and retreated to the kitchen.
Old man Jiro stayed behind, discreetly looking at the only two customers in the diner from his place behind the counter. Heaving a sigh, he removed his disposable hat and scratched a balding spot on his head. The girl had too nice a heart. The men seemed too much like trouble in order to be anything but. As if her excitement would let her see that any time soon…
"Jiro, do you know at what time Yahiko comes in today?"
Startled, the cook turned around. He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he had failed to hear the girl creep up behind him.
Blushing, Tsubame mistook his silence for something else altogether – the truth was, since she'd nearly given him a heart attack, he hadn't had the presence of mind to pay attention to her question – and figured offering him an explanation would make asking about Yahiko seem less like she was desperate to see the boy, which she kind of was.
"I…I need to talk to him about something, but I have to run a few errands after class and he never drops by this early, so…"
On second thought, maybe explaining didn't actually help her case. Oh brother, the last thing on earth she wanted to do was show the world she had a crush on the cute busboy; she'd never hear the end of it!
"I'm sorry, hon, who do you need to talk to?" Jiro asked, lifting his hand away from his chest and dropping it to his side instead. "I didn't quite catch what you said."
The teenager let out an uneven breath. Great. She would have to say his name again and put up with much teasing to come. Just great.
"Yahiko. At what time does he come in today?"
"Oh, I'm forcing that stubborn kid to stay away for a while; he needs to work less and study more if he actually wants to have a future."
"Oh. Well, I guess it can wait until tomorrow then," she said, unable to keep the disappointment from showing on her face.
"If it's so important, maybe you can talk to me about it…" he suggested, setting his hat on top of the counter, right next to a box of freshly baked pretzels. One of Mrs. Hamilton's sons always stopped by round 5:00 AM to drop off the delicious pastries and desserts that she made for the diner when she wasn't too busy catering for someone's wedding.
"Thank you, but I really think I should talk to him about it," said Tsubame, timidly ducking her head so as not to meet her employer's kind eyes.
"Well alright then, whatever you think is best," he conceded, playfully ruffling her hair.
Smoothing down her apron, the young girl gave Jiro a bashful smile before walking off towards the two men who had held her captive ever since they had each set foot within the establishment.
The old man saw her address them, tiny notebook in hand, and felt a sense of world-weariness wash over him.
Tsubame was a very sweet and innocent girl. Despite having a despicable man for a father, she still managed to see beauty in everything and everyone, even if she was prone to occasional mistrust. Which was only natural.
She should have been jaded, but she wasn't. She should have been one of those silly teenage girls, starved for the attention they never got back home, but that just wasn't her. Poor little Tsubame was stronger than she seemed. Like a flower that bloomed in the darkness, its sweet scent carried on the nightly breeze, so was she, permanently frozen in weak moonbeams threatened by the break of day.
And yet, he was afraid for her. He was afraid that, sooner or later, something would happen, someone would come along, and uproot her. Praying wouldn't be enough to save her then, for no matter how much one hopes against it, no one escapes growing pains.
It was only a matter of time now before the real world managed to sully the picture of life she had painted for herself and, sadly, Jiro thought that already he might be looking at the culprit, the one to rob a lovely girl of her childlike innocence. Time wasn't on her side; the true test of the living was learning how to cope with that type of knowledge.
"It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are."
-- e.e. cummings --
His arms went slack and fell to his sides. Quietly, he closed the door and went back to his room. Taking in a few ragged breaths he walked over to the bed and sat on its edge clenching his hands into fists.
She always did the same thing. She always brought a stray home, rolled out the red carpet, clothed and fed him, welcomed him between her legs and forgot. Forgot that she didn't know what it was like to let love in.
Sometimes he had to wonder if it wasn't intentional, if she wasn't into it, if she didn't get some sort of twisted pleasure out of being black and blue all over.
For as far back as he could remember, strange men had waltzed in and out of their lives, not one of them being the least bit kind to him or his mother – they could consider themselves lucky when one of them had the decency to not steal their money or drink himself into a violent rage.
Grimacing, Yahiko muttered a few obscenities, got on his feet and started picking books and papers off of the floor. There was no way he was going to be able to get any studying done knowing that his mother was in her bedroom having sex with some guy – to his misfortune, she tended to be a bit loud.
Angrily, he shoved his schoolbooks into his backpack, trying hard not to think on how much better his life would be if his father were still alive.
Maybe they would still be living in the same crummy apartment, eating stale bread and canned bean soup, but at least they would have had each other. They could have been happy, even if he still had to work a million shifts at the diner to pitch in. He could have been a son complaining about having chores to do as opposed to the man of the house bringing home the bacon.
Before heading off to the library, he put on a fresh pot of coffee and set the table. It was almost lunchtime and when it was all over those two were bound to be starving. Automatically, he found himself fishing for a vase and filling it with water. Stalking up to the kitchen windowsill, he plucked one of the flowers that grew on the window box and dumped it into the cheap glass container.
It was probably wrong of him, but he decided he might as well let her have her fantasy and think that this time things could work out with the man in the other room. Yahiko knew that it was a bad idea to encourage her, but he was all she had and their lives were far from easy; the least he could do was cushion the blows.
Besides, she had lost weight recently and was not feeding herself right, so it was really up to him to make sure that she didn't get sick. Jiro had said that he could stop over the diner at nightfall and take some of the day's leftovers home with him and, though at first he had refused, his pride getting the best of him, in the end he had had no choice but to concede, seeing as his mother's condition was really starting to worry him.
Shouldering his backpack, Yahiko made sure that he wasn't forgetting anything and then took off, mentally going over the groceries he had to buy at the supermarket and the chat he had to have with the Principal come tomorrow. Apparently, his grades had been slipping and every single one of his teachers had a bone to pick with him. The fact that the school counselor considered him an "irresponsible and immature rebel without a cause" certainly wasn't going to do anything to help his case either. But, hey, what did any of those blockheads know, right?
With a small smile on his face, the teen reached the bus stop and stood next to a young girl strumming a guitar, an expression of utmost concentration on her face. The truth was that she sucked and was rarely rewarded with the sound of a coin or two falling into the open case at her feet but, in Yahiko's book, she got props for effort.
"Love is a battle, love is a war; love is growing up."
-- James Arthur Baldwin --
Sometimes he wondered at how effortlessly loving her came to him. Then again, more often than not he found himself thinking on just why the hell she had to make things so damn difficult.
Alright, so his heart was set on the whole package, and that included the tantrums, the arrogance and the chronic criticism, and maybe, just maybe, that made him something of a masochist, but none of that was ever answer enough as to why their relationship couldn't be less… challenging.
To be perfectly honest, there were days when Sanosuke genuinely wasn't sure if putting up with her shit was worth it. The fact that she could never ever pick a movie that wasn't foreign for both their viewing pleasure certainly did not help matters.
"You could use a little culture," she stated airily, looking down at her nails rather than his face.
"Ever heard of American culture?" he grumpily asked.
"Scary movie doesn't count as culture, Sano."
"Ever heard of pop culture?" the tall man insisted. "Besides, the movie is a classic, the first in an ongoing series."
Megumi sighed. "Pop culture is mainstream and vulgar. Why not rent something slightly more original?"
"And just what the hell kind of music do you think you're making me listen to when you play your Backstreet Boys CDs? Newsflash babe: they're not underground and they're nothing if not commercial."
"Sanosuke, I don't even own a Backstreet Boys CD."
He shrugged. "Do you really expect me to be able to tell all those freaking pretty boys apart?"
"Hey, I'm not the one who knows the names of every Westlife member," the slender woman commented, superiorly arching an eyebrow.
"I had just read an article about them in one of your magazines; it's not my fault I have photographic memory!" he protested right before turning around and walking away.
The woman could really be a bitch sometimes! God!
He knew that there was no chance on earth that he was the only guy to complain when his girlfriend suggested renting a boring movie about kids looking for seashells and discovering the true meaning of life in the process, or some other corny plotline – after he had heard Megumi say the words "moving", "touching" and "tender" in the same sentence, his brain had decided to take a leave of absence and entertain itself with other thoughts.
But really, was it so hard to understand that he simply wasn't the sensitive type and that sitting through The Bridges of Madison County had been nothing short of sheer torture? Why would anyone think he'd want a repeat of such torment? Why would she believe that just because they we're together he had drastically changed to the point of actually liking romantic comedies and Iranian dramas?
Walking around the video store, Sanosuke pondered if perhaps there wasn't some truth in what they say: maybe women truly were from Venus after all. Of one thing he was certain: they definitely were not from this world.
Picking up a copy of Die hard from one of the shelves, he knew fully well that he would never be able to rent it because, somehow, Megumi always managed to twist his arm and have her say. Nevertheless, he could not help himself from staring at the DVD with much longing, wishing that he could have his way for once in a 'ladies first' universe.
And so it was that, while daydreaming of a bowl of popcorn and off-duty cop John McClane cursing and bleeding on his TV screen, he heard the two teens talking, which quickly lead him to forget and ignore all his precious laments.
"Dude! I feel damn sorry for that dumb bitch's loser boyfriend!"
"Yeah, the guy must be totally whipped!"
"At least she's hot."
"I'd totally do her."
As the boy in the baseball cap continued to address the one wearing cargo pants, Sano felt his blood boil. Were they serious ogling his girl like that and insulting her as well as himself? With him still in the building? Talk about having a death wish!
"Hey, you two!" he called, stalking over to the unsuspecting victims in question. "You got a problem with my girl's taste in movies?"
Victim number one looked over his shoulder and gulped. Victim number two cringed and bowed his head. Sanosuke smirked evilly.
"I asked you boys a question…"
"She can't bring herself to decide between Fried green tomatoes and Forrest Gump, so she's been asking everyone around her which movie they think you would like best; it's pathetic man!"
The quarterback had to hand it to the kid with the nose ring: he had cojones. Too bad he was a punch away from knowing that being gutsy didn't save you from physical violence.
"In other words, you dweebs think that she's pathetic and, if I heard correctly, that I, her boyfriend, am a loser," Sano spoke matter-of-factly. "Did I get any of that wrong?"
There was this thing about Sanosuke Sagara: the more easygoing he acted in front of strangers who had just insulted someone dear to his heart, the more dangerous he seemed to be. Also, probably because he had foregone his usual slouch, he looked taller and, frankly, quite menacing.
Nose ring boy screwed up his face into a scowl and, by the angry spark in his eye it was obvious what his immediate course of action would have been, had Sano not cracked his knuckles for emphasis. Fast as lightning, soon-to-be-human-punching-bag-number-two stepped in front of his daring friend and showed his true wimpy colors.
"Look man, we meant no disrespect."
"Well, the both of you do look dumb enough to think calling someone a bitch ain't rude, so…"
Anticipation hung thick in the air as the football player pondered whether giving the idiots wedgies was really the right thing to do. In the past, he wouldn't have hesitated, but Megumi wasn't particularly impressed by public displays of violence and male ego trips. Sano sighed. It seemed that she had changed him more than he was willing to admit. Before, he would have been one of those kids, making fun of the guy who would be condemned to watching chick flicks at home just because his girlfriend said so. He had most certainly never had second thoughts prior to landing a punch, so he was beyond sure that that was all her doing. What was next? Accompanying her on a shopping spree, maybe?
The sad part was that that too was something she had already made him do. The party line was that he didn't care all that much because he enjoyed the time he spent with her. Also, the sex was great. And really, what self-respecting man would whine about having to deal with annoying saleswomen and shoeboxes when a good roll in the hay was on the agenda right after a loving girlfriend with an amazing body maxed out her credit card?
"Okay, you're off the hook."
Relieved, punked up Tweeddle Dee and Tweeddle Dum found themselves able to breathe easily again.
"But only if you two apologize to my girlfriend for calling her names."
Suddenly Tweeddle Dee and Tweedle Dum were crestfallen as crestfallen can be: if she was the puppeteer, as they well believed her to be, then surely they were doomed. By the malicious grin on their tormentor's face, they were dead on the money.
"It's not like she heard us," one of the boys protested.
"I heard you and have the manpower to back that statement up," Sano argued. "I win."
Resigned to their fate, both teenagers let themselves get hauled in the general direction of the beautiful woman's whereabouts. Up close she was even more stunning and the situation itself appeared to be ten times more embarrassing; to think that instead of hitting on her they would have to excuse themselves for having spoken ill of her within her marionette's earshot! What a pickle they were in…
"Hey Meg, look what the cat dragged in," the brown-haired young man bellowed, getting the attention of half of the store's clientele.
"New pledges?" she asked, tearing her eyes away from a DVD back cover. "I'm not going to have to have to talk Jason into letting them bathe again, am I?"
"Sorry to disappoint, babe; these guys have adhered to risky hygiene without our guidance." Sano patted the twosome on their backs, feeling awfully proud of himself as he remembered all the pain and suffering he had put oh-so-many pledges through. "Actually, they have something to say to you."
A momentary look of suspicion crossed Megumi's face. "Did you bribe a pair of strangers into telling me how the Scary Movie experience changed their lives?"
"No, that was kind of a one time deal."
"Good, because it certainly did nothing for you the first time around, wouldn't you agree?"
Sanosuke pouted and sidestepped the two teens. "Do you wanna find out what they have to say, or not?"
Megumi sighed, disliking the drama. "Fine, but make sure they don't take all day. We have to stop by the supermarket to buy apples and some dog chow for Max."
The male undergrad blinked twice as he tried to process how apples could fit into a dog's diet, then let the thought go as soon as he reminded himself that he owned the most neurotic and insane poodle on Earth. Besides, if he didn't get things over and done with fast, tattooed and pierced Pinky and the Brain might think that it was okay to skedaddle.
"Guys?"
Nose ring boy muttered something unintelligible under his breath, which made his partner in crime elbow him in the ribs.
"We're sorry," said the one with the baseball cap, earning a puzzled glare from the gorgeous knockout he had been expressing regret to.
"Sanosuke," the woman in question spoke, "what do these kids have to be sorry about?"
"Gee whiz, Meg, I think Sparky over here will be more than eager to explain," he said, patting the chosen party on the arm.
"My name's Greg."
"You know Greg, my girlfriend has a name too. It's a shame ya didn't use it…"
"Look, so what if we called her a bitch? It's not like either of you were supposed to know about it and it's not that big a deal anyway, moron!"
"I'd like to think I misheard you, Sparky, but I'm not that naïve and the fact that you look like a textbook virgin, angry at the world because all the pretty girls from the pep squad don't even know you're alive, meaning you refuse to wear anything that isn't black and think dabbing on some mascara will finally make you stop being invisible, seems proof enough to me that my ears are working just fine."
During the silence that followed Megumi's words, the underlying question of whether getting beat up by an angry boyfriend hurt less than a scorned woman's venomous tongue arose.
"Sweetie, why is Greg here still in one piece?" she asked, her tone of voice far too sugary to promise nothing but utmost pain and far from pleasant things.
"Because you're not a fan of violence..?" he suggested, thinking that maybe it would have been better for everyone involved if he had just smacked the two boys around for a bit. Greg was looking green and affected, not to say conflicted.
Covering her mouth with a dainty hand, Megumi laughed in a way that could do things to a man… things that only the mention of Lorena Bobbitt's name can. Sanosuke cringed as did the dynamic duo, awaiting the female's next move.
"You're right," she said after catching her breath, "I don't like witnessing displays of violent behavior."
The three men breathed a sigh of relief.
"That's why I'm not in the parking lot, am I?"
Smirking, Sanosuke Sagara realized that she wasn't the only one who had undergone serious changes since the start of their relationship. In that moment, pride consumed him, because he knew that, had he not been the one to love her like no one else ever would, such a veiled proposition would have never passed her lips.
Sure, everything about them was a challenge, an argument waiting to happen, a confrontation. But, everything about them was love, and it showed, fracturing hordes of people along the way, if he were to abide her orders. As if he ever did things her way when she wasn't looking… Bah, he was going soft, wasn't he?
"Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets."
-- Paul Tournier --
They remembered it differently, the day they met. It had always been something of a joke between them, the way neither could agree upon how they had ended up talking to each other.
Putting down her cup, Tomoe looked at him – really looked at him – and grew pensive. He was too engrossed in his reading to notice her detailed scrutiny of a man that had once, in a long distant memory that could have very well been a dream, told her he was tired of going at it alone. Back then, he had been eighteen and lonely.
After his parents died, he had spent most of his days feeling lonely, getting used to not really having anyone, toughing it out on his own. Was he still convinced no one was on his side, she wondered? Had he ever really stopped? Had he ever believed that someone cared for him?
She knew that living with Hiko mustn't have been easy. She knew that the loss of his parents had left a void in him no one had been, thus far, able to fill. She knew he was a master at fooling the world into thinking that nothing was bringing him down, that he was perfectly content with his life.
Kenshin hid from the world, as did she, but she had never really been able to understand why. Was he still tired of facing every day without having someone to lean on? Was he afraid of what would happen if someone found him out?
"Are you lonely?" she questioned, her dark eyes intently fixed upon his relaxed figure.
"Aren't you?" he shot back without so much as sparing a glance in her direction.
Tomoe thought about it, never one to speak on impulse. "Sometimes," she answered eventually. "Sometimes I feel I've been loved enough to know better."
After that, he kept reading and she kept worrying. She knew what he was capable of. Because he thought no one should ever be alone. Because he didn't want to take any chances and discover something that could change him for good.
"Don't ask me to marry you," she said.
"Why not?" he asked.
"Because we aren't in love," she replied.
"But we love each other," he refuted.
"Not as we should in order to marry," she explained.
"Okay," he consented.
Not once had his eyes abandoned the book in his hand and, as he turned the page, she knew she would too, once and for all. It was then that Tomoe finally realized why she had gotten on that plane: to understand.
"Kenshin, I'm ready now," she proclaimed.
"I'm glad," he affirmed.
"Do you think he'll be mad?" she asked.
"Probably, though not for long," he answered.
"It's the right thing to do," she stated.
"I know," he confirmed.
He was happy for her, she knew. He only wanted her to be happy; that's what he had told her right before they kissed for the first time. Years had gone by, but she knew that that had not changed in the slightest.
Tomoe tried to smile, but failed miserably. She had been selfish, wanting to be happy with him, never questioning the nature of their relationship, of what their being together alone could do to someone like him. She was lonely sometimes; he was lonely all of the time.
What he needed in his life was laughter, kindness and maybe even mischief. Kenshin was in dire need of someone who could make him close the book he was so wrapped up in, someone who could capture his attention without even trying to, someone who could hold his face in her hands and tell him he wasn't alone anymore with such conviction that he would allow himself to believe it.
"Ken, we're both fools," she uttered.
"How so?" he inquired
"We're so scared we'll loose that we won't even try," she said.
"It's funny," he began, the book in his hands all but forgotten as he stared intently at something she couldn't hope to see, "people are so afraid of loosing, but I'm afraid I'll win."
"What's so bad about winning?" she asked, surprised at his sudden desire to partake in a conversation.
"That the girl gets stuck with me."
"Things do not change; we change."
-- Henry David Thoreau --
Everything will change.
Kaoru stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her nose looked too big for her face, her eyes too far apart. A frown tugged at her lips that just didn't seem to be full enough.
If I do this, everything changes.
Tugging at a strand of her hair, she cursed her lack of curves. She let her eyes slide closed, fearful of opening them again and finding that not one thing about her had changed.
Once I make my choice, there's no going back.
Her chest heaved up and down as she forced herself to repress emotions she would rather not deal with. There were too many imperfections – why was she born so flawed?
And it's for the best really.
Kaoru blew air into her clasped hands, but remained as cold as if she had not once tried to warm them. With a sniffle, courtesy of an oncoming flu, the teenager squared her shoulders and squinted her eyes open.
Because things can't stay the way they are.
Her nose wasn't smaller and her lips were not plump. She still hated her thighs and could definitely do without the prominent forehead.
I'll go mad otherwise.
She was not a thing of beauty, even if carefully applied makeup concealed some of the more obvious defects that didn't require a plastic surgeon's scalpel to slice and dice and reshape. Even if a pair of platform shoes elevated her to new heights, she still knew herself to be too short.
Things will change, right?
So what if her inky hair framed her face just right? So what if she didn't need blush to fake high cheekbones? So what if she had a flat stomach and a long neck? What difference did any of those things make if she just didn't feel pretty?
I can alter every single thing, can't I?
A halter dress in multicolored stripes does not make the girl, just as the cowl does not make the friar. And a distraction most assuredly does not make for an everlasting diversion, regardless of the best of intentions.
If I try, I just know I can make this work!
Heaving something of a withering sigh, Kaoru grabbed her purse and headed out the door, ready to be everything she was not. So long as she could forget him, she would be the perfect date. And though the lie would not change a damn thing, she would play along and seek to distance herself from what she wanted the most: the attentions of the man who had not asked her out to dinner.
"A ruffled mind makes a restless pillow"
-- Charlotte Brontë --
There's this tendency to presuppose that if our eyes have failed to see anything new or different then, certainly, it means that all has remained the same, that no change has came about. If there is no physical evidence, then nothing has happened.
And yet, despite such logical reasoning, there is always an underlying feeling, a gut instinct, tugging at the edges of the rational mind, suggesting that, as absurd, intangible and indefinable as it may appear to be, something is calling for our attention, something is lurking in the shadows and stirring within us.
We tell ourselves that nothing changed, that nothing matters, that there is absolutely nothing to worry about. Nothing happened…but, really, can we be certain? Because, if life has anything to teach, it is that every time shoulders shrug and eyes stubbornly close themselves to the bigger picture, something is a brewing.
Even when there are no leads to indicate otherwise. Even when we are fairly certain that all is as it always has been. Even when nothing happened.
Slowly, Misao's eyes opened, her nose partially buried in a musty-smelling sofa's armrest. She hazily drank in the sights and sounds of the party, her mind absently registering broken speech and the slight pressure of a hand resting on her thigh.
"Aoshi?" she whispered, her throat dry, her eyes involuntarily sliding shut.
Of course it wasn't him; it never was. Though she longed for it, though she kept on dreaming, though she tried her hardest, it never changed: it was never him.
The pounding of a drum. A throbbing vibration beneath her feet. Sultry vocals floating by, like tendrils of smoke curling towards the ceiling.
Gently, Misao took hold of the stranger's wrist and planted a soft kiss on his palm. The whole world swimming behind closed lids brought forth familiar comfort, but she was not blind to the truth, despite the freely flowing beer.
"If only…" she murmured, a pair of wet lips moving along her jaw.
Of course she wanted it to be him; that's what she always wanted. Though she could imagine it, though she was more than willing to pretend, though she was able to picture them together perfectly well, the fact remained: he was never hers.
Colored lights bouncing off the walls. A blur of anonymous faces. Sweaty bodies grinding away and moving up and down like wooden horses on a galloper.
After Misao had reopened her eyes, the dance floor had turned into a carousel rotating around the sofa, complete with fairy lights and barley twist poles that did nothing but make her head spin. Nevertheless, she kept on staring emptily at the chaos surrounding her. A rapid succession of memories of her quixotic attempts to win her neighbor's heart flooded her mind, the pathetic images dancing in time to her quickening heartbeat.
"Please," she pleaded to no one in particular, her arms reaching out to a ghost smiling at her in the crowd.
Of course she knew he could smile again; she had seen him do so before. Though she believed, though she dared to hope, though she could remember him being happy, yesterday was forever gone: he just wasn't the same person she used to know.
The echoing of shattering glass. A puddle of vomit by a fallen lamp. Sweet nothings coming from the wrong mouth, like love letters sent to an old forwarding address unawares.
Defeated and miserable, Misao let the boy sitting beside her take control of the situation. His fingers combing through her hair were distracting and the sensation of his breath on her neck made her toes curl. Once one of his adventurous hands slipped beneath the hem of her beaded top, she sat up on the sofa and pushed him on his back. As languidly as she knew how, she positioned her legs on either side of his hips, a wicked smirk playing on her lips.
What if she were to develop feelings for someone else? What if she stopped chasing after Aoshi, refused to continue playing the part of loyal lapdog? What if she decided that it was time to move on? What if there was no time like the present?
Misao searched the stranger's face for something she couldn't quite place. Whatever it was, she did not find it.
"You're beautiful," the boy said.
"So are you," she told him.
Shortly thereafter it became impossible to tell where one of them began and the other ended as they passionately lost themselves to kisses and caresses, becoming a tangled heap of writhing limbs on the upholstered seat.
Somehow, Misao suddenly found herself pinned beneath him and all was well with the world for a few seconds as they parted for air. Then, reality set in. And she was still in love and he still wasn't someone other than himself and she was still tired and feeling sorry for herself and she still wanted to try and go against those windmills and the strobe lights were blinding and the music was too loud and her hands were on his shoulders and they were both beautiful and she needed to make it all fade away and his lips were on hers again and she was slipping away again and she closed her eyes and she forgot and she remembered and it hurt to feel unwanted and his hands were strong and…
"Do you want to go upstairs?" he asked, a boyish grin on his face as he disentangled himself from her embrace.
"…Yeah," she heard herself answer as he dragged her to her feet.
Placing her hand in his, she let him lead the way to the staircase, let him guide her up the stairs, let him take her to an empty room, let him remove her clothes, let him lay her down on a bed, let him make her cry out someone else's name, let him hold her to his chest and let him tell her he would still be there come morning.
Misao tried to let his soft snores lull her to sleep, but the party downstairs was still in full swing and it was impossible to tune out the sound of a college rock-band entertaining the masses.
Slowly, the teenager opened her eyes and hazily drank in the sight of the dark-haired youth resting beside her – not that she could make out much in the dark. What had she done?
"Does this change everything?" she wondered aloud.
Of course it didn't; there was no way it could. Though she felt guilty, though she was finding it increasingly harder to breathe, though she felt like something very important was suddenly absent, her convictions were strong: nothing had to change since, after all, nothing had happened.
The sleeping figure on the other side of the bed stirred as if to prove her wrong, as if to mock her for her naiveté.
"Nothing happened," she assured both the boy and herself.
Warily, Misao propped herself on her elbow and awaited his rebuttal. However, he truly was fast asleep and thus in no condition to argue with her which, oddly enough, made her feel somewhat disappointed. With a sigh, she buried her face in her pillow and decided to call it a night.
However, sleep would not come to her for, long after she had closed her eyes, her conscience remained wide awake and functional. What she had done didn't have to mean something, but it could change things, couldn't it? It wasn't what she wanted, but it wasn't something she could fight against either. She could deny it, she could hide from it and she could kiss it away. She could sleep it off and she could ignore it, but it would always be there wouldn't it? The truth would always stay with her.
Fighting back tears, Misao knew the reason why. She had wanted to escape. She had wanted to get away from an obsession that was doing horrible things to her. She had wanted to change the channel because she was tired of being the one to sit and wait, to go against her very nature in order for another rerun to get aired and spoil her evening.
"Nothing happened," she whispered to herself, her long tresses fanned out on the pillow, the lone tear making its way down her cheek telling an entirely different story.
Something had shifted. Something inside her that had been crying out for attention for far too long had finally grown quiet. Something had gone right on ahead and broken itself. She was pretty sure that it was her heart that had been, at last, done in.
Eventually, the girl succumbed to slumber, her muscles going slack, the heavy oppression on her chest a just cause for her shallow breathing. Her dreams were unpleasant, but she would likely forget them in the morning, when her eyes would flutter open and the sun would shed some light on her latest mistake. And that mistake, she was sure to turn a blind eye on in the hopes of being able to keep on pretending that nothing had changed.
Quietly, Misao would pick her clothes off the floor, get dressed and walk out the door without as much as a backward glance. After all, nothing happened.
Reviewer Responses:
To en route: I believe this chapter shows that Tomoe does care about what happens to Kenshin in the long run. Like most of us, she has that inherently human selfish streak that leads her to make her own problems the center of the universe, but she does worry about him in her spare time. As for Kenshin… he is an idiot and I'm flattered that I was able to make you hate one of animes most beloved characters. However, as this installment reveals, he doesn't think of being with Kaoru as a chore or a charitable deed; he's scared he'll hurt her and, as loath as many men are to admit to such things, that she will hurt him in turn. Despite all my explanations and my sticking up for the guy, Kaoru has apparently decided to take your advice and seek out some real companionship in Soujiro, though: I wonder how that will turn out. Also, I agree, I don't think Soujiro would seek to deliberately hurt our girl if he could help it. Speaking of the devil, I'm glad to hear that you like my version of Kaoru, whom I have tried to make both likeable and flawed. Sometimes I worry she's a little too perfect, but your comments set me at ease. And, now that I think about it, I realize that I probably shouldn't be too concerned, because as a character, she has one major fault and that is her ability to care for Kenshin in spite of his behavior and his lack of enthusiasm in regard to the future. He truly is a guy that lives tied to the past and caring for him isn't exactly what I would call healthy, though – once again the defense speaks in the man's favor – he has his moments. Sorry that I made you wait so long for an update, it's just that there's no escaping it: growing up comes with a heavy dose of responsibility that I am barely learning to cope with. Kissies!
To Crewel: I noticed that you're a fan of the S/M relationship. Since I have miraculously managed to give nearly all central characters their fifteen minutes of fame in this chapter, once again Sano and Megumi had a chance to show the readers just what makes them as a couple so great. I'll be expecting to hear your opinion on the scene at the video store because, well, I take this writing gig seriously and any pointers are always welcome. I hope all was to your liking and I apologize for the delay.
To Dreycy-chan: You're right, the plot is something of a lazy slowpoke and I've tried making amends, but apparently I've got a flair for the longwinded and roundabout. That being said, I rather like this chapter, perhaps not as a whole, but rather… I don't know, I think I'm satisfied with having made all main characters have their say in one go. Thanks for taking the time to review and for enjoying the show.
To DragonBlade666: It's good to hear that you're okay with sporadic updates because, unfortunately, that's this year's watchword. I would really love to be able to write more often, yet… life is keeping me pretty busy right now, specifically my first real job, which is a rather frightening thought, but my boss is one of the good guys so all's well that ends well. Soujiro cheers up Kaoru and now dinner's on him; have I got your attention? See you on the reviewer's block next time around!
To Hold My Own: Actually, you got me: the snippets of Kaoru's play are also of my authorship and heavily influenced by overdosing on Shakespeare and Tennessee Williams alike. Does the intrigue come from liking them, I wonder? Granted the style is pretty different to the rest of the story, which more than warrants your question. Love in ten chapters…huh. Tell you what, if it were a foolproof guide, I would rush off to the nearest bookstore and buy the first copy I could get my hands on. I agree with you, though, the plot evolves slowly and it does frustrate me at times, but what can I do? I'm working on it, but I won't make any promises – I'm a slow learner. Until next we meet again!
To Nyako: So sorry I've made you wait so freakishly long for an update! It makes me happy to see another S/M supporter out there – there don't seem to be that many anymore. Megumi's thoughts last time were rather serious, profound and somber, so in this chapter I chose to make the couple's interaction more lighthearted and I picked a video store as a backdrop to showcase the trivial, how they are together ever day and how their relationship isn't only about a series of dramatic events taking place. Let's cross our fingers and hope that it was the right call. I'm afraid that a new update will be long in coming as well, but rest assured that I, under no circumstances, intend to abandon this story. Thanks you for your support.
To Queeney: I think Kaoru in "writer mode" is pretty much a safe description of nearly every author on this site! As for the "is there going to be a Kenshin-Kaoru-Soujiro love triangle?" question that seems to be on everyone's minds… "Acute angles" was a chapter whose intro revealed the answer very surreptitiously and now I think that this upload rather speaks for itself, wouldn't you agree? Then again, according to you, it seems I have myself a "reputation", so… who knows, right? Stay tuned if you're intrigued because next chapter is looking quite promising!
To junyortrakr: Kenshin is indeed ready to move on, or rather to leave the ghost of Tomoe behind. However, there's still his post traumatic stress to deal with and that is the real barrier that separates him from Kaoru. Tomoe was never an obstacle – if you paid attention, he never once admitted to being in love with her still, only to caring for her very much – but she is a part of a past that, for some reason, continues to haunt him. Are his fears unfounded? I think that is a question worth asking. Of course, thus far, Kaoru has no clue as to the fact that he has decided to disentangle himself from the possibility of rekindling an old flame, a likelihood that truly only existed in her mind, since he, as I mentioned before, was no longer in love with Tomoe when he bumped into the schoolgirl at the beginning of the story. Am I making any sense? Sorry if I'm a bit verbose, but I'm just as much in love with this fanfic as you guys. Thanks for reviewing and for caring as much as I do.
To sexylucifer: Sorry, updates are going to be slow in coming this season.
To Dice-lord: I'm really not that good at coming up with titles or summaries. I'm glad you decided to overlook that and read this fic anyway. Maybe I'll hear more from you soon? If not, stick around anyway – I love all my readers, whether they review or not.
To weaselgirl1992: Thank you! It has been a long a wait, so I hope that you liked this chapter and weren't too disappointed.
To lauralizzie07: Guess what? Iram's back! That, and so are Sanosuke and Megumi, characters that play an important part in this story, despite Kaoru and Kenshin being the true protagonists. Tell me what you thought of the chapter, okay? By the way, what's up with the new pen name? Lots of love, chocolates and marshmallows for you!
To missaw: You truly are one of my most faithful reviewers; thanks for the continuous encouragement! You mentioned that the play at the end of last chapter "tickled" you… in a good way, I hope? Late reviews, late updates… it's a vicious circle, I tell you! Oh well, life happens, am I right? Till next time!
To flaming-amber: Kenshin's face when he sees Kaoru with Soujiro… yeah, I can't wait to see that either. You know, I had something entirely different planned for this chapter, but the characters they just do as they see fit and I have no choice in the matter. Sometimes I feel as if though I'm the means to an end and they're the ones pulling the strings, as crazy as that sounds. In other words, if this story is quirky, casual and stimulating, take it up with the cast; they're the ones who deserve all the credit, I'm just along for the ride. Thank you for the praise – on occasion, the ego needs a boost.
To Safe Matches: Are matches really all that safe, I wonder? Pyromaniacs beware, Carries is here and she will thwart your attempts at burning a house down by always playing it safe! Thanks for the incentive, sweetie; it does make a difference.
To Anonymous but very interested…: The truth is, I'm not sure yet if Kenshin is willing to admit he has feelings for Kaoru, but I hope he is. Though I haven't started working on the next chapter, I'm pretty confident that Kaoru going out to dinner with Soujiro will have its fair share of consequences and our boy is bound to witness the fruit of his indecision. As to there being a love triangle… "Acute angles" was a chapter that answered that question, though in metaphor. We have to keep in mind just who Kaoru is at all times. In other words, can there be a love triangle with a person as particular as Kaoru in the mix? The play definitely serves to reveal feelings that she isn't quite comfortable admitting to, so be sure to look for hints there. Like any aspiring writer, she tends to ink down her innermost thoughts even when she's scared of speaking her mind out loud. I'm afraid that this chapter didn't quite have all that much action…or did it? Now that I think about it, several characters ended up getting their groove on, so maybe there actually was more than enough action this time around. Certainly many people won't be pleased with the Misao scene, but that is to be expected, right? After all, it's never nice to see someone you're rooting for screw up. I did make a Christmas wish and, so far, it is coming true, so I'm happy. Did you make one? Let me know in your next review.
To I Love Kaoru So Much: Though I thank you for your support, I wouldn't go as far as to say that this is the best RK story out there. I mean, let's be fair: authors like Aryanne and JaneDrew totally kick ass! That being said, I appreciate the praise and feel immensely honored by your inspiring comments. Drunk Kaoru is a hoot, I'll grant you that, and it's cool that you printed out the story – poor rainforests! – and also that your review was late in coming – how can I complain when I take so darn long to update? Anyway, Kenshin truly is one chapter too late, but we all know Kaoru, don't we? She's got a heart of gold and, sadly for her, is kind of a sucker, so… we'll see what happens. Besides, our boy might be dumb as a tree stump, but there's a reason we all love him, isn't there? I think the time has come for his adorable qualities to resurface, wouldn't you agree? Everyone seems to hate him lately and, personally, I find it lame to hold grudges, so he had better start showing some of that Himura charm if he wants to win back his audience. It's been months and I honestly cannot tell you when I will update again – I'm swamped and stressed out to the max – but I'll bear your desire for quicker updates in mind. Sweet dreams, honey and bai-bai!
To gwkitty: Let me tell you a little secret: your thoughts on the previous chapter's Sano and Megumi scene were spot on. You may not have experienced the kind of love they share and you may not consider yourself old enough to fully grasp certain concepts, but your appraisal of the situation and moment the couple is currently going through is as accurate as accurate can be. Sanosuke is dissatisfied, despite being very much in love – at the beginning of this chapter's S/M scene his frustration is very evident – whereas Megumi, the one who didn't want to become involved initially, is the person most content with their relationship, though she is concerned with how it will all turn out in the end, precisely because of her boyfriend's attitude. You were curious about Aoshi and more on his mysterious adventures was revealed today. I find it odd that no one made the connection between him and Tsubame sooner, more specifically when he showed up at her mother's doorstep – I guess the information must have come as something of a shock, then. Some of your questions, I can't answer yet, but you can knock yourself out guessing and, most likely, you will discover that you knew what was going to happen all along – sometimes, I can be predictable. Thank you for your kind words and for the time you take reading and analyzing this story; it means the world to me.
To Aryanne: Do you really think Kaoru is going to get hurt? I think she is, but I also think it's quite possible that she too will hurt others in the process. She's not perfect, you know, she's perfectly capable of making wrong choices, like anyone else. Soujiro can be manipulative and all he does is premeditated. However, how far down a road can you go before you wind up getting lost and have to stop and ask for directions? Man do I feel like The Riddler today! See you next chapter!
To Vic'chonn: Just so you know, your review moved me. Wanna know why? Because you said that this story someway, somehow, connected with your life and that is mainly what I aim for when I write, to make connections. Thank you. The "in and out and in again" bit last chapter wasn't only about breathing; you understood everything I was trying to convey with those measly words. In fact, that part was, in a sense, a continuation of the theme of "Acute angles", wherein the cyclical aspect of life was brought to light using geometry, of all things. I've said it before and I'll say it again, all I'm writing about is growth because all I am is a twenty-year-old learning how to cope with new experiences and the process of becoming an adult, like most of the people who access this website. Therefore, you make perfect sense, I get where you're coming from and we are both on the same page. By the way, you bring up a very important subject: friendship. Kenshin no longer loves Evelyn and Evelyn clearly has feelings for someone else, but that will not stop them from remaining friends. Everyone is concerned that Tomoe will ruin everything, but the only ones capable of making all hell break loose are Kenshin and Kaoru themselves. Lamento no poder escribirte a menudo, pero de verdad ahora estoy, como se dice en mi país, vuelta un ocho. Conseguí una pasantía en un periódico y no tengo tiempo para escribir absolutamente nada que no tenga que ver con noticias. Me pregunto – pues no lo he olvidado – como sigue tu pierna y como van tus estudios. Si quieres mandarme un e-mail, prometo que intentaré responderte tan pronto me sea posible. Me encanta que seas una de las lectoras de este fanfic y aprecio mucho tus comentarios, además de que eres una persona super simpática y no quiero que dejemos de estar en contacto. Besitos y hasta pronto. Cielos, mi español cada día está peor!
To Ri-nee-chan: First of all, how is Japan treating you? As you can probably tell, I decided to go against the flow this time and forewent the usual longwinded opening scene, instead getting right down to business. To compensate for the loss of the pensive entry, the last scene of the installment begins with a lengthy paragraph waxing philosophical on things like change and denial. Once again, Megumi makes an appearance, though it is Sano's head we get into. Once again, the woman proves herself to be unpleasant. You have said you don't know if you like her and I'll tell you that I know for a fact that I do, because she makes me laugh with her clever wit and because she makes me feel for her, seeing as the poor dear is so guarded and complex. She means well, but her methods are ruthless and, thus, I understand your ambiguous thoughts on the character. In your opinion, last chapter put Aoshi back in all his cannon glory; I wonder if I was able to keep it real this time around and make him out to be the hard, decided man who puts duty above all else, the man he truly is. As for Sano and Kaoru and the "controversial" laundry scene, I think what happened there is that Sanosuke is a guy, he's Kenshin's best friend and, no matter how wrong he thinks his roommate is, men stick together. Since he likes Kaoru well enough, he was confused and acted in a detached manner, not willing to take sides. I'm glad you liked the concept even if Sano's lack of warmth troubled you. In fact, as I reread your last review, I'm beginning to notice that what bothered you most about the chapter were the "colder" parts, situations wherein the characters didn't really put their heart into things, where all was quite cerebral. I appreciate your criticism and, believe me, I'm making notes, so fear not disagreeing with the way I portray things sometimes, I won't take offense, okay? Your reviews are important to me and vital to the story, since they help me fix whatever needs fixing and help keep me on track. Thank you for all the praise regarding the play scene last chapter – although I enjoyed writing it, I spent so long working on it that it began to get frustrating near the end. On that note, what was your favorite scene this chapter? I'm going to have to make this short because it's late, I have to go to work tomorrow – did you receive the photo I sent you of the office? – and this chapter needs to get posted ASAP. Kissies and good luck in the Land of the Rising Sun!