Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin
When Sakura Blossoms Fall
Chapter 2: Another Orphan
Yahiko didn't look up as the gates to the dojo squealed in protest at being opened again. The entering figure released a melancholy sigh as she closed the massive doors behind her, and slightly loosened her grip on the precious bag of medicine clutched closely to her chest. Yahiko didn't have to see the intruder, just the soft sound of her footsteps was enough for him to deduce that the doctor stood before him.
Megumi frowned as she laid eyes on the brooding swordsman.
"Yahiko?"
He glanced up at her, his eyes even darker and more gloomy than usual. The doctor arched a thin eyebrow.
"Yahiko," she repeated, "what is it?
Yahiko cast a dejected look over his shoulder into the dojo. "It's Kenshin."
The bag of medicine slipped from the doctor's fingers, landing in the dirt and accompanied by the sound of breaking glass. Megumi made no effort to save the leaking liquid. Instead her already dispirited face paled dramatically.
"Ken-san . . . is he back?"
Yahiko glanced back at the ground, unable to meet her eyes. "He's dead," he responded flatly.
Megumi struggled to keep a dignified demeanor as the news hit. "Dead?" she repeated in a hoarse whisper, a tear sliding down her light face. Yahiko clenched his eyes shut, struggling to control himself as he was forced to listen to one of the strongest women he knew fighting back tears.
But the doctor largely won the battle with her turbulent emotions, and wiped gently at her eyes with one slender figure. "Where is he?" she murmured. Without a word, Yahiko led her into the dojo, to the dark and dismal room that held the remains of the most powerful man in Japan.
In the space of a few brief hours, that one room saw more tears than any other since the construction of the dojo.
"And Kaoru?" Megumi whispered as she emerged from the temporary sepulcher. Yahiko took her to the other woman's room, where a quick examination of the yet unconscious figure ensued.
"We should probably wait a little longer before having the funeral," the doctor stated in a monotone afterwards. "She'll probably soon be joining him."
"Chizuru?"
The thirteen-year-old gasped and jumped away from the fusama through which she had been peeking, eyes wide.
"S-Soichiro—"
The young man crossed his arms and frowned down at her. "Chizuru, you know you shouldn't be sneaking around like this." His usually soft sable eyes shifted to observe the room his little sister had been near entering.
"That's where Kenji's father is, isn't it?" Chizuru nodded ashamedly.
"I just, well, I just wanted to meet him!" she answered in an impassioned whisper. She cast a longing glance into the darkness beyond the fusama. "Kenji's so mysterious about him, you know—"
"Chizuru."
She paused just before taking a cautious step into the room. "What?"
"You can't meet him. I heard Megumi-san and Yahiko-san talking. He's dead."
The young girl's face fell, though her brother suspected that her disappointment arose more from the fact that her curiosity would never be appeased than in sorrow for Kenji's loss. Silently she slid the fusama shut.
"Soichiro? Chizuru-chan?" Chizuru opened her mouth to protest to the honorific, but clamped it back shut as her brother's foot came down on her unprotected toes. The boy's face simultaneously filled with compassion as his best friend approached.
"Kenji, you're back. Is everything all right?" The redhead shrugged in feigned indifference, though Soichiro knew him well enough to read the distress behind the seemingly neutral expression. "We're going to head over to the Akabeko. We'll be there if you need anything."
"But Soichi, we weren't—"
Another swift downfall on her foot, and Chizuru followed her brother silently away with nothing more than a slight limp and a soft smile in Kenji's direction.
Kenji chuckled to himself as the pair disappeared around a corner. It was odd to have them here. Previous to this trip his lives in Kyoto and Tokyo had never mixed. He had found himself feeling almost like two separate beings, one for each city. Their decision to follow him here at the news of the ill health of his mother had served to awake him from that illusion. At first it had been disconcerting, but it was also strangely comforting, in a way. He suspected that it would be wise to have someone to relate with once he too became an orphan.
"Kaa-san?" Kenji questioned reluctantly as his mother's eyelids began to flutter. He released a slow, relieved breath as her sapphire eyes finally opened, though slowly and drearily. "Kaa-san," he restated, "how are you feeling?"
Kaoru glanced warmly at her son, her expression cognizant for the first time in hours. A weak smile spread across her face, and silently she lifted a hand from beneath her blankets, taking one of Kenji's much larger and rougher ones in her own.
"Kenji," she whispered, tears glittering in her bright eyes, "I love you so much."
The young redhead felt his breath catch at her sincerity. But he just smiled back, nodding slightly. His mother smiled again, then turned to stare up at the ceiling.
"I don't have much time left," she said ominously, though her voice held a degree of peace even in her currently deplorable conditions. "Kenji, will you promise me one thing?"
"Of course."
"Kenji, I understand how you feel about your father. But please, for me, try not to be bitter anymore." She turned her powerful eyes on him again. "Despite what you believe, he really loved you. We both wanted so badly for you to be happy."
Kenji had to repress the instinctive thoughts of rebellion and disagreement that shot through his mind. After all, his mother was on her deathbed, and he got the sense that this would be her final request. So instead of contending, he just slowly nodded, silently chiding himself for his hypocrisy and false promise while she beamed approvingly up at him. Why did those eyes have to make him feel so guilty?
She turned to watch the ceiling again, this time taking a slow breath and closing her eyes. When she opened them again, Kenji observed that they were dull and unfocused, as if looking at a point beyond the ceiling that confined them. His fingers tightened around his mother's. She was fading fast, and he didn't have much time.
"Kaa-san, I—"
But she didn't hear him. Her last few tears had dripped to the floor, and her skin was growing paler by the second. She closed her lids, closing those once so happy eyes to the view of the rest of mankind for the final time.
"I'm coming, Shinta," she whispered. Kenji tensed, unwillingly sensing the end. Kaoru took one last gulp of precious air, and then her chest failed to move. She had succumbed to mortality, and the weak fingers in Kenji's grasp were slowly growing cold.
Kenji closed his eyes reverently, bowing his head. He carefully laid his mother's arm beside her breathless body, then glanced back at her face, the feelings of scarring sorrow and immense relief filling his being simultaneously. Silently he stood.
"I love you too, Kaa-san," he whispered, though the soft declaration went unheard. He frowned momentarily, realizing that this was the first instance in which he had admitted that to her. But the expression passed.
"Kenji?"
He looked up to see both Megumi and Yahiko standing before him as he exited the room, their looks questioning and probing. He just nodded with a sigh, looking aside.
"She's gone."
Yahiko slipped past him into the room to confirm the truth for himself, and Kenji heard him exert a muffled cry as he found the body. Megumi, hearing it as well, fell forward into Kenji as she lost composure. The young, orphaned swordsman stood still, ignoring the grief of the others, and staring absentmindedly out the open door to where his mother's wind chime hung from the dojo as he was soaked with the doctor's tears. A gentle breeze stirred it, filling the air with a gentle echoing ring. Just seconds later it rang again, and Kenji could have sworn that he heard a familiar hint of laughter floating off with the draft that had disturbed the precious chime.
The funeral was simple. The earthy scent of freshly overturned soil accompanied the stifled tears of more attendants than anyone had expected. Of course Kenshin and Kaoru's closest friends were there. Yahiko stood stiffly beside Kenji, one armed wrapped protectively around his young wife's shoulders. And despite her soft nature, Tsubame appeared more in control of her surely distraught emotions than nearly anyone else there. Megumi stood just behind them, a handkerchief held tightly between her fingers for use at a moment's notice.
Misao's dark head was buried into her husband's chest, and Aoshi just gazed on contemplatively, perhaps struck by the irony of the situation. The remainder of the Oniwabanshu had gathered around the couple, their leaders. Suzume and Ayame stood side-by-side with matching tear-stained faces. And a variety of others dotted the cemetery grounds, some vaguely familiar to Kenji, others complete strangers. He didn't bother asking about their connections to his mother or father.
His eyes shifted to his other side, where young Soichiro and Chizuru stood. Somehow, even now, Soichiro's black eyes were calm, clear, and untroubled. Kenji would always envy him for that. Even at so small an age, he held a degree of wisdom found in few. Kenji suspected that it had arisen out of necessity, when he had been left parentless as a small child with nothing to survive on and a younger sister to raise. Kenji sighed peacefully as he watched Chizuru. She was an impressive little girl. Soichiro had done an exceptional job. No one would ever suspect the two to be orphans, or to have any kind of trauma in their lives whatsoever. They were the two happiest, most strong-willed people he knew.
Kenji gazed back on the funeral proceedings as both of his parents' coffins came to a gentle rest on the ground below with a quiet thud. Several looked to him as the dirt was piled on, expecting distress, despair, or even fear in his countenance. Instead the young man stood as unmoving as a statue, his expression revealing a resolved stoicism. He watched without a word as Kenshin and Kaoru disappeared from his life forever.
The sole surviving Himura arose earlier than usual the following morning. Before sunrise Kenji sat idly atop the dojo, with one leg dangling languidly over the edge. He was watching a spot down the road, the scene of his mother and father laying there just a few days ago vivid in his mind. In less than one day he had lost the only family that had ever existed for him. And strangely, he wasn't as saddened by that fact as would be expected. When he was completely honest with himself, he realized that he was just glad it was over. His mother was at peace, and that was most important.
A pink sakura petal slowly floated toward him, landing softly on his shoulder. He picked up the smooth rosy petal between two fingers, breathing in its aroma in a deep, satisfied breath. The scent was nostalgic, reminding him of the times he had watched the rare blossoms with his mother, father, Yahiko, and Tsubame as a small child. Ah, but those times were gone . . .
He turned his head to the side as he noticed a figure down the road out of the corner of his eye. It was Chizuru-chan, meandering tranquilly up the abandoned path. He raised an eyebrow. How early had she arisen?
She hadn't noticed him yet, and her head was tilted back, her wide brown eyes eagerly taking in the beauty of the pink shrouded trees. She was clad in a pale but beautiful pink kimono, identical in color to the falling blossoms.
The young girl practically glowed as she walked peacefully toward him, now and again laughing and chasing the petals in childish joy. It was as if an angel had been sent from the heavens, here to ease Kenji of his guilt and pain. Kenji laughed at that thought. If there was a heaven, he doubted that its inhabitants were very concerned with his existence. They probably left his fate to their more heinous and much lower counterparts.
He slipped silently from the roof as Chizuru paused, watching a particular petal that had fallen to float just inches from her nose. She reached out to grab it, only to fail as a slight breeze caught it and pulled it away from her. The rosy petal drifted several feet down the path, through the dojo gates, then came to a soft stop on the ground at Kenji's feet.
"Look at them," Yahiko said pleasantly as he joined Soichiro in watching the pair walk off together down the path. Soichiro nodded.
"Funny, isn't it?"
Just yards away Kenji had once again paused to observe the site of his father's death, where he and Chizuru now stood. He sighed.
"Kenji-kun," Chizuru pressed, her voice anxious, "what's wrong?" Kenji turned to look at her, his face passive.
"Nothing . . . much."
He turned again to wander aimlessly on, Chizuru following with an aggravated pout. It was obvious that he was hiding something, and his complete disregard for his curiosity was perturbing.
"What was that all about?" she asked, her voice slightly condescending.
"I'll tell you all about it later," he answered smoothly, mostly just in an effort to quiet her. "That aside. That ribbon looks good on you."
Chizuru's eyes widened in surprise before she broke into a timid smile, her anger forgotten. "Really?"
Kenji didn't answer. Instead he just slowed a little, his eyes watching the sky contemplatively.
"Let us be . . . happy together," he murmured slowly, his thoughts wandering to his future in Kyoto, with both her and Soichiro. He hoped and prayed that it would be simpler and happier than life had been for him here thus far.
Chizuru smiled to herself as the last hints of pain disappeared from his face, and though she didn't completely understand his words, answered in the affirmative.
"Yes."
Thanks a lot to my reviewers, AllyCat06 and RougeShadow! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.