Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin or any of its characters.

When Sakura Blossoms Fall

Chapter 17: Foreign Emotions

Kenji smiled as he sat down outside the Aoiya, finally able to relax. He had joined the Oniwabanshu for dinner, and spent the rest of the evening washing dishes after he had volunteered to help clean up. It was nice to just sit down and enjoy the heat of dying sun on his skin.

Asuka was playing several yards from him, chasing a bright red ball bouncing away from her. It came to a halt as it bumped gently into the well, and Asuka gathered it up in greedy hands. At that point she looked up and noticed Kenji, and impulsively tossed her plaything to him, giggling. Kenji caught it easily with one hand, and Asuka clapped her hands in glee.

"Throw it back! Throw it back!"

Kenji complied, chuckling to himself as she caught it and threw it to him again, engaging the two of them in a game of catch.

Their innocent game soon turned to a more violent pastime, however. Asuka had laughed delightedly the first time Kenji allowed her to hit him in the head, and the swordsman soon found himself under a vicious onslaught from the little girl and her ball. Her accuracy and raw power was astounding, but less so when he considered who she had been raised by. She would be a powerful and intimidating ninja someday, despite her now childish mentality.

He buckled over in mock pain as the red ball struck him in the stomach, inspiring a spree of unrestrained giggles from the five-year-old in front of him.

Only Aoshi's daughter would gain so much amusement from watching someone else in pain.

Asuka crept slowly forward when Kenji fell to the ground and didn't move, her powerful eyes wide and inquisitive.

"Himura-san? Are you all right?"

Kenji waited until she was mere inches from him, then turned over and swept the little girl up in his arms before she could protest. She let out a series of delighted screams as he tickled her mercilessly.

"Misao!"

Kenji stopped abruptly as he saw that Asuka's mother had emerged from the Aoiya, a crooked grin on her lips. He let Asuka slip gently to the ground, who scampered promptly inside, and gave Misao an embarrassed smile.

"Uh, sorry, I swear I didn't hurt her—"

"You're just like your father, you know." Kenji looked up in surprise, thrown off by the seemingly random interruption.

"You should have seen him when he played with Suzume and Ayame," the kunoichi elaborated, "it's no wonder your mother loved him."

Kenji looked away, frowning for the first time since he had returned to the Aoiya. "Well at least he was a good father figure for someone."

"Oh Kenji, don't tell me you're still bitter about—"

"Don't patronize me Misao," Kenji cut in, glaring at her acidly. "I saw a lot of terrible things in the rebellion that wouldn't have happened if not for my father and this government he created. I have no reason to forgive him."

"Kenji, people aren't perfect! You can't pin the flaws of others on your father! You have no idea what Japan was like before the revolution, all the good your father did—"

"I don't want to hear it, Misao."

Misao watched the young swordsman regretfully and shook her head. The two sat in silence momentarily, Misao pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them with a sigh.

"Misao, can I ask you something?"

"I can't really stop you."

He ignored her empty tone. "How was Chizuru when she got back?"

Misao looked at him with appraising eyes. "How do you think she was, Kenji? She had just lost her brother. She was a mess."

"But she seems so happy now—"

"Yes. She's made an exceptional recovery since then, thankfully." She watched him out of the corner of her eye with mischievous curiosity. "She's still incredibly reluctant to talk about what happened with you there, though."

Kenji's mind shot to their separation when he had run away, to that impulsive kiss whose origin he still didn't understand.

"Really."

With a deep breath he was able to prevent himself from blushing. Misao almost appeared disappointed.

"Will you be staying with us?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, let me know if you change your mind."

Kenji heard a shoji slide quietly shut behind him and sighed. He had forgotten about that . . .

Just minutes later Kenji sighed once again, though this time in contentment. He was wandering slowly home, or more specifically, to Hiko's home, when he spotted her down the street.

Ah, Chizuru . . .

When she had first shown up in China he had been terrified of the changes she had undergone over the years. But now he knew for sure. Despite the various changes on the outside, her inner being had been left intact. She was still just as stubborn, as idealistic, and as curious as ever. And she was so incredibly beautiful.

The contemplative smile faded gradually, and his eyebrows knitted closer in dismay.

Who on earth is he?

He suddenly noted that Chizuru was dressed in the most ornate, decorative, and colorful kimono he had ever seen her wear. Her black hair was pulled up in gleaming and complicated twists, and adorned with a large and elegant white flower. And a man had just appeared at her side.

He looked normal enough. He was wearing typical western clothes and looked to be maybe a year younger then Kenji, closer to Chizuru's age. His short black hair was neatly combed, his dark eyes fixed through glass lenses on the face of the young woman in front of him, holding a degree of emotion Kenji recognized to be beyond friendship.

Chizuru's angelic laughter echoed down the street, and the man, smiling, placed one arm comfortably around her shoulders, beginning to lead her away.

Well they're certainly friendly enough.

Kenji silenced the vulgar protests that instinctively rose to his mouth and turned sharply on his heel to go the other way. He didn't want to be held responsible for what he might do to the man if he was forced to meet him.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Kenji glowered under Hiko's mocking laughter.

"It's not funny, Hiko."

The old man's hearty guffaws eventually subsided, and he glanced at Kenji, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Ah, Himura, who are you to criticize the man she's fallen in love with? After all, you're the one that ran away from her affections all those years ago."

Kenji felt his stomach drop. In love with?

"I suppose it makes sense that you're jealous, you were rather close friends, weren't you?"

Kenji's eyes flew up to meet those of the other man, dumbstruck. "Hiko, I'm . . . I'm not jealous."

The old swordsman smiled and shook his head, looking down. "Then why are you so adamant in your dislike toward this man you have yet to even meet?"

"Because, I . . . well—"

"You must be regretting that decision to run away from her."

Kenji cut off his next retort and stopped, turning his wide-eyed gaze on the fire. His shoulders slumped.

"Am I regretting it?"

He didn't realize that he'd spoken aloud until Hiko answered him.

"Only you can figure that out. But if you ask me, I'd say you've got stronger feelings for the girl than you've thus far let yourself admit."

Without another word the hoary-haired swordsman lifted himself and stretched, turning to his home to retire for the night. Kenji sat pensively for several hours afterward, gazing with confused and clouded azure eyes into the dancing red flames.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Himura Kenji awoke later than normal the next morning. The sun was well above the eastern horizon when he emerged into daylight, dressed in a simple teal gi and white hakama. The sakabatou remained in its sheath that morning. He didn't feel like practicing.

He wandered aimlessly into the city, no specific destination in mind. If he went to the Aoiya he would have to face either more pestering about forgiving his father or the reality that Chizuru had chosen another man. Both seemed intolerably nauseating at the moment. And he hadn't realized until now that there was almost nowhere else for him to go. He wasn't cowardly enough to go drown his sorrows in liquor, and besides, he had a pitifully low amount of money. So he found himself wandering for the first time since his return to Japan, which, although it had only been a few days ago, seemed like an eternity past.

"Kenji?"

He jumped at the unexpected voice, and turned to find the very object of his current torture standing just behind him. She was wearing yellow today . . .

She grinned happily as he turned around.

Why does she have to do that?

"Would you like to walk with me?"

Kenji found himself unable to deny her. "Sure, Chizuru."

He smiled bitterly as she slipped her arm through his, and walked by her side in silence down the street. After they had passed the first few buildings, however, she turned her head to look at him, a question that had been nagging at her since his return finally rising to the surface.

"Kenji, there's something I need to ask you."

"Yes?"

"Well, what exactly happened back in China? Why did you have to run away after Soichiro . . ." she trailed off.

He stared forward, his eyes focused like two blue stones set in a statue's face.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Chizuru."

She frowned. "Why? I don't understand, Kenji. Are you actually on the run like the other soldiers said?"

"It doesn't concern you," he answered with a grimace, "please just forget about it."

"Kenji, you can tell me the truth—"

"You wouldn't understand."

If Kenji had allowed it, the conversation would have ended there. But he didn't want this opportunity to end sourly, so perhaps unwisely made an attempt to change the subject.

"What about you, Chizuru? What have you been doing since you came back?"

"Nothing very interesting, at least not for someone as wise and mature as you."

Kenji decided to ignore the sarcasm and take the plunge.

"I saw you with a young man in town yesterday. A friend?"

She was caught off guard. "Oh, you mean Takashi. He's, well—" she paused.

"More than just a friend?"

Chizuru looked up at Kenji uncomfortably, but soon a vengeful smile had overtaken her face.

"It doesn't concern you," she mocked, "just forget about it."

"Chizuru, don't be like this. I was just asking out of concern for a friend. I don't think you should spend too much time with such a lowlife—"

This time she stared directly at him with stunned disbelief.

"You actually have the audacity to say something like that to me?"

Kenji groaned internally. Here it comes.

"Concern?" she continued, "for a friend? My well-being didn't seem to bother you when you left for Tokyo for you precious training without even saying goodbye. You didn't tell me when you joined the army, either. I found out from Misao!"

"Chizuru, I was a lot younger back then, I didn't know what I was doing—"

"I was younger too, but I would have told you about it if I was going to China."

She stopped in a huff to catch her breath, her cheeks rosy in her anger. She took a deep breath and continued. "I forgave you for that, though, until I came to China and saw you spending all of your time with that geisha. Then you kept getting into trouble, and ran away again, without even explaining yourself." Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "And you kissed me! You just kissed me and then disappeared—"

"And what about this 'Takashi' person?" Kenji shot back.

"What about him?"

"You sure seemed friendly for two people that hardly know each other—"

"Hardly know each other!" she exclaimed in horror. "Kenji, while you've been off 'training' for all these years, he's been here. I know him better than I ever knew or will know you—"

Kenji felt suddenly and abnormally cold after that comment. It was so final, so decisive. It took him a moment to realize that Chizuru was still criticizing him.

"—and how can you call him a lowlife? You've never even met him!"

"Why didn't you tell me about him in China?" he interrupted, though quietly.

She glared at him disbelievingly. "I had no obligation to share details of my personal life with you."

"Then you admit it! He is something more. Then is he the reason you've been able to forget the loss of your brother so easily?"

Those words stung her more than anything else he could have said, and Kenji instantly regretted them. Tears sprang to her eyes, and with another glare obscured by shimmering salt water, she replied.

"What? Do you want to see me suffer?"

"No, I didn't mean—"

"You know Kenji, I don't exactly see you mourning for him either."

"A lot has happened since then, Chizuru. I was still in China, I was still dealing with the rebellion."

"Then what's your excuse now? I really wish you would quit making yourself into some kind of phenomenal warrior in order to justify your mistakes."

She sighed and turned away from him to wipe at her tears, and her voice dropped in volume so he had to lean forward to hear her.

"But what does it matter? It's clear that all we're ever going to do is quarrel. You removed yourself from my life twice, and I think now that it would be better if it stayed that way."

Kenji watched blankly as she walked away from him, her stinging words ringing in his ears. She was right. Who was he to intervene in her personal life because he missed the place he had once had in it? He was the coward that had abandoned their friendship. He really must have hurt her all those years ago . . .

Kenji turned in the opposite direction, suddenly feeling inexplicably exhausted. Why had he come back again?

Sanosuke, you're an idiot.

Sorry it's taken so long; I've been working on ideas for another piece and got slightly distracted. I'd like to thank all of you who are still reading and reviewing this story, though. You're all appreciated!