-1Chapter 15
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Author's Notes: Wow. The end is in sight -- should be done within the next week. This is almost a novel!
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"How long have you known MacLeod?" Atsuko asked, over mochas at the local Starbucks.
Tessa sipped at her coffee before answering. "Fourteen years. You and Kenshin?"
"All my life." Atsuko sighed heavily. She looked out the window, past Tessa, where there was a second Starbucks immediately across the street. "You're lucky, you know? To have MacLeod."
"I know I am. And you love Kenshin, don't you?" Tessa asked, with a faint smile.
Atsuko didn't even bother to deny it. She simply shrugged and leaned back in her chair. A woman was playing guitar on the sidewalk across the street; she watched as a man tossed a handful of change into her guitar case and the lady tipped the brim of her baseball cap at him. After a moment, she said, somewhat sourly, "It's hopeless, though."
"Why is it hopeless? He obviously cares for you."
"Kenshin is mister warm-and-fuzzy and he loves everyone." Atsuko shook her head, then gave Tessa a sober, sideways look. "I ... I wish there was more there, Tessa. I really do. But he won't allow himself to fall in love with anyone else ever again. He's said that, and almost in so many words."
"He's protecting you?" Tessa guessed, from experience in dealing with MacLeod.
"Uh-uh. He's not protecting me. He knows better."
"Then what is it?" Tessa said, puzzled.
"Kenshin is protecting himself," Atsuko said, simply. "He hurt so very badly when Kaoru died that he vowed never to love like that again. Losing her nearly drove him over the edge."
"That's terrible!" Tessa shook her head in dismay. "Poor guy. Sure, people die -- but better to have loved and lost than never love at all!"
"Kenshin doesn't see it that way. If you get about a gallon of sake into him, he'll even admit it." Atsuko sighed again. She could hear the guitar player when the Starbucks door opened; the woman was very good. "And the worst part is, Kaoru was worried this would happen. She made it very clear she didn't want him to be alone for the rest of his life."
"Did you know her?" Tessa asked, curiously.
Atsuko shook her head, "No, she died well before I was born -- in 1930. My grandmother knew her fairly well, though -- she said she was a remarkable woman. I've seen letters Kaoru wrote to friends and family on the subject of how she expected her death to affect Kenshin. She was basically pleading with everyone to look after him at the end. And everyone did, according to family lore. All his friends and family rallied 'round him after she died.
"You know that vow that Kenshin made? It goes both ways, you know. We love Kenshin."
"I'm not surprised that he has good friends," Tessa said, with a faint smile. "But that was what, sixty two years ago? Surely, the hurt has faded some -- Have you ever -- you know, seen what happens if you make him think you're not waiting around for him anymore? Because he might change his mind about things if he was afraid of losing you," Tessa said, hesitantly.
"What, date someone else?" Atsuko rolled her eyes. "I've dated plenty of guys just because I'm not willing to wait around for him. Some more serious than others. I was engaged, once -- didn't work out. You know, I'd take Kenshin in my bed in a heartbeat -- I mean, he's gorgeous! -- but I'm not going to be a nun and pine away because the little idiot has issues!"
"What does he do when you go out with other men?"
"Tells me to have fun. Invites my boyfriends over for dinner and is very nice to them. Sometimes he gives me dating advice, which, coming from that man, is pretty damn funny." She watched the woman on the sidewalk strum her guitar for a moment. "The funnier thing is, he's more often than not right when he gives advice."
Tessa shook her head. "He's a fool, Atsuko. He can't pine away for Kaoru forever."
"I've said that. To his face, a few times, when I've had about a gallon of sake!" Atsuko lifted one shoulder in half a shrug. "He gets very quiet and just leaves when anyone brings the subject up, though. Anyway -- I've pretty much given up on anything serious ever happening with Kenshin and me. And he's a great friend. And to tell the truth, I don't have a lot of good friends when I go home -- not people I can be me with, anyway. Most people think I'm stark raving mad as it is."
"You're not mad ..." Tessa protested.
"No, but I don't fit in. I've always been an outsider. -- Ah, don't look now, but we have company," Atsuko said.
Tessa started to turn around.
"I said don't look. It's Soujiro."
Tessa said a dirty word under her breath. "What do we do now?"
"Well, we could either pretend we don't see him or we could go have a chat with him." Atsuko drained the last of her coffee down.
"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of not looking?" Tessa protested, with a low laugh.
"Oh, probably. But he's not going to whack our heads off in public." Atsuko stood up, picked the packages up that were stacked at her feet, tossed her coffee cup into the garbage on the way out the door, and stared across the street at Soujiro.
Soujiro met her eyes with an ironic half smile, then turned and walked away, quickly. By the time that they managed to find a break in traffic and jaywalk across the street, he was long gone -- up an alley and out of sight.
"See?" Atsuko said, with a somewhat sour tone of voice. "No danger at all."
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"I want to go out," Heather paced the apartment, arms crossed over her chest, movements nervous and jittery. She was in constant motion: picking things up and setting them down elsewhere, running her hands over the couch and chair backs, turning the kitchen sink on and off, opening the fridge, rearranging Atsuko's magazines on the coffee table.
"It would be unwise, that it would." Kenshin sat serenely on the floor, working mink oil into the dry leather of the iaito's sheath and shoulder harness.
"But I'm bored," she reopened the refrigerator. "There's nothing to eat."
The refrigerator was, in fact, quite well stocked. Kenshin had just spent three hundred dollars at the grocery store, on the way back from MacLeod's. Completely stocking an empty pantry for three people had been remarkably expensive.
"I will start dinner as soon as Atsuko arrives," Kenshin said, inspecting the stitching on the harness. It needed repair. "In the meantime, there is fruit on the counter."
"I want to go out," she whined.
"You're not hungry, you want a hit," Kenshin said, calmly. "If you go out right now, you'll likely find a dealer and buy drugs with the money you took from my wallet when I was talking to MacLeod earlier."
"I didn't!" She spun around, fists balling, anger on her face. "I didn't steal from you! I didn't!"
"My wallet was missing a hundred dollar bill when I paid the cashier at the grocery store," he said, serenely.
"I'm not a thief! You can't accuse me of that! I didn't do it! It was Richie!"
He let that statement hang in the air without commenting on it. He thought they both knew the truth and really, what was the point in arguing about it?
After a moment, she reached into her pocket, pulled a crumpled bill out, slapped it down on the kitchen counter, and snapped, "There. Happy?"
"I am unhappy that you found it necessary to steal from me to pay for drugs, that I am." He inspected the stitching on the harness. It needed repair. He didn't even look at the money, or at her. "If you are going to get high, I cannot stop you. You are responsible for choosing your own path in life. But I will not allow you to steal from me for this."
It was her turn to be silent. She picked at the bandage on her arm, twitchy and fidgeting. He waited. It wasn't like he'd grow old waiting for her to say something. He could take all the time in the world.
"Uncle Kenshin, I'm sorry."
"Thank you for apologizing." He watched her out of the corner of his eye now. She was shifting her weight from foot to foot and glancing at the door. He was struck again by how thin she was -- she was all elbows and knees and constant nervous motion. Maybe he should encourage her to eat the fruit.
Dinner would be soon enough. He would fry some fish and make sure she had an extra serving. Or three. And desert. Two helpings. In the meantime, there was a basket of apples and oranges on the counter for snacking.
"I'm a horrible person, aren't I?" She flopped on the couch suddenly and tapped her foot restlessly.
"No," he said, softly. "You're not."
"I was on top of the world. And I threw it all away." She punched a fist into the cushions.
"Was it the world you wanted?" He asked, calmly. Kenshin stood up, walked across the room, and opened the kitchen drawer where he'd put his sewing things. He leaned against the kitchen counter while he threaded a length of cord onto a big needle.
She stared at him, lips quivering, before crying out, "I would have been a doctor!"
"Heather-chan doesn't want to be a doctor." He returned to the harness, knelt, and started picking out the old thread from the holes in the leather with the tip of the needle.
"Everybody else wants me to be a doctor." That was said with a frown that he felt was genuine, and the emotion behind it was something he was somewhat sympathetic with. I never chose to be a samurai. My path in life was chosen for me.
He said simply, "That they do. What does Heather-chan want?"
"I don't know." She looked away from him, raised her voice, and said, "I don't KNOW!"
He thought for a moment about the Akane he'd known in Japan. "Heather-chan wanted to be an actress, I seem to recall."
"That's stupid." Her laugh sounded false and strained. "I can't be an actress."
He lifted an eyebrow at her. "This one can't be a century and a half years old, that I can't. Yet this one is."
"That's different. It's magic or something."
He shrugged, and put the first neat stitch in the harness's leather. With precision, he started stitching up the worn section. "Perhaps it is. Does Heather-chan want to be an actress because she wants to be rich and famous or because she likes acting?"
"I love acting." Her lip quivered. Given the number of times she'd roped him into acting in "plays" for the rest of the family when she was younger, he knew what that answer was.
"There's a little theater a few buildings up the road from here. I noticed it when I rented this place. You should see if they need help."
She needs something to live for -- something to occupy her thoughts more than the next hit of drugs. He was grasping at straws, and had no idea if they'd find work for her, even as a volunteer, but it was worth a try. "Why don't you go see if they're there right now?"
"Come with me. I don't want to go alone."
He frowned. "I'm not one for acting, Heather-chan." And also, I don't have a coat to hide the iaito under.
"I'm scared, Kenshin," she tucked her skinny knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. "If someone offers me drugs, I won't say no."
"You have no money."
"There are other ways of paying."
He contemplated the implication there, and decided, yes, he would go with her.
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The theater was in a run-down block building. A sign out front advertised a production of Romeo and Juliet in a few weeks. From the rear of the building, Kenshin could hear the sharp cracking sound of a nail gun.
"I suppose we should go around back," he said, following the rythmic noise.
The stage had sliding doors at the back; they were open, and a pickup truck was backed up to the door. A rather burly man and an older woman were unloading lumber from the truck, and a second woman -- younger, Goth -- was driving nails into a framework that Kenshin could tell would someday be a faux building and balcony.
All three looked up as he approached. Kenshin smiled, and inclined his head in greeting.
"Can I help you?" The Goth woman walked over, boots crunching on the gravel of the parking lot.
"My name is Kenshin Himura. This is my niece, Heather Sagara." He inclined his head in greeting.
"Raven Jones. You need something?" She didn't sound hostile, exactly, just a bit suspicious. She frowned at him, an expression that Kenshin had learned was sometimes caused by people trying to place his accent.
"I -- I just want to know if you need volunteers. I took some theater classes in college," Heather stammered out.
"You willing to help with sets?" Raven was chewing gum, and popped it loudly.
"Sure. I can do that. I'm good at painting."
"And you?" Raven looked at Kenshin.
"He's just my babysitter," Heather rolled her eyes.
The woman looked amused, now. "You're her uncle, hmm?"
"I am adopted, Miss Jones, that I am," Kenshin said with serene calm.
"He sort've adopted my family years ago. And for the record, he's absolutely no fun." Heather rolled her eyes.
Amy gave Kenshin a long look, head to toe. The burly man hooted a laugh and said in French, to Raven, "He looks like he could be lots of fun!"
Kenshin grinned and said in very heavily accented French, "This one understood that."
At least a little, anyway. I hope he doesn't expect me to carry on coherent conversations in it later. He'd picked up bits and pieces of multiple languages over the years -- though it had been about twenty years since he'd needed much French. Kenji's grandson. That winter in Paris, with his family, when his wife had cancer ... Not good memories, there. At least he'd been able to take on a lot of the housekeeping chores and help with the kids.
"Gotcha, Mutt." Raven pointed a finger at him. Mutt had the good grace to blush, mutter, and retreat inside the building with a sheet of plywood balanced on his head. "Sorry about that."
"It's good for him," Heather patted Kenshin on the shoulder. "We pick on him all the time."
Raven grinned suddenly, expression at odds with her dyed-black hair and gloomy black eyeliner. "Easier to, ah, babysit, her if you're helping out too. Perhaps you might like to help out here too? I'd sure like you to."
This one thinks he's just been hit upon, Kenshin thought, with some amusement.
He contemplated allowing himself to be drafted. It would let him keep a closer eye on Heather. On the other hand, Heather might come to resent his presence. On the third hand, he didn't actually have anything to do here most of the day. He'd be bored in a hurry if he didn't find something to occupy his time.
"Mutt, why don't you show Heather where the paint is? She can start painting the tree trunks." Raven raised her voice so the large man could hear her. "Heather, Mutt's really not as scary as he looks, I promise."
"I heard that," Mutt said, reappearing. He was still avoiding Kenshin's gaze. Kenshin felt a bit bad about teasing him, now; the politer thing to do would have been to simply pretend he didn't understand any French at all. On the other hand, eavesdropping was also rude, and at least this way, Mutt knew he spoke the language.
After Mutt had led Heather away, Raven said quietly, "Intervention, huh?"
"If you're asking if I'm trying to get Heather-chan straightened out, the answer is yes, that it is." Kenshin ran a hand through his hair.
"Heroin or crack?"
"Heroin."
"Mph. Like to know what I'm dealing with, anyway." Raven ran a hand through her black hair, chipped black nail polish almost, but not quite, blending in. The shades of black were just slightly different. "I won't tolerate drugs on my crew."
"She's been clean for a little over a week, that she has. She got out of the hospital yesterday, and was attacked by her boyfriend's brother and his buddies last night," Kenshin said, deciding full disclosure might be in order.
"Great gobs of joy. Thanks for the warning." Raven didn't sound upset; she did sound a bit cynical.
"I appreciate you taking her on." Kenshin watched through the doorway as Heather walked past with a bucket of paint and a tray with a brush in it. "I'll do my best to keep her from returning to drugs, but it's ultimately up to her, that it is."
He added, "I'm hoping getting involved in something like this might give her incentive to stay clean."
Raven pursed her lips for a moment. "I'll make sure she knows about my no-drugs policy."
A couple of boys walked out through the doorway, both carrying swords. Kenshin's heart rate doubled for a few seconds. He had no weapon on him. Then he realized, Actors. Not Immortals. He relaxed, mostly, though he kept an eye on them out of pure ingrained habit.
"So where are you from?" Raven asked, politely.
"I am from Japan," Kenshin said, glancing again at the two boys.
"Really?"
"And truly." Kenshin lifted an eyebrow at her, expecting the inevitable and somewhat annoying comment, You don't look Japanese. Or, possibly, I love sushi, or something along those lines. Or even something as inane as, Isn't Japan in China? -- Westerners, he'd learned, weren't necessarily that good with geography or other people's cultures.
"Your English is excellent. How long have you been here?" Raven surprised him by accepting his statement at face value. I shouldn't assume because she dresses strangely that she's stupid or ill-educated, Kenshin reminded himself.
"I travel a lot," Kenshin explained, with a small shrug. "English is useful because so many people speak it. I am afraid I badly mangle it, however."
"Don't put yourself down. You've done fine so far. And I love your accent." She had dimples when she smiled.
"I thank you." He said, absently, watching the kids with the swords more closely. They were really banging the blades together hard, and with little skill. "Ah ...!" He started to yell a warning, just as one boy clipped the other on the hand with his sword. Kenshin winced as the injured boy stuffed his fingers in his mouth.
"Mark! I'm sorry!" The first boy cried.
"Maa, maa, let me see." Kenshin walked over, concerned and half expecting to see blod.
The boy -- he looked about fourteen -- gave Kenshin a dubious look, but obediently let Kenshin inspect his spit-damp hand. His fingers were a little bit bruised, but not broken or cut. He'd been lucky, and the blow glancing.
"You'll be okay," Kenshin crouched down and picked the sword up. It was lighter than he expected for the size -- it looked like a broadsword, but weighed about half what it should have. The sword was blunt, though the edge would still split the skin if you smacked someone with it hard enough. Huh. The blade's aluminum.
"You guys need to be more careful," Raven scolded, "You're not paying attention."
"They need training," Kenshin said, quietly. "They're going to hurt themselves worse than a few bruises."
"Yeah, I can see that. I'll need to find someone ..." Raven sounded dubious. Seacouver didn't exactly have much of a theater scene; he wondered how easy it would be for her to find someone with the right sort of knowledge -- someone that this small company could afford. He hadn't missed how quickly she'd jumped on the offer of help from Heather and the possibility of it from him.
Kenshin said slowly, "Romeo and Julie is set in 1500's England ..." he handed the sword back to Mark, and then adjusted his grip on it. "I think they would have held it more like this, that I do. Lower, please. Bring the tip up a bit. And your foot forward -- more -- put your weight forward. There ... that is the correct way, it is."
"You know sword fighting?" Raven said, sounding suddenly impressed.
"Aa. This one knows a little. I can make them safer with this, if you wish me to." He surprised himself by making the offer.
"By all means!" Raven said.
Oro! Hiko-sensei is surely laughing off his arrogant ass at the irony of HitokiriBattousai teaching people how not to kill each other!
Hours later, both boys were drenched in sweat, breathing hard, but picking up the basics quickly. Though Kenshin wasn't entirely sure why they were calling him Mr. Miyagi -- a pop culture reference, perhaps. He'd ask Richie later, he wasn't much older than these two boys and might know what the name meant.
Kenshin judged that with a week or two of tutoring, they'd be ready to appear on stage without treating the audience to an unexpected bit of bloody realism in the middle of a fight between Romeo and Tybalt. He promised to return and work with them -- and the rest of the cast -- a bit more the next day.
He hadn't realized the amount of time that had passed until Heather appeared. She had paint in her hair and on the sleeve of her t-shirt, but a genuine smile on her face. "I finished four entire tree trunks, Kenshin!"
"Good work," he beamed at her. "I'll be done here in a little bit. Do you want to meet me at home? You can make a salad to go with dinner. Atsuko-chan should be at the house by now."
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Four whole trees! And Raven had complimented her, telling her she'd done a good job on them. And Mutt had put an arm around her shoulders and ruffled her hair and told her she was a good kid and to come back tomorrow morning.
Heather couldn't quite keep a smile off her face as she hurried home. They liked her. They wanted her back!
It was funny -- once upon a time, she'd been head of her class in her school, aced every test she took, accepted to multiple top colleges, and had future employers already courting her. Those four trees feel like a bigger triumph than straight A's in all my classes last semester.
She'd dabbled in drugs for years. Thought she could handle it. Heroin took the anxiety away, the worry, the will I pass this test or will father kill me? thoughts and the equally terrible, everybody hates me thoughts. Even thinking about it made her crave a hit ... resolutely, she turned her thought away from that welcome relief. For now. The thought would come back later, of course. It always did. The thought that she could make the worry go away with a few bucks and a needle.
Heather, hands in her pockets, mulled the afternoon over. I haven't done anything right in forever. Even Kenshin knows I'm a loser.
Damnit, I can do good. I'm going back tomorrow, show Raven and Mutt exactly how much help I can be.
It was like she'd been walking through the darkness for a long, long time and suddenly there was a light, off in the distance. A goal. Something to strive for.
They're always laughing. Raven is smart and kind, and Mutt's funny as hell. I like them.
Ahead, a man lounged against a battered concrete wall covered with indecipherable graffiti. Athletic, lean, with a round, boyish face and a pleasant smile. Soujiro.
She grinned, and waved. "Souji-san!"
He nodded in greeting. "Hello, Heather."
He'd been waiting for her. She smiled, realizing this. He saved my life last night. And he stayed with me.
She'd been so scared -- scared that Bowie would come find her in the car, or that somebody would get killed fighting with Bowie's people. And she'd thought she would never be warm again. Soujiro had listened to her, had held her close with the blanket around both of them. He'd been kind; more than that, he'd listened. She'd felt safe and secure. He'd cared.
"What are you doing here?" She knew she was grinning like a loon. He's so hot! I wonder if he could be interested in me? Kenshin's wrong about him being trouble. He saved my life!
He was very athletic. Nice butt in tight jeans, muscular shoulders, corded muscles standing out on his forearms. His t-shirt was snug and she could see the outline of clearly defined abs. Bet he's awesome in bed.
"Waiting for you." His smile remained, and he met her eyes.
Oh, God, he might actually like me.
He hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets and said, "Walk with me, will you?"
"Sure," she said, heart thumping rapidly. I wonder if I could convince him to invite me back to his place.
He was quiet, for a moment, matching her strides, until he said, "Let's walk along the waterfront," at an intersection.
After another long moment of silence -- she hadn't a foggy clue what to say -- he finally glanced sideways at her, and said, "So where's your uncle?"
"Teaching some boys to play at swords for Romeo and Juliet." She was relieved for a subject to discuss with him.
Soujiro's smile broadened. "Hitokiri Battousai, the last master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu,is teaching actors to play with swords. The world has ceased to turn on its axis and the sun has turned purple."
Heather frowned at him. She didn't quite understand why Soujiro found this funny. "One of the kids got hurt. They were really pretty awful -- even I could see that. You know what Kenshin's like when it comes to kids. He was there in two seconds, making it all better."
Soujiro's grin didn't slip at all. "I see. He's a good man, isn't he?"
"Kenshin? I suppose." She thought about that for a moment. He had traveled all the way around the world to help her out. "Yeah. I owe him a lot. We all do."
Soujiro said quietly, "I'm not going to fight him -- at least, not now. I'm not a monster."
"I know you're not a monster. You saved my life. I thought I was going to die and then you were there!"
"I suppose I did." His smile slipped a little. He looked thoughtful now.
They'd reached the shore -- beyond a sea wall there was a narrow strip of rocky beach. The air smelled of salt and fish and seaweed here. The tide was in, but the water was very still; it was a hazy, damp evening with no wind at all. The sun was setting behind the clouds; it would be dark in half an hour.
Soujiro sat down on the top of the sea wall with his legs hanging over the edge, and patted the cement next to him. She obediently joined him, knees and hips touching his. They were almost the same height. Maybe he'll put his arm around me. Or -- or kiss me.
He scooted a few feet sideways, turned 90 degrees so that he was facing her, and sat cross-legged on the concrete surface. "How much do you know about us? I mean, Immortals. I know you know at least a little because you were not surprised this morning when your uncle was healed."
She blinked at him. "Ah. I know that Kenshin was born in 1849 and will never die or age."
"Unless someone takes his head." Soujiro looked away from her, for a moment. "For what it's worth, that won't be me. I don't need his Quickening that much and I'm not a monster."
"Unless someone takes his head. I don't quite get why someone would do that." She regarded Soujiro for a long moment, anxiety suddenly gripping her heart. What's he getting at? Damn, I could have used a hit before this conversation. Just a little one. Wonder what he'd do if I just jumped his bones?
"It's about power, kiddo." Soujiro tucked one knee to his chest, leaned on it, and stared out over the ocean.
"Power?"
"When I kill another Immortal, I get their power -- their knowledge, their skills, and something of the power that made them Immortal. The more Immortals whose heads I take, the faster I heal from injuries, the better I am at sensing other Immortals, and I think it has a few other effects ..." He trailed off and tossed a pebble into the waves lapping the shore twenty feet away.
A seagull cried above their heads; Soujiro looked up at it for a moment, watching it circle in the still, cold air. Finally, he said, "I'm a killer, Heather."
"I don't believe that!" She protested.
"I -- a long time ago, I thought I'd be a hero. I thought I'd just kill bad guys, you know? And Immortals have more than their share of evil men and women. I was happy to kill them. They deserved to die and the world was a better place for their passing. I thought I'd found my destiny."
He tossed another pebble. The seagull saw it and swooped down, looked for a nonexistent treat among the rocks. "Kiddo, when I kill another Immortal I get their power, but I get something of their nature, too. About fifty years ago, I learned the hard way that there's a limit to the number of bad guys one can kill before you become that which you hunt."
"I don't understand."
"I often wonder how many evil immortals started out as good and decent people. Take enough heads and the evil consumes you. I reached my limit ... and then I did some very terrible things," he regarded her levelly. His smile had disappeared; his expression was very serious now. "You don't need to know the details; suffice to say that I have many regrets about those years."
"Yet you got better?"
"I killed a holy man, took his Quickening." Soujiro watched a crab picking its way between the rocks for a moment. "It ... changed me. That Quickening from a truly pure and good man brought me back to myself."
"MacLeod told Kenshin you take heads all the time."
"People who are playing the Game, yes. Heather, you have to understand -- taking Quickenings is part of being an Immortal. I intend to be the last Immortal left standing in the very end, and that's not going to happen if I stay on the sidelines while everyone else in the Game gets stronger."
"You're after MacLeod's head."
"He's a fair target. He's in the Game. He knows the score. It's nothing personal."
Heather leaned forward, deliberately put her hand on his knee, and said, "There has to be another way."
He jumped a bit at her touch, then reached down, caught her hand in his -- and very deliberately put her hand back on her own leg. "Kiddo, there's something else I want to make sure you understand."
"Yeah?"
"I know you're eying me with romantic interest because I saved your life and because you think I'm attractive. And it isn't going to happen. I'm sorry." He said this a bit of a blush, and while staring out over the ocean. "I just wanted to make sure that you were okay, and that you knew I wasn't going to attack Kenshin. And that I'm not evil."
"I don't care what you are. I don't." She balled her fists. "You can find another way around killing people. I'll help you figure it out."
He met her eyes. "Heather, I'm sorry. But you're just not my type."
"What. Because I'm a druggy? I can go clean,Soujiro. If you help me. I know I can!"
He sighed and gave her a brutally honest answer. "Heather-san, I wouldn't be interested romantically in anyone with a recent history of drug use. I do have significant issues with that. Most decent men would; I suggest you figure out how to stay clean if you want to find someone worth having a relationship with. But that person will not be me."
"You won't even give me a chance?" She sprang to her feet, tears welling up.
"Heather!" He protested. He stood up too, and grabbed her shoulders, and said, "Listen to me!"
"No! I don't have to! I know what you're going to say! No man worthwhile has ever liked me." She backed away. "I'm worthless. I know I am. I know it. You didn't have to build my dreams up like that then smash them! You bastard!"
He flinched hard, a sudden trace of anger in his eyes. Then smile returned to his face, and he took a step towards her, extending a hand as if to rest it on her shoulder. "Kiddo, you really misunderstand ..." He grinned, "Please, listen to me. I can explain and it's not as bad as you think!"
"What don't I understand? That no one will ever give me a chance? That I'll never be anyone? I should just go end it all!" She pushed him, suddenly, right off the sea wall and onto the rocky beach several feet below. "You're laughing at me! You think this is funny! Look at you smile!" Then she bolted, running with blind tears in her eyes.
"Son of a bitch," Soujiro said, sourly, reflexive grin slowly fading. He stood up, dusting sand, gravel, and bits of broken clam shells from the seat of his pants. "That went spectacularly well, now didn't it? Should've just left her well enough alone."