Author's note: Ok people, here is chapter three. If there are any problems with it let me know. My favourite beta reader, thealchemist'sdaughter, is stuck on holiday somewhere with no internet (Oh the horror!) so I haven't been able to receive her valuable insight. So this just means I need you guys all the more.
If we're lucky, I might get chapter four out before I need to start panicking for my exams. But I'm afraid I'm under strict orders from my parents that my exams come first and fanfiction second. I disagree, as I'm sure a lot of you do too, but hey, these are the people who give me money and food. Their word is law. Hope you enjoy and please don't forget to review!
Chapter Three
Aoshi clutched the windowsill in a death grip, just retaining enough self-control not to follow Misao and drag her back to the safety of his embrace. His instincts screamed to give chase, that she was in danger, that he needed her in his sight. Yet, although his aggravation was increasing with each passing second, none of it showed on his face. His expression was still a perfect blank, but it was a brittle mask, and hairline cracks were beginning to spread across it the further Misao moved from him.
'Inform me again, Hannya, why you think it unwise to bring Misao back now.'
His voice was just slightly raw as though he were holding himself back from shouting and as he turned to look at Hannya there was something intangibly pained in his carefully guarded air.
'She would not take kindly to it, Aoshi-sama,' Hannya said in his cautiously reasonable voice. 'She is young and insecure. She will take it as another insult to her abilities and we may well lose her for good.'
Aoshi could see the indisputable logic of what his second was saying, but somehow it didn't ease the cloying nausea that was churning his stomach at the thought of Misao chasing after what she did not yet understand. It wasn't helped by the fact that he knew perfectly well that when Hannya said we he meant him. The masked man was anything but stupid. He understood perfectly his Okashira's feelings for the young woman they all cherished so much. He also understood that Aoshi had over the years painstakingly built brick by brick a near impenetrable fortress around his soul, protecting himself from the pain and loss the life of a spy inevitably entailed, but also blinding him to the returned love of the woman his cold heart melted for.
'You may go, Hannya,' Aoshi said tonelessly, turning from him to contemplate the darkened view outside the window once again.
The mysterious man inclined his head respectfully and retreated, giving his leader the chance to release some of the iron grip he had on his control. Slamming his hand down on the sill, Aoshi reveled in the needles of pain that rippled through his fist. How had his carefully formulated plan gone so hideously wrong? He had prepared for every eventuality, yet somehow he had managed to missed this one and he couldn't understand how. Of course, the fiercely loyal little ninja would do anything to protect her friend even to the point of throwing herself in the middle of a conflict she could never possibly grasp. Despite how frustrating he found it, it was still one of the traits he had always loved about her.
"It's because you didn't trust her," a little voice in his head informed him brutally. "Maybe if you'd explained to her your plan to protect Kaoru she wouldn't have run off to save her and put herself in such danger. Now if you try to get her back you'll lose her but if you leave her out there you might well lose her anyway. This is all your fault and if Misao is hurt or killed you are solely to blame."
Aoshi clenched his jaw, the only visible sign he normally gave of distress. If anything happened to Misao he would never forgive himself, and Kami help the person who harmed her.
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Kaoru screamed loudly, swinging the broken piece of headboard viciously at the imaginary adversaries around her. She ignored the splinters that were embedding themselves painfully in her fingers and palms. They were a relief, a distraction from her own mental anguish. She needed this release if she was going to think rationally about her situation and, more importantly, how to get out of it. If she was being honest with herself though, it was also the eerie hush that fell over the room each time she paused between strokes, ever more insistent tendrils of fear prodding at the back of her mind.
Relaxing into position, she sighed sadly, missing the feel of polished hard wood floor beneath her feet as she ducked and slashed at the air. She could not slide into her stances the way she could in the dojo, her movements inhibited by the carpet beneath her feet trying constantly to trip her with its threads. She knew it was important to be able to do her kata under any situation but it made her want to cry in frustration as it broke her concentration again and again.
She gave a particularly furious swing, misjudging her distance from the bed and slamming the piece of wood into the footboard. The bar splintered to join the rest of the remains on the floor, and the impact jarred all the way up her arms, sending shooting pains along her muscles and causing her wounded wrist to twinge in protest.
Shouting incoherent curses to the empty room, she threw what was left of the wood still held in her hand against the wall before slumping gracelessly onto the bed.
When she had been left in the bedroom, alone and scared out of her mind, she was appalled to admit she had very nearly broken down. Her entire body had trembled from head to toe and she had no longer been able to think clearly through the mind numbing terror that had engulfed her. She was in the middle of nowhere with an obsessive, serial killing sociopath who was now on his guard for her escape attempts, her only weapon a kitchen knife hidden beneath her pillow, and, even if by some miracle she could manage to get out of the building, she would still have no idea where the heck she was since the only glimpse she had got through the front door before she had been yanked away had shown her a lot of green which the city of Tokyo most definitely did not possess. She doubted the situation could actually become any more dire.
"Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," had been her first thought as she'd considered what she'd seen for that millisecond. Worryingly, this barely witty remark had sent her into a fit of hysterical giggles which had escalated into sobbing, as she tried in vain to recapture her sanity.
Damn it, why was this happening to her? Why did she have to be the one, out of the millions of women in Tokyo, to come across and capture the interest of a mentally unstable mercenary for hire?
The music thrummed in her ears like a second heartbeat as she walked. Her hood obscured her face from other pedestrians, getting her many an amusingly wary look as they passed her by.
People were just so narrow-minded. They saw a person in a hoody and it always equaled a thug, even if she was a girl of five foot, two inches height who could crawl through her parents' tiny basement window at the age of seventeen. These people would never have guessed that she was a billionaire heiress, a young woman who could buy everything they owned and their lives twice over should she feel the urge. Not that she ever would. Her wealth was tainted, disgusting blood money earned through the creation of weapons for warlords to murder innocent people. She felt a scowl spread across her face, darkening her features even further and making the people around her shoot her ever more cautious glances.
Her father had run one of the most powerful arms companies in the world, selling millions of dollars' worth of weaponry a day. Kaoru still didn't blame him for his business, she was simply disappointed that a man who had created a sword style to protect rather than kill had helped fill the world with even more horrendous and destructive ways to murder and pillage.
Despite his work, her father had been a great man. She had loved him with a force that had filled her soul, soothing the feelings of loss that had come with her mother's death when she was twelve. He had been the one to teach her kendo and unwittingly give her her passion in life.
When he had died in a car accident half a year ago her heart had shattered, leaving a bloody broken mess in its wake. Yet, even though his will said his greatest wish was for his company to thrive and expand, she had not been able to force herself into the role of cold hearted businesswoman willing to do anything to advance her goal. Instead she had handed the control of the company to his business partner, Takeda Kanryu, so that he could carry out her father's wishes.
The guilt was still with her now, that her love wasn't strong enough for her to sacrifice her principles for her father. She had managed to lessen this guilt only by teaching his sword style to the new generation, hoping that, perhaps, she could pass on a little piece of her father to the children she taught, making sure that he was never truly forgotten.
So here she was, walking home from a job as a replacement shihandai for a fellow dojo while its own teacher was on sick leave with flu. She ran her own place not far away, and it was not unusual for her to help out others when they needed it.
She rounded a corner into a side street she often used as a shortcut home. It was dark, the lamps that had lit the main streets no longer present, and the only light coming from the cracks beneath the side doors of bars and clubs. It gave the alley a creepy air, as shadows seemed to shift and change shape with the movements inside. Kaoru didn't mind it, however, since she had walked down here a million times before without incident. Consequently, she hitched her heavy rucksack higher on her shoulder and continued onwards without hesitation.
It was not a noise which attracted her attention since her headphones still drummed a heavy beat into her ears, but some sixth sense that moved her to the side just as a bottle broke against the wall where her head had been moments before.
She swiveled round in time to receive a blow to the side of the face that sent her reeling and knocked her earphones from her ears. If her skill as a fighter had not allowed her to instinctively roll with it she would have been out cold.
'Son of a…'
She spat a mouthful of blood on the floor, dodging a second attempt to take her out. The punch was messy and the assailant had put his entire body behind it, forcing him to follow through with the move even after she had slid out of range. The fist connected with the wall with a sickening sound of breaking bone, and the scream of agony that followed bounced around the enclosed space over and over again.
She didn't give herself time to think on it, however, as she brought her knee viciously up into the man's face where he had doubled over, cradling his hand to his body. For the second time in under a minute, the sound of bone shattering filled the air and the man went down and stayed there, whimpering softly.
On pure reflex she swung her rucksack round, using her own momentum to give it force and, catching the second man in the face. He stumbled sideways into a set of metal dustbins.
He managed to catch himself before toppling with them to the ground but, taking advantage of his lack of balance, she brought her foot down against his kneecap, making him howl in pain and collapse backwards against the opposite wall. His head connected with a painful thunk and he lay still.
Her final assailant then caught her attention as he moved forwards from his spot leaning nonchalantly against the wall. He was bulkier than the other two and, even as she fought, she knew that there was no way she could take this one on.
She kicked out, trying to catch him in the chest, but he had learnt from the fates of his companions and caught it deftly in his hands, twisting it at an angle that made light pop behind her eyes. She screamed in anguish as he used it to tug her against his sweat pungent body. She fell forwards and was instantly grasped around the throat as he lifted her from the ground. Grappling at his wrist, trying to get some kind of hold, she gargled incoherently.
'So you think you can blow me off and not face the consequences, bitch,' he spat furiously, and she instantly recognised the voice.
Gohei. The idiot had offered to marry her right after her father's death in the hopes that, in her state of vulnerability, he could get his hands on her dojo and her money. Fury lanced through her and turned her vision red. He was trying to kill her for hurt pride? She began to struggle savagely, letting go of his wrist with one hand to claw at his face.
He swore and loosened his grip as she drew blood and for a second let her gasp a mouthful of air before tightening it further, closing off her windpipe entirely. Her sight began to blur and suddenly she couldn't seem to raise the energy to even keep her hold on the hand around her throat. Fuzzily, she realised this was it, she was dead.
Suddenly, she was on the ground gasping for precious, life giving air. Her mind was not even able to process her being alive, let alone that she was on the floor and that her butt hurt like hell.
Finally, with considerable exertion, she managed to lift her eyes to take in her surroundings, and the scene before her stole her breath again. Gohei was on his knees at the feet of a man with blood red hair tied neatly at the nape of his neck. He had Gohei firmly by his own dirt brown hair, but it was clear that although any movement on Gohei's part would cause him pain, the other man was delivering none. Her blood was pumping so hard in her ears that it was an effort to catch his words, but, from the snatches she gathered, it appeared that Gohei was being given a lecture on manners.
'Sessha thinks it unwise for you to continue hurting the woman, that he does,' the strange man was informing Gohei calmly. 'A man should never hit a woman, it is not nice, that it is not.'
To her surprise Gohei nodded fervently, despite the pain it caused him, the action seeming to satisfy the other man since he ended his lecture and released the sniveling wretch's hair. Gohei didn't appear to need any further encouragement, forsaking his two injured companions in his rush to leave the alley. That or perhaps he simply didn't care about them.
She watched him scuttle away with a dazed expression. She had never seen the man act that way before. His arrogance and aggression were legendary, and for him to turn tail and run was a sight she had never thought she would see.
'Is Yosomono-dono alright?' A voice asked seriously, and she looked up into the most beautiful violet eyes she had ever seen.
The memory had brought a flood of pain and anger that had drowned out her fear. She had continued to tremble but this time out of pure rage. She should have been suspicious. Seeing a man like Gohei run like a terrified child from Kenshin should have set alarm bells clanging in her head, but instead she had pushed the worry aside because she had been so grateful to him for saving her and now she had gone from the frying pan and into the fire. Why did she always have to be the helpless one? Why did her life always have to suck? She had grasped the first piece of reasonably bokken shaped wood and taken out her frustrations on thin air.
The anger had petered out though and, as she lay on the bed trying to grasp at its ephemeral strands, the terror began to return tenfold. The room suddenly became very still, excepting her own heavy breathing only serving to give the lack of noise an even spookier quality. That and the darkness she had not sought to remove by turning on the lights, too engulfed in her fear and rage, now seemed to make the room close in on her, taking away her ability to function.
She curled into a ball on the bed, too afraid to move let alone get up and turn on the lights. Her life was so screwed up, and the harder she struggled to fix it the further down into the darkness she was pulled.
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Battousai paced up and down the office, his head down so that his fiery bangs obscured his eyes and the tension in his shoulders so tight that it must have been painful.
Megumi couldn't help marveling at the fact that the carpet had not been worn through as she followed his progress across the room.
She sat in a comfortable red leather armchair, the epitome of elegance at leisure, her long legs crossed and her hands neatly folded in her lap, studiously ignoring Sano's none too subtle attempts to attract her attention. She wondered how he had got the angry bruises on his face, her doctor's fingers tingling to soothe what she knew must hurt like hell, but she resisted. He deserved what he got and whoever had given them to him should receive, if not a medal, then at least some thanks.
'If you have called me all the way out here from headquarters to watch you walk up and down you're office, Ken-san, I may have to treat you to a tasty dose of arsenic.'
Her snappy remark was meant solely to draw his attention, but the tactic worked a little too well for Megumi's comfort. Battousai stopped pacing and turned vicious molten amber eyes towards her. For a split second she was sure he was contemplating whether it was worth the grief he would get if he killed her, but after a tense silence he resumed his earlier motions only to stop almost immediately and slam his fist into the wall.
'What can I do?'
His voice was a bass growl that rang with suppressed pain.
Megumi smoothed her skirt to hide how her hands trembled as she forced herself to sound nonchalant, despite the fact that her instincts were screaming at her to get as far away from the man in front of her as humanly possible.
'What can you do about what, Ken-san?' She murmured.
'She looks at me like I'm a monster, something disgusting, and the fear in her eyes is killing me. I don't deserve her, but damn it, I'm too weak to let her go.'
Megumi sat for a moment in stunned silence. Were men really this dense? Her incredulity overrode her dread of the man and before she could think better of it she was speaking.
'Let me get this straight.'
She daintily pushed a strand of hair that had escaped from her bun back behind her ear.
'You're wondering why a woman, who you stalked, chained to a bed and have now locked in a room with no windows, is looking at you with fear and loathing?'
She regretted the words the second they escaped her mouth as her chair was suddenly catapulted back against the wall, a furious red haired man leaning over her, his hands on either side of her head.
'Did you expect me to leave her for him to take, Megumi? If I do not keep her here she will die, and I will not let that happen,' he snarled, his face twisted into something terrifying.
'Kenshin, man, she's right. You're not gonna win Kaoru back by locking her up. Women must be wooed.'
Megumi could have kissed Sano at that moment as he drew the furious assassin's attention away from her with his semi-serious remark. Battousai appeared to consider his words, turning away from Megumi to focus on the other man.
'What would you suggest I do?' he asked, the idea of wooing his Koneko obviously appealing to him.
However, Sano apparently hadn't thought any further ahead, simply shrugging and slouching deeper into his armchair.
'Man, I'm not doing all the thinking for you. Work it out yourself.'
'How about taking her on a tour of the house after I look over her injury? It'll make her feel more comfortable at least,' Megumi put in hastily, fearing that Battousai's response to Sano's flippant comment would be to decapitate the cocky fighter.
He nodded thoughtfully before turning to leave the room.
'Very well, I will go and get my Koneko.'
After he had left, Sano leaned forwards in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at Megumi, and for once in his life he was actually serious.
'Don't provoke Kenshin right now, Fox, he's on the edge and it won't take much to make him fall.'
Megumi reached for her medical bag with shaking hands. Didn't she just know it.
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'I can't breathe.'
She coiled up tighter until it felt as though her spine might snap with the angle and her entire body shook with the force of her fear. Biting down hard on her lip, bile rose in her throat at the thought of living this way any longer. The darkness was swallowing her whole and it was never going to end.
'Koneko, it's time to look at your wounds.'
His voice was soft as though he feared he was waking her. If only that were true, if only she could wake up and find that her life was all some bizarre and horrible nightmare. The worst thing was even though she knew what he was, what he had done, she still couldn't help but take comfort from his presence and his scent. He drove her nightmares away and replaced them with new ones. She hated herself but, damn it, she couldn't help but love him and that realization scared her even more than the emptiness or the silence.
'Kaoru?'
His voice suddenly held some of that old tender concern her beloved Kenshin's used to have and she could almost hear the 'dono' at the end of her name.
Without warning the tears welled in her eyes and she shook more violently still. She hadn't been able to give up her principles for her father, but for this man… If he pushed hard enough she might just crack and the self-loathing which would follow would undoubtedly destroy her.
She felt a hand touch her arm and jumped sky high despite knowing perfectly well who it was, perhaps because she knew perfectly well who it was.
'Come, Koneko, Megumi will look at your wrist.'
It was a command and her entire being balked at obeying, but she had no choice. She stood and took unsteady steps towards the glow from the door. How ironic that it should be Battousai that showed her the light.
He was at her elbow steadying her, a frown drawing his eyebrows down. Unthinkingly, she slapped his hand away, unable to stand the unspoken affection in the contact.
'Don't you dare push me away,' he growled, instead encircling her waist with his arm and drawing her body flush against his own. 'You are mine, Koneko.'
Bristling, she turned to look at him, narrowing her eyes at the sheer conceit of the man. Suddenly, she wished it hadn't been his hand she'd slapped.
'I am no one's possession Battousai and most definitely not yours,' she warned evenly.
Yet, though she despised herself for it, she didn't pull away, too weak-willed to give up the comfort his close presence provided. She could almost imagine it was her Kenshin, her Kenshin that was a lie and never existed.
He ignored her words, but seemed to take her staying put as a sign of submission, tightening his arm around her and nudging her through the door and down the corridor. Something between a smile and smirk played across his lips and she had the urge to force him away just to wipe it off. Instead, resigned to the fact that he probably wouldn't release her now anyway, she merely crossed her arms protectively over her chest, happy with even that small barrier between them, and sighed wearily.
The journey was once again done in silence, and she was too absorbed in holding herself back from leaning into his warmth to notice when they reached the top of the main stairs and started to make their way down.
She only managed to pull herself from her stupor through sheer curiosity when Battousai opened one of the beautifully carved doors she had noticed earlier during her botched escape attempt. To her surprise, it led to a well-lit, cosy office. A desk made of some heavy, dark wood dominated the main section, the wall behind lined with thick, mysteriously untitled bound volumes. Once again the carpet was plush beneath her bare feet and she couldn't help observing the way the colour matched perfectly not only the worn red leather armchairs at the other end of the room, but, strangely, Battousai's hair. Biting her lip, she stifled a slightly hysterical giggle at the thought of the Battousai choosing his décor to match his undeniably attractive locks.
Too busy at first perusing this stately sophistication, she only then noticed the elegantly dressed, bored looking lady sitting behind the desk, an array of medical equipment laid out before her. Hesitant, Kaoru resisted as Battousai towed her over to the stool placed beside her, scowling at the way he trailed his fingers up her arm as he stepped back. The thought that he might miss that one insignificant touch as much as she did, made her heartbeat pick up and she viciously hammered both the feeling and the idea away, reminding herself that he was a monster who could not feel and whom she could not feel for.
'So, Miss Kamiya, let me see your injury,' the woman said with that calm authority only doctors possessed, leaning forwards in her desk chair to get a better look.
Kaoru immediately balked. She had no idea who this woman was and, looking at the tools laid out on the desk and in the open doctor's bag beside it, she was not about to trust this person.
Raising her eyebrow, the lady waited patiently. Unfortunately for her, Kaoru was even more stubborn than she was and remained silent, unmoving, eyes trained on her own.
'Perhaps I should introduce myself then, my name is Megumi Takani.'
She reached a hand out and Kaoru, without thinking, took it. Her father had so ingrained proper manners into her that it was an automatic response. She rapidly realised her mistake as Megumi grasped her hand firmly and turned it over to look at the bandages on her wrist, a triumphant smile lighting her face.
Glowering, Kaoru tried to pull her hand away, wincing in pain as Megumi tightened her grip. The doctor had apparently not noticed the blistered and splinter filled state of her hands, since it was only at Kaoru's look that she took closer notice of her wounds.
She was not the only one who had observed Kaoru's response to her touch, however, and Battousai's warning growl reverberated round the room, making the already pale doctor go almost ashen. Kaoru felt a stab of sympathy for the poor woman, immediately feeling more comfortable with her.
'Koneko, what have you done to your hands?'
She didn't look up at him, preferring to concentrate on the doctor's careful treatment of her blisters and cuts while she responded.
'I was practicing and, since I don't have my bokken, I was using my headboard.'
The sound of delighted laughter made her swivel round in her seat, jolting free of Megumi's cautious ministrations and making the beautiful physician mutter darkly. For the first time she realised there was someone else in the room. The red head-banded man was lounging in the doorway, a grin spread across his face from ear to ear. It made him look much like a mischievous schoolboy who had just pulled off a great prank.
'I had heard rumours of you redecorating your room, Jou-chan. So the headboard was more use as a bokken, heh? You do realise it was over a hundred years old and a priceless heirloom?'
Kaoru's jaw went slack, a ridiculous sense of guilt overwhelming her for a moment, before she shook it off and simply glared at him, not deigning to respond to his remark. She was distracted, though, as Megumi pressed down on a particularly tender sore right in the center of her palm. She let out an involuntary yelp and Battousai was beside her in a second.
'If you cause her pain again, Megumi…' he trailed off threateningly.
He didn't need to continue. Everyone understood perfectly well without him spelling it out.
Kaoru saw a flash of temper slide through the doctor's eyes, but she didn't respond, just continuing to work on Kaoru's injuries, a fine tremor in her hands the only sign of her fear. The Battousai seemed satisfied with her silent submission since he went over to the other man and began a quiet discussion Kaoru couldn't quite catch.
Waiting a moment until she was sure that the men were absorbed in their talk, she turned her attention to the other woman, leaning forwards so that she could whisper and still be heard.
'If they are forcing you to help them, Doctor, you can still get out. Help me and I will help you escape them, I promise.'
Megumi looked up at her in surprise before a small smile spread across her face. Kaoru returned it hopefully.
'What makes you think that I'm being forced to do anything against my will? I am the chief doctor for the Ishin Shishi and I'm proud of it.'
Kaoru's good feelings for Megumi faded instantly to nothing, smile falling away and queasiness overcoming her as her stomach dropped. Proud? How could this woman be proud to work for an organisation that took money in return for killing innocent people? Anger sparked within her chest and spread through her until she shook with the force.
'Why would they need healers when their aim is murder? Did you not take the Hippocratic oath, Doctor?' she hissed as quietly as she could manage, but it seemed not quietly enough since the others heard, a stillness falling so far over the room that the only sound was the ticking of a clock she could not see.
It continued for what seemed like hours, Kaoru refusing to be intimidated by the beautiful physician's hard stare and stony silence, holding her gaze with an equally hostile one of her own.
Finally, Megumi was forced to look away first to carry on her work, but her demeanour changed. She was less careful with her wounds almost to the extent of becoming rough, and Kaoru was forced on several occasions to bite her tongue to keep her face from contracting into a wince for fear of drawing Battousai's attention. She refused to have this woman's death on her conscience and she had no doubt that if she showed any signs of the pain she was enduring, no one would be seeing this doctor alive again.
Instead, she took her revenge by making the healer's job as difficult as possible, slumping back in her chair so that Megumi had to lean forwards at an uncomfortable angle to reach her wrist and moving it at inconvenient moments when the doctor was trying to do something finicky like dripping a foul smelling, stinging solution directly into a thin gash. Granted this caused her even more pain, but it was worth it to see the woman, who she was sure usually maintained an air of sophisticated serenity, fight the urge to tear out either her own or Kaoru's hair.
After a lot more time than should have been necessary for a simple disinfect and bandage treatment, it was done, and Kaoru had both hands and one wrist neatly bandaged. She looked much like a fist fighter prepared for her next scrap which amused the red head-banded idiot to no end.
'You look like you're gonna get in the ring and kick someone's ass,' he laughed loudly, nearly toppling out of his chair he found it so funny.
'Well, I did manage to kick your ass so it shouldn't be that funny or are you asking for a rematch?'
She eyed his bruised face and split lip conspicuously and heard what sounded suspiciously like a snigger hidden behind a cough from the doctor beside her. Sano pouted playfully at her, putting his hand over his heart.
'You wound my pride in front of my lady, Jou-chan. How cold hearted.'
She tried not to smile at him, but evidently failed miserably since a broad grin replaced the sulk and he winked at her cheekily. A chuckle bubbled from her and she shook her head at his antics, so distracted by the silly man, she was caught off guard by Battousai's actions. A sound somewhere between a chainsaw starting and a dog snarling made her start. Looking away from the head-banded idiot, she suddenly found herself yanked from the stool and pressed firmly against a furious red head's chest, his arms wrapped around her so tightly it almost hurt. Oddly, it reminded her in a way of how her Kenshin had held her, a sick facsimile of the safe, sheltering embrace of her fictional love. She knew she should have been prepared for this sort of reaction from him, considering how he'd been acting for a while now, but it still shocked her. It was so hard to reconcile this wild, possessive creature with the calm, serene Kenshin he so resembled. She jerked back both from the memory and his hold, struggling between the need to melt against him and beat him to death.
Grinding his teeth, Battousai trapped her chin in his hand, forcing her to tilt her head the couple of inches to look up at him. The intensity of his gaze made her feel as though she were being licked by scorching flames, tingling along every nerve ending as she watched with saucer-sized eyes the way he dipped towards hers. She was, ironically, frozen in place, only a soft noise of distress escaping her, before his lips met hers and the world dropped away.
There was no gentleness, only fervency and need. Biting down lightly on her lower lip, he pulled her impossibly closer, taking control of the kiss as he angled her face the way he wanted and proved to her without any shadow of a doubt that she definitely didn't want any man but him. She barely had time to breathe, his mouth creating an insistent, unforgiving dance of softness and pressure and the light stubble of his jaw brushing in a way that was sinfully tantalising. He ran his hand down her throat and over her collarbone to press against her rapidly beating heart and she gasped…
A noise seemed to draw Battousai's attention away and, dazed, she followed his glare to Sano, reclining leisurely in one of the armchairs, legs over one arm and hands thrown nonchalantly behind his head.
'Much as I'm enjoying the show, man, weren't you gonna do something else with her first?'
A muffled rumble sounded from within Battousai's chest and, before she had managed to gather even the simplest thought together, she found herself halfway across the hall with an only mildly calmer Battousai.
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Sano released a low whistle, watching the door slam shut behind the couple. There was a moment of silence, Megumi clearly waiting patiently for what she knew was to come. Not wanting to disappoint, he twisted in his seat, dropping his feet to the floor and gazing at her with a suggestively raised eyebrow. When she continued to look at him quietly, arms crossed over her chest, he grinned nonchalantly and stretched.
'Man, oh man. What I wouldn't give for a piece of some action like that,' he sighed wistfully, darting his eyes towards her as he slouched further down in his armchair.
Rolling her eyes, the doctor stood, pausing to brush the creases from her black pencil skirt before beginning to collect her equipment.
'In your dreams, Tori-Atama. Some of us have standards,' she quipped, placing each implement carefully in its slot.
Snorting, Sano rocked to his feet and came to sit on the edge of the desk, snatching a pointy metal thing from amidst the many other pointy metal things in her bag.
'Who said I was talking about you, Kitsune? Some of us have standards,' he threw back at her, grinning wickedly as he avoided her grab for the implement.
He enjoyed teasing her, watching the crisp, efficient façade drop away to reveal the blaze beneath. She was the most pedantic, severe, wildly infuriating woman he had ever come across, the opposite of him in every possible way, and he wanted her with a drive that still blew him away.
He'd never been a one-woman kind of man, content to play the field and take pleasure wherever and whenever pleasure could be found. Basically, he'd been a bit of a man-whore and happy about it, mocking his red haired friend when he had fallen so fantastically for the stubborn little kendo instructor he was now failing equally spectacularly to woo. Thus, when he himself had come across a woman that made his mouth dry and his stomach somersault, he'd called it indigestion and walked away. It had taken him months of flirtatious banter, of seeing her almost daily to recognise, accept, what was happening to him and only then because he could no longer ignore the way he unconsciously sought out her face in a crowded room or the fact he hadn't so much as touched another woman since their meeting.
Sadly, the doctor herself didn't seem to believe this. Sanosuke Sagara had become a legend among his colleagues for his ever more salacious sexual escapades, rumours flying rampant about the partners and numbers. Unfortunately, he could not help admitting that some of this gossip was true, but some was just chatter twisted through Chinese whispers into incredible, almost farcical stories. For years he had allowed it to grow until now that he wanted to kill it, it had come to be such a many-headed beast that to slice off one head only created three more.
'Whatever, Sanosuke, but for my sake please don't mess with the Battousai's woman,' she grouched, lunging for the piece of equipment the exasperating man held just beyond her reach.
'Aw, Kitsune, you worried about losing me?' He waggled his eyebrows. 'You know all you have to do is make an honest man out of me.'
Megumi did her impression of hooting with laughter, amounting more to a sarcastic snigger.
'Please! You couldn't keep it in your pants if you tried, let alone if we became an item. Anyway, I meant if you keep flirting with our dear red head's annoying, ugly little woman, I'm going to have a lot of paperwork I don't need on how you met your untimely and painful demise, so think of my social life and don't.'
He blinked at her, surprised by the frank outburst, and she took the opportunity to seize the instrument from his slack grasp and slip it into its allotted position. Briskly snapping the clasp shut, she began to march round the desk to get to the door.
'Are you jealous, Megumi?' Sano asked.
Huffing a laugh, she flicked her hair back over her shoulder in a casual movement belied by the practiced way it was done.
'Why would I be jealous of an unpleasant, Tanuki-faced thing like her?' She bit back scornfully, flouncing towards the exit a little too quickly than necessary.
She gasped as a firm hand grasped her arm, forcing her to stop. Turning reluctantly to look back, she found him gazing down at her with an expression she had never seen before. The only word to describe it was serious.
'You know perfectly well if you even crooked a finger, I'd come running, Meg,' he said, all joking gone from his tone.
Giggling nervously, she brushed his hand away and made a show of rolling her eyes again.
'How many women have you got with that line, Tori-Atama?'
Carefully avoiding eye contact, she gripped her doctor's bag more tightly and left.
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Running a hand over his already tousled hair, Battousai turned away from her and seemed to be taking several steadying breaths. In the time it took him to do this, though, Kaoru too had recovered her faculties, the enormity of what she had just done hitting her like a ten ton truck. Disgust and mortification mingled, inventing an entirely new emotion to tear her insides apart. How could she? How could she feel something so powerful for a man who by all rights should have made her cringe in revulsion and fear?
They stood in complete silence for several minutes until finally Battousai turned to look at her. Fully expecting to be once again grabbed and towed back to her room to be locked away and engulfed by the horrors within, she just stood there in surprise when he waved a hand towards the kitchen door and walked away.
'This is the kitchen,' he stated gruffly, waving his hand aimlessly. 'You can find the food and… well the cooking stuff in here.'
She stood there dumbfounded, before blurting out the first thing that came into her head.
'What the hell are you doing?'
Battousai stopped midway through a demonstration of how the stove worked and looked at her as though she were stupid.
'I am showing you the house,' he said simply, before continuing with his guided tour of the kitchen and its utensils.
Next, they entered a luxuriously decorated dining room through the carved door nearest to the kitchen. The table covered in a pristine white cloth spanned nearly the entire room and could easily have seated sixteen people. Glass cabinets filled with silverware and pretty trinkets took up one wall, gleaming in the light from the crystal chandelier.
'So this is the dining room, you can eat in here if you want, but no one ever really does.'
When she didn't respond, choosing instead to admire the room, he looked around slightly helplessly in search of something more to say. He didn't seem to find anything, however, since he turned and left the room, apparently expecting her to follow. She didn't out of pure pig-headedness, feeling the need to distance herself from him by forcing him to return and take her by the arm to lead her to the next room.
It turned out to be a ballroom and it was everything its name suggested. The floor was polished until it shone, and there was a mahogany bar in the corner behind which stood shelf upon shelf of bottles.
It was the first room that she particularly noticed had windows since now that she thought about it neither the office nor her bedroom had any, and the dining room had the curtains closed. This room had floor to ceiling windows framed by creamy coloured drapes, making it seem larger in a way that had Kaoru's heart feeling lighter. It was somehow strangely like her dojo with its neutral colours and airiness, and she immediately knew that this was going to be one of her favourite rooms. She was torn from these pleasant thoughts when Battousai began to speak again.
'Well, this is the ballroom…you can…um…dance here, I guess. Not that you have to, it can be used for other stuff as well if you want.'
Deeply confused by this rapid change from dominant caveman to shy, bumbling sweetheart, she frowned. What was with this weird behaviour? Why was he showing her round like this? Then it hit her so hard she nearly stumbled and she wondered how it hadn't come to her sooner. He was playing with her, mocking her with the Kenshin mask which had so perfectly fooled her before and taunting her with all the possible escape routes she would never get to use while he kept her locked away in her windowless room.
The sense of lightness the room had given her faded and the relief she had felt at not being shoved back into her dark room was now replaced by a burning need to return there and shut the world and, most importantly, Battousai, out. She gritted her teeth against the urge to try and beat the living daylight out of him. She was not a toy, damn it, the sadistic bastard! Well, she was going to turn his little plan against him. She would memorise every room in this godforsaken fortress and then bide her time until he slipped up and gave her the chance she needed to escape. She hoped against hope that that chance came soon.
After the ballroom, they visited a library filled to the rafters with books of every shape and size. Then, a sitting room containing a large plasma screen television, surround sound and a stereo system that must have cost more than her dojo, since she refused to use her father's money to start it.
"I guess assassinations pay well," she thought coldly, as they left and made their way up the large flight of stairs. She made note of the fact that there was only one way up.
There were two floors above the one her room was on, all with dusty, unused bedrooms. Finally, they returned back to her floor and to her amusement proceeded to look in on Sano's room.
As she expected, it was a complete mess, beer cans and sake jars everywhere, and clothes scattered across the floor. She stifled a laugh which disappeared when she caught sight of Battousai's expression.
'I am simply giving you the entire tour, Koneko, you will definitely not be seeing the inside of this room again.'
She blinked and glared at him. Did he just imply she was easy? She bit her tongue in her effort to keep from swearing at him. She needed to see everything if she was going to be able to create a blueprint of the house in her head, but damned if it wasn't hard to keep from retorting with something.
A little further down they came to the Devil's own lair. It was decorated in deep shades of red and black which, surprisingly, didn't give the room the heavy sense that dark colours often did. Perhaps it was because, aside from the canopied bed and a large wooden chest in one corner, this room contained nothing.
'I would appreciate it if you did not use your knowledge of the location of my room as a way to kill me in my sleep,' Battousai said seriously, but the hint of amusement that showed in his amber eyes informed her that he in no way believed she would get anywhere near close enough to kill him.
'You may, of course, visit my room for any other reason whenever you like,' he purred, his voice sliding over her like silken velvet.
Dropping the Kenshin disguise entirely, he was suddenly right in front of her, mouth quirking in an overtly sexy smirk.
'I don't think I will need to see you for anything else, but thank you for asking,' she told him in as icy a tone as she could manage past the catch in her throat, a scowl spreading across her face as she pushed past him.
For the second time in as many hours, she found her back against a wall with a darkly seductive red head pressed against her.
'I beg to differ, Koneko,' he breathed in her ear, before dipping his head to brush his lips along her throat. 'Your kisses told me otherwise.'
Blushing with humiliation, something within Kaoru finally snapped. She couldn't take this anymore. She hated the fact that some darker part of her actually enjoyed Battousai's forcefulness, the leashed power with which he held her, the way his deep voice whispered sin and possession in her ear. He was a murderer, damn it, she should be sickened by his touch, not craving it.
'Get off me!' she cried, bucking against him in an effort to free herself. 'Just get the hell off me! Why are you doing this? Why can't you just leave me the hell alone? I hate you!'
She felt tears brim over to slide down her face, but she couldn't stop them now that they had begun.
'I hate you!'
Battousai was frozen to the spot in front of her, the look of a trapped and injured animal ghosting over his features as he simply stared at her crying form. Then, without warning, his face shadowed into something terrifying and he spoke with deadly calm.
'You may hate me, Koneko, but I will not give you up, I will not let him have you and, damn it, even if it kills me, I will protect you.'
Confused and hurt, the urge to hit him, pound him to a pulp with her bandaged fists, was almost overwhelming, but instead she took out her need to hurt him with her next words, words she knew innately would hurt him more than physical pain.
'The only thing I need protection from, Battousai, is you.'
He didn't hold her back this time as she pushed him away and fled back to her dark, silent room.
Author's note: There we go, folks! Review!
Japanese terms:
Dono- very polite honorific
Koneko- kitten
Sama- very polite honorific
Sessha- Unworthy one
Shihandai- teacher
Yosomono- stranger