Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin is the creation of Nobuhiro Watsuki, with the manga and anime rights belonging to Jump Comics and Sony Entertainment, respectively.

White Friend
~ Melpomene & Shirodachi
Four

Himura Kaoru was an exceptional young lady. Certainly, the people close to her would vouch for that (out of her hearing, of course). She was sensible, intelligent, hard-working, brave, strong, and a string of other notable characteristics. However, being around other people with similar exceptionalness --even if we restrict the said people to those she shared a roof with-- she rather pales. Set side by side with Myoujin Yahiko she was weak; by the Battousai, she was stupid and simple-minded. And right then, she was feeling all of the above.

The low table she was sitted before was laden with the now cold and unwholesome meal she had taken much pains in preparing. It was upsetting: her cooking was not perfect, granted, but she still tried her best. The fact that her work today was actually an improvement over previous ones did not comfort her at all. The problem was her mood. It wasn't amiable from the beginning.

A contributing factor to her sour state was the afternoon walk she had taken that did not go well. Though it was sweltering hot, the brief run she had gave the release she desperately needed. However, exhaustion insultingly settled in her bones immediately afterwards, souring her disposition as irrational as it seemed, because everybody kept insisting it would happen if she as much as flexed a toe -- it doesn't! Today was a coincidence. She did not feel faint every single time she had to physically exert herself. It was irrational of them to think so. That was just today.

Some strange things happened in the woods as well, probably meaningless ordinary things costumed by the heat and her sleepy head. She could have taken a nap when she got home, of course, but pride forced her to resist. Kenshin too often warned her about going out, and snoozing extra hours would only add weight to his "suggestions".

After resting a bit, she started cooking supper --something he explicitly told her not to bother doing. On hindsight, it might have been excellent advice, but of course, she couldn't admit that now, could she? They had been saving those ingredients for a special evening, but then she figured any night was as special as can be–even though it was raining cats and dogs. The poor dear shouldn't have been scrimping, anyway, after all those years of being roofless, cold and half-starved. Anyway, everything went well-- there were no accidents in the kitchen at all. She managed everything herself: the preparations, and the cooking, and the double-checking of all the steps.

The table she set was quite exquisite, so it was with pride she sat down to eagerly wait for the others. An hour passed suppertime, though, but still no one came. A little irritated, she finally decided that enough waiting had been forced on the little one she was carrying and resolved to begin her now tepid meal instead of waiting for those thoughtless boarders.

The first spoonful was out of her mouth in a flash; sukiyaki was meant to be sweet --but not that sweet! Seasoning the stew was one of the first things she did; too much water must have evaporated afterwards. She resisted gagging, chewed on chopped greens instead, and spat them out. Apparently, the tough, grass-tasting things were undercooked.

Now feeling increasingly disgruntled, she plodded her spoon around the stew for beef. That, she couldn't have possibly failed at; the meat was not exactly inexpensive, so she directed much of her attention to its preparation. All else could fail, she thought with resolve, but even tasting those succulent thinly-sliced buttered beef could cheer her up.

Of course it had been too much to hope for. All she found were shriveled crumbs of meat, lots of the shriveled crumbs of them floating on her too sweet soup. Not all of them were free floating, though. Some other pieces were tangled, tangled with the still crunchy noodles.

It was all she could take. At that point, she choked on her mouthful of mushrooms -- the only blasted things in the whole confounded bowl that seemed all right-- and began to cry.

Surely others would agree that it had all been too much for one day! First, there was her over-gallant spouse, who didn't seem to realize he bested the savage summer heat in stifling her. Next, there was that incident in the forest that left her miserably confused. Now, this...

Slouching to a more comfortable position, she resigned herself to dejected weeping, pushing her tear reserves to their limit. She was too tired to vent her frustrations violently, as she was wont to do, so thankfully, the Kamiya household did not lose any china that day. It was only then she could cry her ill-feelings out of her system. Then nobody would see her.

Of course her fitful storm did not entirely suffuse her bodily drives; hunger did not care about the comforts of self-pity or vows of eternal lassitude. Sniffling wretchedly, she discarded her broken chopsticks, filched a new one from the thankfully-absent Yahiko's place, and wolfed down the now cold, perfectly-cooked white rice, chewing viciously between sobs. Paired with stale tea, it wasn't much of a comfort food. At best, the omoochi weren't too bad, but those were leftovers from a batch Kenshin made. Impossibly, her mood further deteriorated.

Still, storming and weeping was all very well while they lasted, but sooner or later tears and voice run out, and brooding thoughts would lapse to a tiresome repetition of increasingly lame complaints about the unfairness of fate and the rest of the world's glib uncaring. So, she sank into the empty serenity that settles after a rainstorm. Blue eyes gradually cleared up to stare into space and later to wakefulness.

She laughed.

How silly! All that over a cauldron of sukiyaki gone wrong? She wouldn't even have the right to beat up Yahiko when he finds out and laughs about her predicament -- not very hard anyway. And certainly Kenshin-- she didn't even want to think about what his reaction would be to her current state, but she certainly wasn't going to let him see it.

As mentioned earlier, Kaoru was sensible when she wanted to be so. Looking ruefully at the mess before her, she sighed in resignation and began stacking unused plates. Judging from the time she must have spent crying, she figured the others wouldn't eat home anymore. Now, where were they?

Tae must have asked Yahiko to stay for supper while waiting for the bad weather to pass, while Kenshin-- well, as for Mister Kenshin Himura, served him right for being so inconsiderate. He could starve as far as she was concerned. In fact, he could also keep the practice swords company in the training hall that night.

She sniffled indignantly. Of course, if he saw her first -- no doubt he would-- she would find herself against the wall, not even able to slip in a brief admonition of her own. It had to be headed off.

Thus, she found herself abandoning her current chore, instead tidying herself in their room. A little later, she was interrupted again. Nature, sometimes, cannot be told to wait. Feeling rather irritated by her sudden urge to empty her bladder, she tottered to the outhouse, grabbing a lamp as an afterthought.

On the way, she glanced at the time piece sitting on her dresser. It was a gift from Misao and Aoshi -- well, it had his name on the tag, though it was surely Misao who picked it out, judging from the eager expression she was then wearing. It was an hour and a half before midnight (meaning she had cried for hours), too much later than they were accustomed to come home. To her, it didn't make any sense. Surely Tae wouldn't allow Yahiko to stay so late, albeit the boy could be so stubborn at times. And also Kenshin. With him acting like a leech most days, it wasn't like him to come so late without prior notice, especially since he told her that morning he'd be cooking that evening.

Ha! thought Kaoru rather vindictively. Your fault I got forced to cook myself.

Now if only she could be sure the one-time assassin with a heart too great for his stature hadn't gotten himself into some stew again -- the one she made certainly needed him first!-- she wouldn't have to think about a full-grown man capable of caring for himself. Yahiko, on the other hand, was still a boy.

At that moment, she passed by the boy's room, empty and dark. Passing by those dark hallways made her glad she had taken her night light with her. Having forgotten to illuminate the compound with lanterns earlier in the evening, her whole house was draped with darkness. The lamp she carried was sufficient though; it's sturdy yellow light pushed through the thick lonely darkness, carving for her a path, forming a sphere of brightness where she tread.

Her thoughts returned to Yahiko. Yahiko was still a boy, whatever he might say or insist on, and shouldn't be out at such a late hour. He could only be playing truant, perhaps calling on Tsubame and shamelessly abusing her hospitality. The boy was pretty darned slick, all the same. Of course, Kaoru, like all other siblings -- or almost ones-- couldn't quite figure out what the shy sweet girl could possibly be interested on that rough, brash student of hers. If only Kenshin was half as slick as Yahiko-chan tonight he might slip through--

A sound, barely detected by her ears, interrupted her thoughts. It could have been the dojo gates, barging open to present the two vagrants, so she turned back to open for them in case they had no key. Midway her pivot, she halted, the pressure in her abdomen too heavy to bear. She turned to her original path-- they could wait. She certainly had waited enough herself!

Kaoru realized then how badly she needed to relieve herself-- she was actually sweating a little at the effort to keep it in. Her bladder was cramped, all the extra space taken up by the baby cuddled in her. She shuddered as her body frantically alerted her of the overload.

Was that sudden sensation up her spine really to inform her of overdue bodily function? If so, why were her hackles rising? Why was the hair in her nape standing attention, her skin sprouting goose bumps, a disembodied knife stuck between two discs in her backbone? It was not natural. Instinctively, she spun around, angry that either of the boys had actually enough guts to try to play with her.

There was nobody.

Impossible. How could he move so fast?

Duh. He's Kenshin, her mind replied instantly.

"Kenshin, you've had your fun," she yelled angrily. "Now, come out!"

Nothing in the blackness outside the safety of her incandescent protection stirred. She peered carefully, searching for anything to betray the location of her mischievous husband.

"I am not happy," she went on, her voice wavering slightly. "Come out! I know you're there. You're getting rusty, old boy!"

No answer. No fond chuckle. No irritatingly soothing words. No lithe fingers covering her eyes. No strong arms coming to crush her with tenderness. She glanced behind her suspiciously but found nothing. She grunted; Kenshin wouldn't go that far.

Yahiko. That boy must be concealed somewhere, enjoying the show, trying to keep from bursting with swallowed glee. He must be somewhere, snickering and plotting. But where exactly?

Kaoru strained her eyes, staring beyond the boundary of the feeble reach of firelight. The darkness seemed to tense against her beacon, an intruder and enemy; it seemed so oppressive all of a sudden... But she could see nothing outside the circle of dirty light.

She started backing away warily. Outside, outside they danced, twirling around her in a mad-capped choreography, nipping at her wildly. She must get away, yes, but where? Where? Where would they come from?

From where?

The circle only goes round and round. Where to start? There was no start. When to end? There is no end. Where to now? Where from?

The movements of her head shifted from gradual to frantic. She whipped her wide blue eyes from side to side -- and still saw nothing but that ominous black.

Where?

From the roof?

Outside?

Oh, behind!

She spun around. Found the same thing.

Where?

Her heart was racing; the panicked questioning was drowned out by the palpitating rhythm. Blood thrummed in her temple, rushing to her head -- running! -- as the dark overcame light, as her circle's protection ceased to give what it gave. Her space shrank, and shrank, and shrank... Finally, she bumped against solidness. She was caught. She was doomed.

She fell, a piercing death scream jammed in her, fell as the dark triumphantly swirled to oneness around her.

She was caught.

~~~

Himura Kenshin came home that night with an exhaustion that seeped deep into his bones. It was not borne of the sanguinary dance of metal against metal, but of the simple menial laborer's exacting physical dues. Blood rushed through his vessel in anticipation. It was not the remnants of the fierce music of battle, but of an excitement, an eagerness to see home and the woman that made it so.

He did not find his wife in the places he expected her to be. The dining table was a mess, though partly cleared, so he saw the remnants of the long cold dinner --that could signify trouble, he thought. Their room was likewise deserted, as was the dojo. He walked along the oddly dark hallways, searching; worry was starting to gnaw in some distant part of his consciousness.

Suddenly, there she was, stalking about in a hallway. She was so intent on her sneaking, so... desperate. She bumped against him and with a soundless shriek, fell. He caught her, of course, and then froze as the expression etched on her face caught him as well -- an expression he knew so well.

Thousands of pairs of eyes skittered from the abyss to cloud his vision. Their eyes round and wide with stark terror, their eyes those of a hunted animal caught in a corner, those of a beast sure to be the feast of a powerful efficient predator. The Battousai had reasons to demand his target to remain unnamed; nonetheless, what he remembered from their eyes were all the same, were as destructive to his sanity. Those were the eyes that stared back at him in that fraction of a second that stretched endless winters, in that interim where, in stark terror, the soul attempts to escape through the eyes, before the unforgiving dogma of razor sunk unto their flesh.

That was the look he never ever cared to see again. Never again. Never on her. On her.

"Oh god, Kenshin!"

The horror heightened in her eyes. She must have seen his expression now, seen how the iciness of self-abasement and guilt slid to engulf him. She must have seen the tightening of his face, so old, so gaunt, so worn in that aged rays of the lamp she still carried. She must have realized how hopelessly damaged was this soul she cried for and longed to heal. For such a damned long time now.

No.

She crumpled in relief. Shamelessly.

"Kami-sama!" she managed, panting. "You scar- You startled me! Don't just pop out like-" she stopped, alarmed. "Kenshin? Mou! Kenshin?!"

Kenshin snapped out of his trance, eyes softening as his immediately sought hers. "I'm fine," he said soothingly. "You startled me as well."

"ME?" Kaoru exclaimed incredulously. She refrained from further speaking to catch her breath.

She was afraid of him, Kenshin thought. Though that was always a given he had accepted from his bloody career, he felt the distinct pang of pain akin to betrayal. She was afraid of his anger. Over what? Over the flubbed meal he saw on the dining table? Over that petty thing?

"I'm fine," he assured again softly, taking advantage of the lull, looking carefully at her blue eyes. "Everything's fine. But-" The subtle catch in his voice betrayed his hurt. "Did you really think I'd be that upset over the sukiyaki? And those ingredients? H-How-"

It didn't take long for Kaoru to shift from listening in disbelief to scolding indignantly. "Hello?" she squeaked. "You angry? You have a lot of nerve! You have no right, baka. And what's this nonsense about me being scared? Oh, I was scared, all right. No note, no message, no nothing! Of course, I'd be worried. BAKA!"

The rapid change in the emotions rushing through him there and then would have been enough to make him faint. The poor man's wife was even faster, though. She left him no luxury to recover: she slapped his arm repeatedly for good measure.

He on the other hand, clucked immediately despite the attack. "Oh baby," he said, his soul in his eyes. Exuberantly, he took her in his arms to calm her, explain, and patch things up. Of course, that also effectively pinned down her raging arms to her side. He began apologizing profusely about his work, and his overtime, and the kindly gaijin ojiisan who-

"And the brat!" continued she. "He-"

"Yahiko isn't home yet? I asked him to tell you I'd be home late and-"

As if on cue, Yahiko arrived, blithely whistling his way down the dark hall.

"Oi, what's with the lighting?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Where have you been?" Kaoru demanded. "Boy, how long is it till midnight? How inconsiderate can you get?! The nerve of you- Mou! I've been stewing here wi- How could you-!"

Yahiko seemed oblivious to Kaoru's blistering tirade. Even Kenshin had no luck in conversing with the boy.

"I'm beat," was all Yahiko said as he by-passed them. "Let's go talk tomorrow. Would you mind that? Oi. By the way, tanuki-chan, I have something for you. I sorta had to use it."

Surprisingly, she placed a dripping-wet object on her hands carefully, then moved on. The pair watched him disappear in the shadows in bemusement. Kenshin, however, also found his wife's reaction odd. He watched her in rising alarm as she stared at what appeared to be her rain-slick parasol, her eyes clouding with panic.

"Kaoru?" he asked in a barely audible voice. "Are you okay?"

She giggled nervously. Only that. He could see the way her blood vessels stood out against the white skin that stretched tautly over her temples. She only giggled; nonetheless, the strain of forced cheerfulness was evident in her voice and demeanor.

"Ah, nothing," she reassured. "Only a pregnant woman's peculiarities. You know."

There wasn't quite anything he could add to that, that wouldn't invoke her wrath. He prudently let it pass, though still holding her comfortably in his arms. Through partially-lidded eyes, he observed her, forehead slightly furrowed as he deciphered the night's events, lulled by the pitter-patter of another night shower. Her sweet scent, balmy and befitting her name, served to calm him, allowing their closeness to chase away his fatigue. He retreated into that tiny secret world of his-- there where there was just her and her alone.

"Kenshin?"

"Yes?" came his sleep reply.

"I really need to go to the bathroom..."

~~~~

"Ya-hi-ko-CHAN!"

The chorus of bell-like voices broke through the deep-seated tiredness that kept him swaddled in sleep. Ayame and Suzume were usually adorable enough, even early in the morning, but all Yahiko-chan could do was groan and peer back at his wake-up callers with a blood-shot, sleepy eye.

"What happened to you?" demanded a different voice -- Kaoru's. She was standing behind the two kids, arms akimbo. "Well? Are you sick?"

Yahiko just groaned. Lying on his belly, he strained to push himself out of the futon-- to no avail. His strength failed him, and his arms flopped down futilely at his sides.

"Hah," his teacher said rather smugly. "Serves you right for staying out late."

And he could only watch as she waddled out.

Later, after dealing with more of Kaoru's inflection-infested comments, Yahiko was puttering about the Akabeko kitchen, uncharacteristically looking busy though actually having little work done. Tsubame was with him, but was being more productive. At that moment, the focus of his attention was her -- or rather, what he was going to say to her. Lucky for him, she began speaking first.

"By the way, Yahiko-kun, what was that urgent business you had to attend to yesterday?"

Or maybe not so lucky, after all.

"Tae-san said, you left early yesterday because there was some sort of emergency. What happened? Is Kaoru-san all right?"

Yahiko continued fanning the hearth, the flush on his face not entirely caused by the growing heat of the embers. "Oh, that," he said, in the middle of a yawn. "Nothing. Kaoru's great. Um... Kenshin was out late so he asked me to go home early."

"Oh, I see." Tsubame looked like she was contented with his answer, but Yahiko knew she knew he rarely called his teacher "great." Anyhow, he did not lie to her.

Oh? said that guilty voice in his head. But you didn't tell her the truth either.

Oh yes, he did -- part of it, anyway.

Yahiko scowled. He couldn't understand why he felt compelled to hide from her that he had stayed out late in the woods chatting with a stranger. Of course, he didn't understand exactly how he managed to stay that long. Her shoji was quite easy to fix; besides, she worked swiftly, neatly gluing piece after piece of paper on the wooden frame with delicate fingers, time moving with the flow of her hands.

Shirodachi. That was her name. She didn't give a surname, but Yahiko asked for none. Somehow Shirodachi was enough.

She didn't really give him much information about herself. All she said was that she came from a northern province here in Edo to visit a relative for the Obon festival. As for Yahiko's puzzled comment about rumors of the dead heirs of that house, Shirodachi said it were probably true. The house was just given to her, not as birthright but as a gift, a gift from a friend she did not mention who.

With growing wariness, Yahiko realized that he had been the one doing all the talking. It was dangerous, the way he had been yapping about his life like an eager puppy yesterday. After all, schemes and plots to take vengeance on Kenshin came in different forms; he couldn't afford to dismiss anything to nerves, and risk getting Kenshin or his family hurt. Still, who could believe that an enemy would use that thin, wide-eyed girl to further some murderous ambition? But then, Kenshin himself once married the spy of his enemies. Yahiko knew nothing could be taken at face value. It was something he learned, having been orphaned and left at the hands of the Yakuza.

Again, what would a lunatic want with Tsubame? Yes, that's what he had been talking about mostly, Yahiko thought back, blushing deeply. For some reason, Shirodachi had been interested about her. Or perhaps not. Shirodachi was merely being polite, listening to him talk about the three-inch tear in Tsubame's apron --it got caught on an exposed nail head-- or about that particularly adorable little cowlick on top of her head that stubbornly refused to be combed down. Now, how did he manage to stir the conversation that way?

Kaoru said girls would make him nervous; he didn't want to believe it, but there it was. Last night, he was babbling like the genki Misao of the Aoiya. He didn't like it one bit.

Shirodachi gave no sign of noticing his mood. She was a polite conversationalist. She did ask about Kaoru -- a lot actually -- Kaoru and the baby she was carrying.

Yahiko frowned. Why such interest? She really could be a spy... And ask about sugar and rice balls? He shook his head. Why was he being so suspicious all of a sudden? Shirodachi was just making small talk. Besides, when he volunteered information about Kenshin, she skittered away from the topic, as if... As if afraid, as if knowing the past concealed behind the sweet exterior of the kind man.

"This is pointless!" Yahiko burst out.

Tsubame blinked. "I'm sorry, Yahiko-kun. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

He blinked back at her, eyes bleary. "Tell you what?"

"About Kaoru-san. You said it was pointless, and you're right. We will visit her tomorrow, anyway."

"Sorry. I wasn't paying attention. Kaoru's fine," he repeated.

"How much longer now?"

"A month, or less," Yahiko said, making himself pay attention. "Megumi might come to visit before then."

"Oh, will she be the one attending to Kaoru-san's birthing?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." He tossed the fan aside and sat back to rest on his haunches.

"And her patients?"

"That's the problem. We'll just have to wait and see, I guess. Misao said she'd bug Okina 'bout it, but he told her to go bug Aoshi. Maybe they'd come for a vacation, too. Maybe not."

"That'll just leave Sano-san missing," said Tsubame sadly.

"Well." Yahiko stood up, thinking; Now, about Sanosuke, Megumi, or Misao, Shirodachi didn't ask. "Can't be helped."

"Too bad."

They were digressing, Yahiko thought sourly. It was his fault, of course, for being such a gutless moron. Where should he start anyway? Where to start!

"I suppose they can't all make it by the Obondori tomorrow."

Yahiko's eyes widened and flickered a few times: she just gave him an opening! "That'll be cool, if they do, though," he said in a rush. "I mean, by some freak miracle or something. By the way, even if they don't, you'd come with me to the dance, right?"

He would have turned red, if only he wasn't already so because of the heat. Kicking himself for being so abrupt, he waited for her reply nervously, avoiding her face. The silence deafened him -- even the gaggle of the gossiping cooks in the other room was blotted out, as was the ominous cackling of the fire beside him. All he could hear was his own heartbeat, jumping about near-hysterically in his chest. Finally, he took a peek at her face to see some sort of reaction. She had her back to him.

"It's in the left side of the cupboard, Tae-san," Tsubame called out. Then she turned back to him distractedly. "What was that, Yahiko-kun? Tae-san was asking me something."

Yahiko facefaulted. Second chance! he thought to himself fiercely. " I thought about what you told me and I figured Kaoru and Kenshin do need time alone," he said casually. "Soo I'd probably go alone to the dance tomorrow -- I mean, the others won't make it in time, anyway. And I was wondering if you'd go with me?"

"Oh, yes," exclaimed Tsubame in excitement. "I thought you'd never ask, Yahiko-chan!" Her hand shot to her mouth; her eyes were wide and startled. "Gomen nasai! I shouldn't have said that, Yahiko-chan! I mean-"

He moaned miserably. That was all he could do anyway, watching her face glow like the coals.

"Please don't call me Yahiko-chan," he said feebly, very aware that he mirrored her extremely embarrassed face.

And it was all he could say about that.

~031303, 9:45

To be continued...

Edited: 092803, 00:37:40
Uploaded: 2:05 PM 10/25/2003

Notes: To Guardian Enzo, Blackheart Syaoran, BLooD_SuRfeR. Thanks for reading and thanks for the comments. =)