Never Again
Purplemud (Yuki)
Summary: He woke up from a deep sleep only to be thrust into a nightmare, one that he couldn't escape and one that would never end.
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply. I do not own, nor will I ever, own RK.
Authors Note: Holy wow, I wrote something again!
Consciousness came back the morning after the attack at the dojo. Nothing came at first, just a stillness, an empty blankness – no sound, no thoughts, no feelings, and then slowly, sluggishly, the waking of his senses. He vaguely remembered the last moments before he had fainted, it was like a distant echo of sensation. Pain and darkness. Those were the last thing he could recall.
It took a moment before the first coherent thought entered his brain. It was like a lightning bolt, the startling recognition of his being: Kami-sama, he was still alive! But when he tried to move, he winced at the sudden explosion of pain that shot from his sides, spreading upward, piercing his head.
Injured.
This wasn't particularly surprising; at least not as much as discovering that he had survived last night. Unsure of the extent of his injuries, he made a quick check, gingerly flexing his right hand, before curling it into a fist. He grimaced as he did the same with his left hand. That wasn't so bad. A little bit of sting in the muscles, but he'd still be able to hold a shina. Swinging it though, was something he wasn't looking forward to doing any time in the near future.
With this thought in mind, he cautiously raised his arms, (yep, no hundred downward swings for now, Busu-sama), then his legs, and finally he tried to sit up, each tentative movement causing, at first, a slight discomfort, progressing slowly to a sharper and more focused ache as he moved.
Groaning softly as his muscles protested, he gracelessly flopped back down the welcoming warmth of the mattress, mentally replaying the last moments of his battle, trying to account for the long list of aches he was feeling.
Both his arms and sides were punctured badly, and that undoubtedly was the searing pain currently plaguing him, but no broken bones it seemed, thank Kami. He wasn't encased in any kind of sling and not wrapped like a mummified-version of Sano's hand. Minimum bandages, as far as he could tell.
Somewhat convinced that he wasn't suffering from any permanent injury, he finally let the rush of pride fill up his chest. Eyes still closed, he let out a small, self-satisfied chuckle. He had survived. Myoujin Yahiko, Tokyo's Best – no, no, no, Tokyo's Fiercest Samurai, didn't just simply survive, he fucking won the battle!
He felt a shiver go down his spine and he marveled at how thrilling it felt, winning a fight despite the odds being against him. More than that, Kenshin had put his faith in him, trusted him to not screw things up. Sure, he had fought tough opponents in the past, but this was different. Kenshin had specifically asked him to fight in his stead and it was like… it was too cool for words. He had envisioned countless of scenarios where he would come swooping in to save the day, be the hero, for once, and to finally have that moment, to have Kenshin give him that chance, it was gratifying but strangely terrifying too.
He wasn't sure if he had saved the day this time, having inconveniently lost consciousness, but it didn't matter. He had defeated that freak, Otowa. He had fought and didn't give up. Even when the pain had been too painful to bear, like a physical weight pressing down on him until he could barely stand up, he had endured. And for the first time since he had started training, Yahiko felt that he was truly on his way to becoming a great swordsman, like Kenshin.
Like his father.
Of course, he thought a little sullenly, he had gotten his ass seriously kicked and had inevitably passed-out before he could even give Kaoru a smug, 'did you see that?!' look.
Yahiko would've enjoyed that moment. He wasn't always sure about his training with Kaoru and not because she was girl. Well, ok at first, that had been his issue, because what do girls know about fighting anyway? They were all silly and girly. But Kaoru quickly, effectively and very permanently erased that notion. They moved differently, sure, but it didn't mean they weren't strong. As Kaoru had often demonstrated, their strength didn't rely on sheer brute force. Because they were naturally at a physical disadvantage, not having the same muscular built, it was all about precision. And since he was still at the same disadvantage, it made sense that he learned and perfect Kaoru's style. Yahiko understood all that. Sometimes though it felt like her approach to training him was just a way for her to torture him because she can.
She knew he was impatient, wanting to be strong as quickly as he could, but she'd insist on taking it slow, building his strength, making him do endless drills that he thought were completely unnecessary. Now though, all those hundred swings seemed to have worked. He wouldn't have lasted as long without the many exercises Kaoru had forced him to do. It had greatly improved his stamina and even his tolerance for pain.
So maybe Kaoru's training style did make sense – something he wasn't going to publicly share. She already has a big fat head (Kenjutsu Princess, my ass!) being the only woman in town who was skilled in kendo. It wouldn't do her any good, puffing up her ego like that.
Yahiko had to admit though that there were some perks being Kaoru's protégé. He did get certain jealous looks from some of the senapais at the other dojos. But that was only because they had yet to taste Kaoru's cooking and they had never been subjected to her temper tantrums, which more often than not involved some violence. Still, it's only fair to give credit where it's due and Kaoru did do a good job training him. So maybe on their next training session, he'd try not to complain so much.
Yahiko wondered if he'd get something – a reward perhaps, for effectively using the Hawatari. He at least deserved something really nice. He smiled at the thought. A new shinai sounded like a good idea. Or some new hakamas. Nothing too expensive, because Kaoru didn't exactly have the money. Maybe it doesn't have to be something that she needed to buy. He can ask her to move him into a bigger room at the dojo. Or demand lesser household chores. Surely, washing the dishes would be beneath him now. With so many ideas popping into his head, Yahiko pried his eyes open, his smile slowly stretching into a huge grin.
A second passed and then frowning, he wondered, what's missing? Something was definitely not right. It was like grasping for a word at the tip of his tongue. There but not there. He tried to put a name to it – this feeling. This absence. What was it?
Yahiko waited impatiently as things slowly came into focus. The haze of Megumi's medicine was starting to lose it effects and he immediately recognized the all-too-familiar scent: iodine, unidentifiable pungencies, mint, balms, and the barely-there, faded metallic smell.
The Oguni clinic. But his injuries didn't seem that bad. Pushing aside his unease, Yahiko decided that being in the clinic was a good sign. If he was the only one occupying the clinic's single room, it meant he was the only one that needed this kind of medical attention.
Wincing at the stabbing pain that accompanied the movement, Yahiko lifted his head to look around. Blobs of color danced before him: white, blue, a flash of red. He heard someone speaking and it took him a while to make out the words. It was Megumi, announcing that he was awake, rushing to his side.
He felt her fingers poking and prodding his shoulder and contemplated if it would be worth the laughs if he tried to bite her. A second later, he heard a soft grunt from Sanosuke and then eerily, wrongly followed by silence. And in that moment, he knew exactly what was wrong.
Suddenly sitting up, ignoring the burning pain that was spreading from his ribs, he asked in a hoarse voice: "Where is Kaoru?"
Because it had always been her.
Whenever he got knocked down after a fight, the first thing that would always greet him when he woke up was Kaoru's tearful blue eyes, blinking down at him. It was the sight of her worried, pinched-up face that would slowly come into focus as soon as he regained consciousness.
She'd always let out a deep sigh, like she'd been holding her breath the whole time and then, the unmistakable look of pride shining in her face, quickly followed by a choked, "Yahiko, you brat. Don't you ever do that again!"
Sometimes, she'd cry a little, especially if he had been out cold for a long time. She'd try to hide it of course, sniffling and rubbing her nose, glaring at him through watery eyes. He absolutely hated it when she cried and for some strange reason, the sight of her in tears filled his stomach with little knots of dread that quickly travelled up to his throat, turning into balls of unshed tears threatening to spill. Annoyed at her ability to make him feel like a child, he'd admonish her for being such a girl, "I'm fine you ugly ninny!"
And Megumi or Kenshin would have to intervene so that Kaoru wouldn't smack him back to unconsciousness. That was their routine. It was the way they reassured each other that everything will be alright. But today, for the first time since he had become part of the Kenshin-gumi, there was no Kaoru. No tearful, worried blue eyes. Just this eerie, blank silence.
"Yahiko, you shouldn't get up yet." Megumi said, pressing her palm against his chest. He could feel how cold Megumi's fingers were. It was like being touched by pointy icicles. She let her hands linger, as though trying to smooth out invisible creases on his gi. "Don't strain yourself." Her voice was low and it even sounded gentle.
Yahiko dumbly stared at her. The older girl had never acted this way before. Especially whenever she treated them; she had always been bossy. Forceful, even. Always cold and distant, like they weren't even friends, like she didn't know them at all. She had never shown any signs of distress or even compassion. Kaoru had once told him that she had envied Megumi's ability to distance herself from her patients. She was a true professional. A real doctor. That was what Kaoru had told him. He'd never really given it much thought, until now, when it was obvious that this Megumi was treating him differently –way too differently.
Her touch was almost motherly, but strangely, there was nothing comforting about it. Her voice was all wrong too, shaky and nervous. Yahiko could feel his stomach slowly tightening into tiny little knots. Impatiently, he swatted her hands away. "Where the heck is Kaoru?"
Megumi blinked at him. As though she didn't quite understand what he was saying. "Really, Yahiko-kun, you're going to ruin all my hard work! Settle down, will you?"
The words sounded like something Megumi would say, but her hand was trembling as she absentmindedly patted him in the head. Her blatant disregard of his question made Yahiko grit his teeth. How many times did he need to ask? It was a simple question. Feeling vaguely insulted, he jerked his head away from her. He didn't want to be touched. He wanted an answer. Now. He glared at Megumi, his jaws clenching at the sight of her pale face, the tired sagging of her shoulders, the tear-stains, that he had just noticed, standing out, stark-white against her cheeks.
Yahiko didn't think he could ever dislike Megumi. She had saved his life when Beshimi had poisoned him and she always made sure that they were restored back to health every time they did something brave and stupid. And she was always funny, even when sometimes she said mean things to Kaoru – of course, he did too, but he was allowed, because everyone knew that he really didn't mean it – but Yahiko was surprised at the sudden, inexplicable burst of anger that he felt towards her.
He calmly pushed Megumi's hands away. "Stop that. Don't touch me." He ignored the puffy redness of her eyes, the hurt and confused look that settled on her face.
"Yahiko-kun," Megumi seemed to be trembling with the sheer effort not to either slap him silly or to start crying. Her face was so terribly contorted; her lips pressed tightly together, eyes clouded over.
"Get away from me!" He finally screamed when Megumi gently tried to take his hand. His voice reverberated inside his already throbbing head and for a moment he thought he was going to pass out from the sudden, vicious pain that exploded inside his chest.
Kaoru's supposed to be here! She's the one who's supposed to be taking care of me. Not you! Not you!
"Oi, calm the fuck down." Sano said coming between them as Megumi backed away, a small, wounded sound escaping from her.
Yahiko watched as she blindly staggered towards the corner of the room, her two hands covering her mouth as though she too, was surprised at how broken she sounded. Blinking back tears, confused at his sudden outburst, Yahiko stared at Sano's face. Sano's face was an ugly mask of forced calmness.
Finally understanding the situation he was in, Yahiko took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, certain that if he continued to act like a petulant child; he will be treated like one. That was how it always had been, dealing with adults. He had learned this a long time ago. And so in a steady voice, as grown up as he could, he asked again, slowly, without any emotion, "Where is Kaoru?"
Sano's blank expression wavered for a moment, and then his eyes dimmed. Like a light suddenly going out. Yahiko could clearly see the haunted look crossing Sano's features. He seemed to have aged overnight. His always jolly, carefree, 'Laugh at the Face of Danger' attitude suddenly gone, replaced by this horrible somber expression that didn't belong on his face. Sano looked like a man who would never laugh out loud again and somehow, Yahiko knew.
Something terrible happened. Something so awful everything had changed. Megumi is no longer Megumi and Sano is no longer Sano.
Yahiko could feel his heart painfully thudding inside his chest. He looked from Sano to Megumi, and if he knew how young he looked right that instant, his eyes wide and pleading, his face softening, his features suddenly smooth, unmarred by his usual scowls, his smug smile, if he had known how he had suddenly stripped himself bare, he would have quickly raised his arms to hide the ten year old boy, whose existence he rarely ever acknowledged. Fear had suddenly gripped him and nothing mattered anymore.
Without answering him, Sano abruptly stood up, blocking his view of Megumi, of everything, actually. All he could see right now was Sano's bandaged hand, gripping his shoulder, trying to get him to lie down again. "Look, Fox says that you shouldn't strain yourself—"
Yahiko shook his head, cutting him off. "Don't, Sano. Don't treat me like that."
Sano let out an explosive breath, followed by muttered curses. He shoved his hand into his hair and for a second there, it looked like he was going to start pulling his hair out. But he didn't. Instead he paced in front of Yahiko.
Sano looked like a caged animal. Back and forth, back and forth in a tight small circle, swearing each time he found the end of the room and then turning to go back to where he started. He'd stop and open his mouth, shake his head and re-start his little march. Their eyes met and for a second, Yahiko thought he could hear Sano's voice inside his head, pleading with him to not ask this question. To not make him say it - this information he was asking, the answer that he was demanding, if it was voiced out loud, it would become final, it would become the truth.
Yahiko almost said it, almost declared, 'Ok, forget it. Don't tell me. I don't want to know.' But that wasn't true, it wasn't what he wanted and he wasn't about to back down now. It was ultimately, a battle of patience and because that particular virtue had always been part of Kaoru's training, Yahiko easily sat through Sano's seemingly endless pacing.
Sano appeared to not have stopped at all, but inevitably settled into stillness. He looked so tired and worn out, like he hadn't slept for years. Everything in his movement spoke of deep, bone-tired weariness. He and Megumi shared the same haunted look, the dark circles under their eyes a testament to something they have shared overnight. Some unnamable, unspeakable horror.
"Jou-" Sano started, and then stopped to swallow, his voice catching. "She's… she's at the dojo."
She's at the dojo.
Yahiko waited breathlessly for Sano to elaborate, but Sano had clamped his mouth shut, the muscles in his jaws working, clenching and unclenching. The stubborn way Sano held his chin made it more than obvious that that was all he was going to say.
She's at the dojo.
It could mean a thousand different things. Really, it could. Yahiko didn't want to think of the worst possible thing. He shoved that possibility aside. No, not that. Something bad, but not that. That would be impossible. It could never happen. Not to Kaoru.
Without another word, Yahiko pushed aside the blankets covering him and started to stand up, pausing as a wave of dizziness assaulted him, almost knocking him off balance. Beside him, Sano had his fist clenched, cautious of helping him, careful not to set him off with any offer of assistance. The gesture was not lost to him and Yahiko would've gratefully acknowledge it with a nod of his head, but he was suddenly eye level with Sano's bandaged hand and the first think he noticed were the dark red stains covering it. It couldn't have been Sano's blood. The stains were all wrong. Not on his knuckles, but on the edges of his finger. It was like he had held something bloodied.
Doubling over, Yahiko fought the urge to be sick. He made gagging, gasping sound, clutching his middle area. He could hear Megumi muttering protests as he took two deep breaths, finally managing to get a hold of himself. Wordlessly, arms still wrapped around his injured body, he staggered towards the door, determined to make it out of the clinic, walk all the way back to the dojo and see for himself.
See for himself…what?
Behind him, he heard the sound of scuffling. Megumi pushing Sano probably. "Where do you think you're going, Yahiko? You come back here, right this instant! I mean it!" There was an agitated sigh, followed by, "You idiot, don't just stand there! Do something!"
Not unexpectedly, he felt a warm, heavy hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Yahiko made a move to shrug it off, but Sano merely tightened his hold, squeezing painfully, it nearly made his knees buckle and fold.
"We'll take you to her, I promise. Just…just give Foxy here a few minutes to check on your wounds. Otherwise, we'll never hear the end of it," Sano leaned down, and added in a whisper, "she'll just scream at us all the way to the dojo. It'll be scandalous. And noisy. You know how loud she can get."
Yahiko blinked up at Sano. His words were light, delivered in the same usual, joking manner, with the familiar cocky tilting of his head, but Sano's eyes betrayed him. And Yahiko realized how hard it must be for Sano and Megumi to act like this - like everything was going to be ok – like they could afford to joke and bicker with each other. It was a show. All for him, for his sake. It was the kind of kindness that he couldn't ignore, couldn't just brush aside and walk away from. He had no choice. Feeling strangely defeated, Yahiko finally conceded. "Five minutes," he muttered through his gritted teeth.
His voice brooked no argument. He'd let Megumi do her job and then he will go to Kaoru. They would have to knock him down again if they wanted him to stay at the clinic. Yahiko defiantly lifted his face, forcing Sano and Megumi to meet his eyes.
Megumi was shaking her head but Sano took hold of her wrist, forcing her to look at him. Yahiko watched as his two friends looked at each other, a silent communication passing between them. Finally, Megumi very slowly dipped her chin, barely a nod, a gesture of surrender. "Five minutes" she answered curtly.
His mind was playing tricks on him. Megumi's medicine was doing some serious damage with his ability to think rationally. It was the only possible explanation. He remembered waking up in the clinic, impatiently sitting down as Megumi cleaned his wound and changed his bandages. He remembered asking where Kenshin was and listening to Sano's reply, which didn't make any sense.
"He's just…gone. After the fight, we couldn't find him, he just wasn't there anymore."
He remembered glaring at Sano, accusing of him obviously getting things wrong. He remembered his labored walked to the dojo, mindful of the stares, the pitiful looks and wary whispering.
'So sad, what happened…and so young, it's terrible, really…'
He remembered all these things, but vaguely. It was like watching himself, like he had been carved apart from everything and he knew this was what had happened but he couldn't remember being in that moment.
It was so odd.
There he was, surrounded by neighbors, and he knew they were sorry for him and at the back of his mind, he felt a faint pulse of anger, the sudden urge to lash out at them. He was afraid of what he might do. He felt completely out of control – not just of the situation but of himself. And before he could figure out the best way to deal with this new and strange reality, he felt himself abruptly stopping, bowing his head, hunching up his shoulder and just bolting like a crazed little boy. Running like he was trying to escape some nightmare monster that was relentlessly chasing him.
He could hear his own ragged breathing, but he couldn't feel anything else. Not even the raging of his heart against his ribcage. From a distance, he could sense Sano and Megumi chasing after him, yelling for him to stop but he couldn't. He felt numbed. Away from all the pain, from whatever it was that was happening around him.
There was no escaping it, that at least he was sure of. In fact, he was headed right into it, completely unprepared. But it didn't matter though. There was no turning back. There was no honor in hiding at the clinic, in letting Sano and Megumi bear this nightmare by themselves. However bad things were, he was part of this family. Kaoru's family. And so, in his mind, there was only one place to go back to: home.
Gasping for breath, a little boy, staggered towards the gate, limping lightly, before, as though suddenly running out of steam, awkwardly stopping, arms lifelessly dangling at his sides.
His mouth opened and closed, like a fish yanked out of the water. A sense of disbelief slowly blossoming on his face, widening his child-like eyes, the small-O of his mouth getting bigger by the second as he stood in front of the familiar dojo gate. Or what remained of it, anyway.
Yahiko could see it so clearly inside is head. The little boy was him. And he was the little boy. But he hadn't felt like that in a long time. And for a moment, Yahiko wasn't sure anymore if he was awake or was still drugged up and sleeping at the clinic.
Because this couldn't be real. The damage to the dojo was ridiculous. It was as though a bomb had gone off. Everything seemed to have been ripped apart or blown into pieces. Splintered wood were scattered everywhere, leaving a trail of destruction that was too terrible for comprehension.
It took him a moment to notice a couple of police officers milling about, some of them kneeling down and trying to gather pieces of broken wood, examining the blunt edges, quietly talking amongst themselves. At the other side were some of Sano's friends, wary of the police force and keeping a safe distance from them. They were diligently clearing off the debris that littered the whole street. Some of them were farther back, trying to prevent a small group of on lookers, who were craning their heads, trying to see what all the commotion was all about.
Yahiko's eyes searched through the crowd, hoping to prove Sano wrong. There were familiar faces – students from other dojos, he numbly realized – putting up banners, talking in low, somber voices. It seemed to Yahiko that everyone in town was there, in front of the dojo, all except for the one person that matter the most. The one person that he needed to be here.
Kenshin, where are you?
He stood in one spot, desperately turning in circles, wanting to catch a glimpse, a flash of red hair, a sign, something, that would let him know that he wasn't being abandoned all over again.
Please be here. Please be here. Please don't leave. Please.
It didn't take long for the crowd to notice him: injured little boy, standing amidst all the chaos, a forlorn figure. The moment they realized who he was, they all seemed to stop whatever it was that they were doing and just stared at him. Silence settled over them. And for the first time, Yahiko noticed how everyone would look at him but would not meet his eyes.
The faint pulsing anger that he felt earlier came back full force, slamming into him. He couldn't bear the way they were looking at him, the way they were stomping disrespectfully around Kaoru's dojo – his home! Before Yahiko even knew what was happening, he had launched himself at one of the policeman, angrily pushing him away from the gate. "What the fuck are you all looking at?! Get the fuck out of here! Get out!"
He watched as everyone contritely bowed their heads, murmuring quick apologies. They all shuffled away from him, giving him the same pitying looks the women in their neighborhood had given him. This infuriated him even more. His clenched fist rose, shaking with unexpected dark fury. He might have said a lot of awful things before Sano finally caught up to him, yanking him inside the gate.
Yahiko didn't have words anymore. He hated everyone. Angrily, defiantly, childishly, he kicked Sano in the knee, viciously knocking the bandaged hand away and blindly heading towards Kaoru's room. Megumi was breathlessly following behind him, pleading with him to stop. But he couldn't make himself stop. He was barreling towards the courtyard, into the kitchen, then the dining hall and further, deeper into the house, past his own room, and then Kenshin's. Every step he was taking felt like huge painful leaps, as though the house had suddenly become bigger and it was taking him an inordinate amount of time to reach Kaoru's room.
His lungs felt like it was on fire. Like all the anger he had felt was concentrated there, right next to his painfully thudding heart. And Yahiko felt that he was going to explode from trying to keep that rage in check.
And then all of a sudden, he was there. Right in front of Kaouru's room. Her shoji door was closed. And he knew. Everything clicked inside his head and he knew. And all the anger swooshed out of him, like a great big hole had been punched right through his rib cage and now, there was nothing inside of him.
Yahiko stood motionless. He felt emptied out. Hollow. Like he was made of paper and if he reached out to open the door, he'd rip himself apart. He knew he had to go inside Kaoru's room; it was what he came here for, right? But did he really want to? His growing confusion was only heightened by the silence that was surrounding him. He couldn't remember the dojo being this quiet. And so still. It felt so utterly empty. And the smell. It was all wrong. It smelled like incense and something clean. Too clean.
"You kicked me in the knee." The statement was from Sano, who was leaning against the wall, watching him with darkened eyes.
Yahiko turned to look at the older man, his mind trying to catch up with everything that had happened. He did vaguely remember kicking Sano. "Did it hurt?"
"Fuck yeah, it did." And Yahiko watched as Sano slid down the floor, casually stretching his long legs in front of him. Megumi was looking at them with a strange expression on her face and Yahiko could understand if they were more than just a little wary of him. He would be too, considering how he had been acting ever since he'd woken up.
Yahiko thought he ought to apologize but an apology seemed to be the last thing Sano wanted and he wasn't in the mood to be sorry for his anger. He felt he had a right to that. So instead he asked, "He isn't here, is he?"
Sano shook his head. "Nope. Not here."
Feeling betrayed, Yahiko turned away, blankly staring at Kaoru's door. They just stood silently like this, waiting for his next move.
A thought suddenly occurred to him and he nervously licked his lips before he could voice out the terrible question that, he realized, was stopping him from going inside Kaoru's room. "How does—how does she look like?"
Megumi sucked in her breath but it was Sano who answered him. In a weary voice, Sano tried to assure him that Kaoru looked fine, "Like…like she's just sleeping."
But she wasn't just sleeping.
The thought struck him like a physical blow and Yahiko felt his shoulder slumping, a heavy weight settling over him. Swallowing through the burning lumps lodged inside his throat, he finally, without warning, entered the room, sliding the door open and closing it in one swift movement, before either Megumi or Sanosuke suddenly decide that he shouldn't or before he changed his mind and realize that he couldn't.
It was pure instinct, closing his eyes and he welcomed this temporary blindness. He knew he had to face this, but he wasn't ready just yet. He didn't think he'd ever be. There was nothing that could prepare him for this. It wasn't like he had spent nights wondering what he would do if this ever happened and because frankly, he didn't think something like this could ever happened, especially not to her. It was impossible.
Impossible. What a stupid word. It shouldn't exist at all. He hated that word. The way it so easily rolled off people's tongue. Im-po-ssible. It was a two-faced, dishonest word. All it gave was false hope. A child's silly, laughable, hope. He obviously didn't know anything.
Not impossible after all.
He had to take another moment to take in a deep breath, steeling himself, steadying his nerves and making sure that he wasn't going to cry. If he started bawling like a baby, he was sure that Megumi would barge in and take him away before he even saw her.
He needed to see her. Otherwise, he'd never really believe it.
Finally, with his heart briefly stopping, before his courage could falter, he opened his eyes.
Kaoru's room was dimly lit. It took him a while to let his eyes adjust, figure out where things were. Her room was the biggest in the dojo, but sparsely furnished. He very rarely ventured inside her room. It was her sanctuary and it was one of the few unspoken rules that he respected and never even tried to break. No matter how tempting it had been.
It didn't take long for his eyes to finally get accustomed to the darkness and when he finally saw her, lying like that, motionless and so, so quiet, the first thing he thought was: this must be a joke. Kaoru is just getting back at me for all the times that I had been horrible to her, calling her names, for being lazy, for grudgingly becoming her student, for all those time I had rolled my eyes at her when she was trying to teach me how to wield a bokken.
And so inappropriately, the first words that came out of his mouth were: "Cut it out, busu. I know what you're trying to do, it's not funny. You know I didn't mean it. You know I was just kidding. So just stop it, ok? Just stop it and wake up!"
His voice was low and harsh, filled with a kind of longing that he hadn't ever realized he was capable of. It was a whispered plea, one that she didn't seem to hear. His eyes searched for the slightest movement of her chest – any hint, any sign at all that she was still breathing. But… she looked so cold.
Not a joke then.
From the other side of the shoji door, he heard Megumi asking if he was alright. "I'm-" but he stopped there. What was he supposed to say to that? He wasn't fine. Whatever was alright, whatever was fine; he was miles away from that. In fact, he could say that he would never be fine after this. Never.
There was a brief exchange between Sano and Megumi, their whispered conversation was muted. After a few seconds, Sano must have convinced Megumi to let him be. He could hear the tentative shuffling of their feet, but was surprised when he suddenly felt Megumi leaning towards the door, her palm pressing against the paper screen. "Don't-don't stay too long, Yahiko."
Megumi's voice briefly faltered but when he answered with his own shaky, "Hai," they quietly left.
After making sure that they were really gone, he walked forward, his eyes staring straight ahead, unseeing. Yahiko had to take a moment, a sharp painful breath, before he could finally fold his knees – which felt brittle and worn – to kneel beside Kaoru and properly look at her.
The first thing he saw was her hands. Her totally ungirly, calloused hands, clasped so primly together. It looked so docile. So incapable of the powerful way she'd swing her bokken. He wondered about the stupid idiot who did this. They didn't know Kaoru at all. She would've wanted to be holding her shinai.
"I'll get that fixed." He told her, finally moving his glance to her face, his throat clenching at the sight of her closed eyes, her pale lips, tinted with a sickly colored blue. Not like the blue of her eyes. It was completely devoid of any vividness.
The next thing he noticed was the small square bandage covering the left side of her face. He felt an invisible iron band slowly wrapping itself around his chest, the cold steel pressing painfully against his ribs, making it hard to breathe. The cut on her face, he knew what it meant.
It was a personal wound. The bastard had gotten real close to her. He shuddered at the thought. He could clearly picture her, raising her shinai, defiant as always. Defiant until the end. She had probably fought back and towering above her, Yukishiro had impatiently brought his hand up. Yahiko could see the arc of the blade, its silver glint as it moved towards Kaoru, the splatter of blood.
"I hope you at least got to hit him real hard, Kaoru." Her name came out as a choking sound and Yahiko had a sudden urge to claw at his throat. Claw through skin and bones, and dislodge the tears that were stuck inside his throat. He clenched his hands into tight fists, breathing noisily through his mouth, a sudden rush of memories slamming into him.
He'd been here before. Exactly like this. Kneeling, staring down at a pale face. It was a different face, of course, older. It had been a pretty face once, but there were deep lines of sadness and weariness etched on the skin.
Even in her death, his mother had been frowning. The tired downward curve of her mouth, the sorrowful arch of her eyebrows, Yahiko remembered it all too well. He had also been just as terrified and angry and lost and trying his best not to cry. Not to let the tears fall. He didn't want to start crying, because if he did, he might never, ever stop.
It was like losing his mother again. Only this time, he was also losing his teacher, his friend, his sister, his home. He was losing everything all over again. Now that Kaoru was gone, he didn't have anything left.
The iron clamp on his chest was, squeezing, squeezing…
You aren't supposed to leave me alone, Kaoru.
His clenched fist pounded helplessly into the tatami mat. The gesture felt so insignificant, so useless. The thudding sound it made was equally pitifully small, quickly swallowed by the silence. He bowed his head and made a strangled sound. His throat felt raw and it was so hard to swallow.
While he had been knocked unconscious, drained from his fight, that Yukishiro bastard had hurt Kaoru. And no one had come to save her. Had she been scared? She had probably thought that any minute now, any second now, Kenshin would come. Or he would come. He'd come barreling from out of nowhere, hitting Enishi with enough force to knock him down and it will be all over. She'd sigh with relief and ask them not to hurt Yukishiro too much. Kaoru didn't understand wickedness and cruelty. She was all about forgiving and second chances. But there was no forgiveness in this. And no second chances.
Yukishiro Enishi.
I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. You aren't supposed to leave me alone, Kaoru. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate...
Yahiko hadn't realized that he had started crying. He hadn't meant to. He wanted to be strong, but there was no stopping the tears. They converged at the tip of his nose, on his chin, plonking uselessly at his clenched fist. Sniffling, he brought his arms against his eyes, trying to contain the sob that was trying to rip past his throat.
He had always known it but had never acknowledged it. Now it was all he could think of. Kaoru is – was – his family. She had taken him in when no else would. She was the one who had asked Kenshin to check up on him, if she hadn't, Kenshin wouldn't have come barging into that filthy yakuza den. In a way, he was glad that Kaoru never got to see where he had really come from. If she had, she would've marched down there and tried to knock Yakuza heads. She cared that deeply.
She had opened her home to him and her dojo. More than that, she had opened her heart to him. Kaoru took care of him. She was the one who woke him up early in the morning to make sure that he didn't skip on his exercises. She instilled in him discipline and a different kind of courage – the courage to not deliberately hurt anyone, just because he can. She showed him how to be kind, not because it gets you out of trouble, but because kindness was kindness. It should be given freely, whether a person deserved it or not. She took pride in his accomplishment. She hurt when he hurt. She loved him like he was her own blood and he loved her back, just as fiercely as she did and now she was gone.
Yahiko made small hiccupping sounds. Like a small, wounded child. But Yahiko didn't care. Kaoru was gone. Forever.
She wasn't supposed to leave him like this, like everyone in his family had left him. She was the one who's supposed to stay and make everything all right. Kaoru was supposed to be here, now, always.
Tears freely streaming down his face, Yahiko let himself fall forward, his head lightly resting against Kaoru's shoulder. He couldn't stop crying, he didn't know how. He was lost and no one was going to save him now.
His eyes were burning. Dry, but burning. Yahiko wasn't sure how long he had been sitting in the dark, crying useless tears. He briefly touched his cold, damp cheeks before quickly wiping his face dry. He seemed to have used up all his tears and there was nothing else but this strange empty calmness as he looked down at Kaoru's face.
It was her, but it wasn't her, because how can it be her? It would mean that she was not going to wake up. Never again. And that this would be the last time he'd ever see her, because tomorrow, they will take her and bury her and...
His mind couldn't quite go there yet. He couldn't allow himself to think of anything further because at the back of his mind, he was still expecting Kaoru to suddenly appear behind him, smack him in the head and order him to clean the floor again and this time; make sure he got every speck of dust.
But she wasn't going to do that. Of course she wasn't.
Yahiko closed his eyes. He woke up from a deep sleep only to be thrust into a nightmare, one that he couldn't escape and one that would never end. He wanted to curl into a ball and sleep again, right here, beside Kaoru and maybe he'd wake up and things would be different.
It was too tempting. To just lie down and not think or feel anything.
But… Yahiko swallowed hard, taking deep breaths. Kaoru never, ever gave up. However lonely or afraid or hurt she had been when Kenshin had left for Kyoto, she had, in the end, pulled through. She had stood up, determined to find Kenshin, bring him back home.
She had always been strong. Strong enough to make Kenshin stay, to make him come back home. She was strong enough to let him and Sano become part of her life – regardless of the consequences, even though she had to double her work to feed them and keep a roof above them. Kaoru had been the strongest of them; she had kept them all together.
And because he was a student of the Kamiya Kasshin, because this was what Kaoru had taught him, he will honor her by doing what she would have wanted. He will keep her family together. He wasn't just going to let everyone start disappearing. Kaoru would absolutely hate that.
Looking down at her, Yahiko could feel his resolve hardening. He knew exactly what he will do. He raised his arms, scrubbing his face, sniffling softly. "No more tears, Kaoru. I promise. I'll look for Kenshin. I'll find him, and he…we'll say good bye to you and then," he clenched his fist, "we'll make Enishi pay for what he'd done. And after that… after that, we'll take care of the dojo. I will never let your name be forgotten. Never. Your – our – dojo will be the best in all of Tokyo. In all of Japan," Yahiko paused to swallow the new batch of tears that were threatening to spill. "They will know all about you. Your kindness and your strength – you're cooking too." He smiled bitterly at the small joke, already missing the way Kaoru would admonish him for teasing her. "I'll keep your name alive Kaoru, always. I promise."
There was a strange calmness settling over him as he made all these promises. Here were things to do. To work on. To achieve. He wouldn't be so hopeless and helpless.
Yahiko would do whatever it takes to keep his promises. It wouldn't take all the pain away, but it should help. Be busy. Keep moving. Keep living.
"I know you'll be watching over me Kaoru. And that… you will always be with me. With us. So… please, please help me, ok? And…and thank you, Kaoru. For everything." He bowed deeply, his head resting against the tatami mat. He meant every word of it. He will make sure that he lived as Kaoru had – always with kindness. It will be painful and lonely and it wasn't going to be easy without her, but together, him and Sano and Megumi and Kenshin – maybe they can heal each other's wound. Maybe it will be enough.
End Notes: So, uhm, maybe this won't be a one shot after all? But as far as plots are concerned, I still don't have any idea where exactly this story is going. Maybe it'll be just a series of one-shots featuring everyone's reaction post-Jinchuu and then something happy at the end.
I hope Yahiko isn't too OOC. I can't ever remember if he used any suffixes when referring to Kaoru. It was always just her name, right? Anyway, as always, feel free to let me know what you think. Your reviews and feedback and much, much appreciated.
Also, I did just a bit of research about funerals during the Meiji era. In one instance, there was a mention of banners being made for the dead. I was thinking the dojos were Kaoru sometimes taught would have made banners for her. I hope that explains the banners. I'll try to be more historically accurate next time.