Never Again
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply. I do not own, nor will I ever, own RK.
Authors Note: Warning: angst straight ahead.
She never comes to his dreams.
He really didn't expect her to, but he wanted it badly enough because where else will he be able to see if her? She is gone. Her smile is gone. Her warmth is gone. Her light is gone. Her laughter. Her kindness. Her strength.
His home.
All of that, gone.
Everything gone.
It is winter all around him. There is no color, no taste, no sound. Nothing. A vacuum.
What he feels now is the numbing chill inside his chest – a dark, bottomless pit of emptiness.
He is nameless now. Not a wanderer, no not anymore. Not a hitokiri. Not someone who protects. Not alive. Breathing, yes; existing, but not alive.
He is nothing now.
Enishi was wrong. It didn't take four minutes. Not even five. A stab through the heart, how long would that have taken? Less than a minute. Seconds, even.
This wasn't guess work. He would know. Of course he would know. One vicious thrust, as easy at that. All of Enishi's strength, his all-consuming anger, the full force of his Jinchuu and the blade would have easily gone through skin and tissues. It would have taken her by surprise, she wouldn't – couldn't have felt it.
He would've happily gone mad at that instant. Losing his mind would have been a blessing: to not be aware, to not feel the crushing weight of anguish, to dissolve into nothingness…but he couldn't.
Not when she was sitting like that, lifeless, blank eyes staring right through him, her lips slightly opened. Her wound – his wound, mirrored on her cheeks – still bleeding bright, bright red. Not with Enishi's wattou pinning her against the wall.
He couldn't leave her like that. Even in the haze of shock and pain and grief, he refused to let his last memory of her be like this.
He didn't know how, but he found the will to hold on to his already fraying mind. However badly he wanted to flee this moment, he took hold of what little control he could still find in him. Bad enough that he had let this happen, unforgivable, but to let Enishi put her pain in display like this, for everyone to see, it was unacceptable.
He tried to regain his center, helplessly grasping for some semblance of stability. He felt lost and completely unhinged and it took him a while to focus on anything but the overwhelming need to feel something other than the encompassing pain of loss.
Slowly, everything returned to him. The scent of gunpowder and blood was the first thing that assailed his senses. When he tried to stand up, he had to gag and swallow down the bile rising in his throat, suffocating him.
Without warning, the vague smell of white plum wafted through the air and he desperately, desperately wanted to howl and scream, plunge himself in some kind of darkness where he couldn't see or feel – where he could be numb – it was all too much…
But he didn't. No, not yet. Not now.
Just give him a few more minutes, Kami. Please. Later he will grieve and bleed and curse and be so exhausted, he'd stop feeling and thinking altogether.
But not yet, not yet. Onegai, not yet.
The silent mantra helped. When he could finally breathe again, he forced himself to get up and walk towards her. He had to face her like this, it was the least that he could do.
Another punishment to endure.
Up close, her blue eyes were dimmed, no trace of that playful glimmer, or that thoughtful, quiet look of understanding. Seeing her eyes like that, even though he already knew it, it drove home the truth that she was gone.
He took in every little detail, memorizing it, burning the image inside his brain, letting it sear all the way through his soul: a lone trail of blood escaping the corner of her lips, the way her shoulder slumped, the cross-scar…
Gasping, fire spreading through his chest, he knelt down and moved his arms around her: a final embrace (she was still warm) and suddenly, blessedly, the scent of jasmine.
"Kaoru," this he whispered against her collarbone. This would be the last time that he would let her name touch his lips. He wasn't allowed – no, he wasn't worthy. Not after he had so utterly, completely failed her.
He took deep, gulping breaths, the wheezing sound filling up the silence around them. Swallowing hard, his voice hoarse, his throat painfully clenching at every word, he quietly asked Sanosuke to please, gently remove the wattou.
From somewhere behind him, he could feel Saitou's disproving glare. He heard the murmured order to not tamper with the crime scene followed by Sano's bone chilling, "fuck you!" and then Sano was beside him. He heard the choked "jou-chan", such a contrast to how hateful and angry Sano's voice had been just seconds before. The great Zanza, reduced to tears, suddenly sounding so young and bewildered.
We're lost without you, Kaoru.
Did she ever knew that? Did she ever realized that she held them all together? Their little family of outcasts, she was their thread. She bound them all together. And now that she was gone, he was sure, they would all start to aimlessly drift apart, they could never be the same without her. How could they ever be together in one room now? Now that there would be an empty space where she was supposed to be? Their presence will remind them of her absence and who could stand that?
He could sense Sano's own battle for control, his friend's ki was aflame with hatred and loss. It took Sanosuke a few heartbeats before he could restrain the rage building inside of him. Restrain it enough that even with his white-knuckled grip at the wattou's hilt, he pulled it with careful tenderness.
And with the wattou resting against his weary shoulder, he felt it slowly, almost tenderly, slicing through his skin. Her blood mingling with his.
Sano threw the wattou in disgust, letting out the blood-curling rage that he had, just moments ago, mercilessly tamped down. He started pacing the floor, suddenly unsure of what to do next, screaming threats and shattering the silence. As if in response to Sano's rampaging, Saitou started with his "ahous!", swearing at the audacity, the idiocy – and in the background, Megumi-dono's near-silent sobbing.
"No, no, no, oh no, Kaoru-chan, no…"
All of this was lost to him. Unpinned now, he let her weight settle over him, her long hair brushing against his arms and for a moment, his heart painfully fluttered with the memory of holding her like this, just a few months back, when he left for Kyoto and told her goodbye.
I should have kissed you then.
The bitterness of this regret made him want to weep, but no time for that now. Clutching her in an embrace that both gave and robbed him of comfort, he shifted her body, moving her as gently as possible until she was cradled in his arms. Once again, he found himself face-to-face with her blank stare, her still-bleeding cross-scar. He could hear the miniscule sound of her blood dropping on the tatami mat. A few drops now, but it in a few more minutes, it will leave a deep, dark stain all around her. He clutched her to him, inhaling her scent, jasmine - always jasmine - and now mingled with the scent of death.
Where was he getting the strength to do all this? To face this moment? He vaguely wondered, before viciously brushing aside any thought. It didn't matter. What good was this strength, now that it had come too late?
He looked down at her, the sight of that cross-scar so obscenely carved into her skin. With her lying across him, he used his free arm to gingerly touch her face, ignoring all the aches from his injuries. He would have endured more, if it meant that he could save her. A broken body is nothing compared to a broken heart - or soul for that matter. Wounds will heal, but not this. Never this. There would be no healing for this kind of blow.
He gazed longingly at her face, marred now by Enishi's mark.
Why are you still warm, Kaoru?
He let his fingers ghost over the cross-scar, before finally settling over her parted lips, the urge to kiss her almost too much to bear – he wanted to, Kami, he wanted to, but he couldn't. Not like this. Not with her bloodied lips, not when she couldn't shyly giggle and kiss him back. Not when that dream, that possibility was now lost forever.
No, he had wasted all that time being foolish and keeping his distance when all he really wanted was to be wrapped in her scent.
Here's another punishment for you.
You smiled for him. For this. Why?
Silently and in almost soothing gesture, he pressed his fingers against her lids, forever closing her eyes.
The last thing he remembered was Saitou ordering Megumi-dono to get a grip, dragging her over to them, quietly admonishing the doctor, "Oh, for God's sake, woman!"
He felt Megumi-dono kneeling next to him, he glanced at the fall of her dark hair, a curtain hiding her face. She seemed just a lost as he was: level-headed, take-action Megumi-dono, just sitting there, her hand curled in an angry fist across her lap. A part of him wanted to comfort her, but he knew there were no words, no gesture to make the pain stop.
Across the room, Saitou was quickly taking hold of the situation, and briefly, he felt almost grateful for him.
"You, ahou! You stop your useless pacing and help her!" Saitou paused, and in a voice that could have been mistaken as tender, he had added, almost as if in afterthought, "Clean her up before the boy wakes up."
And the thought of Yahiko – that was when he couldn't bear it anymore, that was when he finally let himself succumb to the darkness.
He fled. There were no other words for it. There was no reason to linger on, to stay at the ruined dojo. It was no longer his home, no longer his sanctuary.
A heavy darkness was edging towards him, turning his surrounding into gray-black-nothingness. A welcome respite from the onslaught of emotions that were ripping through him. He didn't know what he was doing, where he was going, but the ache inside his chest was slowly eating him, devouring him. Like acid. Seeping and burning. Liquid fire of regret. He let it wash over him. Let himself drown in it.
In his slowly darkening world, he saw a chain hanging at a gate, and with surprising savagery, he yanked it down, pulling it with everything that he's got, he felt as though his bones would snap.
The thick metal swung against him, hitting him across the chest. Numb now, he quickly wound it over his sakabatou. He stared at the winding chain covering the hilt and he saw now what it truly was: a useless, pitiful thing.
A lie.
He had wanted to fling his sakabatou into the river but decided against it. No, it wouldn't taint anything else. Just him. He will hold on to it, make sure that its chain will never be unwound. Anyone who wanted it will have to pry it out of his cold, dead fingers. The reverse blade – the sword that protects – will never be unsheathed.
Never again.
Light was creeping into the sky when he finally realized that he had walked almost to the edge of town. By now, they would have cleaned her up, dressed her in white and bandaged her scarred cheeks. She would be lying on her room, like she was sleeping. Except she would never, ever wake up.
Who would tell Yahiko-chan?
He throttled the urge to cry, choking on the tears that were threatening to spill. Another useless thing: tears. What good where they, when they couldn't bring anything back?
Away from them, from her, he didn't fight the incoming rush of guilt, of pain and anger. He let it fuel him as he chased after the darkness, the coldness, the numbing nothingness. He raged and cursed and gripping the chained sakabatou, he pounded the ground before him, blindly slashing and swinging. And despite his efforts not to, he started crying, brokenly.
After an hour of this – maybe a lifetime – he lost track of time, he found himself bone-weary, tired like he had never been tired before. He couldn't feel anything, not even his own beating heart.
All he wanted was to sit down and never think, never feel again. Never want again. Never hope again.
And then he knew, he knew exactly where he needed to go.
-end-
Author's Note: Firstly, I have a confession to make. I used to have an account, years ago, under the name "Yuki". The very same "Yuki" who abandoned "Mismatched" and all the other RK and CCS fics (see Bio). I have forgotten my password and the e-mail tied to that account has been deactivated so I have no idea how I can access that account (help!).
RK has been my first ever fandom. My first ever fic was for RK. And I just love this series. Like, it's a forever thing. I would have wanted to go on writing RK-fics but I just, suddenly, I didn't know how to continue and then I discovered other fandoms, wrote for them and pulled the disappearing act once more. Sometimes it's real life, sometimes it's a really bad, monster of Writer's Block. I cannot promise anything but I do hope that I get to finish all the stories that I have started.
And as always, I would appreciate any feedback, reviews, comments and/or suggestion.
9/9: Did some editing because, eh *scratch head*, I re-read it and it just needed some things to be added and removed and I'm sort of okay now after doing some revising. I was a little unhappy with the first version, not that I'm completely satisfied with this one-but, yeah, I think this version is just a little bit better.