Hi all, ^_^
Well, here's the latest chapter. I hope you enjoy, but if it
sucks, please let me know so I can try to fix it. ^_^;
Previous chapters can be found at my RK page at:
http://www.akane.org/kenshin
*Warning: MAJOR spoliers for the Revenge story arc in the manga,
and the OAVs (though I tend to use the manga as my primary
source).
The Snow Raven, Chapter 3
a Rurouni Kenshin Fanfic
by Krista Perry
~*~
For the hope of warmth
my cold, vengeful hand is stayed.
Crimson rain falls still...
- excerpt from the private diary of Yukishiro Tomoe
~*~
I help Okami-san prepare breakfast in silence, holding my
turbulent thoughts and feelings within myself by keeping my hands
busy. An easy task, since there is much to do. Apparently, I am
not the only visitor here. Kogoro Katsura, the leader of the
Choshu branch of the Ishin Shishi, and many of his men, spent the
night at this inn.
As if being under the same roof as their young hitokiri was
not enough...
I care nothing for their causes... their wars -- these men
who do not desire to honor the old ways, and cause so much
bloodshed because of their discontent...
I remember quite clearly how my father felt about these men.
Too old and frail to fight with the rest of the Shogunate army,
Father railed against these rebels loudly and often, in the
privacy of our home, as if his words alone were strong enough to
reach across distances and strike them all dead. He seethed over
their lack of respect for the old ways of honor and glory; of
their hatred for Japan, that they should dare to reject its
divine heritage and desire to embrace the ways of the very
foreign invaders who would rob us of our pride and identity...
And when the news of Akira-san's death reached us, Father's
rants increased in frequency, even as they lessened in volume.
Rather than shouting his hatred of the Ishin Shishi to the sky,
he whispered it to the walls with such intensity that it seemed
to charge the atmosphere like lightning before the fury of a
thunderstorm.
I am still not sure which of his methods of expressing his
wrath was more disturbing.
Perhaps Father's quieted version of his rage was out of
reverence for the dead; perhaps out of respect for me, and my
flat-eyed, white-faced grief. But I payed him little heed.
After all, it was not the Ishin Shishi cause that killed my
beloved. It was a single man...
Wasn't it?
Ah, so many things have changed... so many of my
preconceived notions have been shattered ever since I found him,
though it has been little more than a few hours...
I check the rice pot, stirring it a little to see if the
rice is tender and sticky enough to serve. Yes, nearly done...
And as I begin to press the rice into the serving bowls with
a wide wooden spoon, Okami-san's words from only a few minutes
previous fill my head. He wasn't always the Hitokiri
Battousai... but a boy only barely a man, warm and quiet and full
of life, only wanting to help people...
...taken because of his talent with the sword, and stripped
of his soul to become a weapon more sharp and cold and deadly
than any mere blade alone.
Perhaps it is not the Battousai I should hate for the murder
of my fianc�, but the cause that wields him...
But if I hate the cause, must I not also hate the weapon?
A killing sword can be forged of harmless metal... and, once
destroyed, the sword can no longer hurt anyone else...
Is it possible to take the weapon from the hand of the
wielder?
I can feel Okami-san watching me as I place the food on the
trays, then carefully stack the trays, one atop the other. She
comes up behind me and lays a withered hand on mine, stopping my
work.
"I'm so glad you came," she says. "The other men... most of
them have women to soothe their hearts in these terrible times,
but... Himura-san has always been so alone..."
I know what she is implying - what she must assume from my
very behavior. That, because he saved me last night, and because
I myself am alone... I have chosen to be his.
Well, it is true enough, I realize. Amidst all my turmoil,
it is the one thing, the single course of action of which I am
certain.
I belong to him now, whether he wants me or not. He decided
that himself, when he killed Akira-san. And when he foolishly...
kindly... brought me, a complete stranger, into his own home,
rather than leave me on the bloody streets...
My heart is torn between these two inexplicably opposite
actions. And I need time... time to sort through my confusion...
So I will stay with him for a while.
"Okami-san!"
I pause, startled, as I hear his voice, which has already
become so familiar though I have only heard him speak a few
times, calling urgently from down the hall. And... there is a
trace of panic in his tone that surprises me.
Okami-san looks up at his shout. "Ah, it seems your young
man is awake at last." Then she turns and raises an eyebrow at
me, even as a smile quirks at the edges of her thin, wrinkled
lips. "And missing you already, from the sound of it."
I am determined not to blush.
He is coming. I can hear his footsteps drumming swiftly
down the long hallway.
And suddenly my heart is pounding. Out of nervousness?
Fear?
Something else...?
"Okami-san, where--!" The door slides open and he freezes,
his mouth hanging open in mid-word, his eyes wide with shock as
he sees me.
"Why, good morning, Himura-san," Okami-san says cheerfully
in the face of his stupefaction. "I must say, this girl you
brought home last night isn't at all what I first thought. She's
a big help." And so saying, she turns to me, handing me the
stacked breakfast trays. "Please take these to Matsu's room."
"Alright."
I force myself to be calm, and try to ignore the fact that
he is staring at me. A brief glance at his face reveals in his
expression a mixture of astonishment... and annoyance.
So. Surprised that I haven't run away, are you? And yet
irritated to see that I have already made myself at home?
And yet, I am surprised as well. In the light of day, in
these strange, awkward circumstances, he is so different. His
eyes are still pale amber... almost colorless. And, standing
next to him now, I can see that he is barely taller than I am...
But the look on his face...
He closes his eyes and presses the tips of his fingers
through the tangle of his scarlet hair to his forehead, as if to
ward off the stirrings of a headache.
"... Errr..." he says.
I cannot possibly imagine what he might have to say to me at
this moment.
Perhaps he cannot imagine either, for nothing else seems to
be forthcoming.
And, looking at him now, so completely flummoxed, I feel
something flicker within me... something that seems almost like
...muted amusement.
Ah... Perhaps Okami-san was being truthful about him
blushing and stuttering last night...
The thought fills me with a strange, warm calm.
Mm. Well, I might as well let him know what has developed
while he was sleeping.
"My name?" I say presumptuously, knowing even as the words
come out of my mouth that I am about to cross the boundaries of
familiarity. But what better way to let him know where I now
stand with him? "You may call me Tomoe."
He blinks, stunned. Yes, he is taken aback that I have
given him my most intimate name as the means of addressing me.
"Um... Tomoe-*san,*" he says finally, emphasizing the far
less-intimate honorific with barely veiled exasperation. "What
in the world do you think you're doing?"
So he doesn't want to play along willingly? Very well then.
"Can't you tell?" I say, turning away from him to walk down
the hall with the breakfast trays.
He falls into step behind me. "... Helping around the
kitchen?"
"You're very observant."
"Look," he says, and I can tell from his voice that his
patience is wearing thin. "I need to talk to you right now."
"I'm busy, so you'll have to talk to me later."
"This can't wait."
"Is this Matsu's room?" I ask, stopping outside a screen
door.
Frustration flares across his face as he realizes that any
further conversation would probably be overheard by the men on
the other side of the door.
"Yes," he replies tightly.
I nod my thanks, then kneel down on the mat outside the
door, placing the trays in front of me.
"Please excuse me," I say to the men I am about to serve,
sliding the door open with both hands. "I'm sorry to have kept
you waiting."
Apparently, my presence here is a surprise to no one, for I
am met with a literal wall of men, all trying to get a good look
at me.
"Oooooh!"
"So this is Himura-kun's woman!"
I blink. Ano... has Okami-san been here before me? Or are
they already assuming, since he brought me home last night...
And poor Himura. His head is swivelling back and forth
between me and the men, a faint look of panic gleaming through
his confounded demeanor as the men continue to comment loudly,
oblivious of his discomfort.
"She's a beauty!"
"She's older!"
"And she's so polite, just like Himura."
And now he is looking only at me, his pale eyes almost
desperate and pleading, as if waiting for me to do what any
innocent young woman would do in such a situation, and politely
deny their rash assumptions about our relationship.
But I will do no such thing.
"I'm Tomoe," I say, bowing towards the men. "It is a
pleasure to meet you."
"Hey, hey, *hey!*" Himura shouts at me in dismay, shedding
all pretense of courtesy in that moment. "What are you
*doing*?!"
I only glance at him for a moment. He is angry, yes.
But... ano...
He *is* blushing.
For some reason, I feel inexplicably pleased.
And the damage is done, for a tall, lanky man, with a thin
mustache and droopy eyes, has already draped one arm around
Himura's shoulder in a gesture of male camaraderie. "Hey, why so
shy, you big stud, you?"
"Iidzuka-san..." Himura growls, his voice gaining a
dangerous edge even as his blush deepens another shade.
Hm, from the mischievous grin on Iidzuka-san's face, it
would seem things are about to go beyond the boundaries of
politeness, so I think I'll take that as my cue to leave...
And not a moment too soon, for as I pad quietly down the
hallway, I hear Iidzuka-san's roguish question: "So, kid... how
was it?"
His reply is the instant snap of a sword being loosened from
it's scabbard for unsheathing--
--and I hear a startled yelp from Iidzuka-san.
"Careful, careful! Easy, kid, I'm just kidding!" And then,
softer, "Sheesh... I forgot that he's the Battousai."
I freeze in my own steps.
Forgot...
Yes. For a few moments there, as I was with him... teasing
him... I... forgot who he was.
And I feel my own eyes widen slightly as I realize that, if
only for a little while, the haze of grief and pain that has
clouded my heart for so long... was also forgotten...
~*~
*Akira-san...*
I clutch the broom until my knuckles are white, and sweep
the smooth wooden floor with swift, hard strokes, focusing solely
on removing every last speck of dirt from the floor.
Clean. Clean. Clean.
*Beloved...*
I clench my eyes shut briefly as the burning ache of
betrayal threatens to rend my heart.
Don't think. Don't...
The floor is clean. More than clean. I can see myself,
pinched and pale, in the polished wooden surface.
Ano... I... cannot be seen like this... with my mask of ice
melting under the white heat of anger... fear...
If he sees me now, he will know. He will know the truth of
why I came to him...
I need to work. Work will occupy my hands, my mind...
Perhaps... perhaps Okami-san needs help in the kitchen...
Broom in hand, I walk slowly through the long halls. The
purposeful movement calms me, giving me the chance to once again
blank my face and deaden my eyes, allowing me to hide my feelings
and intents from perceptive eyes. As I pass by each partitioned
room, I can hear the muted sound of men talking in low, intent
voices, whispering through the rice paper doors as I pass by...
I wonder where he is now. In one of these rooms?
Discussing war campaigns and strategies with the Ishin Shishi
leaders? Preparing to shed the blood of more people who are
helpless before the demonic power of his blade?
I enter the kitchen and slide the door closed behind me with
relief.
Okami-san is not here. But there is a pile of unwashed rice
bowels and sake cups in a wash bucket...
My hands move with swift automation. Soak. Scrub. Rinse.
Dry. Don't think.
Don't.
Don't think about how, just a few minutes earlier, you
enjoyed being in the presence of your beloved's killer... How
his young, scarred face and intense crystalline gaze filled your
mind and heart so that you could think of nothing else...
A rice bowel slips from my shaking fingers to shatter on the
floor. I am on my knees in an instant, picking up the large
shards, fighting the fear that is rising in my chest at the bad
omen that I myself have precipitated...
"Tomoe-san?" I look up to see Okami-san enter the kitchen.
She looks down at me and the shattered bowel.
"Go... gomen nasai," I whisper, looking up at her,
struggling desperately to keep my calm mask in place. "I was
careless, and I dropped it..."
"Don't worry about it, dear," she says kindly, as she takes
the broom from the wall to sweep up the scattered slivers of
glazed pottery into a small pile. "Accidents happen. Heaven
knows these old hands of mine have been guilty of dropping a rice
bowel or three."
She is being too kind to me. *Don't you know who I am?* I
want to shout at her. *With all the wisdom of age, can you not
see that you have welcomed a viper into your midst? My bite may
not draw blood nor leave a mark, but the poison is sure and
deadly all the same. And the murderer Himura, whom you love like
a son, will surely perish because of it...*
"Did you see him?" she asks suddenly, startling me, and I
glance at her, almost sure that the guilt I feel is plain on my
face. But no... she is smiling.
"See who?" I ask carefully.
"Kogoro-sama," she says eagerly, sweeping the last of the
ceramic shards onto a folded piece of rice paper. "He was in
Matsu's room when you served them breakfast."
Ah. The leader of the Choshu Ishin Shishi. "Ano... there
were so many men in that room..."
She clucks her tongue. "Oh, you would know him if you saw
him. He's easy enough to pick out of a crowd." A small smile
curls the corners of her wrinkled lips. "Tall, handsome, with
the face of a god, and the bearing of an emperor."
I blink, surprised at the muted gleam in her eyes. "Ano..."
She raises an eyebrow, and frowns in disappointment. "If
you have to think about it, you didn't see him." She sighs, and
slides open the back door to toss the clay debris out into the
dirt. "Ah, well." She smiles again and shrugs her thin, frail
shoulders. "I just thought it might be nice if you could catch a
glimpse of the man who is going to change the destiny of Japan."
"Ah," I say, with a nod and a slight smile. It seems to be
the appropriate response. "Well, there will be other
opportunities to meet him, I'm sure."
"Indeed." She dusts off her hands, and glances around at
the clean kitchen with approval. "Hm, well now. You really are
a wonderful help, my dear. But I think you've done enough for
today. Why don't you go take a bath now? After everything
you've been through, you deserve a nice hot soak."
For the first time in what seems like ages, a small, genuine
smile touches my lips. A bath *does* sound wonderful...
~*~
Just entering the bath house is relaxing. The air is warm
and moist with steam. Okami-san has left me a clean yukata, and
some hair needles. With practiced ease, I pin my hair atop my
head, then remove my work-worn yukata, letting it fall to the
floor around my ankles.
I bend to pick it up...
...and freeze, my skin growing cold in spite of the warm
room...
Okami-san was right. In spite of how well she cleaned me up
last night while I was unconscious, she apparently preserved my
modesty as much as possible... for I can see that there is still
a dead man's blood on my skin...
Moments later, I find myself sitting on a stool, pouring
buckets of frigid well water over my body, watching in numb,
almost mesmerized fascination as the reddish-brown flakes
dissolve and wash away. The water, swirling down the floor drain
to soak back into the earth, is tinged pink.
Shivering... I rinse myself thoroughly, again and again
until the water that flows off my pale skin runs clear and
untainted...
Ano... That's... better...
Closing my eyes, I ease myself into the hot and steaming
bath, submerging myself up to my chin. It feels soothing against
my aching, weary muscles... .and yet I cannot stop shivering.
Himura...
*You killed that man with the ferocity and ease of a wild
beast. Your eyes blazed feral gold in the darkness...
*And yet, this morning when you spoke to me, you seemed...
such a boy. An innocent, almost... Such a contradiction from
who you were last night, that I couldn't even see you as the same
person...
*How can this be? When the moment of death and destruction
is passed... how do you feel?
*Is there no remorse, no grief that touches your heart? Do
the murders mean nothing to you? Are you truly nothing more than
a soulless shell, a killing tool for the Ishin Shishi?
*...*
The memory of haunted amber eyes fill my mind...
...
*Or... does each death imprint itself deep within your young
heart?
*Do you remember the names of those you have killed, whose
blood has stained your hands? Do you remember their faces?
*Do you remember... Akira-san?
*And... if you *do* remember... how can you bear to live?
What is it that drives you to continue?
*I cannot tell. I do not understand you.
*You frighten me so...*
Ano... The water is cooling. How long have I been sitting
here?
... I need to go back. Okami-san must be wondering if I
have drowned in here...
~*~
The feel of a clean yukata against my skin is comforting, in
a strange way, as is the feel of the polished wooden floor
beneath my bare feet as I walk down the hall towards the kitchen.
And as I approach the sliding door... I suddenly hear his
voice. Low... yet clearly upset... and faintly pleading.
"...is ridiculous. Just... can't she stay somewhere else?"
I pause just outside the door... and listen.
"There *is* nowhere else," Okami-san's voice explains
patiently. "With Kogoro-sama here, all the rooms are full. We
haven't a one to spare."
Eavesdropping is not polite, I know. However, since I seem
to be the topic of conversation...
"But... she can't stay in my room!"
"Why not? She stayed there last night, and you had no
complaint."
"That was different!"
"How so?"
"Well, she was... unconscious."
"And now she is awake to appreciate your hospitality."
Okami-san's sly tone leaves no doubt as to her meaning.
He splutters. "Wh-what? No, that's just it! I don't
*want* to give her... uh... hospitality!"
"Then why did you bring her here last night?" Okami-san asks
coyly.
"What was I supposed to do, leave her? She practically
fainted right into my arms!"
"My, how romantic!"
A pained groan. "Okami-san..."
"I'm sorry, Himura-san," Okami-san says, her voice losing
its teasing tone, "but there is no other alternative. You
brought her home, therefore she is your responsibility. She must
stay in your room."
"But--"
"No 'buts'. You brought her here, and she has chosen to
stay with you. That means that your room is her room. If you do
not like the arrangement, you must take it up with her."
Silence. Then, a heavy sigh. "Fine. I will."
So intent am I on the conversation, I don't even have time
to move when I hear him walk towards the door. He slides it
open... and blinks, startled, as we once again look at each other
face to face, eye to eye...
"T...Tomoe-san," he says. And a faint blush -- of
embarrassment or anger, I cannot tell -- spreads across his face
as he realizes that I must have heard at least the end of his
conversation.
I incline my head towards him politely, my mask in place,
though my heart is thudding so hard within my chest, I'm sure he
must be able to hear it. "Himura," I reply softly.
He swallows hard once, twice... and then his flustered
features harden with determination.
"Okami-san says you are through with your chores," he says
with surprising calm, "so I presume you have no other pressing
engagements?"
"None." Oh dear... There's no putting it off now. Am I
ready for this?
He nods sharply. "Good. Then we need to talk."
Without waiting for a reply, he walks past me. I follow
silently, inwardly steeling myself for what is to come.
I cannot be weak now. I am confused by him, frightened of
him... but he cannot know that. He must not know that.
I must stay with him, no matter what.
He is heading for the garden. But, as he slides open the
door to the outside, a flash of dismay flickers across his face
as he sees that the garden is already occupied by several of his
comrades. He closes the door quickly before they can turn and
see us standing together in the hallway.
"Perhaps," I suggest, keeping my voice carefully neutral,
"we would have the privacy for discussion that you seek... in
your room."
He glances at me, irritated, for a moment... and then he
sighs. "Right. Come on, then," he says in a manner that clearly
communicates, *I can't wait to get this over with.*
His room is not as I left it. While the futon is still
folded neatly in the corner, I notice that some of his books are
once again scattered about on the table, and I wonder when he
found time to read today. Does reading... ease him? Does it,
perhaps, take his mind off the grim nightmare of his existence?
I kneel on the tatami mat, expecting him to do the same...
but instead, he paces for a moment, as if unsure what to do with
himself... then he goes and sits on the window bench. His display
of nervousness eases my own fears a bit, and I feel my own resolve
harden.
Himura... desolate, emotionally scarred man-child, or
heartless killer... whoever you are, you will not be rid of me
until I know for sure.
He takes a deep breath. "Tomoe-san..."
"Yes?" I look at him expectantly, and he sighs again,
closing his eyes, and bowing his head so that his flame-red hair
falls about his face, partially obscuring the long scar on his
cheek.
"So..." he says at last. "Swear you'll forget everything
that happened last night." He looks at me, waiting for me to
respond.
I don't.
"Um," he adds uncomfortably, "I'd like you to be on your
way now."
I blink, taken aback by his bluntness. Ano... he certainly
isn't one to beat around the bush...
"Am I an annoyance to you here?" I ask innocently, knowing
full well the answer. "Okami-san likes me," I add, as if that
alone should qualify me for permanent residency within his
personal quarters.
He looks at me then, his piercing amber gaze perplexed.
He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again, as if
struggling to find a suitable rebuttal.
"...Your family must be worried," he says finally.
His words send searing daggers of loss and guilt into my
heart.
"If I had a family to go home to," I say, with painful
honesty, "then I wouldn't have been out all alone getting drunk."
At that, he closes his eyes, a pained expression on his
face. "Look," he says, his exasperation suddenly tempered with a
softness that surprises me. "I don't know what's going on with
you and your personal life. But in case you haven't noticed,
there is a *war* going on. We're in no condition to look after
you right now."
For a moment, I almost falter. For a moment, his unexpected
sympathy for my plight almost makes me feel guilty for imposing
upon him...
But then, I suddenly wonder where that compassion was, when
he forever deprived me of my beloved...
"What will you do, then, if I refuse to leave?" I say with
deliberate slowness. "Will you finish me off? Like the dark
samurai you were last night?"
The bluntness of my question takes him off guard, and he
tenses with anger. For a brief moment, I see a fleeting glimmer
of killing fury in his eyes, and the sudden primal fear it sparks
within me is raw and terrible...
But then the glimmer is gone from his eyes so quickly that I
wonder if perhaps I didn't imagine it -- that I only expected
such a reaction from him because of my brazen, insulting
question. Though my rapid pulse says otherwise...
It is a forceful reminder to me. This is no mere youth
before me, but the Hitokiri Battousai. And I am playing a
dangerous game here, in trying to unravel the puzzle of his
existence...
I must be careful. And yet, I cannot be gentle with him,
either...
"Look," he says sharply, though his anger, to my relief,
does not seem murderous, but merely defensive. "Think whatever
you like, but I kill for a new era that will let everyone live
peacefully. It's not like I kill regardless of who it is. I
only fight armed Shogunate members. And even if the townspeople
are indeed enemies, I would never kill anyone who was unarmed."
"Ah," I say with a strange calmness, as if we were
discussing the merits of tea, rather than murder. "So, you would
kill people, good or bad, if they were simply holding a sword?"
I wonder if my question will spark the rage in him again...
But instead... the question seems to strike him like a blow.
He blinks at me in silent shock.
His stunned reaction is a revelation to me.
Ah... I see. He has not thought about it that way before.
And he doesn't like the idea, phrased in such a manner. No, not
at all.
"If that is the case," I persist quietly, looking directly
into his wide amber eyes, "then... if I had a sword in my hand
at this moment... would you kill me now?"
He stares at me in silence... and I can see no ready answer
within his stricken countenance.
That alone is disturbing enough to shake me to the core.
"I see," I say quietly, rising to my feet with a steadiness that
surprises me. "Well then. Someday, when you find the answer...
by all means, please let me know."
And with that, I leave the room, leaving him to stare at the
door as I slide it closed behind me.
Only when I am gone does he once again find his voice.
"Wa... wait!" he calls after me. "Do you really intend to stay
here?"
I don't respond. My presence in his room tonight, I muse
grimly, will be answer enough.
~*~
To be continued...