Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ When I Look to the Sky ❯ Chapter 3

Standard Disclaimers Apply
Rurouni Kenshin (c) Nobuhiro Watsuki; "When I Look to the Sky" (c) Train

When I Look to the Sky...
(A Songfic)

When it rains it pours and opens doors
And floods the floors we thought would always keep us safe and dry…

 

And in the midst of sailing ships we sink our lips into the ones we love
That have to say goodbye…

 

And as I float along this ocean
I can feel you like a notion that won't seem to let me go…

 

When I look to the sky something tells me you're here with me
And you make everything alright…

 

And when I feel like I'm lost something tells me you're here with me
And I can always find my way when you are here…

___________________________________________________________ ____

 

And every word I didn't say, caught up in some busy day
And every dance on the kitchen floor we didn't have before…

 

“Giving up so soon, Battosai?” an angry voice said with derision.

 

Flecks of amber rose and burst like stars in Kenshin's violet eyes as he turned smoothly, his quarry finally within his sight. His reverse-blade sword hung lax by his side, all the more dangerous for its seeming carelessness.

 

“This one does not believe in giving up, Jiro,” he said, his voice infused with a tranquil strength that struck his opponent's heart with a moment of doubt.

 

“Ha! Look at you, barely able to stand. I doubt even you would be able to last another round,” the man named Jiro responded, his eyes darting to the blood seeping through Kenshin's fingers as the red-haired man clasped his ribs, where someone had managed a lucky hit.

 

“Looks can be deceiving.”

 

Infuriated by his adversary's almost mocking composure, Jiro attacked head-on his blade thrust out in front of him as he charged.

 

Kenshin pushed aside the attack with a single jarring move and drove Jiro's sword from his hand. The weapon flashed in the air, an eerie flight, before it fell to pierce the floor with an audible thud.

 

“It is finished, Jiro.” Kenshin said kindly, leaning on his sakabatou imperceptibly as the sharp pain in his side continued to drain his strength. “You should go home… your father misses you.”

 

“That place isn't my home,” Jiro said bitterly, and Kenshin heard the unhappy words of a man who was barely more than a boy.

 

“You know that isn't true.”

 

“Isn't it?”

 

A gaze that held far too much cynicism for one so young, turned his way.

 

“Home isn't something that can be taken away from you. It resides wherever your heart is.” Kenshin replied with quiet surety, and felt the truth of those words in his bones… in the beating of his heart.

 

No matter where he went, his home and his heart would always be with Kaoru.

 

What would she be doing right now, he wondered. The corners of his lips quirked upward, his eyelids fluttering shut as images of his dark-haired love sped through his mind.

 

He imagined her inside the dojo, practicing her art, her brow furrowed in concentration and the light of battle flashing in her azure eyes.

 

Though she didn't know it, Kenshin had often watched her exercise from the corner of his eyes as he'd washed the laundry or swept the floor; barely able to keep his eyes off her lissome body performing the oft-rehearsed routines.

 

Sometimes he had imagined joining her in that sinuous dance, watching her face flush as she moved around him, with him, her sweat-slick skin gleaming in the firelight and her breasts rising and falling with each rapid breath.

 

`Time for that later'. Isn't that what he'd always thought?

 

When he was with her he could believe that the idyllic life she had shown him could last forever.

 

But now, looking at the aura of loneliness surrounding Jiro like a tangible thing… all the words Kenshin had never said rose up within him like a flood threatening to pull him into a sea of regret forever.

 

And despite knowing how dangerous it was for people to get close to him… it suddenly seemed worth the risk.

 

He would never know what it was that first alerted him, but Kenshin opened his eyes in abrupt alarm just in time to see a blade point driving toward his wounded side.

 

The remembrance of Kaoru, still vibrant in his mind's eye must have made him slower than usual to get out of harm's way, for almost in slow motion he suddenly felt the foreign blade sliding into the burning flesh of his already open wound.

 

Two drops of blood fell to the floor, the red liquid seeping inexorably into the wood grain.

 

Violet-gold eyes tinged with pain followed the sword protruding from his torso to the trembling hands that held the hilt and then up to Jiro's horrified gaze.

 

In one fluid moment, Kenshin's body crumpled, the blade pulling free of his body in a long bloodstained arc.

 

The pain of the impact as he hit the floor was excruciating, but he didn't have the energy to protest. Instead, Kenshin looked up into Jiro's pale, shocked face, his eyes swimming as he tried to retain a hold on consciousness.

 

The sound of a sword clattering to the hard flooring was startling in the sinister calm, and Jiro fell to his knees, tears streaking his face as he clamped both hands over Kenshin's wounds trying to stem the blood flow.

 

“You'll be fine. It's all okay.” Jiro repeated over and over like a mantra.

 

He should have realized earlier that the boy had never killed before. It seemed the deepest of ironies that the great Battosai had been felled by an unseasoned boy.

 

Kenshin wished he had something wise and prophetic to say to the youth; something to ease the pain of his first blooding. He knew more than anyone else how much it hurt to kill.

 

“Your father loves you.”

 

Barely audible, those were the words Kenshin managed to gasp out. And his last thought before darkness overtook him, was regret that he had never told Kaoru how he felt… when he'd had the chance.

And every sunset that we'll miss I'll wrap them all up in a kiss
And pick you up in all of this when I sail away…

 

A sigh. Trembling lips parting. Long black eyelashes, and the glittering tears gathered there. Falling finally, like stars, streaming over pale skin. Flashes of sensation in the moonlight. A touch. An embrace.

 

The body on the bed thrashed slightly as the hauntingly real images permeated his dream world, but it was the increasingly sharp throbbing in his side that finally awoke him.

 

The sight that greeted him was not what Kenshin was expecting.

 

He knew he wasn't dead, for even he figured the dead did not feel pain and the soreness of his whole body was too insistent for him to believe he was anything other than alive. But what was he doing in bed? Between clean sheets that smelled of spring days no less.

 

“Are you awake then, Himura?” a deep voice asked, it wasn't the boy Jiro's voice but both held the same inflection that informed Kenshin of where he was. He smiled serenely in welcome surprise.

 

By his bed, two figures sat side-by-side, backlit by a brilliant sapphire sky: Jiro, his eyes still anxious and by his side, an older man who looked too much like the boy to be anything other than his father.

 

Jiro fidgeted under the injured man's perusal but was stilled when his father put a large callused hand on his shoulder.

 

Kenshin nodded his approval but couldn't find the energy to form thoughts into words, so remained silent.

 

“You have brought my son back to me, Kenshin and I can never repay you for completing my family.” Tears gleamed in the man's eyes as a poignant look passed between father and son.

 

“Thank you, Himura-san.” Jiro spoke finally, reaching out to grip Kenshin's tightly.

 

That hand that had killed so many had finally been able to accomplish something praiseworthy and Kenshin squeezed back to bolster the lad.

 

He wanted to say that there was no need to thank him, but words seemed unnecessary and a voice was calling him back to the dream. With a serene smile, Kenshin drifted into a deep healing sleep.

 

When he came around for the second time, the room was empty, but an open window let in fresh air and he breathed deeply of the scented loamy earth and of sakura blossoms drifting on the wind.

 

Closing his eyes to ascertain the extent of his injuries, Kenshin realized that he was feeling much better, almost energetic in fact. With that thought in mind he pushed off the fluffy coverlet and strode to the window, letting the soft sunlight bathe his face with its comforting warmth.

 

The door to his chamber slid open and Kenshin turned, happy to see the face of his benefactor, Jiro's father, and head of the Nakamura Empire, who smiled back genially.

 

“Will you walk with me a moment?”

 

“Of course, Nakamura-san,” the redhead bowed graciously.

 

“Please, call me Keitaro. After what you have done for me, and for my family, I think of you as a close friend.” The elder said, waving away formalities as the two men strode through an empty corridor, outside to the extensive gardens.

 

They strolled in silence for some moments, the music of birdsong and the wind humming through the trees filling their ears.

 

Keitaro stopped in the middle of a miniature stone bridge and gazed down at the clear water rippling beneath his feet, its surface showered with pink flower petals.

 

Kenshin halted too, aware that the other had something important to say.

 

“Do you like it here?”

 

“Very much.” Kenshin replied appreciating the loveliness of his surroundings. “It is a beautiful and peaceful place.”

 

“Yes, it is.” Somber eyes turned to the wounded warrior, “I know you haven't had a peaceful life, or a place to go to, to find that peace.”

 

Well, that wasn't exactly true anymore, Kenshin realized thinking of the Kamiya dojo with a grin. But before he could reply the older man continued, “We are part of an older world, Kenshin. There is no place for us as these times pass us by.”

 

A frown furrowed Kenshin's brow; did Keitaro really believe that? More importantly, were his words true?

 

“I want to offer you a place here with us, Kenshin… not as a guard or a servant, but as a part of this family that you have restored.”

 

Earnest brown eyes met violet ones.

 

“I really made a mess of things with Jiro, ignoring him after his older brother died… I didn't even notice when he withdrew further into himself, because I felt just as lost. But I think that if you remain here, you can help Jiro… and me… not to make the same mistakes again. You are an honorable man, Himura-san.”

 

Kenshin's hands tightened on the bridge's stone railing, till he could feel the rough grain imprint itself on his skin. The man looked so hopeful, almost pleading as he issued the invitation.

 

Keitaro was offering him what he'd always wanted, what he'd been searching for… yearning for ever since…But how could he accept now, when…

 

`When what?' he forced himself to ask harshly.

 

“What was that?”

 

For a second Kenshin feared that he might have uttered his thoughts aloud, but Keitaro looked only puzzled and Kenshin flashed his practiced smile.

 

“Your generous offer has left me speechless, Keitaro-san,” he said slowly, allowing his gaze to wander, “but I need some time to think about it…”

 

“Of course,” the older man said, though his voice implied he was already certain of a positive answer and beaming he ambled off.

 

Leaving Kenshin alone with his misgivings.

 

On the one hand there was Kaoru who might still be waiting for him. And on the other, was Keitaro's irrefutable offer.

 

He yearned for the first and wondered about the latter.

Did they still watch for his return? He questioned, but could not think of an answer dispassionately as the older man's words echoed mindlessly in his thoughts.

 

Was there really no place for him in their world?

 

And Kaoru… was there still a place for him in her heart? Something that had once seemed so certain was now riddled with doubt, and Kenshin was torn between an old promise and the new.

 

The two months since he had left Kaoru, suddenly seemed like an eternity. And the method of his departure… without a word of where he was going and why, without even a promise of his return…

 

There was only that last kiss that lay between Kaoru and himself, that instant in which he'd felt as if two bleeding halves had been rejoined before being ripped apart again.

 

Could he spend his whole life without never again knowing that feeling of utter completion?

 

Much later, as the sun set in trailing hues of pink and gold gilding the horizon, Kenshin paced slowly toward the house, yet uncertain if his answer would be to stay, or go.

_________________________________________________________________ _______

 

Author's Note:

 

So, thanks go out to my lil' sister for suggesting the “have Jiro's dad invite Kenshin to stay with them” part of the plot of this erm… rather lengthy songfic. Even though it turned out to be much harder to write than I had first supposed, and I'm afraid the point did get a little lost. Sorry >_<!! I was originally going to cut out the second verse before she suggested that. Gah! I need to practice doing `one shots', I have a major problem with over-writing I think XP Please R&R

 

OCs:

Keitaro: “blessed”

Jiro: “the second male”