InuYasha Fan Fiction / Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ In the Arms of the Enemy ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

Ahhh I haven't updated in so lonnng. But don't kill me! I have excuses... o.O

Stupid history is keeping me occupied. In fact, I should be finishing my project right now, seeing as it is Sunday afternoon- scratch that, NIGHT. But oh well. I'm too damn lazy for my own good.

So..now that I'm done my little pre-rant...on with the chapter.

*

*

*

In the Arms of the Enemy

*

*

*

Chapter 4

*

*

The vast expanses of his mind encompassed him. The black surrounding him slowly faded into a brick red, as numerous bodies fell from the sky and sides around him at his feet. But he could not escape, nor ever forget. It was his punishment, his sin, and he couldn't turn back time no matter how he wished it.

Blood. The sickening smell of the coppery life, the sounds of splitting flesh bombarded his senses, as his head reeled. The ugly truth of what he fought to keep hidden for so long emerged in his subconscious, his mind's eye showing him the manslayer inside. He looked around, unable to tear his eyes off the uncountable amounts of corpses, some of them still twitching in the sickly shades of death. But how could they be dying? This wasn't actually real, right?

His eyes closed, as he leaned backwards, his body falling and colliding with something disturbingly soft. But none of this he noticed, not the impact or sudden surge of pain shooting through his stomach. His breath came easier to him, and the pain became more evident. He winced, his features contorted in pain.

But along with the pain came a soothing warmth, a feeling he couldn't exactly name. Light silently seeped through the darkness and the blood, as he was slowly pulled back up through the layers of unconsciousness. The soothing warmth soon took the form of skin, fingers, touching and smoothing his hair as they lingered on his head. And while though the burning of his side neared unbearable, it all became dimmed until the only thing he rocgnized was touch.

Her touch.

*

*

She payed her helper, as she hurriedly shut the door and scampered up the stairs. Trying to carry him by herself and prevent further injury at the same time had proven to been quite a challenge. So, with the help of a neighbour, she had succeeded in bringing him to her room. After leaving about half of her first night's pay on the counter for Akime, she had given the other to the generous man. Or as much as he would accept.

So now, she gently slid the door closed behind her, as she approached her fallen rescuer. Crouching on her knees beside him, she gently brushed the bangs from his eyes, as he shifted and mumbled slightly. She drew her hand back quickly, as she paused before rising to gather a bucket, disinfectant, medicines and old cloths. As she turned her back to him, gathering the necessary materials, his sounds of pain became louder.

She quickly dropped the cloths into the water-filled bowl and, scooping up medicines and bandages under her arms, rushed to his side. Setting the bowl down, she kneeled by him once more. Her eyes scanned his face, as her hands absently wrung out the water from the cloth. She transferred it to her other hand, as she dabbed at his forehead, small beads of sweat trickling down his face. And though he stirred, he showed no immediate signs of waking.

She untied the apron and set it aside in the laundry dish, and poured half the water from the bowl into it so the blood wouldn't stain. She bit her lip and grimaced as blood continued to trickle out from the wound. The cut had gone deeper than she had originally thought. He moaned once more, and she found her right hand caressing his cheek before she could restrain herself. She shushed him softly, as she retrieved a needle and some thread from the medicine box.

Taking a piece of bandage and the bottle of alchohol, she dabbed some of the burning liquid onto the cloth and held it nervously above the bleeding gash. She closed her eyes and swallowed, mentally cursing herself for her cowardice.

"Forgive me, but this will hurt."

She gently pressed the cloth to the outer edges of the wound, wiping away the blood as gently as she could. His hand clenched at her knees, and her left hand slipped into it, providing a form of release for his pain into her. And although he squeezed increasingly harder, she did not mind for she was the one causing his pain. The cloth dipped near the inner parts of the wound, and a drop of the alchohol spilled into the bloody flesh. His hand near crushed her own, and she winced slightly, apologizing softly. Removing the bloody cloth and setting it in with the laundry bowl, she retrieved the needle and threaded it.

She breathed deep, and exhaled as his hand slowly ceased the pressure on her own. Slipping her hand out of his, she rubbed it comfortingly. She tied a knot at the end of the string, large enough to keep from slipping through, as his head lolled back and forth on the futon. Wrapping her left hand in yet another segment of fabric, she pressed it firmly against the edge of the wound, as she slipped the needle into the flesh.

He surprisingly didn't act as violently in response, as she continued to cautiously sew his skin back together. As she slipped the kneedle through a final time and tied the knot, he moaned loudly. She paused, having been cleaning the kneedle and her hands, and looked over her shoulder slowly. She turned silently, as his eyelids fluttered, opening the smallest amount, revealing part of his dark orbs.

Fully facing him now, she cautiously slid on her knees towards him until she was leaning over him, her eyes watching him, tense and anxious. He blinked a few more times, and looked around through half-lidded eyes. When his gaze rested upon her, he started, just then noticing her. He quickly tried to sit up, and her hands shot out against his bare shoulders, pushing him down gently, as he gladly complied. A few beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.

He watched her, his eyes narrowed and she wondered if she had offended him. Her hand withdrew, her fingers twitching slightly before closing in a fist. It rested in her lap, as she averted her gaze and bowed her head. She wanted to speak, to express her apologies and concerns for his well-being...but she found the harder she tried to form words, the more they escaped her.

His voice broke the silence, tense and yet soft...strangely soft, as if he himself were unsure of the meaning. "You."

She didn't look him in the eye, or even dare to rest her gaze upon any part of him. She bowed her head more, her eyes level with her lap. Her head wavered slightly, but she did not deny his statement. And, after only a single word, she found herself wondering why exactly she had helped him. Though she reminded herself that he had saved her, so it was only right...she began to wonder if that was all it was.

She backed away, still on her knees and began to busy herself with cleaning the used supplies. She felt his eyes watch her, boring into the back of her head, as she turned and stood with the bucket. She carried it to the small wash basin, and poured the remaining fresh water in. The splash served as a welcomed sound amidst the awkward silence to her ears, and she closed her eyes as small drops landed on her face. She swallowed.

"I am sorry," she whispered, afraid to speak any louder. "I...I truly do not know why I have done what I did. I guess-...I guess I felt the need to repay the favor."

Her eyes still did not meet his, as she turned to the small wardrobe. She opened a drawer and searched for the article she had packed.

"Why," he spoke, his voice uneasy, "Why do you keep offering me such kindness? Such respect and dignity? You know what I am, what I have done. What is it that you want?"

Her hand rested on the top of the wardrobe, as her left one dropped to her side, swaying slightly. A sad smile came to her face, and she shook her head. "I need not anything from you."

"Then why do you insist on healing me? To hand me in healed and refreshed, only to be tortured to death? I could easily stand right now and slit your throat, or pierce your heart without you so much as blinking." His words were laced with venom, but such language and tones she had become accustomed to.

She turned, her eyes meeting him for the first time since he awoke. She offered him a smile, and her head leaned to the side slighty. In her hands, she held a navy robe.

"I know...but you won't."

*

*

His eyes widened slightly at her statement. And although his threat was certainly valid, she had somehow hit home. And though they both knew that he was certainly in no condition to move, when he was healed enough to commit the act he could. But what made her put so much trust in him...when she barely knew him? And more importantly...knows what he does?

*

*

She approached him tentatively, as he lay, his eyes distant. His gaze rested upon the ceiling, and he appeared to be deep in thought. So when she crouched beside him, resting on the balls of her feet, he snapped back with a start, and quickly fixed his gaze on her, his actions clearly stating the lack of trust he had for her. She merely smiled once more, as confusion rose onto his face for a mere moment before the empty mask usually occupying his face returned.

Her hand rose, as she re-positioned herself on her knees. It hovered over his wound, and she bit her lip.

"My apologies. I hadn't asked your permission before performing such an act."

Her words were met with silence, and she knew not whether to determine it as acceptance or rejection. So, hoping it was the former, she unfolded the robe and opened it into a manueverable position.

"Can you move?" She questioned softly, her voice soothing.

"No."

His blunt reply made her blink, and she shrugged lightly. "I need to sit you up so I can place this robe over you. It would not fare well for the wound to be exposed to the dusty air of this room."

He shrugged as best he could, and looked away. She sighed, and moved so she was infront of him as best she could be. Her hands slid under his shoulders sideways, and as she lifted him his hands pushed on the futon underneath. She tried to lift him with her own strength, but he was heavy and unable to help. As such, he swerved backwards dangerously, and she leaned forward, catching him and holding him up.

Strands of her hair drifted down from her bun, longer bangs falling to frame her face, as her kimono slid off her right shoulder slightly, enough to expose the creamy, unflawed skin of her shoulder and top of her arm. But she did not notice, the task at hand demanding her full attention. With a final heave, she was able to shift his weight so that he leaned forward, landing onto her chest. She teetered slightly, but held fast as his head lolled on her shoulder, his hands falling limp at their sides.

It was only when his head rolled to the side that she realized the lack of cloth between them. His cheek rubbed against her shoulder, and she forced her heartbeat to remain steady. There was nothing sinful about their current position. She was helping an injured man, and said events were just a result of helpful intentions. She continued to chant in her head, as she carefully slipped his right hand into one of the sleeves. But her resolves were scattered to the seven winds as his nose suddenly brushed against her neck.

She inhaled suddenly, the action shaking her body, as she unknowningly held the oxygen within her. She paused her motions, waiting for him to move. When several a minute passed without any movements, she attributed his actions to the pain and lack of awareness. But when his mouth opened to speak, and his breath floated against her skin, hot and moist, a blush crossed her cheeks.

"Why do you help me?" His voice was surprisingly desperate and lost, and her heart twinged painfully for him.

She chose not to answer his question, and busied herself with slipping his left hand into the opposite sleeve.

"I do not deserve your kindness...I do not deserve to have such peace and comfort."

Her hand paused, halfway up his arm, the sleeve in her fingers. After a moment, she continued to pulle the fabric up over his back and chest, her fingertips occasionally brushing against his skin. When she finished a makeshift knot, she leaned forward slightly against him, as they supported eachother. Her head rested on his shoulder, and she turned it to stare at the the wall, before closing her eyes.

"Everyone deserves to have someone to lean on." Her words hung in the air, as a comfortable silence surrounded them.

She yawned, and leaned back, wrapping her arms around him and gently lowering him back onto the futon. She pulled the edges of the robe over his chest and crossed them under eachother, aware of the way his eyes watched her every movement. She pulled the blanket up over his body to his neck, and carefully adjusted the pillow under his head.

She sat back, and looked at him, smiling slightly. His face was bunched in a light frown, his eyes questioning and piercing, locking with her own. She blinked and averted her gaze to the floor as she stood. Walking to the small window, she made sure the blinds were closed tightly.

"The sun will soon be rising over the hills. Please try and sleep." She turned back to him and smiled once more. She walked to the wall across from him, and grabbed a nearby blanket, laying it out on the wooden floor. She walked to the wardrobe, and retrieved another blanket from the bottom drawer. As she made to return to her makeshift bed, she heard his voice. And, for the first time since she had met him, she heard it with genuine concern.

"Where will you sleep?" The frown was ever present, but she wasn't sure that it was because of anger or judgement.

She smiled, or more likely smirked, as she pointed to the blanket on the floor. "Do not worry. You have more need of the futon than I."

She sat down on the blanket, and spread the other atop of her, before lying down and rolling onto her side away from him. "Please, rest."

He was more than glad to comply.

*

*

He awoke to the soft shuffling of material quite some time later. As soon as he regained consciousness, he became aware of the ever present burning of his side...and also the dull pulse in his head. He opened his eyes and slowly blinked away the sleepiness from them. His gaze found the small window, and, judging by the moonbeams filtering through the cracks of the blinds, it was well past sundown.

Another flurry of motion caught his intention, and out of pure reflex his head shot to the source immediately, his body tense. But he slowly relaxed as he came to realize it was only her...her. He had never actually learned her name, had he? A sense of enexplicable guilt came over him, as he realized that she had cared for him, treated him, nursed him and he didn't even know her name. And she had done it willingly.

Her back to him, he watched as she tied on the familiar apron, now clean of the crimson stains. The stains of his blood. She turned, and blinked at him, before walking to the small table in the center of the room. Picking up a cup, he watched as she approached him, and knelt down beside him. She lifted his head slightly and put the cup to his lips. A bitter liquid filled his mouth and throat, and he found it hard not to gag. His instincts told him to spit up the liquid, to vomit the vile substance. But it seemed as if she could read his indecision, for she spoke-

"Do not worry, it's only medicine." His eyes darted to her face, the warm, reassuring smile ever-present on her lips, and he found himself swallowing.

As she stood and cleaned the cup, he waited, waited for the slow liquidation of his insides, the traumatic death from acidic poison. But, strangely enough, all it caused was the removal of the throbbing in his head, and a dulled pain from his side. She came back his side and offered him water, to which he gladly accepted. It was against his better instincts...and nature...to trust her. But he found it harder not to.

His eyes drifted shut, as a sudden wave of fatigue swept through his body. He felt her soft fingers push the bangs from his eyes, and he instantly melted, a soft whoosh of air exiting his lungs. She stood, and he forced his eyes open, watching her every step as she neared the door. A rush of fear filled his body, why he couldn't understand. Fear of betrayal? Fear of being alone?

She looked over her shoulder, and her eyes narrowed only slightly, her lips curling into a small, delicate smile. It shocked him to no end, how she could turn a face he had seen all his life, into something of joy and peace.

"I must leave for work. When I get back, I'll give you more medicine and water; You shouldn't be trying solid foods yet. Alright?"

He found himself nodding, barely noticeable, but enough for her to see. She nodded in response, and walked out the door, sliding it shut behind her softly.

He listened for her footsteps, carefully recording the sound as she descended upon the stairs. As soon as he was sure she was gone, he rolled his head over to the side. Resisting the urge to beat himself senseless- although he wasn't sure he was fit enough to- he closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

What the hell was he doing here? For all he knew, she may be a spy, or an Imperial whore. But...that didn't make much sense. The fear in her eyes had been genuine that day. And if anyone knew how to determine fear...how to gauge the despair in people's hearts, he would think it would be himself. Countless lives slaughtered for what he thought was the greater good. And now look where he was; helpless in the hands of a woman.

...A caring woman. A kind, gentle woman, who harbored no ill-will towards him as he so far knew. He suddenly remembered he hadn't asked her name. His brow furrowed in a frown, as his head lolled towards the door. He watched it, waiting for her return, vowing not to forget to ask again. But somewhere along the way, sleep claimed him.

*

*

She trudged down the empty streets, the air cool, but cold enough for her to experience the feel of the shiver up her spine. She hugged herself closer, as she forced onward, down the dusty road to her apartment. As she neared the small, yet reasonably sized building, she felt the familiar sting of her eyes.

'Why now?', she cursed.

She roughly dragged her sleeve across her eye, leaving a red trail in its wake. The sting of her burning skin faded to the back of her mind, as she walked through the front door and pulled herself up the steps, her energy faded.

There was a time in everyone's life where a certain event would occur, and at the time you would seem strangely calm. But sooner or later, lurking underneath, were the emotions waiting to emerge, to make themselves present and let them out. It was that time for her. But she had never expected them to come so soon, or so harsh...

Her entire life, she had carefully trained herself, hiding her emotions behind a strong wall of emptiness. Hardly ever had she shed a tear, or become so lost in emotion and embarrassment that she couldn't form a word. In fact, she hadn't cried since the death of her mother.

Sad memories instantly came to mind, and she forced them back. Now wasn't the time. The sturdy wall she had built up was slowly crumbling around her, exposing her to the vast mix of emotions just waiting to attack.

She opened her door, and slid it shut, casting a mere glance at her patient, before heading directly towards her makeshift bed. She sat down, and brought her knees up to her chest. Laying her head down on her knee tops, she turned it to the right and gazed longily out the window. The moon shone bright, smybolizing the hope she had for a new future...but it was quickly shrouded by the dark clouds of night, and she felt her mood falling.

'I wonder what he's doing...'

Her silent thoughts went unanswered. She half-heartedly expected a reply, but a part of her knew no-one was here to help her through her grief. There was no-one to lean on, no-one to be her pillar, to support her in her time of need. She was alone in the world...again.

A crystalline tear slid down her face, over her cheek, resting on her chin before falling to the ground, the collision echoing softly in the dimly lit room. Her head turned inbetween her knees, as the tears came, unending, her small body shaking with sobs. Her shoulders raised and dropped in a captivatingly sad rhythm.

That's right...for the first time in eight years, she was alone again.

*

*

He didn't remember falling asleep...only the warmth that shrouded his body like a fine mist, drowning his senses. His body ached, his muscles were tense and sore from lack of use. He hadn't gone so long without moving at all, without having to fight or move swiftly among the trees and dark streets. Such were his thoughts, as the familiar shuffle of footsteps echoed up the stairs.

A sense of happiness overwhelmed him, much like a child receiving candy. Why, he didn't know. But when she walked through the door, and he saw her face...her incredibly sad, lonely, desperate face...he instantly saddened himself. Such a face he had become accustomed to...but only on himself. To see one of such happiness and hope wear a face of darkness and upset broke his fragile heart.

He closed his eyes, as she darted a glance at him, before opening them again when he heard her movements. He watched as she walked across the room to her blanket, and sat down, curling her knees to her chest. He stared, unashamed, at her face, studying her emotions. Minutes passed, and she gazed through the window, as the moonlight slowly began to fade. Soon after, he watched as a small tear slid down her face.

His eyes widened, and, as she began to rock herself gently, her cries muffled, he suddenly felt the need to hold her. To gather her in his arms, to whisper soft words to her and comfort her. To run his fingers through her silky locks, and assure her that everything will be alright. To just be there.

He had to avert his gaze. Not simply because he wanted, but because he had to. Everytime he watched another tear hit the floor, something inside him panged with hurt. But what bothered him the most was that he was helpless. Helpless to aid her. Helpless to walk over and comfort her in her time of need.

Helpless to be there for her at all, when she had already done so much.

His eyes closed, as he tried to block out her quiet sobs. Even when she cried, she tried not to disturb him, not to interrupt his sleep. Her kindness was immense, her love unbound. Every passing day he was with her, he wanted to learn more about her, to stay near her for as long as he could...which wouldn't be much longer.

So he lay, unable to do anything. Eventually, though, sleep slowly came through the hurt, through the increasingly softer sobs from her heart. And, to the sound of her quieted cries, he found himself drift into an uneasy, painful sleep.

*

*

Ahhh...so long...fingers...cramping...X_X

So..once again, sorry for lack of immediate update...eheh...--_--;;

My mom's on this whole "No computer during school days" kick, so I don't know how soon I will be able to update. In fact, I shouldn't even be on the computer right now..o.O

Oops..

Anywho, that's the latest in IAE...please, PLEASE let me know what you think...I mean honestly, how long does it take to click the "review" button and type a few words? O_O

Oh, and I did end up finishing my history project..partially during lunch..--_--;;

Also many thanks to "2 lazy 2 login"...since I do not know the actual username of said reviewer...but thanks anyway! Greatly appreciated, arigatou gozaimasu! ^_^

Until next time...

Uhm..

That's it...until next time...that's all...O_O