Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Compliance ❯ Conclusion ( Chapter 7 )

Rurouni Kenshin Fanfic

Rurouni Kenshin & Samurai X Original Japanese Version (c) N.Watsuki/Shueisha * Fuji-TV * SME Visual Works Inc. * Sony Pictures Entertainment

All Fanfics created by Chiruken (me) were written for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale.


Compliance
by: Chiruken
Conclusion

Time crawled by, seemingly endless in its eternal tormenting cycle. He felt isolated, more alone than ever before in his life. Kogoro, since their angry parting in the bathhouse, had been painfully polite, distant. He tried to tell himself that it was what he'd wanted, that it was better this way. He tried to tell himself many things, yet at night, while he sat staring out at the night sky, everything sounded false. He missed the tenderness his leader had shown him briefly. He missed the intimacy they'd shared, the first true moment of peace he'd felt since before his parents had died of cholera.

He sighed and shifted, the books at his back moving to an alarming angle. He knew it was pointless to dwell on it, that it had been an impossible situation and it was better to end things now before they got out of hand. He also knew that logic had very little to do with it. The simple truth had been his own increasingly split opinions on the situation. He rested his head against the books, closing his eyes. Part of him had enjoyed the shared moments while another part cringed in horror at what he was doing. Intimacy between a master and his student was perfectly acceptable until the student reached the age of manhood, yet he couldn't quite shake the feeling that what he'd been doing fell outside of the accepted norm.

He wasn't close to that age yet, but all that he'd done in his short time in Kyoto had set him apart from others his own age. He knew he was mentally more mature than others his age and he also knew that his current occupation set him above men older than him, at least in life experience.

He'd never felt the closeness shared between master and student with his shishou. In a way he felt cheated by this fact. Hiko had never once displayed a desire to do so either. He wondered if it was because he'd never quite reached the older man's expectations, or if it was something else entirely.

The old ways were changing, becoming something else. What was once socially acceptable…encouraged, even…had changed into something else entirely. Instead of it being a time honored tradition, it had been perverted into deviancy. Boys who would have been taken as lovers by their teachers were now being abandoned for the seamier, less than reputable districts where business establishments made their living by selling the favors of young men and women. The young men now dressed as women, wearing elaborate gowns and face paint, when before they would be dressed well but still retain their masculinity. It seemed the current trend was to appear as feminine as they possibly could. It turned his stomach. Tradition should not be tampered with.

There was also the issue with Saito. He hated to admit it, but he missed the other man's acid tongue and humiliating comments. It had been more than mere lust that they'd shared, despite his attempts at denying it. Their relationship had been mentally stimulating as well as physically. In the Shinsengumi captain he'd found someone who actually understood him on a deeper level than he even understood himself at times. It was disconcerting for him to admit it, even in the privacy of his own thoughts.

Idly, he wondered what Saito was doing. Was he even still alive? He snorted in self-mockery. Of course he was still alive. He was too much of a hateful bastard to die so easily. He absently rubbed at his wrists, the imprints of the ropes long healed though the memory remained clear, forever ingrained into his mind.

Wakashudo…the way of the youth…also known as bi-do, the beautiful way. It was a time honored tradition jealously guarded by the samurai for centuries. He'd never really given it much thought until recently. He'd always accepted the concept without thought, understood it on a deep, subconscious level. To question the tradition was unthinkable. It simply was. Shudo, as it was commonly referred to, had been around for nearly two thousand years as far as he'd been able to discern. It was supposed to be all that was best in human nature…a beautiful relationship of caring intimacy between a man and a youth.

He sighed. He knew this, accepted it as truth, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that his own circumstances fell outside the norm. Perhaps it was because he hadn't made the first move in either situation. With Saito, he'd been forced at first to endure the humiliation of being forced into intimacy. With Kogoro, the older man had made the first move, declaring his interest and coaxing him to join him in shared intimacy. Even the encounter with Shinomori Aoshi had been oddly non-traditional.

He sighed and stood, stretching his cramped muscles. He scowled when the envelope concealed within his gi crinkled, making its presence known once again. The killing would never end. He would be sent out again and again, his sword becoming ever more stained with the blood of his targets, his soul falling further into the fires of damnation. He wasn't entirely certain if he was completely sane anymore. It troubled him that he couldn't say for certain that he wasn't falling into madness. He could only assume that this wasn't a good sign.

He shook his head slowly and turned to stare out the window again. He didn't want to continue on this path he had chosen for himself. He didn't want to continue killing, cutting men down in the darkened streets without honor. Maybe that was the source of his growing dissatisfaction. He sighed and shook his head again. He knew that wasn't it…not entirely at least.

A sound just outside the shouji to his room caught his attention. He turned, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana and waited, head tilted to the side as his eyes narrowed in contemplation. He could detect no further movement, yet he was also aware that whoever it was standing outside his room hadn't moved on either. Expression hardening he crossed the short distance silently and reached out to remove the obstacle, partially drawing his katana in the process, intending to be ready for whatever awaited him.

As the shouji slammed open he found himself staring into the surprised dark eyes of Tomoe. Quickly stepping back he slid the blade into its saya and bowed slightly. “My apologies. I didn't expect you to be there.”

She returned the gesture, her hands fluttering nervously over the tie closing her sleeping yukata. “I…” She began only to stop and shake her head. “I'm sorry. I should not have come.” She turned from him, ready to flee back to her own room.

“Wait…” He reached out and touched her arm lightly. He didn't know why he was stopping her. He should let her go, return to her room, and forget about the entire incident. He knew he couldn't.

She looked at him curiously. “Yes?” Her eyes fell to the hand still resting on her arm. It was the first time he'd intentionally touched her without violence behind the gesture.

He dropped his hand to his side and looked away. “It was nothing.” He murmured softly, not daring to look into her eyes again, fearing that his own troubled emotions would show in his expression.

“Nothing?” She repeated softly, studying his averted features closely. For a moment she thought she detected a faint blush staining his cheeks but immediately discarded it as ridiculous. “Very well. Good night.” She turned and quietly padded back to her room, silently berating herself for a fool. She should not have gone to his room at such a late hour. She should not be seeking out his company at all for that matter. Pausing at the corner she glanced back over her shoulder to find him still standing in the opened shouji to his room staring after her with an enigmatic expression in his unusual eyes. Biting her lip she hurriedly continued on her way. His eyes frightened her.

Shaking his head slowly he closed the shouji soundlessly and crossed back to his window to stare out over the shadowed yard of the inn. He felt penned in, trapped. He needed to breathe in the fresh air of the night and collect his thoughts again. Stepping onto the window ledge he paused and looked up at the roof above him. Gathering himself, he jumped, easily catching the edge of the roof and pulling himself up. Quickly making his way to the peak he sat, perched on the smooth tiles, and watched the clouds moving over the surface of the moon. It was a beautiful, if cold, night. He wished to find a place of solitude, if even for a few short hours. The roof of the inn was still too close to humanity for his peace of mind.

Looking around quickly, he made his decision. He would go, just this once. Quickly standing, he looked around and silently darted across the roof, steps sure and careful. He reached the edge and looked around again. So far so good. No one had detected him, yet. He didn't want to have to answer awkward questions, not now. Studying the pattern of the guard's moving around the perimeter he almost smiled. Their movement was painfully predictable. They would have to work on that if they wished to live for much longer.

Stepping forward, he dropped from the roof, landing lightly in a crouch, form hidden by the shadows. He waited the space of several heartbeats, counting off the sentry's steps in his mind until he had moved passed his location. Swiftly moving forward, he darted out the gate and into an alley on the other side of the street and waited to see if he'd been detected. When no alarm had been raised, he turned and continued walking slowly away from the inn. He didn't really know where he was going, only that he had to get away from the inn before he was overwhelmed by the impossibility of his situation.

Without Saito and their nightly meetings, he no longer had an outside outlet for his need for punishment. He was ashamed to admit that he'd begun taking matters into his own hands. Absently rubbing his arms he shivered, knowing that Saito would be most displeased if he learned of what he'd been doing lately. Of course, it didn't really matter now. He doubted he'd ever meet the Shinsengumi captain again outside the heat of battle.

It didn't take long until he realized just where his absentminded wandering had brought him. He stifled a groan of impatience. Whatever possessed him to come here of all places? The red-light district held no appeal for him. He could think of better ways to spend his money and waste his time. He turned away abruptly and headed in a different direction.

Suddenly he stopped and looked over his shoulder again, eyes narrowed curiously. He thought he'd recognized one of the men leaving the brightly lit building across from him. Stepping back into the shadows he watched intently before he recognized the familiar man. He snorted softly, not at all surprised to discover that he frequented such establishments. As far as he was concerned, Iizuka was a disgusting excuse for a man, his mind filled with dirty thoughts that he enjoyed sharing with everyone around him.

Snorting softly, he turned away and disappeared into the shadows of an alley, quickly leaving the area. He may not like the man, but so far he'd never really done anything to him to warrant action against him. Kogoro seemed to trust him, so he could do no less than his leader.

He wandered aimlessly through the streets of Kyoto, carefully avoiding unnecessary contact with others, skirting around patrols of Shinsengumi and resisted the urge to seek out Saito Hajime. There was no point in doing so. He'd ended their association and he intended to stand by that decision no matter how much he may regret it now.

His mind was in turmoil, contrasting thoughts flitting through at irregular intervals. Thoughts of Tomoe, Saito, Kogoro and his shishou mixed and mingled, became tangled, muddled. He was confused and felt utterly lost and alone. He longed for the guidance of his shishou. Though Hiko could be cruel and overbearing at times, he was also steadfast and much more knowledgeable than Kenshin could ever hope to be. Simply put, the older man was filled with lessons learned from his own life experiences and throughout their time together had helped the younger man gain understanding and confidence after his traumatic time with the slave traders.

Unlike Hiko, Kogoro Katsura had treated him with kindness and tenderness. The Choushu clan leader had many years of life experience beyond himself, but now he'd never get the chance to learn from him. He'd successfully alienated the older man, just like he'd done with his shishou. It was through Kogoro that he'd first felt a gentle, almost loving touch. He was thankful to the older man, yet he was also troubled. He didn't understand why his leader had chosen him. He couldn't understand his feelings in the matter. His suspicions led him to believe that the older man had actually felt something akin to love for him, which left him feeling even more uncomfortable. He didn't feel he was deserving of such a tender emotion, not after all that he'd done in the few short years he'd been in Kyoto.

Then there was Saito Hajime, captain of the third squad of the Shinsengumi. By all rights they were enemies. Their sole purpose was to kill each other. Yet they hadn't. They'd engaged in intimacies that they had no right doing. If their relationship were to ever be known, it would be certain death for them. It was treason, pure and simple. Sure, he'd thought of killing the older man just as he knew Saito had thought of killing him. They never did, though. He didn't know what was worse…admitting that he'd needed Saito's cruelty or the fact that he'd betrayed the cause to go to him.

His steps took him through the night-shrouded streets of a sleeping Kyoto, from one end to the other and back. He skirted the areas he knew were occupied by men from either side of the conflict, not wishing for a confrontation of any sort. He needed peace and quiet, solitude in which he could be alone his thoughts. He didn't want to be around other people when he was feeling so unbalanced. He didn't think it would be safe to do so.

His meandering walk finally ended when he found himself staring at the familiar rundown exterior of the abandoned warehouse he and Saito had used for their rendezvous. He shivered in the sudden chill and shook his head sharply. Why he'd come here of all places was beyond him. It wasn't as if he had enough problems pushing the memories aside, he had to add to it by returning to the warehouse those same memories had been generated in.

He turned to leave when suddenly he stopped and closed his eyes, listening to the distant sounds of humanity engaging in the night life the city offered. Hesitating for only a moment he turned back to the large building and crossed the street to pull the door open. Stepping inside quickly, he leaned against the door, heart thudding painfully in his ears. He looked around the shadowed interior, amber gaze falling on the items still left from their last meeting. It seemed as if Saito hadn't wanted the reminder either.

He crossed the creaking floor slowly, steps unhurried as his eyes moved over the large room. He was alone. Slowly kneeling by the edge of the blanket he reached out a trembling hand and touched the rough wool before snatching his hand back. Reaching for the lamp, he lit it with shaking hands, watching as the wick caught and flared to life. Setting it aside he waited for his eyes to adjust to the sudden light.

Reaching inside his haori he pulled out a small dagger and held the blade up to catch the light from the lamp. He stared at his reflection in the glittering surface, noting the troubled expression on his own face. Sighing, he set the blade aside and removed his haori, folding it and placing it on the blanket. Shifting, he pulled his daisho from his obi and set it to the side before stretching out on the dirty blanket, head resting on his folding haori, arms behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling, watching the shadows dancing with the flickering light.

He was lost, without purpose. He killed men nearly every night and he no longer knew why. He's given the black envelope with no further instructions. He went out into the blackness of night and carried out his orders. He was getting good at killing people. He no longer got blood on himself. Then Iizuka, slimy weasel that he was, would arrive and inspect the kill, make certain it was the correct target and the he really was dead. He would return to the inn and dump bucket after bucket of water over himself in an attempt to rid his body of the stench of death. It never worked, though. He could always smell the blood no matter how often he washed. He didn't like killing. It made him feel dirty.

He closed his eyes and sighed softly, shivering slightly in the chill of the room. He decided that that was where his problem lay. He didn't enjoy taking the lives of his targets, yet he was duty bound to continue doing so. He sought ways to punish himself for the crimes he committed against humanity all in the name of the restoration. His ideals were long dead, drowned in a flood of never ending bloodshed. He understood what his shishou had been trying to tell him now. He'd been a fool. He should've listened instead of rushing off as he'd done.

His quest for punishment led him to do things that normally would turn his stomach. Now that he didn't have Saito around to help him, to hurt him as he seemed to need, he had to find other ways to do so. He needed physical pain to counter the agony within his heart and soul. He took chances now that he'd never done before. He knew, in a small part of himself, that he was courting death now. Whether he lived or died mattered very little to him. He fulfilled his duties and he suffered…alone, silent. He had no one to confide in, not now, not since he'd alienated himself from Saito Hajime, the only man who'd understood his quiet suffering.

He missed the other man. He missed the way he'd taunt him, pushing him nearly passed his endurance only to pull back and smirk at him in a superior way. He missed the way he'd look at him, narrowed amber eyes filled with understanding and an answering pain. He missed the other man's touch, rough as it had been. Saito had been able to make him forget, just for a while, what he was. To the Shinsengumi captain he wasn't the terrifying Hitokiri Battousai. No, he'd been his lover, his willing submissive, someone he could find release through.

He passed a hand over his face and squeezed his eyes shut tight, feeling the sting of tears. He was lost, had been for so long that he couldn't remember any other way of living. He didn't know if he loved Tomoe, but he did know that he needed her acceptance, her quiet dignity to enfold him. He didn't think it would be possible, not after all he'd done…would continue to do. He may have cut off all ties to his male lovers, but he still longed for them. How could he ask Tomoe to accept that? It was unthinkable. But worse still was the thought of touching her with his bloodstained hands. How could he do that to her? She deserved better than that.

He allowed his hand to drop to his side again. Slowly he opened his eyes, blinking back the tears forming to stare sightlessly at cobwebs hanging limply from the ceiling. He had no choice. He had to go on, to continue down the path he'd set for himself. He may hate what he'd become, but that gave him no right to abandon the cause or to run from the truth. He knew instinctively that his mind was damaged, that he'd done it to himself. There was, to the best of his knowledge, no way to fix it. The only thing he could do was continue on, put it as far from his consciousness as possible, and never fall into the same trap again. If he didn't acknowledge his twisted cravings, then he wouldn't feel compelled to satisfy them. He disliked lying, especially to himself, but he felt the situation called for it. He would continue, perhaps he would find the courage someday soon to speak with Tomoe, maybe she would welcome his advances, he hoped so at least. As for the rest, if he didn't dwell on it, then he wouldn't have to accept that part of himself that was so terribly wrong.

He stood in one fluid motion, retrieving his haori and daisho. He looked down at the lamp, the flame dancing in a draft whistling through cracks in the walls. He resisted the urge to kick the small light over, knowing that the resulting destruction would solve nothing, merely cause more problems later for the innocents dwelling in this part of Kyoto. Quickly bending, he snuffed the tiny flame out before striding across the large open room, his footsteps eerily silent from long practice. Pulling the door open he stepped outside, cautiously looking around, determining that he was still alone before allowing the door to close behind him with a bang, signaling the end to a chapter in his life. He would not think of it again, he silently vowed as he strode away, back towards the inn.

Somewhere, deep within the recesses of his mind he heard soft, mocking laughter.