Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ I'll Be Waiting ❯ Prologue

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

I'll Be Waiting was written by Rin.
Misao Makimachi, Aoshi Shinomori
all Rurouni Kenshin characters are the property of Watsuki Nobuhiro.
"Will you Wait for Me?" performed by Kavana
homepages::: Black Winter >> Idiosyncrasies >> Ahou Ga

I'll Be Waiting
love surpasses time
And time will pass me by
Maybe I'll never learn to smile
But I know I'll make it through
If you wait for me
say you'll wait for me


He was finally home.
He could feel the sweat beading at his brows, sweat building around his body. There was a slackness in his stance, more from exhaustion than of anything else. A small aching numbness assailed his right arm, another constant reminder that he was not getting younger as time passed. Never in his whole life had he felt so tired, so old.
So alone.
Will you wait for me?
His head told him that what he did was right and proper; it had been the only thing he could have done, given the circumstances; pride and honor were the only things he had left, the only things he had sworn to follow and preserve. Yet his heart called him many times over a fool. *The* fool. It was for his so-called honor that comrades --no, more than that! Friends-- had fell, dying to protect him while he stood helpless, unable (and afraid, a voice in his head taunted) to do the same--
::Hannya, minna-san, forgive me::
--so-called honor, that very nearly allowed him to turn his back on the one family, the one chance that he did have left; forsaking everything, in his blind rage and twisted perceptions of revenge. Even now, he could see the shock on Okina's face, as his kodachi sliced cleanly through the air, a symphony of blood and violence matting its blade long after the song had ended. The way *they* looked at him as he turned to walk away, away for an eternity and more; as if he was something less of the man they once knew. He knew, because he could feel their eyes on his back, judging, assessing, but worst of all, saying nothing, watching him.
A stranger. A shadow. Perhaps he was, then.
Do you think I'm pretty?.....
But it was in her eyes where pain had struck and hurt deeply, a final blow harsher than any even the Hitokiri Battosai could deliver. Accusing yet pleading; betrayed yet torn; deep blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears he longed to wipe away, but never had the courage to. If he wished hard enough, he could almost hear her voice, always a long, light silvery peal, whether she was happy or angry or sad.
That was a laugh. He had always thought himself brave; dancing with death more times than he could remember, a faithful mistress he had courted all his life, never knowing when she would accept his proposal. He had risked his life, given up everything; and all he got in return were scars that would never, could never heal, both in body and in mind.
He had never known that all the while, he had truly been dying, wasting away.
He was weak, when he had once thought himself strong.
Will you be back? Will you?
So perhaps they were right all along. He was less a man, less than even a shell of a man, without a spark of life and joy remaining within. Not even death could have devised anything so cruel.
His useless honor. His damned honor.
He'd been gone for almost forever.
But forever was done, and he was back.
Could I be someone you can love, Aoshi-sama? Could I?
He could remember as a child, of his mother reading him beautiful fairy tales she herself had learned in her youth; page after page, and book after book. He had listened, and he had dreamt.
Oh, how he dreamt.
He dreamt of monsters and damsels in distress, of rainbows and the clear blue sky. He dreamt of warriors in silver shining armor, off to right wrongs and uphold justice and all it had entailed. He dreamt that someday, when he was old enough, he would be one of those warriors, dashing and brave and true, who would rescue his lady love and live happily ever after for all time; a story of love and magic and happiness.
But then he grew up, and saw reality for what it truly is. And once he knew, he could never come back. Not anymore.
There was a reason why they were called dreams, after all.
I will too, you'll see. When you come back, you'll see that I'll be waiting for you. I don't care how long it'll take.
He didn't know how long he had been standing there, just looking. The dojo looked the same, unchanged as the day he had left it. The porch was spotless, save for a small stain that no one had really been able to fully remove; the only remaining evidence of a spontaneous food fight by some of the younger members of the Oniwabanshuu. The sliding door was as rickety as always; Okina used to joke on who would fall apart first; it or him. A small cooking pot stood on a far corner of the small garden; a strong smell of something that can only be called food wafted through and reached his nostrils, realization that lunch was fast approaching.
It had been the third time he had left this place; the first had been during the Bakumetsu no Douran War, the second when he had betrayed them all to join the madman Shishio's Jun Pon Gatana. It had not been long before he had set out again. The memories, her closeness, had been too painful.
Was he the only one who had changed? Would they even remember him? Would they take him back?
Was she waiting for him?
You'd better be coming back and soon, Aoshi-sama!
Her words came drifting back to him, as it had many times during his long sojourn. She had confronted him then just as he prepared to leave, vainly trying to hide the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes, behind a mask of false bravado. He could remember every single trace and feature of her face, stamped indelibly in his memory. She had told him - no, ordered him, the memory still made him smile - to come back to her as soon as his journey was through. Then she had surprised him by kissing him, hard, on the lips, before turning to flee back into the safe confines of the dojo, leaving him to stare after her in astonishment. Much to the amusement of those who had been watching.
He had always thought himself too old for her; the curse of a battle-hardened veteran in love with a much younger woman. He had never told her how he felt, never wanted to, even when he could see the hope shining in her huge blue eyes, eyes that could have swallowed him whole if he let it. She deserved someone better; someone who could dance attendance on her, shower her with everything that money can and can't buy. She deserved someone who would make her smile, instead of one who had made her cry; and especially not someone with demons buried within him, still struggling to break free.
She deserved someone better than him.
Gods, he couldn't wait to see her.
And when you come back, I'm gonna take you and hold you in my arms.....
He took one step towards the dojo, then another, surprised that he was shaking. Fear. He had watched many die; had administered some of the killings himself; yet he was afraid to set foot into that house, afraid to find out if her feelings for him had changed. Too much time had passed.
But decision was made for him, as the door of the dojo opened.
Okina looked gaunter, frailer than he had remembered, clothed in his usual grey. Weak as he seemed, he still generated a kind of inspiring awe that radiated throughout his whole being. He had been the prime swordsman of his time, but even now his strength and skills had barely lessened; he still moved like the fighter he had been bred to be.
That same strained face turned to look at him, unsurprised to find him standing there, back from his wanderings. "Welcome back, Aoshi." It was a tense greeting.
At first, he took no notice, acknowledging it with a nod of his head. It was all he could ever expect of them, in light of the events that had come to pass. But there was a terse, blank look in Okina's eyes that he had never seen before. He felt himself straighten up, almost expecting a battle. "Okina. What's wrong." It wasn't a question. He could sense it in the air now, dark and foreboding.
The older man hesitated, as if unsure of what to say. The feeling of dread grew. "Aoshi....while you were away....I'm afraid that I have some bad news. I think it would be best if you come in first."
....and never, ever let you go.
************
He was finally home.
Water dripped down his face, but it wasn't from sweat. There was a weary slackness in his stance, more from a strange listlessness than anything else. He felt a small, painful numbness, but it was no longer in his right arm. Never in his whole life had he felt so alone, felt so strongly the need to break down and cry.
He sat alone. But he knew he wasn't alone, hadn't been for several hours now. She sat with him as well, ever since he arrived. She was here with him. And for that, he didn't know whether to laugh like a madman, or to curl up and cry like a newborn baby.
You'll wait for me too. Right, Aoshi-sama?
Oh, but he had been mad. There had been madness. The madness had came when he knew, when he had been told. And he welcomed it, the sick taint, to wash over him; trying to forget, trying to remember. The others were shocked at the intensity of his anguish and rage; he had never been one to show emotion, if any at all.
It had been a sudden sickness, they said. A sudden epidemic that had swept over the area, taking thousands and even tens of thousands. There was nothing he could have done, they assured him, even if he was there.
He didn't care. All he cared about was her. That he was here for her, and she didn't know it.
She was still so very beautiful.
And she never even knew.
"Aoshi, ...she wanted to tell you when you came back...that she was still waiting for you."
It had been the first time he could remember crying, the only time he would cry. And it will be the only time he would cry.
When it was for her.
The rest of the days that followed had been a blur.
And yet he remembered. He remembered bathing her body in fresh water, clear and sparkling. He could have bathed her in his tears if he tried. He remembered dressing her up in her favorite kimono, brushing her hair until it shone, kissing her soft lips, holding and cradling her during the long nights, the few remaining nights when he could hold her and cradle her and cry for her.
Now, his hands slowly reached out to touch her, and only felt the hard smoothness of white stone.
Too little.
Too late.
But I'll wait for you! I'll wait forever and ever and ever....
But he did have a dream, just the night before.
And he had dreamt of monsters and damsels in distress, of rainbows and the clear blue sky. He dreamt of warriors in silver shining armor, off to right wrongs and uphold justice and all it had entailed. He dreamt that he was one of those warriors, dashing and brave and true, who rescued his lady love and would live happily ever after for all time.
And in his dream, his lady love had welcomed him into her arms and her kiss, clear blue eyes shining with love.
There was a reason why they were called dreams.
He rested his forehead against the cool marble. "I will wait for you." He whispered hoarsely. "I will wait for you, even if it takes me my lifetime. Will you wait for me?"
I love you, my Aoshi-sama.
And slowly, painfully, he stood to leave. He would keep his promise, as she did hers. He was right. A lifetime stretched out before him.
A lifetime without her.
But she would be waiting for him.
I'll wait for you forever and ever and ever.....
And from a distance, he could hear laughter, her laughter, long and sweet, drifting back to him.
Forever.

and all the tears I've cried
no matter how I try
will never bring you home to me
won't you wait for me
in heaven?