Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Infection ❯ Infection ( Chapter 1 )

Infection

 

The night was a downhill spiral once Kenshin was gone. Kaoru dreamed a nightmare of darkness and twining feelers which held her fast in the throes of terror. She twisted her sheets into knots, violently thrashing onto the floor onto the crumpled mess of her blanket.

 

Vines of some vicious plant, thorny and painful, seemed to wrap around her, cutting deeply into her tender flesh and slicing into her hard bone. Beyond this pain was there was the alien sensation of her body morphing, changing, taking on a foreign shape. The touch of this bush causing her metamorphosis, made her squirm and convulse as though possessed. What was she becoming?

 

It was not until dawn, when the sun chased away the force that had changed her, that Kaoru was able to rise, tired, and gaze at her new face in the mirror with dread. The pink morning light showed her a woman who was both familiar and strange.

 

The face was her own, all her features intact. The eyes, thankfully, were still the gems Kenshin had so admired with his gift of white tulips. Her mouth, partly open in surprise, dry from the night's exhortations, was still her own, if a bit pink from her gnawing on her bottom lip. But her skin, naturally the pale marble color so envied in sculpture, was- not quite glowing- but faintly glittered with an attractive light that seemed to pervade her very existence. Her hair had grown about four inches, touching her waist. It too had a glassy, silky sheen that seemly half-unearthly. There was something unreal to the look of her, as though each inch of her flawless body and had been airbrushed to perfection from reality to fantasy. Even her slightly flawed nose seemed unbearably adorable in a way she would have never thought possible.

 

The most striking thing was a mark, a black symbol resting below her right collarbone. It was neither raised nor sunken like a cut or scar, but was simple there. The closest thing to it was a tattoo.

 

She felt dizzy, seeing this version of herself. Falling onto her knees, she stared down at her uniformly rounded nail, devoid of heir usual paint scrapings. What was she?

 

Kaoru still didn't know.

 

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Lying at the foot of the stairs, writhing and contorted into a position that strained her muscles and joints to the limit, Kaoru couldn't breathe. She wasn't able to suck enough oxygen into her shriveled lungs to muster a scream. Even the faint whimpering that issued from her panting mouth cost her dearly, taxing her strength.

 

The moment passed, and she was left in an ungainly heap on the floor. It took her several minutes to climb to a standing position, clinging to the banister because of her shaking knees. Another fit, a seemingly harmless side-effect of the change.

 

Kenshin hasn't visited her since she boldly kissed him. She missed him, and his flowers, and his gaze upon her visage. Did he make her into this living fairytale? Or is this because of her dreams? Kisses, and flowers, and cold are things of the past now. Slumped over the banister with a headache, she wondered if he will ever return.

 

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As though her plea had reached him, Kenshin came to her that very night.

 

“You didn't take the light away this time.” Kaoru observed, holding out her arms to invite him into her embrace. His attention however was on the symbol on her collarbone. He touched the mark with light finger and sighs sadly. Ignored, she let her arms fall heavily. The faintest trace of a smile brushed across his mouth and he settled her into his grip before speaking.

 

“There is no point in trying to hide from you anymore. “A pause. “My name is written already on your skin.”

 

“Your name?” Kaoru blushed lightly. It was far more personal, more intimate than she would have ever imagined.

 

“Yes. You've changed...” The back of his hand wiped a tear she hadn't realized she'd shed. “When did it happen?”

 

“Just after the last time you were here. I had a nightmare, and when I woke up, I was like this. Different.”

 

“But still beautiful.” He assured her, dragging his fingers through her hair. She blushed again, a deep red this time, and covered her mouth with a delicate hand. A giggle escaped despite her efforts; no one has ever paid her such a compliment. The idea of Kaoru Kamiya, her, as a beautiful and desirable person is ludicrous.

 

“Thank you.” She mumbled, embarrassed by his sincerity. Would he still think her pretty if he saw her during one of her fits? She thought not. “I'm- I'm not really-”

 

“You are.” Her face felt hot, burning with a mixture of utter mortification and extreme delight.

 

And the her breath came short, and she gasped, in the grasp of another fit at the worst possible time.

 

Kenshin kissed her soundly, and air returned somehow to her lungs so that she was no longer quite so light headed. The violent twitching that had overtaken her thin limbs stops, letting her hold him in peace. When she drew back reluctantly, she fell back onto her bed.

 

An unexpected cure for her problem, but far more pleasant than any medicine, Kaoru was certain of that.

 

“How long has this been going on?” Kenshin demanded. To her it looked like his eyes were on fire, and she had t pause and regain her thoughts before she could speak coherently.

 

“Since the change.” She said. He looked desolate when she said that and she reaches up to pat his scarred face “It's not so bad.”

 

“I knew that it was...inevitable. And yet I pursued you, selfishly, anyway.” He said heavily. “I am sorry.”

 

“No, don't be.” Kaoru insisted. “You didn't make this happen.” Whether she was trying to convince him or herself, she didn't know.

 

“But I knew it would.” Kenshin admitted. “The Garden has taken you, too.”

 

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Below the mountains of the north, there lies a small village where time began and time shall end, and it lies at the center of the universe. Many things of great an magical significance happened around this village and in its country. It is a place of wonder. The town was called Time once, but it vanished one day and took on a different name.

 

This is that story.

 

Once upon a time, there was a Princess. No one knows where from or who the Princess really was, but she entered Time one day in a golden carriage pulled by unicorns, coming straight over the mountain.

 

The Princess was as lovely as the summer rose, as bright as the noon day sun, and as pure as a freshly fallen snow. Her hair was the exact color of love, her skin glowed with the prettiest shade of moon light, and her mouth tasted of honey and wine. Her yes, her most striking feature, were the precise shape of almonds and were like dreams.

 

She became the pride of the village. They built her a palace of stone and dressed her in the gowns of nobility. The enamored villagers worked all day and all night in order to buy her the finest gifts they could offer, in hopes of winning a small smile from the famed Princess. Should any stranger wander into the village, the men would fight to defend her to the death, paying no heed to the wives and children they already possessed.

 

But the Princess was a selfish woman, and nothing the village men did would satisfy her. She found no joy in her pampered lifestyle no matter what finery was lavished on her. No expense was spared, yet she grew more bored, day by day. Without her retinue of maids-in-waiting, and her assortment of princely consorts, she found herself lacking. But when she asked for these things, the village women would not agree to serve as her servants, nor allow their husbands, fathers, sons, and brothers to lie with the princess. And so she grew restless.

 

The other thing she loved dearly was to garden, and when deprived of the company she sought she decided to do so. The village fields and the housewife's vegetable patch were of no interest to her; so she was provided with all manner of rare and difficult flowers to grow. The princess's flowers grew perfectly, and her garden was the beautiful place in the village. But she had walls built around it, and locked the gate, and then tucked the key in her dress and said that anyone who wished to enter had to pluck the key from her bosom. The women of the village were furious; their Princess did not lift a finger while they toiled so that their husbands might worship her! Surely she could sell the seeds or blossoms and give back to the villagers. But the princess only laughed at them and called them common wenches.

 

And so the women struck back. They dressed in their finest clothes, from the elderly widows to the youngest maiden. And when their husbands demanded they work, they announced themselves the princesses of the village. They said that if Princess could have such nice things, why should they have to toil?

 

Now the husbands were in a quandary. If they did not support their wives, the women would leave them. But if they did, there would hardly be enough to feed the extravagant Princess and their women, leaving nothing for themselves.

 

And so the village men met under the chief, who himself had plucked the key from the Princess's bosom and entered the garden, and decided that there would be no Princess in their village. All women would be equal, and all men would be equal, and no one could shirk doing their share.

 

The Princess was dragged, screaming, from her palace, which was made into a library, and a public bath, and a games room for children. Her garden was left to grow wild. The village chief wed the Princess against her royal will, and life returned to normal in Time.

 

But the Princess would not dirty her hands in soil, nor even lift a finger to cook or clean. No, she sat there on the bed and complained. Of the sheets, of her clothes, of the food and the air she breathed, the Princess found fault with them all.

 

Indeed, the Princess only stirred from her bed to slip into her garden, the key of which she still carried in her bosom.

 

She dared not try to restore it, but would mourn over the loss of her only joy. Her tears watered the soil, the salt nurturing the plants. But no one ever caught her sneaking into the forbidden place until one night, when a boisterous boy, defying his good mother, climbed over the wall and saw a scrap of clot from the Princess's dress caught on a thorn.

 

The boy was forgiven this crime for catching the Princess, who was brought to the town jail as punishment. They shut her up with the robbers and murderers, who were delighted that such a lovely lady was to stay in their cell. For ten days and ten nights, the Princess suffered at their hands, until she could only sit in a corner and weep.

 

When the village chief came to rescue her, he told her that she had best behave, or he would throw in the jail again. Her heart grew cold at the thought, and she resolved to wreak her revenge on these men who had let her be torture by criminals and destroyed her beloved garden.

 

So she called on the village witch.

 

When the witch learned what the Princess wanted- dark power to annihilate her enemies-she shivered in fear, for the Princess's wishes were fearsome indeed. Still, the soft voice and gentle manner of the Princess persuaded the witch to help her if and only if she spared her and her little girl. The Princess consented, and the witch cast for her the spell.

 

With blood and thorns she boiled a potion. When the Princess drank it, it burned her from within.

 

The villagers were slaughtered, and their bodies ground into fertilizer. The town burned to the ground, and the Princess razed it and plowed it into one huge garden. The soil was of human flesh and ash, a terrible mix. The witch, having fled into the mountains, knew that any plant that grew here would be evil. So she brewed another potion, this one a potion of purity and light. She gave it to her innocent child, and laid her on soil of the Princess's garden.

 

The village was saved, the mixture of good and bad becoming magic, strong and swirling. It lifted into the clouds, becoming a separate world. The witch's child became its steward, keeping the seal that kept the Garden of Heaven from rejoining with the world.

 

For the Garden was alive. The flowers there were as dangerous as they were lovely, some doing good if used correctly and some causing only destruction. This garden had a spirit, a spirit that required a guardian. The guardian kept the power of the Garden locked, and prevented it from stealing souls and trapping them as flowers. Instead, the guardian forced it to use dreams as fuel.

 

The descendants of the witch became the guardians for a long time.

 

Until in the land that was the center of the universe erupted into war.

 

In the war, there was an assassin who fell in love with a woman. The guardian of the Garden at that time and the widow of a man he had killed.

 

But despite their attempt at love and marriage, tragedy resulted and the assassin's blade blindly killed the guardian.

 

Without a descendant to become the next guardian, the duty passed to the assassin. Because he was not a direct descendant, he could not truly control the Garden. But the love of the woman protected him. Instead of stealing his soul, the Garden made him immortal. The seal became a scar on the assassin's face. And the Garden, still locked from the world, lives on.

 

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Tomoe was in the Garden. As a restless spirit she drifted where she pleased.

 

And tonight, she wanted to be in the heart of the Garden, where it's spirit lived. She wanted to give it something it did not have.

 

A heart.

 

If the Garden stopped being a mindless devourer and began to love its protectors...if its magic changed again...

 

The maybe Kenshin and Kaoru could have the love she and Kenshin could never have.

 

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Thanks for all your reviews. Now that TI is finished (woo-hoo) I can really focus on the Garden of Heaven series. Next chapter, Kaoru visits the garden and Tomoe visits Kenshin (for the final time?). The world may never know.

 

Love the feedback, people. Let's keep that energy high! Yeah!

 

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