Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Life after Death ❯ Life After Death ( Chapter 1 )

Authors notes: I'm Back!!!!! (From the dead) and I have a new fic. Please review and be nice! This my first real shot at writing angst! Anyways this fic is meant as a one-shot but if anyone has an idea to continue it from here I have no objections! Please review and tell me how you feel. I didn't one exact character in mind but its my tribute to Rurouni Kenshin. I cant think of any character whose brother is dead and I don't know the series that well so…

LETS BEGIN!

Fanfic: Life After Death

We knew it was coming for a while. You would think that death strikes' quickly taking its prey without any warning. The truth is it's most often a long drawn out process. So long that it leaves a stain where it was, the bad smell of decay lingers days, month's years after. The way it does in my village. The way it did.

I try to keep my eyes concentrated on the task ahead of me; if I don't my mind will wander and the dishes will be neglected. Wiping off my bowl I place it in the neat stack to my right and reach for the next dirty dish to wipe down. I move with all the efficiency I can muster with only four hours of sleep. The ryokan must be kept up at all times. We advertise finest quality service and we must keep our promise to our customers, and my sleep is just a small price to pay. If the inn doesn't stay in business I will be out on the streets with no food, home, and money. 'Just like before 'a nasty little voice inside my head tells me. Sharp tears prick at the corners of my eyes and I blink hard to keep them back. After all this time I still cry, I am so weak. It's not like I'm new too poverty. Poverty has always been around in my life. In this time period no one can escape the reality of hard work. It wasn't always like this though, in the past there was always hope, comfort a sense of stability that made the work bearable. Now there is nothing, just the endless stretch of work. One day that stretches into an endless ocean of others, all the same.

The bowl in my hand slips and falls to the ground. The loud noise it makes when it hits the floor snaps me out of my trance. The servant girl beside me looks up from her work for a second and then quickly looks down in fear. I know that look too well and I know what comes after it also. I look up just in time to see the large overseer move her hulking body over to us. I quickly lean down to pick up the pieces from the broken bowl and slip them into the sash of my kimono. I stand up and reach out for the next bowl trying to make myself seem as guilt free as possible. The overseer is now standing directly behind me and I can feel her breath on the back of my neck. I shudder slightly.

She addresses me appropriately. "Hey! You girl!" She has my attention now if she didn't earlier.

"Yes obaasan?" I reply as politely and demurely as possible. It doesn't matter, I receive a blow to the side of my head that I'm sure will be throbbing for several hours.

"Don't 'grandmother' me! Do I look old to you?!" She shouts into my already ringing ear. I resist the temptation to rub my bruised ear since that will only provoke her more.

"Excuse me ma'am, I didn't wish to seem impolite." I try to sound remorseful but I'm sure my words came out bitter and angry. No slap followed the first one though so I assume she bought my words. I feel her presence at my back though and I can hear her breath. I don't dare move or she might anger more, I try to calm down and make myself breath evenly. I swear she's like a dog, and can smell fear.

"Yeah? You better not mean to be impolite." Her voice is threatening but no longer angry. Courage sparks within me and I turn to face her. I have a moment of deep satisfaction as I turn to look at her and realize she's about a foot shorter than me. I stare down at the top of her balding head. She says she isn't an obaasan but she looks no younger than 60. Her wrinkles carve deeply into her brown leathery skin and lobes of stretched out fat cover her dull eyes. It pleases me how ugly she is, she fits perfectly into my mental image of good and evil. She seems knocked off balance from surprise that I have turned to look at her but quickly recovers. Glaring up at me angrily I return her gaze with what I hope is an impassive look. Our staring contest goes on for a few seconds intill she breaks it and turns to look at the spot where I dropped the bowl.

"Didn't drop anything did you?"

"No ma'am." I reply a bit to quickly. I have to play my cards right.

Her eyes narrow with suspicion and she glances back up at me. "You sure girl? Bowls are expensive you know and the price to repair one will come out of your paycheck."

"Oh yes ma'am." I nod in agreement.

"You sure nothing was broken?"

"Absolutely, I just banged some of my dishes together, nothing broke ma'am." I widen my eyes innocently. "I'm just a bit clumsy today."

"Then I'll assign someone else to do the dishes. You may go sweep the outside of the building. There are more leaves out front than people in this nation I swear!"

I look down at her blankly. Is she being kind to me, or is she just worried about the dishes…?

"Well get moving!" She says giving me a firm slap on the back to move me forward.

I move off in a trance. This is the first new work to be given to me in days.

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The new work is easier on me, but far more repetitive. All I do is stand here sweeping and once I make a pile of leaves I move on to a new spot. Not much to think about is there? I tried counting the leaves to take my mind off this pointless task but it's no use, I had to stop at leaf one-hundred-and-eighty-eight. The images are forming in my head again. Death, the death of my brother-Shigure - the death of my family and the death of my town. The faces of all of those people stir up in the back of my eyes threatening to overwhelm. If only I didn't know their names, their voices. Then it wouldn't matter. They would just be more faceless bodies. I look down at the leaves falling to the ground. The more leaves I sweep, the more they seem to fall from the trees. Just like the people of Japan. Just like my brother. "Don't worry sister! The revolution is here, the Meiji era will begin! I will go fight in the revolution once I'm old enough!". Those were his words, how trivial and cruel they seem now. He died because of the very cause he believed in. Now I'm alone. I wish I had died with him, or instead of him. I feel the tears pressing again at the back of my eyes. I shut my eyes tight, maybe if I press hard enough the part of my eyes that remembers him will be sliced away. When I open my eyes the image is still there burned into my memory and now the tears flow freely. They don't relieve the pain though like my first tears did. They probably never will. I lick the salt from my upper lip and try to wipe the tears away before they can make streaks across all of my face. Something falls from my kimono.

Oh.

It's the chipped piece of bowl from earlier, three pieces of broken porcelain. One of them is a perfect triangle; it's edges sharp as knives. I run the inside of my thumb across it. A thin line of blood pools out, dripping red ink down my palm. It makes a line all the way down my wrist and arm. I suck slightly on my thumb. The blood is salty just like my tears. Was Shigure's blood salty? I cup my palm to my cheek staining it red against my pale skin. Is this the answer? The cure to my shame? The shame I wear everyday for living.

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