Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Shards of Me ❯ Fair Truth, Beautiful Lie ( Chapter 10 )

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin is the property of Nobuhiro Watsuki. The main plotline of this story is completely fictional. Situations should in no way be considered truthful or based on real events. Political opinions expressed in the story are mine. If you do not agree with said opinions, do not flame me for them. Do not stoop so low as to berate me for what I hold to be truthful. Some smaller side stories may be based on factual events. I will alert you if they are.

 

Warnings: Mild language and some gory descriptions

 

Shards of Me

 

Chapter VI: Fair Truth, Beautiful Lie

 

Kenshin, Kaoru, and Yahiko gathered around the table, a quick bowl of macaroni and cheese set before each. Tension hovered over the table, cut every once and a while by terse but necessary words that were meant to start a conversation but simply hovered endlessly in the air, dying away as the tension smothered them. Yahiko's eyes jumped between the two adults endlessly.

 

Kenshin stared at Kaoru with unblinking eyes that glowed faintly in the twilight of the kitchen. His knuckles were white as he gripped his fork and his mouth was set in a thin, razor-sharp line. Kaoru was looking anywhere and everywhere but Kenshin, her gaze mostly focused on the linoleum floor. Her movements were tiny and subdued, flighty like a bird, but also beaten like a chastised dog. Yahiko could only assume that tonight, of all nights, was not a night he should have been visiting for dinner.

 

However, he was here now and he was not going to let Kenshin and Kaoru's stupid guilt complexes get in the way of his reunion with the man who had been his hero for the last eight years. More often than not, the dying conversation was repeatedly resuscitated by his determination. Finally though, he could not take the taut silence.

 

The table clattered as he slammed down his fork and shot to his feet.

 

“Enough you two! Enough! I don't know what the hell's wrong between you, but I hardly ever get to see you anymore Kaoru, and I haven't seen you, Kenshin, in three damn years. So could you at least attempt, for one night, to pretend the world doesn't revolve around your guilt and talk to me?”

 

Kenshin's eyes went from brilliant amber to startled purple and his face fell slack in a way that might have been comical if the situation were different. Kaoru never stopped looking at the floor, but she jerked each time Yahiko accented a word in his already raised voice. The room froze as each person allowed the words to sink in, Yahiko's shaky breath echoing slightly in the suddenly less repressive air.

 

After a moment, the teenager sat down again. He picked up his fork before speaking. “So, Kenshin, have you been working on finding a job?”

 

oOoOoOoOo

 

Yahiko left two hours later, feeling both happy at seeing both his friends finally together again, but also incredibly worried about the way they'd acted around each other, even after his blow up. The tension had dissipated between them, but there had still been a tightly drawn line in their relationship. They were civil, but did not speak like friends. They touched, but only by accident. It seemed more like they were polite acquaintances, rather than intimate friends—people brought together only by their mutual friendship with him. He hated it.

 

The moment he was a block from Kaoru's apartment, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed a familiar number. Please don't be at work yet, rooster head.

 

“Yahiko, you'd best make this quick,” Sano growled from the other end of the line.

 

“It ain't gonna be quick, but it's damn important rooster head. Can you pick me up at that park near Kaoru's place? We need to talk.”

 

oOoOoOoOo

 

The moment Yahiko left, Kaoru began gathering the dishes, her eyes magnetically repelled from Kenshin yet again. She felt like she was trying to avoid the eyes of a hypnotizing cobra. His hot, predatory gaze made her back shiver and her arms were covered with goosebumps. He'd never turned such a look on her before, and the very feel of it passing along her skin in indifferent anger made her desperately hope he never did again.

 

His silence was by far the worst. If he'd yelled, or even spoken in his quiet deadly tone, she might have been able to bear the brunt of his rage. This silence of accusation though, was breaking her down more quickly than anything else he could have thrown at her. He knew she'd speak long before he uttered more than a breath and all he had to do was wait out her guilt.

 

The sound of a dish shattering made them both jump. Kaoru stared at the shards of the plate scattered around her bare feet without really seeing them. Kenshin let forth a nearly inaudible sigh before rising and stepping to Kaoru. She visibly shrank from him as shards of porcelain cracked and scraped under his sneakers. Without a word, he lifted her by the waist up and away from the mess and set her down on the carpet of her living room. It was as he was retrieving a broom from the closet that she finally spoke.

 

“Please, Kenshin, say something,” she whispered. “Anything.”

 

“What's left to say, Kaoru?” he murmured as he began to sweep shards into a dustpan. “Didn't Saitoh tell you everything already?”

 

She felt tears gather in her eyes, even though she'd known he knew exactly who she had seen; the subtle tone of accusation in his voice still burned like bile down her throat.

 

“I didn't know what else to do. You wouldn't talk to me, and you're just…it's like you don't trust me anymore. I hate that feeling.”

 

“It's not that I don't trust you,” he said, looking up from his work. “It's that there are things you're better off not knowing. Surely you can understand that, since you seem to think there are things in your life I'm better off not knowing.”

 

Kaoru frowned at the wording of his statement. Slowly, she began to comprehend. All the things she'd left out in her letters, hidden from him, it would seem he knew about anyway. The first tear slid down her cheek, silent and lonely.

 

“Who told you?” she whispered.

 

“Aoshi felt it was in my best interest to better understand what you were like while I was away.”

 

“It wasn't his place.”

 

“No, it was yours,” he said sharply, looking up at her. “But you didn't tell me. He had to, in an effort to prevent my leaving again.”

 

Kaoru felt like she'd been physically hit in the chest, but now anger was starting to rise in her breast as well. “Who are you to accuse me of withholding some of my life? My God, Kenshin! You were gone for three years and you come back with Japanese steel and a scar on your face and haunted eyes and you won't tell me a damn thing! What right do you even have?”

 

Kenshin didn't say a word, mostly because he knew she was right. He slowly returned to cleaning up the shards, not daring to meet her eyes. A moment later her door slammed shut. He flinched as the sound snapped through the air.

 

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he berated himself in his mind.

 

Kenshin finished cleaning up the broken porcelain and dumped the shattered remains in the garbage. He could hear loud thumps coming from Kaoru's room, occasionally interspersed with a shouted swear word. She was beyond pissed right now, but later he knew, would come tears. Then, maybe, he could do something right.

 

To occupy himself while he waited for her anger to burn out, he did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen a bit.

 

A half-hour passed and the sounds of anger gradually died down. Finally, only silence pervaded the apartment. Kenshin flipped off the kitchen light and walked through the apartment with only the vague yellow haze of outdoor streetlights to help him find his way. He paused at Kaoru's door only a moment before quietly opening.

 

She was waiting for him, perched on the edge of her bed with her knees drawn to her chin and her arms wrapped around her shins. She watched him with glinting eyes, reflecting almost like a cat's in the poor light.

 

“Can we talk?” he asked, keeping himself in the threshold of her doorway with his hand still on the doorknob, giving her the slight impression that she had a choice in the matter.

 

“Only if it's an honest conversation. If I ask a question I want you to answer it truthfully and I'll return the courtesy. I also would ask that you not dodge a question. You can't avoid the truth forever if you don't expect me to either.”

 

He considered briefly, lifting his hand off the doorknob just so. He knew Kaoru well enough to know that she would stop her questioning when he became too uncomfortable, but at the same time he also knew she would push his limits to better understand whatever Saitoh might have deigned to tell her. Finally he nodded and crossed the room, seating himself on the opposite edge of the bed so his back was to her and he faced her blinds and the clouded glass of the window beyond.

 

“You go first,” he murmured, trying to gather his thoughts into some semblance of order, of sanity.

 

“What…what was the nightmare about?”

 

He froze. Of all the questions he'd been expecting, that was the last one. He hesitated. She'd said no dodging the question. “I…I dreamed of one of my missions. There was a man I was supposed to kill. No one told me he had a wife with him. She…she tried to protect him and I accidentally…I mean…”

 

He broke off and took a deep breath before beginning again. “I killed her. In the dream, she changed. Her face…it became your face. And…you died. Right there in my arms.”

 

Kaoru was silent as the events of the night after the dream replayed in her mind, neatly falling into place as she fitted information into the gaps. The desperate way he'd held her, kissed her… In the haze left from the dream he'd thought he'd lost her. It all made such sense, such horribly logical sense.

 

Kenshin gave her a moment before he chose his next question. “Tell me what happened to you after I left.”

 

Kaoru damned Aoshi under her breath before she began to answer. “When you left…God, how do I…you were the last constant I had in my life. I've known you for so long. When my dad died, I still had you and that made it bearable. When I thought I wouldn't be able to pay my way through college I still had you. And all of a sudden I didn't have you anymore. It was like what should have happened when my dad died, happened when you left instead.

 

“I just didn't…I didn't want to put up with life. I didn't want to think about class, or our friends, or eating, or sleeping. I just…stopped. For a week I holed up in here and Sano had to pick the lock to come in and get me. They sent Megumi in, God knows why. She slapped some sense into me, but there was still this void where you were supposed to be. I'd stay up late waiting for you to stop by until I realized you weren't there. I kept expecting you to turn up at the coffee shop after class. You took a part of me with you and left this big gaping hole and it hurt so damn much…”

 

She trailed off, realizing that she might have said too much, but she couldn't take the words back now. Kenshin remained on the other side of the bed, his shoulders stiff and pinched as her confession added more to the already immense load of guilt resting on his soul.

 

“Tell me what you did over there,” she murmured after a moment, her voice tight and controlled.

 

He turned slightly to look over his shoulder at her. She was still tightly curled around herself, her head hunched and defeated. It was only fair that she know; it was justice wasn't it? Maybe she'd understand if he told her, why he couldn't bring himself to kiss her, to hold her. Better, maybe she'd hate him and kick him out. It would probably be better for them both in the long run. She could move on and he…he could pretend to be OK.

 

“Did Saitoh tell you anything about what I did?”

 

“He told me you were black ops. That was all he'd say though. He said it wasn't his place.”

 

“What do you know,” Kenshin said with bitter humor, “the bastard did something right.”

 

He took a deep breath and began.

 

oOoOoOoOo

 

Kenshin walked into the barracks and nervously tugged at his uniform. A few other recruits glanced at him, but most were already unpacking their few belongings. He followed their example and found an empty mattress slightly removed from most of the others. Strangers had never made him comfortable.

 

Just as he'd finished pulling his sheets taut, a commanding officer shouted a command from the end of the barracks. “They say jump and we ask `how high?'” he muttered as he shifted to the end of his bed and stood at attention. He could see two officers out of the corner of his eye. One seemed jittery and young, constantly barking at the recruits he passed to criticize some small defect his squinty eyes caught. The other officer was quiet, but the sneer he wore on his face more than made up for his lack of words. The quiet officer was tall and whipcord lean and appeared to be of Japanese descent, with prominent cheekbones and slanted, narrow eyes.

 

The officers stopped in the center of the barracks, the jittery officer glancing nervously at the tall man and constantly shifting his weight. “Good day, men,” the tall officer drawled, his eyes lazily scanning the crowd of fresh faces.

 

“Good morning, sir!” came the instant and sharp reply from every man in the room.

 

“My name is Lt. Hajime Saitoh. I will be the commanding officer of a special ops group currently in need of recruits. You are my lucky victims.” Kenshin shivered at Saitoh's voice. The man spoke neither loudly, nor forcefully, but his voice was chill and scathing and strong enough to slide through the room like oil. “Those of you who have any previous form of close combat training, by which I mean boxing or the marshal arts, are to follow me immediately. The rest of you will begin basic immediately under Sgt. Lewis here. Enjoy your first day of hell ladies.”

 

The lieutenant turned on his heel and began walking out of the hall, his gait balanced and smooth. At the doorway, he looked over his shoulder. “None of you have any close combat training?” His voice was mocking. Roughly fifteen of the recruits started at the quiet reprimand, Kenshin included. Those men quickly moved to follow Saitoh and he smirked at them before continuing out the door.

 

xXxXxXxXx

 

“You will each be tested in your area of training. Based on skill level, I will decide whether or not I need you. Any questions?”

 

The recruits were silent, some of them glancing nervously at their fellows.

 

“Excellent. Let's get started. Allow me to introduce my staff.”

 

Six men stepped forward. All of them were dressed in regulation green camo and all of them had a contained strength around them that was distinct, and quite possibly deadly.

 

“My officers are Sgt. Soujirou, Officer Raijutah, Officer Anji, Private Jineh, and Private Sagara. They will be your evaluating officers today. Anji and Sagara are my hand to hand specialists. The others all specialize in sword styles.”

 

“Swords, sir?” asked one man standing near Kenshin.

 

“Did I stutter?”

 

The soldier gulped before saying, “No, sir.”

 

Saitoh smirked before wandering down the row. “Now, which of you worms would like to go first?”

 

The group of young men was silent.

 

“No volunteers?”

 

Silence.

 

“Then I suppose I'll have to pick. Since you were feeling so inquisitive, Private…?”

 

“Long, sir.”

 

“Private Long, you can go first. What's your poison?”

 

“Boxing, sir.”

 

“Then get to it.”

 

Saitoh pointed at a boxing ring erected in the barracks' gym. Long hesitantly stepped forward and was followed by the man Saitoh had named as Sagara. Kenshin watched with calculating eyes as the men both stripped off their overcoats to reveal their undershirts. Sagara brushed his black bangs out of his eyes and smiled encouragingly at Long. “Begin,” Saitoh barked.

 

The two men circled, throwing out testing blows. Kenshin was not knowledgeable about boxing, but he could tell by balance and speed alone that Sagara far outclassed Long. The other men were murmuring slightly among themselves. Kenshin couldn't hear much of what was said, but from what he understood, the other men agreed with his assessment of Sagara and Long.

 

Five minutes after the match began, Saitoh called a halt. “Long, thank you for your cooperation. I'll be in touch. Dismissed. Report to Lewis outside on the obstacle course.”

 

Saitoh began sifting through the remaining men in much the same manner. He went through two men trained in karate, one in tae kwan do, another boxer, and two men trained in western fencing. Kenshin had a feeling his luck was up when he felt Saitoh's eyes land on him.

 

“You, redhead. Name?”

 

“Private Kenshin Himura, sir.”

 

“You're Japanese?”

 

“My father, sir.”

 

“Mmm. Specialization?”

 

“Kendo, Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu.”

 

“Let's see what you've got.”

 

Kenshin hesitantly stepped to the ring as one of officers stepped forward and asked him if he preferred steel or wood when practicing. At his quiet reply a blunted steel katana was handed to him and he tested the balance carefully before allowing himself the first few moves of a kata. The sword was lighter than he was used to and didn't feel like it was genuinely steel, but he thought he could compensate well enough for the throw in his balance. He turned to the ring and was surprised to see Saitoh waiting form him with a sword casually gripped in his left hand.

“What are you waiting for? Get up here,” Saitoh sneered as he tossed his overcoat to the side. Kenshin debated for a moment before following suit with his own jacket and stepping into the ring.

 

“Are you quite ready, Himura?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Then…hajime.”

 

Kenshin fell into stance as Saitoh began to circle, his gaze sharp and wicked.

 

“Perhaps you don't understand the meaning of a test. I need to get a bearing of your skill level so come at me.”

 

Kenshin raised a brow. Hiten Mitsurugi rarely preached taking the first blow against a highly skilled opponent, but if he had to, he was in the wrong stance. Kenshin crouched down with his left foot leading and held his sword back as though it were sheathed. Saitoh raised a brow but said nothing. Kenshin allowed himself one deep breath before stepping into his first move.

 

He heard a whisper rise among the men before his ears became deaf from outside noise and his senses narrowed on Saitoh. He expected the best and he got exactly what he expected as Saitoh blocked the battou jutsu, the taller man's balance faltering only slightly as he was pushed back. He saw that commentary brow raise again before Saitoh broke away and began the battle in earnest. Kenshin felt his own respect for the man rise as Saitoh sped through the battle easily matching the redhead's own natural speed and pushing it higher than any challenger had previously done before. There was no doubt in Kenshin's mind that, other than his shishou, Saitoh was the best fighter he'd ever faced.

 

“Faster, Himura,” hissed the taller man as he undercut Kenshin's left. Kenshin rolled away from the move and used his momentum to bring his sword around in a one handed slash. Saitoh had already moved out of the way and pulled slightly away from the redhead. Kenshin slowly rose from his crouch and watched with narrowed eyes as Saitoh took an unusual stance the like of which Kenshin had not seen before. Saitoh's left arm pulled back as his right hand came along the blade, fingers spread over the blade in a form that would have been artful if it weren't so obviously dangerous.

 

“You're good, Himura. I'm curious what you'll make of this.”

 

Saitoh stepped forward faster than should have been possible, nearly beyond Kenshin's discernible range of vision. He had less than a second to react as he brought his blade up in an attempt to snake Saitoh's blade from its compromising grip. “Not fast enough,” he heard the man hiss.

 

Kenshin felt his blade strike Saitoh's and threw his body weight to his left in hopes of throwing Saitoh's balance. The move was risky and Kenshin knew the sword might strike him in the process of falling, but what choice was left when the blade was already within his guard? He felt Saitoh's sword catch and lose momentum before disengaging with his own blade. Strike! his mind screamed at him and he brought the sword up with the last of his momentum. He felt the steel hit flesh just as Saitoh's sword touched his jugular. The battle stopped as suddenly as it started and Kenshin found himself staring up at Saitoh from the flat of his back. The redhead's sword was resting against the side of Saitoh's stomach.

 

Kenshin looked up to meet Saitoh's eyes and saw a hint of surprise beyond the fierce amber gaze. “You,” Saitoh said as he straightened and withdrew his blade from Kenshin's throat, “just might do.”

 

Kenshin slowly stood as one of Saitoh's officers came forward to reclaim the practice sword. It was the black-haired man with the charming smile, Sagara. “Nicely done,” he said softly as he took the sword and inspected it. “I haven't ever seen him draw before, let alone be defeated.”

 

“Uh…thanks,” Kenshin mumbled as he stepped to the side of the ring and picked up his discarded jacket.

 

“Himura,” Saitoh's razor voice immediately had him at attention. “Sagara will show you to our quarters. I will meet you there in fifteen minutes or so.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Kenshin said and snapped a salute even though Saitoh had already turned his head.

 

“Right this way, Himura.” Sagara motioned down a hallway. Kenshin hesitantly started forward and felt Sagara fall into step behind him.

 

“My first name is Souzo by the way. When we're not in a situation that calls for it, I prefer my first name over my rank.”

 

“Yes, si…Souzo.”

 

“You'll be moving to this set of barracks with us. We do our specialty training here,” he gestured to a spacious room to his right will walls upon walls lined with archaic weaponry. “Over here is the classroom. We eat in that room. Ummm…helicopter pad is out that way. And this,” he said with an arm flourish, “is Saitoh's office.”

 

Souzo stepped in front of Kenshin and swung the door open. “Wait in here. Don't sit until he comes in. He doesn't like that. Don't touch anything unless it's a weapon. He likes his weapons to be admired.”

 

Kenshin stepped into the office and stood awkwardly next to the leather chair clearly meant for visitors.

 

“Good luck and don't worry, his bite is worse than his bark, but he doesn't usually bite that much.”

 

Kenshin wasn't sure whether Souzo was kidding or serious, but he wasn't about to ask. The door shut with a definitive snap and Kenshin was left alone in the darkly furnished room. His eyes scanned the room and he noticed three sword racks strategically placed throughout the room, each designed for a matching set of katana and wakizashi. Kenshin was not really a sword expert but each set on display looked well worn and of excellent quality. He was tempted to go over and handle a set as Souzo had encouraged but was not quite willing to push any limits on a man who would apparently now be his commanding officer. Instead, he simply stood in wait and let his eyes drift to a calligraphy scroll on the wall. The symbols were Japanese and he had just begun to remember the meanings as the door opened again and Saitoh swept into the office with one other trainee in tow.

 

“I would like to speak to you each individually. Himura, step out if you would.”

 

Kenshin nodded and quickly exited the office. He caught a glimpse of the other trainee as he stepped out, a lean man with wicked eyes and a sharp beak-like nose. The door shut and Kenshin moved himself to one side of the doorway where he proceeded to study the texture of the wall under the paint. Ten minutes later the office door opened again and the trainee stepped out. The grin on his face made Kenshin shudder.

 

“Himura. Don't make me wait.”

 

Kenshin stepped into the office with only a hint of hesitation. “Shut the door,” Saitoh snapped without looking up from his desk. Kenshin shut the door and stood at attention training his eyes once again on the ink painting.

 

“It says here you signed up a month ago, Himura.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“For what reason?”

 

“I felt that too many lives were being lost to the effort. My hope was to save some of those lives, especially those of civilians who are simply caught in the crossfire and have no way to defend themselves.”

 

Saitoh snorted and Kenshin heard the distinctive sound of a match being struck. “Have a seat, Himura.”

 

Kenshin carefully sat and allowed his gaze to fall on the officer across from him, watching in fascination as the flame on the match brought eerie orange into Saitoh's already oddly golden eyes. Saitoh lit a cigarette and took a drag, slowly exhaling the smoke and watching the swirling patterns drift and dissipate for a moment.

 

“Himura, before I begin anything there are two things you need to know. The assignment I'm going to ask you to take is completely voluntary. If you should choose to decline the assignment, everything we speak of in this office must be kept secret. If word should get out of this, I will hunt you down and kill you like a dog.”

 

Saitoh took another drag and Kenshin swallowed past the thick lump in his throat. His mind had already snagged on the word “voluntary.” Nothing in the military was voluntary. What did he mean voluntary? As the second bit of information processed, Kenshin glanced again at the sword racks around the room. He had no doubt that Saitoh meant every scathing word.

 

“Do you understand me, Himura?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Excellent. Then let's get down to business. As you've already noticed, I'm command of an elite band of fighters. These fighters are training for one reason and one reason only. To kill. In four weeks time we will transfer overseas and become a black ops division. The point of the division is to eliminate military or terrorist threats that the government cannot overtly contend. All missions take place on Iraqi and Afghan soil. Each man is sent out alone undercover to complete a given assignment. When they return, they are given a week's rest before taking another assignment.”

 

Saitoh leaned back in his chair flicked ashes onto his desk, seemingly uncaring that they did not land in the ashtray. “That's the short version. Any questions so far?”

 

Kenshin was hard-pressed to keep his jaw from dropping. He blinked, blinked again. Tried to make his mind process. Failed miserably. Tried again. Still failed. And quietly turned the situation into a different light, that of a battle scene. He felt the shift in his body as his mind shut out emotion and started working in tactical logic.

 

“Essentially you're saying that this is a division full of men trained to be assassins,” he intoned, hating the lowered tone of his voice that almost invited a challenge.

 

“For lack of more glorifying words, yes.”

 

“These figures you eliminate, what exactly is their threat?”

 

“Generally they are dangerous military and terrorist leaders who can organize resistance to U.S. forces and organize it well enough to completely stop our progress. On occasion they are also dangerous criminals already known within the country that police and military forces have not been able to capture. Rapists, murderers, explosives and arms merchants. Those sorts of people can be assignments also.”

 

“How long would I be expected to carry out this mission?”

 

“As I said, everything is voluntary. You can request transfer or discharge at any time and it will be handed over, no questions asked.”

 

“Risks?”

 

“Considerable. You're your own operative. If you are captured or injured, the military cannot acknowledge you unless you are actually on base. You must also only carry one handgun while on assignment. Most of your assignments are expected to be close combat situations in which more archaic weapons will be used to complete the job. It prevents…inconvenient suspicions.”

 

“Is there anything else I should be aware of?”

 

“I will require you to make you decision here and now.”

 

Kenshin glared at Saitoh for a moment before drawing into his own mind, carefully weighing possibilities. Act as an agent of a black ops division and completely decimate what was left of his morals or continue on to become a foot soldier. One road guaranteed the commencement of murder on his part, but murder of men who would do others harm for personal gain. The other road allowed for considerably less violence, but at what cost? How many people would die based on each path? Kenshin could hardly be one to judge. Would hundreds, maybe even thousands, of civilians die because he had not been the one to kill one of their oppressors? Or would their lives continue on just as difficult as now, but still with breath in their bodies?

 

His mind turned to less calculated certainties. A flash of raven's silk and glinting blue eyes crossed his mind. What would she think? Would she even tolerate such evil in him? Could he even bring himself to speak to her about it? What of his other friends? What would each of them say? He could almost hear their words in his head. “It is not for you to toy with fate,” would be Aoshi's cold advice. Megumi would probably bite his head off and glare with exasperation, but she was perhaps not as naïve as the others could be, having seen the underbelly of society herself. Sano would have nothing to say. He did not believe in compromising values. Kenshin could almost feel the phantom fist striking his jaw. Her reaction alone was the one he could not gage. Hatred? Sorrow? Distate? Anger? Would she even care to see him?

 

Kenshin closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment. His eyes slid open again and were almost magnetically attracted to the wall hanging again. The black characters were so stark on the white background. He almost smirked. Such a stark contrast in a world were edges were undefined and blended together in a fog so thick that right and wrong were no longer distinguishable. Slowly, his eyes returned to Saitoh.

 

The older man wore a piercing gaze, one that spoke volumes about the thoughts churning within his mind.

 

“I'll do it,” Kenshin whispered.

 

Saitoh gave a cold smirk. “And so another man signs his soul away to the devil.”

 

It was only as Kenshin walked out of the office that his mind rustily recalled the meaning behind the Japanese symbols on the wall. “Aku Zoku Zan.” Slay Sin Swiftly.

 

xXxXxXxXx

 

Life within the barracks was relatively simple though incredibly grueling. Rise at 5:30 in the morning for a seven mile run, eat breakfast, train for five hours, scramble for lunch, study Afghan and Iraqi language for two hours, be pummeled into the ground by Saitoh for four hours, eat, work on in-field basics, sleep, wash, rinse, repeat. Kenshin's afternoons were always the worst. Saitoh seemed to particularly enjoy seeing how much of the redhead's body could be turned from pale tan to sickly purple and green. Kenshin never walked away from a session without at least one bruise already swelling into a pussy mess. However, by the end of the fours weeks, he only lost one in four matches to Saitoh and could generally minimize his injuries even in a losing match.

 

Kenshin could grudgingly admit that the tall lieutenant had probably sharpened his skills to what would become his peak in martial arts. He was faster, stronger, and most importantly, more capable of dealing a killing blow. The question remained whether he could follow through. Whether he could knowingly and willingly end another's life and wash his or her blood from his hands. A question to be answered in time.

 

For now, they were packing. Kenshin stuffed the white robes he'd been supplied with into the corner of his duffle-bag, conveniently hiding the hand gun he'd also been issued. He looked up when someone rapped on his bedpost, before quickly snapping to attention as he realized it was Saitoh.

 

“For you. They're a good weight and won't dull easily. The hilts are custom and shouldn't break even under the stress you exert. Everything you need for their care is in the bag.”

 

Kenshin stared dumbly at the set of swords before him before lifting his eyes back to Saitoh. “You're the first operative being sent out when we arrive. They've issued you the code-name `Battousai.'” Saitoh paced away without a word, not bothering to watch as the other men snapped salutes. His footsteps made no sound in the barracks.

 

Kenshin's gaze returned to the swords and the case and bag beside them. The case was oiled wood and just the right size to house both swords. He did not know if it would be able to hold the blood they would spill. Rather than touch the swords, he lifted the bag he needed to care for them. It was a sensible leather creation that could easily be tied to a belt. Inside was a bottle of oil and cloths for rubbing it in, as well as a whet stone for the blade. He could see spare wrappings for the hilt and lifted them to inspect the material. As far as he could tell, it was sharkskin. Kenshin replaced the items in the bag and placed the bag inside his white robes where he was sure to remember it.

 

Lastly he eyed the swords before reaching forward and slowly lifting the katana with both hands. He'd held a real sword only once before, when Hiko had allowed him to hold the sword that was the legacy of their style. That sword had not been suited to him. It was slightly larger than the average katana and made of ancient steel that was heavier than he could easily handle while maintaining speed.

 

A click resounded with certainty as he slid the guard out of the sheath. The blade drew smoothly, reflecting death and moonlight in its wake. Waves of folded steel distorted the glow of gold in the dim half-light of the barracks and only later did Kenshin realize that the gold came from his own eyes.

 

xXxXxXxXx

 

“The first assignment was straightforward enough. The compound I was going to was only three days walk from our base of operations. I didn't even have to work hard in infiltration. The guards were drunk when I got there. I slipped past them without any effort whatsoever and killed their commander while he slept. I was given a calling card to leave. It had something written on it in an Arabic language, which was supposed to lead suspicions further from the U.S. government. Saitoh told me that the card roughly translated to `Heavenly Judgment.'

 

“It was only once I'd gotten far enough from the base that I vomited. And then I got up and kept going. We were given a week between assignments for recovery and sanity, but the weeks just gave us time to relive where we'd been. Some of the men…some of them loved it. They never stopped talking about it. They're still over there, loving it. The others, like Souzo and I, we hated it, but we did it because we felt it was the right thing to do.

 

“Souzo died on duty almost two years after I joined. The faction caught him on his way out and made an example of him. They cut off his head and placed it out on a spike for everyone to see, to remind them I suppose, of the power they were under. I only knew his fate because I had to complete the assignment in his place.

 

“That was my life for three years.”

 

He glanced over his shoulder at her hunched form, her shaking shoulders. “Is that what you wanted to hear? Do you understand now?”

 

She choked behind him and he felt the bed shift under her weight. When he turned, she was gone. The bathroom door slammed shut and a moment later he could hear the distinct and unforgettable sound of someone vomiting. After that finished there was only silence.

 

Perhaps this is best, he thought to himself, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes of the telltale tears he could feel in them. Slowly, with lead-filled limbs, he rose and went to the guest room to resume the packing he'd left off earlier that day. By the time Kaoru emerged from the bathroom he was already gone.

 

A/N: Much quicker this time, ne? I hope you're all pleased with the chapter and now some things are clearer to everyone. Title of this chapter is reference to yet another quote. “Truth is beautiful, without doubt; but so are lies.” -Ralph Waldo Emerson. I was trying to convey the “ignorance is bliss” stance, though Kaoru was not necessarily ignorant of Kenshin's circumstances, nor he of hers. However, each was missing vital pieces of information for one to understand the other. For any relationship to work, trust and truth must play major roles. As such, I didn't feel comfortable giving anyone that elusive happy ending just yet. There's still a lot to be said between the two of them, after all. As always, thanks for all your wonderful support and great reviews. You have now idea how much I appreciate everyone's kind words and constructive criticism.

 

“Hate War, Love the…Warrior.” -Lt. Gen. Harold Moore