Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Tanabata Jasmine ❯ Juxtaposition ( Chapter 16 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Hmm, time to be mean, I think. In more ways than one.

Disclaimer: (forgot this last chapter!) Rurouni Kenshin and all associated characters are not mine, although I do reserve the right to dream about them on occasion.

Warning: a teensy bit of brutality. Bad guys will be bad guys, after all...

Tanabata Jasmine Chapter 16

Kamiya Kaoru glared at her reflection.

There were bruises, and then there were bruises. Four days after the fight with Yoshida, and the stiff ache across her jaw had almost faded. On the other hand, her cheek had only darkened over time, into a truly startling array of purples and blues and yellows. Sanosuke and Yahiko winced every time they glanced at her face, which was gratifying in a way, and irritating in others - it was certainly far less painful than it looked.

She'd been let off lightly, compared to the other two. Yahiko had lost his glazed look, but the welts on his neck still stood out in relief. And Sanosuke ... was Sanosuke. Had to be reminded on a regular basis that Aki had stuck a blade through his shoulder, but nevertheless, Megumi had been forced to stitch the injury. That counted as serious in Kaoru's book, no matter how Sano tried to brush it off.

She sighed, resting her forehead against the glass, eyes closed. Another two days before they reached Osaka, and longer before they reached the Aoiya. She'd sent a telegram before they left Tokyo on the ferry - by now, Misao had probably begun to turn Kyoto upside down looking clues to Kenshin's whereabouts, despite the fact that, if Aki's information had been accurate, Senzo Karanai would only have arrived in Osaka today.

Still, Kenshin would arrive in Kyoto eventually. And perhaps the Oniwabanshu, or even the police, would find him straight away, and when Kaoru and Sano and Yahiko finally arrived, they'd find Kenshin, unhurt, sitting and ... and drinking tea with Aoshi.

And Kenshin would smile that sweet rurouni smile of his, and apologise for worrying her. And then she'd ...

... hit him. Hard.

The quick smile this image invoked faded as she thought of Aki's last words, flung to her as a taunt before Hiyama had escorted her away from his cell. The daydream was impossible. Kenshin was already hurt, enough to impair his ability to fight at his best. She had enough faith in him not to be totally helpless - but then, she'd met with Yoshida Koujiro and his willingness to murder a ten year old boy for the simple crime of following him through a marketplace. The men who had taken the rurouni had already shown how far they were willing to go in order to succeed. If Kenshin fought back, and didn't manage to win free the first time—

“Oi, Jou-chan.” A rough finger tapped her on the head. “Get away from the window. You're steaming up the glass.”

Kaoru turned to scowl at him. “Do you mind? I was thinking.”

“Sulking is more like it,” Sano countered. “Come outside. Get some fresh air.”

“I am not sulking. And it's dark out.”

“So?” He snagged the back of her kimono as she turned away and spun on his heel, ignoring her protests as he pulled her outside onto the deck. “Turn your back on someone who's making small talk, and you say you're not sulking? Anyway, the kid's more miserable than you are. Why don't you make like his teacher and cheer him up?”

“I'm not miserable!” She flailed for a moment before he dumped her unceremoniously outside - and then she flailed again, trying to regain her balance as she glared at him. “Mou! I told you I was just thinking!”

“About what?”

“About—“She stopped at his knowing smirk, and looked away from him in irritation. “What's wrong with Yahiko? Is he still sick?”

In response he lifted a hand and pointed along the walkway to the small, hunched figure wilted against the railing, deaf to their argument, in his own world of seasick misery. Kaoru winced in sympathy, shot one last glare at Sanosuke and padded across the deck. He followed after her, hands in pockets, whistling off key.

“Ne, Yahiko.” She fumbled for something to say. “Can I get you anything?”

He raised a pale face from crossed arms, considered that a moment, and shook his head listlessly. “How long before we get there?”

“Navigator says day after tomorrow,” Sano said helpfully. “Just two more days of throwing up your breakfast. Not so bad, is it?”

Kaoru elbowed him in the gut, effectively silencing him as Yahiko blanched a further shade of pale. “You've crossed this water before, Yahiko. You'll probably feel fine by tomorrow.”

He nodded, eyes flicking across the bruise on her face before dropping guiltily downward to fasten on her hands. She felt a flash of genuine annoyance. Did he think it was his fault? She stared at him a moment, then planted a hand on his forehead and shoved him backward onto the deck.

The startled look on his face was priceless. He blinked at her in confusion, and then switched straight to outrage. “What'd ya do that for?”

“Your guard is terrible,” she announced. “No wonder Yoshida got the drop on you.”

Beside her, Sano stiffened in surprise. Possibly, it was going too far - but her derisive tone had the desired affect. Yahiko shot to his feet with a glare. “Shut up, busu! I was just unlucky! I can take him on any time!”

“I'm not so sure,” she said in a thoughtful tone, tapping a finger casually to her jaw as she gazed at the stars. “If you couldn't do it the first time, I can't see how moping around complaining about seasickness is going to improve you any.”

“Wanna bet?” He stabbed a finger at her. “You beat him, how hard could it be?”

She smiled thinly. Cunning plan or not, that comment was treading on dangerous ground. “Prove it.”

“I will!” He pulled the shinai from his back and waved it at her furiously. “Go get your bokken!”

Mission accomplished. Kaoru sniffed and turned on her heel, sparing a glance for the blinking, speechless Sanosuke as she retreated back into the cabin. Leaving the former gangster at a loss for words was worth any number of insults Yahiko cared to throw at her.

She reached for the bokken, propped against the wall next to the futon, and hesitated with her hand over the hilt, eyes drifting to the sheathed sword that stood next to it. The sakabatou, taken from the man who wielded it, and the main reason she had kept to a private cabin in the first place, despite the extra cost.

Kaoru sighed, her light mood vanishing as quickly as it had appeared, and crouched in front of Kenshin's sword, touching light fingers briefly to the sheath. Soon. She would take care of it for him as long as she had to - which wouldn't be for very long at all, if they were fortunate.

“Kenshin no baka,” she muttered, almost fondly

Take care of yourself.

---------

Blood trailed the length of Kenshin's forearm, a warm, sluggish thread of crimson that pooled briefly between his knuckles, before splashing to the stone at his feet.

The sound of its fall seemed unnaturally loud in the silence that followed. He kept a stubborn grip on the chair leg despite the other man's demand, and leveled his gaze at the two men expertly aiming rifles at his chest from barely ten feet away. Their aim was steady, their expressions intent; both men were far from novices.

There were options, none of them with a great potential for success, or even a moderate one. The water behind him was a quick escape route from his immediate situation, but led to more problems than it solved. Quite apart from the complications of trying to swim one-handed, dropping into the sea next to a boatload of hostile sailors would only drop his chances of defending himself to zero. Could he avoid being shot if he made a run for it?

The short answer was no. Not with the sling slowing him down. Not when he was struggling to keep vision focused, in spite of the spreading ache across the back of his skull. Even knowing this, the frustration that welled deep within at his balked attempt to escape tempted him to try. He tensed, his back to the water, bare feet inches away from the edge of the embankment.

“I wouldn't.”

The officer caught his gaze, narrowed grey eyes staring into his own with a subtle streak of malice. He smiled faintly. “If you think they won't shoot to kill, think again. Bayushi may want you alive, but I don't have any such desire. For me, you are merely the easiest means to an end. I can just as well explain away your death and find another way.”

Bayushi. The name meant nothing to Kenshin, which in itself meant little. There were likely plenty of men in the world he'd never met, with enough cause to consider him an enemy. He didn't dwell on it; his attention had been caught by other things. The soft scuff of feet on stone. There were others here, newly arrived, fanned out in the shadows to either side. Chances of escape had just dropped from minor to nonexistent.

The officer exhaled, sending a fine plume of tobacco smoke into the air. Stared at him. Unblinking.

Kenshin sighed.

Uncurling his blood-streaked fingers, he let the chair leg fall.

“Very good.” The note of approval in the man's voice was grating. “Now, step away from the edge.”

They moved in, then. As he took a grudging step forward, rough hands latched onto his arm, twisting it up behind his back as a second man dug fingers into his shoulder, causing him to suck breath between his teeth in pain. Between the two of them they hauled him forward, caught fast in their grip. Only then did the two riflemen relax their aim.

“Why go to all this effort?” Kenshin asked, softly. “What do you want?”

“You're asking the wrong person.” The officer flicked his cigarette onto the ground, and held his hand out to take the rifle from a man's arms. “If this affair was entirely up to me, you would be dead by now. On the other hand, I believe Bayushi wants to have a chat with you about some history you share. I'm sure you're familiar with that sort of thing.”

“If this Bayushi wanted to talk to me, all he had to do was ask!” Kenshin snarled, his voice rising as temper finally got the better of him. “There was no need to drug me senseless!”

“You're right,” he said, agreeably. “The drug was a courtesy, and one that I will not extend.”

He saw it coming; tried to jerk away as the officer swung. The butt of the rifle slammed into the side of his head with cruel force. He was barely aware of hands letting go as he folded, tumbling forward to crash against cool stone. Somewhere above him, the officer continued speaking, a faint, distorted sound of satisfaction over the high-pitched ringing in his ears.

“That,” he said, “was for Shishio-sama.”

Fading.

Out.

---------

Silence descended on the docks once more.

Yamato stepped on the glowing ember of his fallen cigarette and ground his foot down, extinguishing it. He handed the rifle back to its owner, and crouched beside the limp form sprawled on the ground.

It would have been interesting if he'd tried to run. Yamato couldn't deny feeling a vague sense of disappointment that he hadn't. In the end, however, a live Battousai was of more use, despite his own thoughts on the matter.

“Yamato-san?”

He glanced up at the diffident tone, and nodded to the man who had spoken. “We're done. Go down to the boat and fill the merchant in. Tell him he can collect his fee as normal, but I'll handle the transaction from here.”

“Hai.”

He rolled the rurouni over unceremoniously as the man departed, and stared down into his face. The scarlet hair was streaked with blood now, strands trailing over features gone chalk white. He unsheathed his belt knife, and bent to slice along the bindings holding the right arm in place.

Yamato doubted he would present any more trouble, but he would leave nothing to chance.

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That was mean of me. ^_^

BakaChuu:Of course the pocky isn't spiked! I swear! Those hallucinations you're having are nothing to do with me. ::snicker::

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