Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Black Poppy ❯ Chapter 1

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

The Meiji Restoration changed everything for everyone. Whether that change was good or bad, well, that just depended on who you were. For many civilians and the Satsuma and Choshu provinces, that change was good. Nothing better could’ve happened in the world. But there were those who didn’t see things exactly the same way. Men, old and young, threw themselves into war to fight for a better country, to fight so people would be happy. After the Revolution, however, was not a warm welcome for a handful of men. Few were lucky enough to get offered solid occupations as guards and officers to enforce the law of the new era, and others settled down with wives and made families, or, rejoined their old ones where they’d left off. For a few, however, no place in the world wanted them. They had gone to war, expected to die on the battlefield, and had been unfortunate enough not to. Returning to a foreign world, they had no place to call “home”. After all, especially for the younger ones, fighting was all they knew. And now it was even illegal to carry swords. So these men did one of a few things- They continued killing, being a manslayer; they took up arms under a new, stronger leader as an underground mafia; or they become wanderers, who had nowhere to call home, just where they happened to be laying their heads at night. These men… they were all people whom the world could, or would, easily do without. Few made a difference anymore. Their time had come, and now it was forever gone.
I sympathized with these war veterans; some of them anyways. A manslayer named Jin-e Udo, who had took this surname to give himself a more “swordsman” feel, had visited the village a while back. He had come during the night, and slew countless men, women, and children. As for me, he apparently didn’t have a taste for flower shops, because when I woke the next morning, not so much as a hair was out of place in my home and shop. My favorite crimson ribbon was even still hanging lazily over a chair, exactly where I’d left it.
I was the type of woman who, if given a chance, would’ve thrown herself headlong into the Meiji Revolution and never looked back. But I knew my fate if I had acted upon such urges. My mother had done such. She’d disguised herself as a man, and given me and my sister Kuuka to my Aunt Tsubaki while she and my brother Jin-e ran off to fight for our future. Unfortunately, about three-fourths of the way through the revolution, my mother was discovered for what she was- a female. Both she and Jin-e were sentenced to death, Jin-e for being an accomplice. Jin-e escaped and joined the ranks of those who woulddefend him, while he left my mother to her own execution. His charges were eventually dropped, and when the revolution was over, instead of coming home to Aunt Tsubaki, Kuuka and I, he ventured on as a manslayer. We were so heartbroken. Aunt Tsubaki would’ve rolled over in her grave to know that Jin-e had come through the village on a killing spree. He’d murdered his own friends, the people he grew up with as a child, teenager, and young adult. But he intentionally skipped over the shop. He knew exactly where we were… either he didn’t care, or the lure of slaughtering his younger sisters just wasn’t appealing that day. Since then, I hadn’t heard anything of him, or from him, of course. I often wondered how he was doing.
Fighting and swordsmanship wasn’t everyone’s style. I’d learned enough kenpo to keep me alive, not make me a victim, but not enough to turn me into a formidable opponent. It was just good enough to keep away the bandits and highwaymen. Exceptional fighters, and fighters in multitudes were my weakness.

One night, I met such a weakness.
Kuuka works at a local restaurant called the Ake... something. Her husband, Falkner, tends to repairs around the shop when needed, but he, too, has another job as a fisherman at the port that leaves him little time for my petty deceased Auntie’s flower shop. The only one willing to keep her memory alive in it, was me. So I stock the shop. Usually, my trips to the outskirts of Yokohama go pretty smoothly, with the exception of my horrid sense of direction. Maybe I’ll bump into a bandit or two, but it’s never been anything I couldn’t handle alone. One night, I got a delightful surprise.
Kuuka was so upset to hear I had been planning to make the trip to pick flowers alone, at night. She’d insisted that I take Falkner with me- He was one of those young, lucky revolutionary veterans who’d found my sister. He’d keep me safe from the bad men. But being the stubborn, arrogant, “pompous” ass that I am, I refused the help and left the second she wasn’t paying attention.
I would live to regret this.
Fate have it, or just good old fashioned luck, I wandered into a forest clearing, with several bouquets of flowers cradled in my arms… where highwaymen were camped.
And I don’t mean it was just one or two of them. There was a horde of them. At least forty, maybe sixty. Perhaps more.
They were all drunk. Drunk, laughing, and swearing around the fires they’d set up. I’d planned to quietly back away, back into the forest and perhaps go around the clearing, but any hope of that cracked instantly, like the stick I stepped on backing up.
Instantaneously, it was dead silent as all of their glazed, beady eyes turned to me. Finally, one called out,
“Hey hey there, beautiful!”
A roar of laughter overtook me, and a wave of alcohol overwhelmed my sensitive senses.
“Where’d you come from, baby?”
“Who cares?! Come on over here, have some fun with us!!”
And the catcalls began. Some whistled. Some made obscene gestures. It was when they all unanimously began to lick thier lips andstand up and reach for their weapons that their intentions were painfully clear.
Clutching the flowers to my chest as if they might help me, I turned and bolted towards Kyoto- or, where I thought Kyoto to be. I’d wandered in so many different directions, I was no longer aware. But of course, running in a kimono and geta, I didn’t get very far before I was caught up to.
Four of them held my arms alone. My flowers fell to the ground, in which one man stepped carelessly on them, the same one who’d made the first remark to me, apparently the leader of the gang. He smiled toothily, bending down right in my face. He was so close, the alcohol from his breath was almost enough to knock me out. I screamed, silently praying someone would hear me. The man quickly slammed a huge hand over my mouth.
“Now you shut up woman, if you know what’s in your best interest.”
There were several chuckles in the sea of thieves. My eyes pricked with tears that I wouldn’t let shed, no matter what. So I closed them. But just the thought of what was mere seconds away was enough to-
“Arrgh!!”
The leader highwayman coughed, spraying a wet liquid across the front of my perfectly cleansed black kimono. His hand dropped from my mouth, and a thud was heard. Upon reopening my eyes, standing behind him, was a tall man clad in a white, yellow-collared long-coat. I lifted my head, and met his eyes. Shock trembled through my heart. There was so much bloodlust in his eyes. But a hint of sorrow framed that frightful anger. I was half afraid that, after he disposed of these highwaymen, he would turn his kodachi on me.
His weapon twitched towards me and back.
“Let go of the woman, or I’ll kill you next.”
The men whimpered and stuttered, but released me, and took off into the forest.
“Kill the leader, and the rest scatter like dogs,” He murmured in distaste.
“The rest of you, get out of here, now, if you value your lives at all.”
Many retreated. But a few were foolish enough to stay. The man sheathed his weapon inside his jacket, scowling. It looked like it was plastered there for eternity. He walked past me, not even so much as casting me a single glance. I turned in time to see him work his magic… because to me, that’s exactly what it was. With single, effortless punches, he was taking out four, five, even six at a time. Not even Falkner could do this. I was stunned, amazed, and very much pleased with this man’s positively impeccable timing. In what seemed like fragile seconds, there wasn’t a thief left standing. He turned, and walked back past me, ignoring me again. It took me a second to realize that he planned to just up and leave me out here.
“H-hey! Wait, please!”
He did not comply, and I was forced to give chase after him.
“Please! Tell me how to get back to Yokohama! I cannot-“
“If you’re talking about that little fisherman village,” He interrupted,
“Then it’s burned down. There’s nothing left of it. No survivors, either.”
I froze in mid-step. His words played a thousand times in my head. He said this as casually and apathetically as if he were commenting on my clothes.
“Then it’s burned down. There’s nothing left of it. No survivors, either.”
I barely noticed him stop and turn around to look at me. In my sight, he was swimming with the trees, the ground…

I was in another place. My arms were folded across the counter, and sleep dangled dreams sweeter than roses in front of my eyes. But my mind cackled an evil tune, making sure I stayed in the land I was. It wasn’t fair.
And then the door… creaked opened. I’d have to remind Falkner to fix that. The scent of the outside world- foods, sand, dirt, trees- all mingled with the smell of flowers inside momentarily, until the person shut the door. My nose involuntarily quivered- an unpleasant but not fatal scent I’d never entirely get used to. It took me a moment to register “Customer!” from the civilian’s being here, but they waited patiently all the same. I groggily lifted my head, and saw familiar eyes. Blue eyes, cold and harsh, that thirsted for the blood of men. Sorrowful, pained eyes. Vengeful eyes. But I couldn’t pin his face to anyone I knew, no matter how much I tried to categorize him. So my thoughts eventually wandered to,
“What is a man like this doing in a flower shop…?”
“Flowers,” He stated bluntly.
My lips twitched, suppressing a grin. If I smiled, this man looked like type that would throw himself over the counter just to reach my face to tear it off.
“What kind?”
His brow furrowed, and he stared intensely back into my eyes, as if I’d suddenly morphed into something beyond recognition.
“Typical male…”
But something told me he wasn’t buying roses or tulips for his sweetheart. I tried to help him out.
“If you tell me the occasion, I can help you with what species you should-?”
“I don’t care what kind,” Was his curt reply, cutting me off.
“Flowers are flowers. Just something that looks nice.”
His eyes left mine, and he browsed for a moment, before resting on a particular flower.
“I want a bunch of that one.”
“You mean… You want a bouquet of…”
My voice trailed after he shot a cruel look at me. I turned, and saw what he wanted.
“Black poppy?”
I reached up, and plucked twelve from their vase.
“That will be…”
And then it hit me, who he was. The man from the forest, who had saved me from the thieves.
“…nothing. This one is all on me.”
He took the flowers, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“No,” He cooed in a voice that was sickly sweet.
“Thank you.”
And then the flower shop burst into a blazing fire. Flames licked at my kimono, my hair, my skin. I moaned in pain, reaching for the man… He would save me again. But instead he faded into ashes before my eyes. I screamed, remembering my sister, pregnant with my niece or nephew, and her husband, Falkner in the back room. I ran through the flames as if they were nothing at all, tears flowing freely down my face. I charged through the door, and collapsed into incoherent screams and sobs that I myself couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Their bodies lay amidst the flames, charred and dead.

It took me a moment to realize it had all been a horrible dream when I finally awoke. I lay on the earth, whimpering, choking on my own silent sobs. The man with the white long jacket was knelt before a obelisk-shaped rock, his eyes closed, hands clasped together in what seemed like prayer. I sat up, shamefully wiping my cheeks free of tears. Standing up, I started towards the first direction that seemed appealing.
“I already told you,” The man spoke.
“There is nothing left of that village. You’ve no home to return to.”
“How do you know this?” I challenged hoarsely.
I’d hoped that had all been just a dream, too.
“You weren’t there.”
“Yes, I was.”
My lip trembled, my knees little more than jelly.
“Why… What… happened there?”
“The Cabinet Officer Okubo Toshimichi was residing in the village at the time. It was supposed to be secret, but some spies found out he was there. Those people were followers of Saigo Takamori, of the Satsuma rebellion. They decided to take the opportunity to fulfill a certain vendetta.”
I whipped around to face him, my heart breaking in two.
“So… they scorched the entire village…?”
The man’s eyes remained closed, his hands clasped. His silence was more than enough answer for me.
“But… the only two… three people I loved… they were… all…”
Still no word from the peanut gallery. Why wouldn’t it speak when you wanted it to?!
He opened his eyes. For the first time, that little tinge of sorrow overtook the anger, the thirst for the blood. But it couldn’t have been pity for me, for a crybaby little girl he’d just had to rescue from men he took out effortlessly.
“You’ve lost someone dear to you… too.”
It took all my being to tack on that extra “too”.
Still nothing from him. I turned back around, and drug my feet across the ground. It felt as if they weighed a thousand kilos. Something in me just had to see the wreckage myself. Strangely enough, I had no problem finding Yokohama. It must have been my subconscious that knew the way back, and that any other day struggling to find my path, I had been thinking too hard. I prayed the entire walk that the man in the white coat would jump out from behind a tree and laugh at my stupidity, crying, “I got you! Oh, that was a good one! I can’t believe you actually fell for that!!”
He never appeared.
I had been visualizing the mess in my mind, what the town would look like after a fire. But no matter how many times, however many ways that I pictured it, it couldnever haveprepared me for what I really saw.
If I hadn’t have known better than the back of my hand where my floral shop had been, I never, in a hundred lifetimes, would have guessed it. The entire place was a pile of ash and old charred wood that hadn’t been burned all the way. Smoke billowed out everywhere, from every crevice and used-to-be window. There wasn’t even a blackened body anywhere, to show that earlier that day, there had been life. Because now, you never would have guessed it.Before I knew what I was doing, I found myself rummaging through the blackened debris; what I was looking for I still don't know. It just seemed like a good idea. Sorta. I didn't find anything, except... well, debris.I straightened back into my standing position, wringing my hands fiercely. My eyes scanned the area, again, not looking for anything in particular, but almost out of a need to keep my hands and mind busy. There was only one thing I was certain about, that I had beenpositive about sincethe second I saw what my home had become.
I knew I wanted to go back to the man. Who knew how many of those highwaymen were still floating around? As much as I might not have wanted to admit it, I needed him. I just didn’t know when I would be turning back.
So I wandered aimlessly, brushing my fingers across the bark of trees, the tops of bushes. I stopped short when something caught my eye. I retraced my steps, and pulled back a thin branch out of the way. It was a small patch of black poppies. Sorrow overwhelmed me, and suddenly I wanted to burst into tears. I seemed tobe doinga lot of that lately. So,I slouched against the tree, and cried.

The man was still praying at the rocks by the time I returned. It must’ve been nearly an hour passed since I’d left him, which made me begin to wonder if he had intentionally been hanging around, waiting on me to come back. But the thought was gone as soon as it had come. Don’t be so vain. He doesn’t care one way or the other about you, but you need him now. Time to kiss up.
I knelt down, and pulled my favorite crimson ribbon from my hair, and draped it about the obelisk. The man’s eyes opened, and took notice of my ribbon. I placed the black poppies at the base of the rock (yes, the same ones I oh so pitifully cried over then picked for some reason I myself did notunderstand until I'd placed them at the makeshift grave),then clasped my own hands together. To my surprise, the man took my ribbon, and tied it around the base of the rock, tucking the flowers into it. He clasped his hands again, and shut his eyes. I followed suit.
“What is your name, woman?”
I was slightly taken aback by his question, but answered him, never reopening my eyes.
“Kasumicho Saiyuri.”
When he didn’t give his own, I asked for it. He didn’t answer, and I took sanctuary in listening to the wind blow, softly rustling the leaves in the trees. One of the most soothing sounds in the world besides my old deceasedAunt Tsubaki's singing, bless her…
His reply came several minutes later.
“Shinomori Aoshi.”
His voice had been different than earlier; not so cold and apathetic. This voice was lovely, soft like satin. I couldn't help but smile bitterly in spite of myself, insincerely.
"It is nice to meet you... Aoshi."
"Mmm."
My smile widened.
I was garunteed to live a few days longer.