Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Blood and Water ❯ Blood and Water ( Chapter 1 )

All standard disclaimers apply: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, I make no money off this work, etc. Characters of Rurouni Kenshin are the property of Nobuhiro Watsuk.

 

 

Blood and Water

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There was blood in the water, in the puddles at his feet. Rain drenched his hair, poured down his face, turning pink before dripping to the ground. There was blood. Blood from the lives he had ended, clouding the water sent by the heavens. The blood, the dirt, made the water murky, unfit to drink, contaminated by his actions. Such waste, such loss, the blood in the water.

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There was blood in the water, from washing her shoulder. Blood from her foolishness, her bravery. Thankfully the cut on her shoulder was shallow, and he had been quick enough to prevent any more wounds. Her smile conveyed thanks, but did not lessen his concern. He needed to stop this imposter from spilling more blood.

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There was blood in the water, he noticed. Blood in her laundry water. Why was she washing? Why was there blood? Washing out blood was his hopeless task, not hers.

Raising an eyebrow, he tilted his head silently at the tub. Her cute blush and stutter calmed his fears, though not his questions. It was her glare and the cloths in her hands that clued him in and made him flush. He turned away.

“Next month just put your cloths in the basket for washing. This one is familiar with washing out blood. It won't be a problem.”

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There was blood in the water. His blood thankfully, and not hers. But it was blood still, and on her ribbon no less. The ribbon she had given him - no lent him. To insure he would return to her. It was comforting and disturbing at the same time. Knowing she wanted him here, with her, warmed him inside. But the thought that it might one day being her blood instead of his being spilt, left him troubled. He scrubbed at the ribbon, wishing he could make it clean enough for her.

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There was blood in the water. He was used to it by now, seeing her blood each month as he washed her cloths. It drew his attention to what he tried to ignore. She was a woman, a strong, healthy, woman - a woman and not a child. She was clearly mature enough for marriage, children.

The blood each month seemed almost a reproach. Why was he waiting? Why hadn't he asked her yet? It was a continual reminder that while blood never completely washed out, life went on.

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There was no blood in the water this time, he saw with relief. The one time when most would have expected - demanded—there be blood, the washing water remained clear. He was grateful for that. He had tried so hard to be gentle and she was naturally so active, it was unsurprising really. The wedding sheets did need washing from their activities, but there was no blood on them. No sign that he had hurt her, brought pain where there should be only joy. His smile reflected in the clear water.

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There was blood in the water. Just a little, from the linen she had wrapped her hand with. He had seen to the wound and then finished the dinner she had been attempting to cook. Now he was washing the bandage, seeing her blood in the water. It had been a while since he had to wash out blood. It had been months since he could recall washing out blood. A grin broke out over his face as he went to embrace his wife.

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There was blood in the water, on the sheets. Lots of vivid red blood. He hadn't realized that there would be so much blood. After all he had seen in his life, he was still astounded by it. It was blood that accompanied this new future, the blood of hope, of new beginnings. Gently he washed away the blood that covered him, this precious miracle, his son.

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