Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Scars ❯ Scars ( One-Shot )

Scars


Do we truly ever understand what we want? If someone asked us for our one true wish, would we be able to tell them one definite thing that we could swear would never change in our minds?

" Che, there he goes again, washing laundry like some girl."

{A young looking Misao looked up to her. " What are you doing Omasu?"}

A red gi, pale white worn pants, fiery red hair and a sheathed sword by his side, he sits down on a stool and tends to the dirty clothes in front of him in the barrel. Mud, dirt, dust all float to the surface as he soaks the cloths in water, pure, sparkly clear water that is now brown. He pulls the clothes out and lets them hang on his arm as he empties the dirtied water and refills it with pure, clean, sparking water once more.

When he dunks the clothes back into the water, this time, the water does not become so brown, so dirty. He nods in satisfaction at the result. He takes the soap and mixes it in with the clothes and waits for the foam to form on the surface of the water. Slowly as the bubbles start to dance on the surface and cover most of the space, he takes the scrub board beside him and places it inside the barrel leaning it back towards him. Taking a shirt soaked through with the soapy water, he pulls it up and wrings it down the bumpy steel surface until his hand is encased in water once more.

{" Washing the clothes silly."}

Up, down.

Up, down.

Up, down.

Take the cloth out and wring it once.

{She peered into the tub curiously. " Is it fun?"}

Dunk it back into the soapy water and now, repeat.

Up, down.

Up, down.

Up, down....

The motion so simple, so easy, so effortlessly accomplished, repeated over and over again in a delicate flowing manner.

" When's he gonna stop doing that and realize that it's a woman's place to do those kinds of thing instead of a m-OW! Jou-chan, stop it!"

Trance like in the motion, so easy to be lured into a dreamlike state, soft movements repeated over and over.... He wrings the shirt out and places it in the empty bucket next to him then moves on to the next article of clothing in the barrel soaked through with the soap water. Taking the silk lavender kimono -that reminded him of someone's eyes he rathered not be reminded of- he brought it up and pushed the cloth down the steel bumps until his hands were once, again, soaked in water before coming back up.

{" Maybe...." Omasu tried to tease the girl, " Why?"}

Up, down.

Up, down.

Up, down.

Take the cloth out and wring it once.

{"Because you do it so often."}

Dunk it back into the soapy water and now, repeat.

Up, down.

Up, down.

Up, down....

He must surely wonder how long he had been doing this. Although the others might not realize why he does this, I do. And I wonder how long he will keep doing this.

Why must the past always weigh so heavily on our shoulders? Why, if he says he is no longer the Hitokiri Battousai...

I push myself off from the dojo door and walk over to him. He senses my approach, I know he does, but yet he goes on washing, pretending to be oblivious to me. He smiles as he washes, that cheerful smile that blinds others, but I can only see the closed lid eyes, and the heart wrenching orbs they reveal once in a while.

I go up and sit next to him on the ground, watching as Yahiko and Sano fight and Kaoru trying to stop them. The happy scene was something really beautiful, so vibrant and colorful, so enchanting in its joy.

{" Because I need to silly girl."}

So, like him, I turned my head away and looked down to the washing barrel.

" I was wondering when you were going to join us," He said, still staring down smiling at the clothing wringing up and down on the washboard.

I stayed silent, unknowing what to answer, or how to ask, just watching him dip his hands in and out of the water so rhythmic in its motions, so systematic in its pace and so saddening in its symbolism...

I wonder how the others could be so blind.

" How long are you going to keep doing this?"

{" Almost everyday?"}

Maybe I shouldn't have asked...

" What do you mean?" he replied chirpily.

" What do you mean by this?" I returned motioning to the barrel.

" I'm washing the clothes," he said, but I heard the guardedness in the words.

{" If there are dirty clothes."}

" Really, how many times do you wash the laundry each week? I wonder how they can get so much clothes dirty so soon," I spoke, smiling gently at him.

" They're very energetic."

It would have been easier to avoid my question if he had just 'oro'ed right now, but as I looked over at him, his eyes hung suddenly on his face, his shoulders were slumped and his hand laid limp in the water.

Maybe he knew it too. Maybe him answering that way was his way of letting me know he knew. Maybe he knew that I knew and he needs me to confirm it so he could address the problem straight and easy. But looking at him...

{" And?"

" And what Misao-chan?"}

...Maybe it was because he didn't want to handle the burden alone anymore.

I reached over and placed a hand on the limp wrist of the hand dipped in the soap water.

" I understand," I told him softly. " Maybe they can't, but I do."

" How could you?" he whispered. " When those that know everything have never suspected a thing, yet here you are, with blanks for reason and for understanding-"

I slid my hand into his and tightened my grip. " They can only understand so much." I looked out towards the scenery and he followed my gaze with silence. " As for not understanding the reasons...this is from your Battousai days, is it not?"

{She looked up at the older woman with a curious light in her eyes, " Is it so fun to clean your hands so much?"

Omasu the article of clothing dropped into the water from her limp hands.}

It is from your past is it not? The past is like a ghost, it haunts you from the day it exists till the day you don't. I understand this, I grew up seeing this, seeing how each and everyone had a different way to deal with it, disguise it. I grew up watching the haunted lose themselves in their ghosts.

{" Why do you say that?"

The little girl tilted her head to the side, and Omasu shook at the light in her eyes, it was no longer only curiosity.}

" Washing the laundry?" he asked, or tried to, with a tight amused voice.

No, he never did just that, neither did Omasu, and none of the others only did what they said. They always did something else...it was always something else.

{" Shiro washes the dishes doesn't he?"}

Something sad.

{" And Okon washes the vegetables."}

Something angry.

{" And Jiya never baths for days. But after, he's gone for the whole day."}

Something they wished that they weren't doing.

{"You all are doing different things...but to me it looks like you're all just-"}

" Washing your hands."

I felt him tense up, and the muscles under my palm went stiff in tension. I gave a ghost of a smile at the reaction, just like I had expected. Just like what had happened to the others. " Himura," I began softly, " There are only so many times we can wash something before it becomes clean."

" But they're not clean," he spoke back in a meek voice, " I don't think they'll ever be clean."

I felt my heart ache. It was the truth, but maybe I can sooth him still...

" You can only wash the blood from your hands so many times," I told him. " Once it has been splattered on you and washed away with water the first time, you can't ever do it again. It'll always stay with you after."

{" I'm just washing the clothes Misao."}

His hand was shaking and griping mine to an almost deadly degree, but I continued on anyways.

" Himura," I said, reaching out to cup his cheek with my other hand and made his eyes meet mine. " Please understand. Bloodied hands aren't stains. They're scars. We can only accept them and move on."

" Misao-dono...."

" I should be going now," I told him and stood up to leave.

{"Of course Omasu."}

He let my hands slip away from his and I did not look back as I walked away. I told him the truth, and I made him realize that he wasn't alone anymore. The rest is up to him.

The past is like a ghost that haunts us.

But it can only haunt us if we let it.

The man slowly pulled a hand out of the wash bin, and stared at it for an infinity, incomprehension clear in his eyes. But slowly…ever so gently, he moved his hand to trace the marks on his cheek.

" Scars..." he murmured.

------------------

I don't look back. I can't look back, because in doing so would somehow contradict what I just told him. The power would leave the words and then he would be once again lost, and I don't want that.

Lose the battle and win the war.

Never win the war and then lose the battle, because then the victory would mean nothing. Only when the war is over the true battle begins, the battle to rebuild lives.

I hate war, war means destruction.

But after destruction comes rebirth. Let us all be reborn in this era, and live our lives free of ghosts. The rays of the sun are bright and the happiness of the people are blinding, let us stop looking away and running aimlessly in the dark.

Let the past stop haunting us.

Let us be happy.

Let us accept our scars.

***Owari?***

Hiasobi: I know I know, Kenshin and Misao?! What the heck am I thinking? But I was just soooo tired of watching people pair Kaoru up with other people and leaving poor Ken-chan out by himself. And like, every OTHER pairing has been tried but THIS one! I've been digging six feet under trying to find a MxK fic, but I wasn't able to, so I was like {Hell! I'll write one MYSELF!} So I did, and this is the result.

Reviews are humbly appreciated.