Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Words For Worry ❯ Chapter 1

This is like a song fic except that it is a poem fic. This poem is by one of my favorite poets, Li-Young Lee. I just couldn't help imaging Kenshin and Kenji as I read it. I hope you enjoy this little look into their lives.

Words to the poem are in BOLD ITALICS

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or Words for Worry by Li-Young Lee.

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Words For Worry

Fourteen doesn't seem very old when one is thirty-three. I should know. But I look at my son, and I see a boy whose growing up faster than I ever thought he could. He's strong like his father, though my darling husband seems to be getting old too fast too. The sweet and gentle man I knew tosses in his sleep. He wakes up and stares at me. He kisses me, then runs to check on his son. Of course, Kenji doesn't know. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better if he did.

Another word for father is worry.

He's in our kitchen now. He's making the medicinal tea Megumi gave him for Kenji. It's just a little cold. It's really no big deal, but Megumi said once every four hours, so there he sits in the middle of the night over a fire. I know he'll give it to me to take to our one and only son. He knows Kenji won't accept it from him. Sadly, I know that too.

Worry boils the water

for tea in the middle of the night.

It breaks my heart. How can a child not love his father? How can a father be so doting on that kind of son? I want to box Kenji's ears. I want to hit him with my shinai every time he turns his nose up at the man who loves him more than anything. I will always be second in my husband's heart, as I should be. I want to lock Kenji in a room with Kenshin until they are as they should be. I want to systematically go through each of his memories so he will see and understand. Why doesn't he remember what I do? Why does he only quote the bad times, the times Kenshin had to go and we had to wait for him? Why doesn't he remember training in the sun? Why doesn't he remember the three of us laughing by the river? Why doesn't he remember the lullabies, the gentle voice that brought so much peace?

Worry trimmed the child's nails before

singing him to sleep.

Kenshin hands me the tea. He smiles softly.

"Why don't you take it, Kenshin?" He sighs and turns to walk to our room. He never answers those kind of questions. He never agrees and takes the tea to Kenji. I should be angry at being ignored. I should yell at him. I should hit him with my shinai too. But I don't. I can't. I just stare after him and feel my heart break just a little bit more. I push open the shoji to my son's room. He is sleeping. His red hair spills across the pillow just like his father's. I feel a little better standing by him. I always feel my heart lighten looking at my son, our son.

Another word for son is delight,

But there are things about him that I don't know. What is he thinking when he looks at me? Or when he looks at Kenshin? Why is he like this? I shake him gently. He opens his blue-violet eyes at me. They are an exact mix of his father's and mine, but they are so separate. They are so Kenji. He rubs the sleep away from them.

"More tea?" I hand him the cup. He drinks immediately. Kenshin made sure it was just the right temperature. Warm enough to comfort him, cool enough to drink without burning the roof of his mouth.

"Your father made it." He hands me back the cup. He lays his head back down on the pillow and looks up at me. I can read nothing in his eyes.

"He loves you, you know. He loves you more than anything. All he does is worry about you." Kenji rolls over to face the wall. He closes those blue-violet eyes.

"Good-night, Mother." I sigh and move to the door.

"Goodnight, Kenji." He doesn't respond, so I shut the door. I don't know what he's thinking. I don't know what he's feeling. I don't know my own son.

another word, hidden.

I used to know him. I used to know all about him. I could read him like a book. I could tell what he was feeling. But that was before. That was when he loved his father and me. That was when we all had dinner together. That was when peace enveloped our household. That was before he left.

And another is One-Who-Goes-Away.

He never actually said where he went at eleven years old for a month. I was devastated. He left two days after Kenshin did. I had no one to turn to except Yahiko. I begged him to go and find my son. I thought he had been kidnapped. I thought my life was over. Yahiko searched for him, and I searched for Kenshin. I figured Kenshin could come back from wherever he was to help find Kenji. We couldn't just let him go. I caught Kenshin right before he boarded a ship. I think he was going to China. We dashed home. We searched the countryside. We went everywhere. Near the end of the month, we returned home. I didn't eat for days. Kenshin didn't either. Then one afternoon Yahiko came in the front gates with Kenji. They both looked fine. I held my son and demanded to know who took him. He kissed my cheek, then walked to his room without saying a word. He walked right by his father's outstretched arms. I was confused. I looked to Yahiko for answers.

"Who took my son?"

"He left on his own." I will never forget those words. Yahiko told me Kenji would tell me why when he was ready. He said that he found him on his way home. Kenji was returning on his own, so that had to be a good sign. Yahiko left to go home to his wife. I turned to see my husband standing with outstretched arms. He seemed to be shocked. I could no longer read my son, but I could read my husband. His heart was broken, and Kenji lay quietly in his room.

Yet another, One-Who-Returns.

Kenshin is sitting on our futon. His hands idly play with the edges of the blanket. He will not sleep tonight. He looks up at me with sad violet eyes.

"Did he drink it all?"

"Yes."

"Is he looking better?"

"Yes." He looks back down at the futon. I sit next to him. He is an empty shell. I've tried so hard to fill him with my love. But I know that it's not my love he needs. I stroke the fiery red strands of his hair, the one part of him that hasn't dimmed with time.

"What are you thinking about, Koshii?" He smiles gently at me. For a moment, I'm not sure if he'll answer the question. He looks right at me. There is so much pain in those eyes.

"I am getting old."

"You are not." I am lying more for myself than for him.

"I am. I have different responsibilities now. I have different things to think of."

"You are only as old as you feel. You still dream, right?"

"No. I am too old for dreams." This is not right. This cannot be happening to us.

"How can you say that, Koshii?" I feel like I'm going to cry. I've been crying far too often lately.

"There is someone else to dream and play for me now." He kisses my cheek lightly.

So many words for son:

He-Dreams-for-All-Our-Sakes.

His-Play-Vouchsafes-Our-W inter-Share.

His-Dispersal-Wins-the-Birds.

He stands and moves toward the door. He is slower than he used to be. He lost the Hiten Mitsurugi years ago, but I think that losing Kenji is what really slowed him down. Even the light in his eyes is gone.

"He's just confused, Koshii. He loves you deep down. He really does!" He smiles softly at me. I hate that smile, that I wish I could believe you smile. It's not like my husband to give up hope. He turns and walks out the door.

But only one word for father.

And sometimes a man is both.

Which is to say sometimes a man

manifests mysteries beyond

his own understanding.

I chase after him. I cannot let it rest this way. It cannot be this way.

"Are you just giving up?" He turns quickly from the middle of the yard. The moon is shining down on us even as the sun is coming up in the distance.

"Kaoru," he whispers. It's a dismissal. He's trying to get me to just leave him alone. It won't work this time.

"Would you really stop dreaming? Would you really stop loving your son?" He walks toward me. He gathers me in his arms. I can feel the moisture of his cheeks on my neck. I didn't realize he had been crying.

"I am like a general sometimes, on my missions. I lead Japan. I am a friend to people like Yahiko and Tae and Megumi. I am a worker, a housekeeper, and a protector. I am a husband, Kaoru. But the most important part of me, the thing I am before everything else, I am failing at."

"Kenshin, you are not a failure." This time I am not lying. Kenshin has done the best he can. He stretches his arms and pushes me gently from him to look into my eyes. It's been years since I've seen my husband cry. My husband is the rock. He is solid, goal-driven. He can withstand anything.

"Tell me, Kaoru, what kind of father is hated by his son?"

For instance, being the one and the many,

and the loneliness of either. Or

"He doesn't hate you." Kenshin pulls me to him again. He kisses my hair. His sobs shake his body and mine. Even the rock can be worn away eventually, if the water beats at it enough. I realize something. Kenshin is everything. Kenshin is the reason many people we love are around. Kenshin saved Sanosuke from himself. He saved Megumi from her captors. He saved Yutaro from his so-called sensei. He saved Yahiko from the streets, Tsubame from her shyness. He helped raise Ayame and Suzume. He gave Dr. Gensai some time to rest. He saved everyone really. He saved Japan over and over. And then he saved me. He saved me from my loneliness and he created Kenji. We are all nothing without him. And we take him for granted.

the living light we see by, we never see. Or

I look at him and kiss him full on the lips. I need him. We all need him. And the one thing he needs, he can't seem to get.

"I love you, Kenshin."

"I love you too." I stroke his hair, his cheeks.

"When you look at Kenji. What do you feel?" He stares into my eyes confused by the question.

"Like what, Kaoru?"

"Like do you feel disappointment, regret, sadness? What do you feel when you look at our son?"

"Love."

the sole word weighs

heavy as a various name.

He walks over to the poles the laundry is hanging on. He carefully takes down my kimono, his gi, and Kenji's hakama. He folds them and places them in separate piles. Kenji's clothes are almost as big as his, except less worn and old. Kenshin will always be more worn and old.

And sleepless worry folds the laundry for tomorrow.

He looks back at me when he's done. He picks up Kenji's pile and hugs it to his chest. He puts his face into it and smells. He stares into my eyes.

"Do you think he's happy?"

"No."

"How can I make this better, Kaoru?"

"He has to be up for classes with the sensei in a few minutes."

"Shouldn't you wake him?" It's just like him to forget everything to worry about his son.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you should." I point toward Kenji's room. He looks deep into my eyes then moves in that direction. I watch him open Kenji's door.

Tired worry wakes the child for school.

A few moments later, he returns. He smiles at me. It's a real smile. I haven't seen one of those in so very long.

"What did he say?"

"He said good morning." He pulls me into his arms and spins me around. His smile seems even bigger.

"My son said good morning." His voice is barely a whisper, shaking with joy. I don't know whether to be happy or sad that such a small thing could be so wonderful to him.

"I wonder if I would have acted that way toward my father when I was fourteen. I hope not. I will go make Kenji's lunch for school." He walks toward the kitchen, and I watch him go. To the east, the sun is rising steadily higher.

Orphan worry writes the note he hides

in the child's lunch bag.

It begins, Dear Firefly…

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A/N: Well, what do you think? Please review and let me know!