Kendo no Go
In the Language of Kendo:
A Fanfic in 100 Chapters
by Akai Kitsune
59: Kenko
~*~
"This must have to do with
my condition, doesn't it?"
Kaoru could remember the fear and trepidation
she felt at Kenshin's words, spoken so casually, so calmly to the young doctor
who sat before him. Whatever it was Megumi had to tell him, he already knew - or
at least, suspected. His health had never been a problem in the past; he had
never been ill, really, and his wounds were usually quick to recover. It was
uncanny how he was able to overcome both pain and weakness to accomplish what he
wished, ignoring doctor's instructions or the concerned requests of his friends.
What Kenshin set his mind to do, it usually was done before anyone could stop
him or slow him down. That was just part of who he was.
The thought of him being unhealthy frightened
her terribly.
"No matter how great your
talent, the more you use Hiten Mitsurugi, the more damage your body will take."
It was the swordsmanship, the style which had
saved him so many times throughout his life, that was killing him, in the end.
"You've seen the slight
damage already..."
How far could he go before the damage went too
far, before it was too much?
"What will happen to me?"
'What will happen to you, Kenshin?'
After Megumi's announcement,
Kaoru became even more determined to keep Yahiko from practicing - indeed, even
considering - his borrowed Mitsurugi techniques. She discouraged the use of his
so-called "Learned By Watching Ryuu Tsui Sen", afraid of what sort of damage he,
as a child with less experience than Kenshin, could do to his body. Of course he
objected, since it was his technique, one he had fought hard to figure
out without Kenshin's teaching, and the attack had saved his life in the battle
against the Soaring Henya.
This was true, but what was the worth of a
single move if it decreased your chances of continuing your practice at every
use?
When she argued this point with Kenshin, he
merely smiled, stating that Yahiko was growing into an adult who could make his
own choices in life, no longer lead so strongly by their opinions.
"Besides," he added with a
small shrug, "His knowledge of the technique is hardly enough to put him in
danger. You shouldn't worry so much."
But how could she not worry about her only
student, when the one she loved was already at risk?
Kenshin's condition,
honestly, was not as bad as she assumed. He did not grow frail and sickly as
time passed; he did not become any more susceptible to illnesses than before. He
slowed in his practice of swordsmanship - at least his own technique, for she
was certain he continued the basic exercises to keep himself fit - and was able
to continue through the daily routines of chores he had followed since his
arrival in her home.
Her nervousness gradually decreased, taking
comfort in the fact that he felt no fear over his health. He seemed to continue
on as if Megumi hadn't said a word about it, a smile on his face, just as
cheerful and calm as ever. It was uncanny how he was able to brush aside
anything concerning his own life, when harm or risk to others sent him into a
flurry of deep, silent brooding.
He always told her not to worry, and she knew
that she worried too much already. She worried about her family, she worried
about those missing from their little group, she worried about the friends
around her. She worried about her school, their money situation, the weather.
"Koishii, what's wrong?"
Everything.
And, in truth, it really wasn't. The life she
had led since Kenshin entered it - bringing with him a storm of adventure she
never imagined she'd be part of - was enough to shock anyone with only a single
experience, let alone many. But it had not been so terrible; she knew she had
grown more in six months than in several years before his arrival. It had
brought her to new levels of fear, courage, and, most importantly, love.
A great deal of love.
She smiled at the memories, deeply grateful for
the rurouni's appearance, grateful that she had met him on the street that day.
Despite all that had happened between them - grief, fright, danger and farewells
- the hole his very existence had filled in her heart far outshone anything she
might regret. He brought meaning to her life.
His love, alone, was enough.
~*~
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