Kendo no Go
In the Language of Kendo:
A Fanfic in 100 Chapters
by Akai Kitsune
68: Shinto
~*~
Kenshin was
never much of a religious person. Truthfully, he never had any reason to put
much thought into any all-powerful deities guiding his life's path. He didn't
enjoy that idea, anyway.
Despite the dark turns his life
had met with as he grew, he always took comfort in knowing it was he who
made his choices; as such, the redemption was his own to seek, and was not
simply a string of the gods placed on his wrist to lead him along. He liked to
believe that his choices had meaning, that he was able to change the world
rather than rely on divine interference. Those were his original intentions,
after all.
However, he learned quickly
that even earthly purposes need the guidance of the gods. His assassination
duties required the placement of a single sheet of paper on the body of his
primary target, the phrase "Tenchuu" scrawled across it as a message of death to
all who opposed their ideals - the ideals of those who honoured the Emperor, who
was as revered as the gods themselves.
Even trusting in those ideals
were not enough, sometimes; Kenshin often wondered why such a message was
necessary. To excuse the Ishin Shishi from any incrimination of the murder? To
make believe that the gods had sought out and destroyed this one man - a tax
collector, now a secretary, now a minister of the government - for the sake of
redeeming the lost honour of their sanctified country?
To pretend a hitokiri had not
hunted each and every one of those walking corpses and cut them apart with his
bloodstained swords?
Justice. What is justice?
During his
time in Otsu with Tomoe, he often visited shrines for the dead, accompanying her
upon her request. She never asked directly, but he somehow understood the
unspoken wish. He didn't know enough about her past to know who she prayed for,
or to, for that matter, but it never bothered him. She appeared to be content to
leave him in the dark, and he was content to stay that way.
Revealed secrets always brought
pain, it seemed.
Kyoto
brought to him many memories - after ten years, he had expected it, of course -
but he wasn't sure what spurred on his visit to the cemetery, giving flowers to
Tomoe's long-neglected grave. The combined thoughts of guilt, resignation, and
suppressed hope all worked together to grant him enough courage to follow the
road that led him to the old temple by which she was buried. He didn't know how
much pain he would feel at the sight of it.
He didn't know that, at the
same time, he would feel such relief.
Inviting
Kaoru to her grave was a halted idea brought to reality; he had considered it
for a long time after revealing his past to his friends, but never acted upon
it. Of all his family, she was the closest, and the one who had given him the
most reason to fear as he spoke of his wife. He hadn't wanted her to fear him -
something which had occurred only in rare occasions, when his battles were
brought to the extreme and he was forced to bring forth the sealed hitokiri in
his soul.
She surprised him, then, with
her determination to keep him close to her - even closer than before, in fact,
now that she knew so much more about him - and her lightfaced answer.
Of course she would go with him
to Kyoto. She would love to, if it was all right with him.
It was just fine.
He was grateful, later, for her
comforting presence at his side. Not simply because of his physical condition -
he was in no state to travel alone, so soon after his battle with Enishi which
brought him so close to death - but for the ache in his heart, the soft
fluttering of emotions which pressed hard against the walls of his soul like a
clawed vice, threatening to crush him if he could not keep a firm rein on it.
He was grateful for her hand in
his, feeling her warmth through the bandages, the calluses, the blood. For her
smile, the brightness in her eyes as he helped her to her feet again, even as
she carried his burdened heart on her shoulders.
~*~
|