HakuBaikou.com

Standard Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin characters are the property of creator Nobohiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shounen Jump, and Sony Entertainment.

Light of the Snow-Red Village
Part II - Light the Wick: The Early Years - Chapter 5

His recovery, Kenshin soon discovered unhappily, was to take more time than he had previously assumed. It was another four days before Koromo allowed him to get up, and another day passed until she judged him fit enough to wander the temple as he pleased. However, she was very careful with him, and he was equally careful not to overexert himself and give her an easy excuse to keep him bedridden. She was, he mused, quite overprotective of her patients.

"The death that would likely result would be a stain on our pride and our devotion to this craft."

He saw very little of Sao after that day, and a great deal of Hikari. She seemed happier now that she was free of the confines of her lessons, and showed no evidence of the 'worldly grievances' that were apparently going to mar her childhood. Kenshin shook his head, wondering what the priest had meant. She was with him, and she was happy. That would do, for now.

Perhaps someday, there would be grief. But as long as he could, he would do his best to quell such thoughts from forming.

Walking the halls of the temple, observing the tapestries and statues, the tall doors and tinted windows... he felt the sharp, burrowing ache of longing touch his soul.

Tomoe was buried in one, far away, in Kyoto, his home of so many years. Kyoto, the City of Flowers, of blood.

Sometimes he liked to walk in the graveyard, bowing his head to the stones and recognizing the loss that came with death. The two went hand in hand, even in those he opposed, those who opposed him and his goal, his dream.

Freedom for the oppressed, safety for the farmers, fairness for the peasants and lower class of his country.

Kiyosato Akira had been one of those killed for his dream, his cool, collected shattering of lives in that city, the city of flowers and blood and grief.

He had laid a flower on the back of that man, hoping that his dreams would be met on the other side.

Strange, that he had most likely ensured that happiness with the blade that tore his wife away from him, from life itself.

Sometimes he avoided the graveyard, for reasons he did not want to admit to himself quite yet.

'Such as today,' he thought sullenly, making his way through the threaded hallways of the temple away from his room, 'Today, when the snow falls so violently against the ground, it seems as if the sky itself it bleeding...'

But Tomoe had not died in the snow, he reminded himself. She had come close - so close, and by his hand both times - but when she had died it had been in a cabin, their small home of exile, cradled in the arms of the man who had loved her, killed her.

Loved her. Their child had slept, blissful and smiling, as her mother had died.

He had held her too, that day, with hands bloody and smeared, and a grief so torn and a dream so shattered it resonated from his eyes - violet, like those of the child he carried - telling all who dared to look at him that a story was buried there, never to be learned by another soul.

He guarded his grief, let it remind him day by day what he had done and what it had done to him.

And why, for reasons he admitted easily this time, he could not allow such grief to touch the child he brought with him.

He had carried her when his arms were covered in blood, the blood of her mother.

Shutting his eyes, he bowed his head, and thought again of Hikari and nothing else. His light; he carried that one thought with him, for comfort, for the constant use of soothing his fears of what had happened that day.

He started; Hikari's voice, loud and filled with panic. He quickened his stride, ignoring the slight ache of his side and the not-so-slight pain of his shoulder as he moved faster.

Sao, this time. He felt a flash of anger, hot and flaming, and he began to run, following his ears to the source.

Sao stood, straight-backed and firm even in her surprise, beside the fire that blazed in the room. One of two flames. She herself resembled the dull cold of winter that fell just outside. He felt a shimmer of Tomoe again, and pushed it back stubbornly. 'She had been ice, for a time,' he recalled, striving to protect his memory of her, 'But she had never been this cold.'

In Sao's hand, he saw, was the source of Hikari's unhappiness. The orange-and-violet ribbon, her torn, ragged gift of only a week or so ago, dangled dangerously close to the fire, the tongues of flame threatening to consume the already battered material. She was going to burn it, he realized.

And Hikari was reaching for it, far too short at her age, but trying nonetheless. He watched as she froze, small fingers still outstretched, and turned to him, eyes wide and astonished. "Tousan?" she called softly.

Her eyes were enormous, as if she had never seen him before. That one thought, strangely, shook him to the core. "What are you doing?" he demanded, switching his gaze to Sao. The priestess's eyes flickered, and he could imagine the snort of disdain from her mouth had she not been held back by protocol. 'Tomoe would have shaken her head,' he thought again, not knowing why.

"I am trying," Sao finally said, barely containing the chill in her voice, "To teach your daughter that a lady should hardly wear such disgusting material. That silly fool Koromo hasn't allowed me to touch it until now."

"You should not have been allowed to touch it at all." Kenshin replied, the ice reaching his own voice. "I thought I made that clear."

Sao did scoff, this time, and turned away, tossing the ribbon towards the fire. Hikari jumped forward, voice choking in objection.

Kenshin wasn't sure how he managed to move as quickly as he did, but suddenly he was standing in front of the fire, one hand holding Hikari back, and the other - in a sling, stinging from the exertion and speed of the movement - clutching a singed ribbon.

His eyes were sharp, burning like the fire at his back. "Do you ever listen to anyone else's wishes?"

Hikari tugged gently at his sleeve. "Tousan," she said quietly, "I don't understand. I wasn't good, was I? But you're up. I thought..."

She hesitated, eyes flitting towards the priestess in front of them. Finally, she said reluctantly, "SHE said you wouldn't be happy unless I behaved and did what she said. That you'd still hurt if I was bad."

His heart plunged, and the fire worked its way back into his eyes. He turned back to face her, and she met his gaze easily, her ice unflinching. "You what?" he asked, voice incredulous. "You lied, to make her behave?"

"But not without good reason," he said tightly between gritted teeth, his anger rising.

"I had reason." she snapped. "You daughter is an ill-mannered, temperamental stripling who cannot be taught to a lady, because she clearly has nothing in her that is fit to walk in dignity!"

He froze, eyes wide. Both hands dropped to his side, the ribbon and Hikari's hair falling from his fingers.

The image of Tomoe flickered - like a flame - her eyes filled with a deep disapproval.

His fists were clenched so tightly that his nails drew blood, and he belatedly realized that if he had brought his sword with him, he would have drawn it and - and -

And with that realization came the thought that it wouldn't have mattered whether that sword was a katana or his own sakabatou.

He took a deep breath, calming himself, then met her eyes, amber-violet fire searing the ice.

"If this is what being a lady is to her, I wish she would remain an ill-mannered, temperamental stripling who takes joy in her life, rather than a woman - a lady - shrouded in bitterness and anger."

He reached down to take Hikari's hand, then noticed the blood and pulled away. She looked up at him, then at his hand, bloodied and crimson... and she took it, squeezing gently. "Hurt, tousan? Koromo-san can fix it."

"Wait." Sao called, her voice not quite as sharp as it had been. "If you don't let someone teach her... she will be unskilled all her life. She will not be wanted... and will eventually be discarded. Useless. Do you want this?"

'Discarded? Who else, besides me, does she have in the world who would discard her?'

"She is cruel to the child of a swordsman?" He remembered speaking those words.

'Do any of us carry the ability to control who our parents will be? Must you condemn her because of me?'

He faced her again, eyes darkening. "You yourself are a greater fool than you believe me to be."

Sao glared at him. "Really? What is so terribly foolish about what I try to accomplish?"

"You have acted against the wishes of your superior and myself. Are there no rules in this temple, or are you allowed to run wild, doing as you please, simply because you find your grievance more painful than anyone else's?"

She was caught off guard for a moment, then the accusing scowl returned. "It seems that Taki-sama has been telling more than he should, again."

He didn't even blink. "He did it for your sake, so that I would not judge you as cruel. I understood his kindness then, though I see now that it was wasted on one who clearly doesn't care."

Sao snarled, face wrenched in grief and fury. "What do you know?! How dare you claim to know how deeply I mourn?!"

His eyes softened, tender and filled with many mysterious emotions. "I know... I know." his hand drifted near Hikari's hair. She was watching them both, listening carefully. He realized suddenly that he too had to be careful.

Sao saw his eyes, saw his movement, and turned away to hide the change in her expression. There was a long silence.

Finally she spoke again, in a very different voice. Quiet, almost muted by what may have been tears. "What... do you propose I do? How do you suggest I deal with this grief, this pain?"

Another question between them was left in silence, to be interpreted and answered by each.

What do you do when your heart has been torn - living, bleeding - from your body while you still live, leaving you shattered and alone, feeling the wound fester and ache, then heal so slowly you feel as if you would die before it goes away...

"Move on." he said simply, expecting the question, and all the while unsure as of how to deal with it. "Pick up the pieces of your life, what treasures you still hold in your hands-" his hand moved again, longing to stroke the midnight hair despite the blood, "And hope that someday, the pain may be eased."

Eased, for they both knew that the pain of a wound so deep can never, truly, disappear forever.

"No." he answered instantly, his words sharper than he intended. He felt Hikari's head move, looking up at him. He softened again, trying to be more gentle. "No, do not forget. Never forget. But... haven't you ever considered that the life you are living - the way you live, the way you act - is only another way of causing pain for those you love?"

She flinched, though he had not intended it to be hurtful. "This way of grieving is pain," he continued, soothing. "And I doubt it is your intention to cause more pain for those you love, both dead and alive."

The silence that fell on the room was long, almost painful in itself, and he thought for a moment that he should leave her alone.

Then she turned again, to face him, and he saw that there were tears in her eyes, not yet fallen down her cheeks. She reached up, hesitantly, and touched them. "Do you know," she said, shyly, in a voice that didn't seem to be hers, "That I have not cried since he died?"

His lips moved into a ghost of a smile. "I know," he repeated, even though he didn't. For he knew himself, and they were more alike than either would readily admit.

The image of Tomoe had vanished, only for a moment, and for that moment this woman was there in his mind, in the same state of grief as he had been in that cabin three years ago, where time and his heart had frozen like ice - her ice, her skin as it was slowly chilled in death - and had begun to live again only when a child's voice had cried out loud into the night. Calling him, and her, in her own way. She had not had a child to bring her back.

So, holding that same child close to him, he knelt beside her when she fell to the floor, and placed one hand on her shoulder as she cried, and cried, calling him, calling love, in her own way.

Kenshin smiled, easily and without holding back, as he made his way from his room - moved from the infirmary to the guest's halls these past two months, since his full recovery - to the larger, sweet-smelling room where the meals were prepared. He could hear sounds of the bustling cooks, pots and pans clashing together, and loud conversations drifting above the noise.

Carefully, ever aware of the sensitivity of his formerly injured arm, he pulled at the shoji door, and was grateful as it slid easily. He peered inside, the smile never leaving his face. Hikari was covered in flour and rice, and enjoying every moment of it, as she rolled onigiri and decorated them with everything she possibly could - though it was mostly the flour. Koromo was at one side encouraging her, and on the other... Sao stood, watching, her eyes taking in every moment, ears devouring every word.

She was not laughing, Kenshin noticed first, but she wasn't scolding either. There had been a gradual, yet steady change in her, enough so that he had allowed Hikari to learn some things from her. Cooking, for one. He suspected there wasn't much that went on behind his back anymore. Hikari told him everything about what she learned whenever she was with Sao, happily and without hesitation. The ice, surely as the snow outside the sanctuary, was melting within her heart.

She saw him, waiting silently by the door, and moved away from the mess to stand beside him. "You woke up. It's unlike you to sleep so late."

"The bed was warm," he answered casually. "I wanted to indulge in comfort while I can."

Sao nodded, brushing at some of the flour on her robe, futilely. He looked at her, searching, and she noticed after a moment. "Himura-san?"

She started, not expecting the question. Finally, a weak smile was drawn across her face. "Well... yes, I think. I don't know if I can laugh yet; I haven't, for a long, long time. But... someday, I'd like to believe I will. Someday."

"It takes time." his gaze flickered to Hikari. He remembered the first time he had laughed, after Tomoe's death. It was with her. She had been two years old. "Longer, for some." Two years.

"Yes." she murmured, her eyes following his. "But... for certain? There will be healing?"

It satisfied her, at least. He didn't tell her how hard it would be; she knew already.

Hikari finally noticed him, and waved snow-coloured hands at him. "Tousan, you're awake!"

He felt a lift in his heart, and his smile broadened. "Hikari-chan, your hair is whiter than Taki-dono's! Should I complain to the cooks about what they're feeding you?"

And he remembered quite soon after, as a handful of flour hit him, covering his own hair and a good deal of his face with the fluffy whiteness. He blinked, glancing down at the tail of red - now white - hair that trailed down his shoulder, then looked back at the cooks, grinning wildly. "Ah. I should complain, then."

Hikari laughed again, and this time he laughed with her. Sao smiled, not weakly at all.

"Thank you for allowing us to stay here for the season," Kenshin bowed low to Taki, the material of his hakama tightly fisted in his fingers. "With my injuries and the coming snowfall... it would have been hard for us."

"Hard, Himura-san?" Taki smiled, amused despite the subject. "Really, I never would have guessed."

It was hard, he thought inwardly, wincing, to admit that he would have died. He would not have thought that death could scare him so much.

But... there were so many more important things to be done. He glanced at Hikari, holding on to Koromo's hand and swinging it back and forth as she sang. His gaze lay fixed on her for a few moments. He honestly could think of no suitable response, so he instead turned to Sao, standing timidly behind the priest. "I also owe you my thanks, Sao-dono. For... for teaching her, and caring, in your own way. I wish you happiness." 'And healing,' he added silently, hoping she would understand.

She seemed to, for a small smile lit up her face. "You have been far more tolerant of my actions than I deserve, Himura-san. I won't forget that kindness. You have given me a chance at seeing what I have missed... and taught me that there are still a great many things I can learn, just like your daughter." her eyes softened. "And... perhaps there will be time for grieving later. But not now."

"Not now." he echoed. 'Not ever, if I can prevent her from feeling that sorrow.'

Sao nodded. "I wish you a safe journey, and a road that leads you to your heart's desire." she moved closer until her face was beside his own, and she whispered, very softly, into his ear, "Thank you for my life, Himura Kenshin. Now go find your own."

He blinked, and he didn't have a chance to reply. By the time he gathered his thoughts, she had moved away, heading up the path towards the shrine.

"Be cautious of trees, this time." Koromo teased, still grasping Hikari's hand. Kenshin couldn't help but smile, brushing aside his turmoiled thoughts.

Taki gestured towards the entrance of the shrine, and a servant came forward, bearing the sakabatou and Kenshin's travel bag. "I've taken the liberty of refilling your provisions. You should find enough to last until the town that lies just down the road."

"Arigato de gozaru." Kenshin took both gratefully, sliding the sword through the ties of his hakama. He had not worn it in several months.

Such thoughts were meant to be discarded when they were deemed unimportant. He did so now, and not for the last time. "Whatever lies ahead for us, we will take what we have learned here and carry it with us."

Kenshin nodded again. Impulse struck him, and he stepped behind Hikari and picked her up, placing her on his shoulders. She squealed in delight, feet kicking gently against his chest. Her tabi were covered in new sandals, clean and pristine white. He suspected they would soon be marred with a fine coat of mud and dirt.

He suddenly felt the need to smile brightly, and did so, for her, for them. "Your hospitality has made the winter much warmer for me, and Hikari. Ne, ume-chan?" her head bobbed enthusiastically in robust agreement. "If we walk this road again, we will stop and visit, provided you are willing to accept our company."

Taki chuckled, shaking his head. "We cannot deny any visitor who is in need of shelter. Come whenever time allows you. You will always be welcome."

"Thank you again." he stepped back, one hand curled around Hikari's ankle to keep her steady, the other swinging the bag against his back. "Sayonara."

He looked back only once as he left, not to the old man and his kind-hearted apprentice, but towards the shrine where Sao had walked. He saw her, standing at the gate. Waved, slightly. She nodded, hand drifting into the air for a moment, then falling to her side.

It was enough. He turned away, towards the road. Hikari's voice rose in song, her childish song brightening the dull spring morning. After a moment, reveling in her innocent joy, her easy dismissal of the last time they had walked that road, singing the same song, he began to sing with her.

It was not snowing, and Tomoe's voice did not reach out to him... but the gentle words of encouragement, sprung from a woman who had once been no more than ice, circled through his heart and lifted his spirit, moreso than the gentle wind in his hair, the promise of warmth brought with it.

The road forked, but he went straight, following his own path, guided by the wind, the warmth, and Hikari's song.