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Falling Sands

by Mir ::: 01.Jul.2002

The boat rocked back and forth beneath our feet as the gray smudge of land disappeared into the distance. Overhead, sea birds circled restlessly, and the air was filled with their shrill cries of hunger. I carefully stepped forward, still unsteady on my sea legs, my eyes trained on the figure before me. He stood alone at the far railing looking out over the water, and the wind sweeping in across the churning blue expanse below caught his hair and sleeves as it swept back up toward the clouds.

We had left Kyoto as soon as he was able, but we could not leave behind the memories imprinted indelegably on our minds. They lingered in my thoughts, resurfacing briefly in flashes of emotion, then sinking once again back into the subconscious. I knew from experience that his memory is impeccable, and I wondered what the past month had been like for him. It had been like Hell for me. Then again, his eyes have seen far more than mine, far more than I ever hope to see.

"Yahiko."

I found myself smiling as I joined him at the railing, my hesitation evaporating like dew into the warm salty air. In Kyoto, it had frightened me to see him lying so still, so deeply asleep. If it hadn't been for the steady rising and falling of his chest, I would have thought that... perhaps it's because I've rarely seen him sleep — for he only seems to doze, and he wakes instantly at the slightest sound. I sometimes wondered whether he has always slept lightly or whether it's a habit ingrained by his Shishou and years of living on the edge of a blade, never knowing when or from which direction danger would strike from. I wondered, but I never thought to ask.

But then his voice was steady, reassuring, strong over the sloshing of the waves against the sides of the boat. "It's over, Yahiko. We're finally returning to Tokyo." He turned to me with a gentle smile despite the dark smudges of fatigue that still lingered beneath his eyes. Like the memories, they had begun to fade, but only by the indomitable hand of time would they be completely erased.

I found myself nodding at his words, tasting them in my mouth like a merchant who bites down hard upon a coin to test its integrity. Despite everything, or perhaps because of it, I could hardly believe that we truly are going home. "Kenshin..."

His gaze had drifted back to the water beneath us, but he met my eyes as I say his name almost as though he anticipated the address before I inhaled the air to speak. He waited patiently for me to continue, and my mouth hung open as I arranged and rearranged the words in my mind. "Sometime, I was wondering..." I didn't know why it was so difficult to ask him, why I stumbled upon a request I'd made several times before. "...perhaps, if you wouldn't mind... could you h-help me with my technique...?"

Even as my voice trailed off, I prepared myself for the expected response, the gentle negation, ever polite yet unquestionably firm — but as the wind whistled across the empty deck, it never came. "It would be my pleasure." Kenshin, despite his perspicacity, can be annoyingly oblique, and it took me a moment to realize that he had paid me an enormous compliment, one I'd always hoped for but never truly expected. I didn’t know whether it was he who had changed or me, but I told myself that either way, it didn’t matter.

His words caught me off-guard; I had been prepared to nod in resignation and nurse my wounded pride, but now there was no response waiting immediately on the tip of my tongue. Instead, I stared into his violet eyes, my mouth hanging slightly open like the beak of a seabird waiting for its dinner. But to his credit and to my relief, he neither laughed as Sano would have or teased like Kaoru. Instead, he turned back to the water and waited as though my silence were perfectly natural. Perhaps it was.

And so I bowed stiffly, the gesture running more on instinct than conscious thought. "Thank you..." The words were, of course, inadequate, but what is one supposed to say when dreams fall unexpectedly from the sky?

- - - - - - - - - -

When I emerged from the interior of the dojo, he was already in the courtyard facing the gate with his eyes closed. For a moment we stood like two marble statues carved by some omnipotent invisible hand. Around us, the world hovered — inert, immobile — as if the falling sands of time hung suspended halfway between the heavens and earth.

I clenched my fingers tightly around the shinai in my hand, so tightly that my knuckles hurt, and the second shinai thrust through my obi bumped heavily against my leg. The air was still and thick over the yard, and I inhaled deeply, trying to coax the dust into the sky as I'd seen Kenshin do so effortlessly in the past; nothing happened — but had I really expected it to? Then he turned, pivoting carefully, eyes meeting mine. "Then it's time?"

I studied his features scrupulously as he walked toward me, not in those enormous bounding strides that can carry him across the ground almost faster than the eye can register, but with normal, human steps suited for a convalescent who's somehow managed to elude his doctor's watchful eye. Still, I could find no evidence of weariness in his gait; that inherent gracefulness I'd so often envied had replaced the stiff limp of before, and I scolded myself for even thinking that he'd risk his recovery by pushing himself too fast. I reminded myself sternly that as I would trust him with my life, I should trust his judgment as well.

Wordlessly, I held the shinai out to him handle-first, and I, not trusting myself to meet his eyes, watched as his fingers curled around the handle. I knew that if I looked up I'd find his gentle smile hovering above me. I knew — and yet I couldn’t stop myself from shivering as the memory of his intense amber gaze slipped unbidden into my mind. No, I'd nothing to fear. Even as Battousai he wouldn't have hurt us. The ground, when covered by snow, is still just as solid beneath its thick white blanket.

The sun driped down through the clouds, falling like a cloak upon my shoulders, and pooled in viscous puddles upon the ground. The shadows had begun to lengthen, but as he held the weapon before him, testing the unfamiliar weight in his hands, the nebulous shadow behind him was still shorter than his actual frame. At another time I might have thought of his mysterious childhood — those years between birth and adulthood that I know nothing about, but then, all I could think about was showing him what I'd learned since we first met. I needed to prove to myself that all the long hours of practice had not been in vain.

So we stood across from each other with only the ephemeral barrier of air between us, and my heart beat rapidly within my chest as I ruthlessly tried to chase all second thoughts from my mind. 'This is what I've always wanted, isn't it? Then why does my hand tremble?' Less than three paces from me he waited patiently, and perhaps he, too, was dealing silently with the doubts in his mind — No, I wasn’t afraid of him, not then or ever. The fear I struggled to shake from mind was that of failure. There was no one I want to impress more than the man who stood before me.

After a seemingly interminable time, he softly cleared his throat, swallowed, and lifted his eyes to mine. Imbedded in his gaze was unconditional permission to back down, to put off today until some tomorrow in the future. But even though I was grateful for his consideration, in my mind, retreat was not a viable option. Myouji Yahiko always finishes what he begins. I nodded, and his smile broadened.

We were not indoors, and there was no shrine to pay respects to, but he began the appropriate rituals, and I followed, pulling my mind back from the clouds and concentrating on my breathing. With his left arm still in a sling, his movements were somewhat awkward, but he didn't even appear to be stiff, so I once again reassured myself that he wouldn't push himself dangerously for my sake.

In a matter of seconds my fears were instantly dispelled, and underneath tree branches smothered in dark summer leaves, we clashed together, shinais trembling, faces only inches apart. My sandals dug into the dirt as I pushed against him, but even one-handed he seemed to be able to hold his own. He led me confidently through Kaoru's drills — and even knowing that our movements ware prescribed, just practicing with him as my "opponent" was, without a doubt, nothing less than exhilarating.

And as my body began to warm to the exercise, the scenery around us blurred and faded. Leaves dissolved like sugar into the liquid sky, and the rough dirt beneath my sandals felt like yards of woven silk stretching onward into eternity. My body began to react instinctively to each attack, and I realized (on a personal level I could not have before) why Kenshin is one of the best swordsmen in Japan. Even holding a shinai instead of a live blade, his technique was flawless, and his movements flowed together like water cascading over a waterfall. I knew from observation that this was the first time he'd practiced since returning from Kyoto, and yet as he moved, all the pain and fatigue seemed to fade away — leaving behind a younger man, one whose shoulders didn't sag under the weight of a nation's problems.

"Let's stop for a moment," he muttered, pulling away. As we both dropped our hands to our sides, I was surprised to find myself winded. Kenshin, too, was breathing heavier than normal, and after tucking the shinai through his waistband, he reached up to brush the hair from his eyes with the back of his hand. There was a faint flush to his cheeks, and as his eyes traced the flight of a bird passing overhead, moist beads of sweat slid smoothly down my back.

"It's awfully hot today, isn't it?" I nodded in response as there was no denying the intensity of the weather. But I could feel myself growing restless, and I ground my teeth together as I unconsciously shifted back and forth form foot to foot. Were we going to continue or not?

"We'd better go in before Kaoru-dono begins to worry." He pivoted smoothly toward the porch, but I hesitated, my eyes cast down as I rubbed grooves in the dirt with the toe of my sandal. Was that it? I admitted I was somewhat relieved that no comments on my performance seemed to be forthcoming. I knew that I'd improved, but I didn't delude myself in thinking that I could win a fair fight against someone of his caliber.

"But she doesn't even know you're out here..." Some boys have fathers to show them how to live their lives. Others have older brothers to tread the paths before them. And some have friends walk the journey with them side by side. I had Kenshin, who had been all three to me... and Kaoru — teacher, sister, mentor... ugly hag. For two abnormally astute individuals, they were amazing oblivious to each other. Then again, the dragon and the raccoon are an unlikely pair indeed.

"Then perhaps just a few minutes longer..." He breathed deeply, looking comfortably relaxed in the warmth of the sun, but as I nodded in agreement, his body stiffened, and his eyes shifted clearly toward the porch. From his guilty expression and the sound of approaching footsteps, I didn't need to look myself to confirm the presence of Kaoru and Megumi. I turned anyway, with reluctance, afraid that they would accuse me of selfishly jeopardizing Kenshin's recovery. Why are adults always so eager to indite the youth?

"Kenshin, I think —" I didn't dare to meet Kaoru's eyes, afraid that she would deny permission before I even had the chance to ask.

He tore his eyes away from the women and shook his head without hesitation. "No, let's continue —" With all his self-effacing politeness, one is apt to forget how intrinsically independent he truly is at heart. I know he cares deeply about us and about society, but at the end of the day, he doesn't let anyone else tell him what he ought to do. "— You may attack with you're ready... and don't mind the audience." He pulled the shinai from his obi with a conspiratorial wink, and I found myself smiling at the open invitation for defiance against the women of the house.

"I won't hold back!" Although the taunt was barely louder than a whisper, his eyes narrowed slightly, and he readjusted his grip. It was impossible to tell whether his response was genuine or merely an act (for my benefit), but I had no time to think, and in truth it didn't matter. I pushed off from the ground, rushing forward, trying to act first and think later, for I knew that Kenshin's strength is in prediction, and my only hope seemed to be catching him off-guard. Still, each attack was met solidly, and his footwork was clean and efficient compared to my unplanned scrambling.

"No matter who you cross swords with, you can't divorce your mind and body." Suddenly his stance shifted, and he slid forward, forcing an attack. "Neither alone will prevail." And even as I fell back I could see the error in my strategy. Of course, it was obvious now, and I didn’t need to be told twice.

He neatly sidestepped the first thrust, ducked underneath the second, then choose to block the third. "Thought and action must come simultaneously, not one before the other." Again, we broke apart and circled warily. Kaoru and Megumi were nothing more than a blur in my peripheral vision, two figures like birds perched above us, all the while looking on. "Focus less on what you're doing and more on my movements; let your senses lead, and your body will follow."

Once, briefly, I touched him, and he leaned back as the shinai brushed his arm, smiling as if to say, 'See, that's more like it.' But almost as quickly as it began, the match was over, and it was only from the scarcity of attacks on Kenshin's end that no clear victor emerged. Again we stood wordlessly across from each other, and if it weren't for the dust upon our hakama and the heaviness of our breathing, I might have convinced myself that it had all existed merely in my mind.

The women descended upon us like anxious mothers, dark hair flying behind them and sharp eyes holding us captive. If I could, I would have take off through the yard and led Kaoru on a long, hard chase as I'd done so often in the past, but for some unexplainable reason, my feet were rooted into the ground, and I couldn’t move an inch.

At first both gravitated toward Kenshin who stood silent in the waning sunlight, seemingly lost in thought. He winced slightly at Megumi’s touch, and she began to fuss over him, spewing doctoral jargon while he insistently denied all acquisitions of overexertion. And then apparently seeing that one situation was under control, Karou pivoted abruptly in my direction, and I, too, steeled myself for the inevitable rebuke.

"You did well..." Her words hit me, and I knew it was too good to be true. "...for an amateur." And as she laughed and roughly patted my back, I debated whether or not I should let her get away with the (unnecessary) additive.

"That you did." Having at last dismissed Megumi's concerns with a smile and a shake of his head, Kenshin appeared behind Kaoru, one hand resting absently on her shoulder. His nod was firm and deliberate, but despite his efforts to conceal it, I could still see that he leaned lightly against her for support.

"...but don't let that go to your head. There's still a lot of work to be done — and this dojo to clean up, mind you. Houses don't just put themselves back together, I'll have you know." I could see now that she held a broom in one hand and her sleeves were tied back behind her.

"Well there's plenty of time now that we're all back in Tokyo..." I replied evasively. I knew there was no escaping the call to duty, and my one and only savior was the steady falling of the sun across the deep blue sky. I stared hopefully into the lengthening shadows. 'Surely there isn't enough time to begin a major cleaning project is there?'

And as if he read my thoughts, Kenshin leaned forward slightly so that his head hovered over Kaoru's shoulder. "Sano should be arriving any minute to see if dinner's been started. We can begin the repairs tomorrow... but let's just relax today." His voice was soothing, almost hypnotic, and I could see Kaoru visibly giving way to her concern for him. She sighed heavily, the epitome of martyrdom, and reached up to pat Kenshin's hand.

"I suppose you're right. Very well..." And as she spoke, a subtle smile spread across her face, and her eyes lit up with anticipation. "We can watch the fireflies tonight, can't we Kenshin?" Honestly, I hadn't a clue why she was so enthusiastic over the fireflies, of all things, but I assumed that it was something just between she and Kenshin because his eager nod left no doubt of his agreement.

Time, that intangible measure of life, was moving again, passing by with impersonal regard to the lives of men. In the long days of Kyoto it had claimed Shishio, claimed him and pulled him down to the raging fires of Hell — but we had been spared, spared by the one enemy that no one can ever hope to defeat, spared today to live again tomorrow. And still the sands keep falling, falling.

*end of falling sands*