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Recovery: Chapter 7 - Reflections & Revelations

by Haku Baikou ::: 18.Mar.2003

They had promised they’d visit him one at a time so as not to overwhelm him or wear him out. That promise didn’t last long. Kaoru had been in the rurouni’s room about ten minutes before Yahiko, Misao, and Sanosuke could wait no more. They’d all tumbled in then, despite Megumi’s scoldings, and soon after, Okina and Hiko had naturally followed. Kenshin took the invasion good naturedly, of course. He’d had a pinched, fragile look about his eyes and didn’t speak much, but he’d stayed awake the entire time.

And he’d looked happy. That much had been evident through the exhaustion and the pain. His tired eyes had twinkled at Misao and Yahiko’s enthusiastic recountings of their battle victories. And he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of Kaoru as he smiled with a mix of worry and pride when told of her contribution to the fight at the Aoiya. He had looked frequently at all of them, actually. Not just Kaoru. It was as if he didn’t trust that they were real, that they weren’t merely more manifestations of his formerly delirious mind. Kaoru seemed to unconsciously sense this fear, for she touched his sleeve briefly at times, and looked down at him, smiling reassuringly.

It had been a good night, that night three days ago when the rurouni had finally awakened, and they’d all piled into his room. It had since become part of the routine. Every day, Megumi, Hiko, and Okina would stay at the Shirobeko, guarding Ken-san and the restaurant itself, while the others continued repairs at the Aoiya at an increased pace. There was an underlying sense of urgency now about the repairs. It was a tacit understanding among them all, that the sooner the Oniwaban headquarters was restored, the better. So they worked at a fevered pace and were careful of their route when they headed back to Sae’s. It was a tense time during the days. But in the evenings, when everyone was safely together under one roof again, the tension would ease a little, and after dinner, they’d all gather in Ken-san’s room to keep the rurouni company for the remainder of the evening.

They had, remarkably, managed to keep their various concerns regarding Shishio’s men hidden from the rurouni, something they could never have done had Kenshin’s swordsman’s sense been in peak condition. As it was, Ken-san was still weak, far from being well enough to focus his attention on reading or anticipating anyone’s intents. The swordsman’s inability to read everyone both relieved and worried Megumi, though she kept her concerns from the others.

Ken-san was still too pale, and his recovery was slower than she would have anticipated for one who had previously been in such good physical condition. Megumi’s main concern now was the stab wound in his side. Despite all her care, it stubbornly refused to heal. She sat looking at the wound now, examining it in mild consternation before carefully pulling out the dressing. She’d continuously tucked fresh strips of herb-soaked bandages inside the wound to keep another pocket of pus from forming as it had in the first few days after the battle. So, infection was no longer a problem as far as she could tell. The problem was that the wound was still steadily oozing blood after all this time. Ten days had passed since the battle. The wound ought to have stopped bleeding and begun to heal long ago, despite the fact that Megumi had had to lance it open last week. Ken-san was losing too much blood, and his current anemic state kept him bed-ridden, too lightheaded and short of breath to move about or try to rebuild his strength.

Kenshin suspected that something was wrong. He hadn’t said anything to that effect, but Megumi was sure of it. The swordsman had had too much experience with wounds in the past. He was bound to realize that something was not quite right. He was awake now, propped up in a seated position in the corner of the room with an unused folded futon and various cushions behind his back. He watched her with fuzzy interest as she carefully pulled the packing from his side. He made no sound as she did so, but from his tensed muscles and the carefully controlled way in which he was breathing, Megumi knew he was hurting.

“Gomen, Ken-san,” she murmured as the rest of the packing was pulled out. At least Ken-san was no longer passing out after the dressing changes, she thought briefly before frowning at the sight of yet another blood-soaked bandage in her hand.

“Megumi-dono, is something wrong?” he asked suddenly in his quiet and low voice, the voice that Megumi had come to associate as Ken-san’s most pure voice, neither the light tone of the rurouni nor the deadly hiss of the Battousai.

“I don’t know why this isn’t healing, Ken-san,” she admitted as she worked. “It just doesn’t want to stop bleeding. And that’s odd since the rest of your wounds are healing so nicely.”

A brief silence, and then, cryptically: “If a wound is made by the sword of someone with a strong hatred, that wound will not heal until revenge has been exacted.”

Megumi paused and looked at Ken-san in concern. The words were not something that she’d expect Ken-san to say. He sounded far away, a bit sad. There was a pain in his voice that had nothing to do with his wounds.

But then the uncomfortable moment passed, and Ken-san seemed himself again.

“However,” he continued thoughtfully, “Sessha was not referring to the wound. Is anything else wrong, Megumi-dono?”

The rurouni’s amethyst eyes were gentle and clear as he regarded her. His swordsman’s sense was possibly returning, Megumi realized, despite his weakened physical state. So, he’d picked up on everyone’s unease after all. Megumi looked down at her work, sorely tempted to reveal everything to the rurouni. But something made her hesitate.

“I worry about you, Ken-san. We all do,” she replied vaguely. It was a half-truth at least. He’d learn of the attack by Shishio’s men soon enough, but still, it was kinder to keep the news from him. Revealing such disturbing events while Ken-san was still too weak to be of any help would only torture the swordsman needlessly. He would want to contribute in some way, Megumi knew, and he would be unable to do so.

To Megumi’s relief, Ken-san relented, asking her no further questions. He seemed too tired still to push the issue and try to glean any more information from her.

“What was that you said about a wound made from strong hatred?” she asked in an effort to distract him.

“Someone who was once a friend said it,” he answered intriguing her even more, “the last time it happened.”

Someone who was once a friend? Again, Megumi found herself puzzled by his odd choice of words. She wondered if that someone had later become an enemy? Or perhaps that someone had simply died. She sighed mentally. Ken-san was an enigma even now. After all the months she had known him, she still couldn’t fathom him at times. Hiko-san had taught Ken-san well, she thought. The rurouni was as maddeningly uncommunicative as his master, one of the few personality traits the two unfortunately shared.

“This has happened before?” she said.

“Hai.” He nodded. “Once. A long time ago.”

“And Shishio was filled with hatred when he made this wound?” She frowned. “But I don’t understand. Wasn’t he filled with just as much hatred when he gave you the other wounds? They’re healing well. Why is this one different?”

The rurouni lowered his head, violet eyes hidden by a veil of red bangs, his mouth tensed in a thin line. It took a considerable effort for Megumi not to blurt any further questions, to give the rurouni time to answer. That is, if he would answer at all.

Ken-san had not spoken much of the battle with Makoto Shishio to anyone. And when Kaoru and Megumi had tried to pry the story from Sanosuke a couple of days ago, the street fighter had been surprisingly reticent on the matter, dodging their questions and slinking off muttering something about having to repay some gambling debts around town. They’d had information regarding the battle only in the broadest of terms, but no one other than the three survivors of the battle had any ideas of the details. Ken-san simply was not ready to tell them yet, and both Shinomori and Sagara gave no indication of revealing anything before the rurouni himself was ready to speak.

Megumi was beginning to think Ken-san had gone into secretive mode once again, shutting himself apart from the world, when he quietly said, “There was a woman there.”

“A woman?”

“Hai. Her name was Yumi,” he said. “She was Shishio Makoto’s lover.”

For some reason, hearing Ken-san speak of women and lovers seemed odd to Megumi. He almost never spoke of love. Not in the broad general sense, and certainly not pertaining to individuals. Megumi had noted time and time again that love was a topic the rurouni avoided like the plague, often feigning ignorance and naiveté, making every conceivable effort to skirt the subject.

Kenshin hesitated a moment before continuing. “She died from the same stroke that caused this wound.”

Megumi frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. How could that possibly happen?”

“Shishio was down, nearly defeated, and sessha had to decide whether or not…whether or not to kill him.” His words came slowly from a distance as if each had to be painfully dragged from deep within him. Megumi shuddered at the thought of the former hitokiri being forced to consider such a choice, to decide whether or not to break a vow that he had struggled for ten long years to uphold.

“Ken-san,” she whispered. “You don’t have to say anymore if you don’t want. I never meant to drag up such painful memories. Please pardon my silly curiosity.”

“Iya, it’s all right,” he said. He looked out the window at the early evening sky. The clouds were tinged with gold, their frayed edges glinting as if on fire. He frowned slightly and turned away from the sight. “Yumi-dono ran between us and fell to her knees. She begged for Shishio’s life.”

“And you lowered your sword,” Megumi concluded.

“Hai.” He looked at her, his gaze brittle. “And then Shishio struck. Through her back….” He swallowed, his voice faltering.

Megumi blinked in stunned disbelief. “He stabbed you both? He killed her to get to you? What a monster!”

“Sessha thought so too. At first. But now, it isn’t so clear.”

“What’s so unclear about it?”

“Sessha can imagine the pain Shishio felt when he-“

“Ken-san! Don’t you dare tell me you’re feeling sorry for that devilish fiend!” Megumi couldn’t help raising her voice. Kenshin was too kind-hearted. Infuriatingly so at times. “The man killed his love to preserve his own worthless life! How could you feel sorry for him? How on earth could you possibly even imagine what that felt like? Only a monster could kill the one he loves….”

She stopped suddenly. Kenshin was staring at her, his violet eyes wide, his breathing raggedly uneven. Something she had said had horrified him, she realized. Had struck something in him so deeply that he couldn’t even respond to her.

“Ken-san?” she asked alarmed at her blunder, wondering what she had said to upset the rurouni so. “Ken-san? What did I say?”

He blinked, recovering slowly. “Nothing,” he whispered, but he couldn’t seem to look her in the eye.

She didn’t speak for a long moment, distressed that she had caused him further pain. She longed to ask him what she had done to hurt him, but he looked miserable and seemed as if he simply wanted to forget the conversation had ever taken place.

“Sumimasen,” she said finally, at a loss for anything else to say. “I’ve hurt you terribly.”

His response was automatic. “No, Megumi-dono. Sessha ought to be the one to apologize.”

Megumi had to laugh, albeit a bit desperately. She couldn’t help it. It was the only release possible for the tension she’d managed to create. Ken-san’s earnest concern and the characteristic worrying for others’ welfare was the one constant in his personality that could never be muted or pushed aside. It was part of the reason she adored him, and she found it incongruously amusing. Even now, when he was so obviously distressed, when she had been the idiot at fault….

“Ken-san, you’re too kind, do you know that?” she smiled. “You are far too kind.”

He was confused by her sudden shift into amusement, but he seemed relieved that she was in better spirits. His expression lightened, and then his eyes went beyond her face to focus on something behind by the doorway.

“Shishou,” he said smiling, his gloom further dissolving in the presence of his master.

“Baka deshi,” replied an all too familiar deep voice.

Megumi started, once again caught off guard by the large swordsman’s silent entrance. Another annoying trait the two swordsmen shared. Both of them, quiet as cats.

“Don’t you ever knock?” she asked in feigned irritation. She’d formed a strange friendship of sorts with Hiko-san over the last week, and unlike the others, was not at all intimidated by the warrior’s gruff manners. Megumi wasn’t exactly sure why Hiko Seijuro treated her differently from the rest of Kenshin’s friends. Perhaps he respected her for her physician’s skills. Or perhaps it had something to do with the fact that aside from Hiko himself, Megumi was the only one who wasn’t in awe of Ken-san, who saw the rurouni as just another human being rather than a living legend. Hiko ignored her question and settled himself beside Megumi, jar of sake (his constant companion) at his side.

He poured a cup and offered it to the rurouni. “This’ll put some color back in that sickly face of yours.”

“Hiko-san!” said Megumi stormily.

“Shishou,” laughed Ken-san, embarrassed. He held up his hands, declining his master’s offered drink.

“Hmph,” Hiko-san smirked. “You take it then,” he said, plopping the cup in Megumi’s hands. “Baka deshi, never could hold his drink.” And then more seriously. “Your friends are almost home. Can you sense them?”

Kenshin’s smile faded. “No.”

Hiko looked at his former student a moment, then shrugged. If he was concerned or disappointed, he didn’t show it.

“No matter,” he said. “It’ll come back in time. I’m just warning you they’re coming. Those crazy friends of yours tend to make a racket whenever they arrive. The sound grates on my nerves. I’ve been thinking of going home. Back to some peace and quiet for a change.”

“But Hiko-san,” said Megumi with more alarm in her voice than she’d intended. She couldn’t say anything about Shishio’s men in front of Ken-san, so she looked at Hiko-san meaningfully, hoping he’d understand her unvoiced concerns. “Must you leave so soon?”

“Shishou, can you not stay a little while longer?” asked the rurouni.

Hiko looked at Kenshin, then at Megumi. “I’m hungry,” was all he said as he got to his feet, ready to go downstairs for dinner. “It’s time to eat.”

Megumi was determined to follow Hiko-san downstairs until she got a more satisfying answer. “Rest, Ken-san. I’ll be back with some dinner for you soon,” she said as she followed Hiko out the door.

They heard the sounds of the others coming home just then, the light pounding of Yahiko and Misao’s quick feet, Kaoru chastising her student, Sanosuke’s growling laughter.

“Ah, they’re back,” said Ken-san softly, a slight smile on his lips.

Hiko frowned. “Racket,” he said simply, as he turned to pull Kenshin’s door shut on their way out.

“Iya, please. Leave it open,” said the rurouni. “Sessha likes to hear everyone. The sounds are… soothing.”

Hiko raised an eyebrow making it plain he thought his baka deshi was crazy, then left the door open as he headed downstairs.

“Why are you leaving now of all times?” Megumi whispered urgently when they were out of earshot from Kenshin’s room.

The warrior shrugged. “I told you. It’s too damned noisy around here. I’m a hermit for a reason.”

Megumi bristled. Just when she thought she was getting along with the man, he never failed to come up with a new way to enrage her. “You’re kidding,” she practically growled. “You’re going to abandon us when Shishio’s men could attack any day?”

“They’re merely foot soldiers, Megumi-sensei. Nothing compared to the Juppongatana. Nothing you and your friends can’t handle on your own,” he said as they reached the lower floor and were caught up amid the chaos of their friends, freshly arrived and on their way to dinner.

Megumi offered brief greetings to everyone, then continued her argument with Hiko-san. She glared at him and spoke more loudly than perhaps she should have. “But Hiko-san, you can’t-“

“Can’t what?” asked Sanosuke, noticing Megumi's heated tone and Hiko’s dark expression.

“Megumi-san, Hiko-san, is everything all right?” asked Kaoru.

It wasn’t until then that Megumi noticed that the rest of the group had also quieted down and was looking at Hiko-san and herself with some concern. A half dozen pairs of eyes were all focused on the two of them, some expressing concern, others simple bafflement. Megumi felt an embarrassed blush creeping up her neck of a sudden. She hesitated, not sure of what to say.

Suddenly, they all heard a soft thud upstairs followed by a muffled “Someone help me!” from Shirojou who was on guard that night.

“Kenshin!” shouted Yahiko, the first to break the silence.

And then they were all running up the stairs together, hearts pounding, racing towards the rurouni’s room, each one afraid to voice the fears that had gripped them in the few days since Megumi and Sanosuke had first come across the black-clad spy. Megumi held her breath as Sanosuke flung open the doors to the rurouni’s room. They expected an attack. They expected doom.

Thank the gods, their expectations were wrong.

The rurouni was slumped across the window sill with a distraught Shirojou crouched on the roof outside, supporting the redhead by the shoulders. The large man looked at them all apologetically. “Gomen,” he said quickly. “I just saw him leaning out of the window, about to fall. I don’t know how he knew I was up here. I swear I didn’t make a sound!”

The rurouni, face hidden under a tangle of red hair, murmured, “Sessha felt a presence outside the window and thought--”

“It was just me, Himura-san,” said Shirojou. “There’s no one else out here.”

“Told you your swordsman’s spirit would be back in time,” said Hiko nonchalantly. Megumi suppressed unseemly visions of herself smacking the warrior upside his head with his own sake jar.

“Kenshin no baka,” said Kaoru gently, as she knelt before the rurouni, her hand resting lightly on his arm. “Don’t do that to us again. You gave us all a fright.”

“Gomen nasai, Kaoru-dono” he replied as Sanosuke and Hiko carried him back to his futon. Ken-san’s voice was as soft as ever, but the violet eyes that regarded everyone in the room were filled with stubborn determination as he asked, “But sessha wonders: why does Shirojou-san need to be on guard outside the window?”

Megumi bit her lip and looked at the others silently. The room had become very quiet.

“Please,” continued Kenshin quietly. “Someone please say what’s going on.”

They all turned to Kaoru, then. For some reason, they looked to the girl for a final decision.

Kaoru sighed, her large blue eyes locked on the rurouni’s violet ones. “It’s too late now,” she said finally. “We may as well tell him the truth.”