A/N: The first installment in what is likely to be a shorter series. Please enjoy!

Limerence

Kaoru waits for Kenshin to come to her. She watches the ocean for him, but the water is unchanging, and Kenshin never comes.

After the first week she's trapped on the island, she returns to her room for the evening and finds a neatly wrapped brown paper package on the four-poster bed. It's shut by a winding piece of twine, rough beneath the tips of her fingers, smelling of imported goods, foreign fleece, unusual spice. There's a note tucked just beneath the twine, hastily handwritten, unapologetically brusque.

The robe is dirty. At least wear something clean.

Kaoru unwraps the package to see a crimson kimono decorated with gold stitching under the paper. She's not surprised to see the kimono; she's surprised to know whom it's from.

The next morning when she brings Enishi breakfast, she wears the kimono. Silently, she carries the tray out onto the balcony he so often favors, placing a hot bowl of seaweed soup and rice down on the small side-table. As an afterthought, she leaves for the kitchen, returning several minutes later with a steaming cup of green tea. She places it down, feeling Enishi's eyes on her, rolling over her shape, the heavy fabric of the kimono, the atypical style she's twisted her hair into-

-then she leaves, and he doesn't utter a word.

The end of the second week brings Kaoru and Enishi to a stand off. Three more wrapped packages have appeared in her room, and she's starting to get annoyed. Kenshin isn't here yet, and her eyes grow tired of scanning the sea; she knows it's the same for her captor. The first kimono Kaoru had worn out of sheer desperation, but the ratted, dirty robe is long gone, and the new outfit is cleaned nearly daily by the silent, nervous maids that come to look after her room.

The new clothes are just as fine, but Kaoru has a sneaking suspicion that Enishi is dressing her for his own entertainment. To her dismay, he even leaves the receipt in one of the packages, and she knows he is too meticulous a man to have forgotten it by accident.

The zeros make her head spin - never in her dizziest daydreams could she afford something like this. So, she deigns not to wear them. When Kaoru brings him his breakfast the same morning she receives the gifts, still dressed in the crimson and gold, a light in his eyes extinguishes, yet he doesn't utter a word.

The next morning, Kaoru has six envelop-sized boxes awaiting her, each of which contain a necklace of foreign European design, adorned with glittering stones and gems.

Kaoru compromises.

Enishi finds all six very expensive pieces of jewelry stacked neatly atop the side table on his favorite balcony, and he's very annoyed until Kaoru comes to bring him breakfast, dressed in a royal blue garb, adorned with silver stitching, her hair held by the matching silk ribbon he'd been sure to include.

She sets his food down - just rice and burdock root today, haphazardly chopped, the rice dry and cracked. She's glowering at him, but she's dressed in his gift, and once she snaps the glass door shut behind her on her way inside, Enishi tries to hide his smile, and decides when to return the jewelry.

Midway through the second month, Kaoru brings two servings.

At first, Enishi only stares, a white brow arched, wondering if he's meant to consume all of the food, but her intentions are made clear when she briefly leaves, only to return with a second chair.

Quietly, they sit side by side.

Enishi brings the bowl of soup to his mouth, and the steam fogs his half-moon glasses. Tentatively, he sips.

"...Tastes terrible."

He pauses, and goes in for another sip.

Kaoru watches him, eyes wide.

They haven't spoken more than ten words between them, not after the first few days. The silence is excruciating.

"...You never told me," she says, and her voice is coarse, rough. She hasn't used it in a long time. "What's wrong with it?"

Enishi licks his lips, his eyes roaming Kaoru's silhouette, how it's shaped by the pink kimono he bought her last week. he takes a moment to appreciate his taste and his model before responding. "It's very salty. Give me your hand."

She flinches. "What?"

But he only holds out his own hand, waiting. Hesitantly, she complies, touching her fingers to his. He turns it over, and traces a small circle over the soft flesh, pausing to follow the lines on her palm. "This is how much salt to use in a soup for two people." Their eyes meet. "You're using too much. Use your hand to measure."

For a moment, she's speechless. "I'll - I'll go remake it."

"Don't bother," he insists lazily, and picks up the bowl of soup again, sipping it casually. "It's wasteful not to eat what we already have."

By the end of the second month, Kaoru no longer waits for Kenshin. Instead, she spends her days in Enishi's company, for as long as he'll allow her. Usually it's all day, from his vigorous training regimen in the early mornings to his lazy afternoons in the shade with books written in languages Kaoru can't read.

He buys her new clothes more often than makes her comfortable, and she wears them because she doesn't want him to get out of hand and purchase mountains of diamonds like before. It's an uneasy compromise, but as time passes, Kaoru secretly begins to like it.

Enishi has excellent taste, in clothes, literature, weapons, wine, even furniture. The mansion built on this island is decorated lavishly, from the imported Greek marble statues in the French-inspired gardens, to the polished trim of the wooden frame of Kaoru's bed. There's a dining hall lined with realistic paintings and very old, well-preserved scrolls written in grass-style Chinese. She wonders if he can read it.

It's a beautiful home, and even though she's a hostage here, it becomes increasingly evident that Enishi is going out of his way to make her comfortable.

She briefly mentions not sleeping well at breakfast one morning, how the sheets are scratchy, and three days later a freight ship arrives with a new, feather-stuffed mattress, Egyptian cotton sheets, and an English comforter.

Kaoru finds Enishi on the beach, jogging in the hot sun, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead and bare chest. When he sees her he slows down, breathing heavily. Kaoru puts her hands on her hips.

"You bought me a new bed?" she snaps.

His brows knit - he's confused. "You said the sheets scratched."

"So get new sheets," she offers. "You didn't have to buy me a mattress. And new blankets?"

"It's called a duvet."

"Enishi," she pleads, "the kimonos, the jewelry, the bed - this is too much."

He holds up a finger. "I returned the jewelry."

"That's not my point," she sighs, frustration tangible. There's sand in her socks now, and nothing will appease her. "All these things, they're really, really, nice. They're wonderful. I could never afford them. But honestly, I'd be more comfortable with a futon. In my own home."

His finger lowers, and Enishi gains control of his breath. "I will not send you home."

There's a pause. "I know. But I don't think Kenshin is coming."

"Battousai will come."

"It's been two months. I don't feel like a prisoner here; I feel like a child confined to her room. But then you buy me all these expensive gifts and presents." Kaoru's face screws up, no trace of her usual smile on her lips at all. "Enishi," she begins, "What am I to you?"

The sound of the waves breaking against the shore not twelve meters away is their only solace from the silence. The sun beats down upon them, hot, uncomfortable. The weight of her obi drags her into the sand beneath her feet.

Enishi licks his lips, hesitates. "I don't know."

It's the most honest he's been with her, the truest thing he's said since they met, and it both makes their situation clear, and confuses her even more. Kaoru stares. "I am not Tomoe."

His eyes narrow. "I know."

She crosses her arms, anger waned. "Okay, then."

Three more days pass, and another ship arrives. This time, the bed is gone, replaced by a clean futon, and a small wind chime that sings sweetly with the breeze. A brand new package is resting neatly on top of the futon, and inside it is another kimono, this one less gaudy than the others, but more elegant. It's made of material so soft and light, it feels like clouds against her skin. The fabric is the color of plum blossoms, and when she buries her nose into it, she can smell the faint perfume of sandalwood and roses.

Tucked into the folds of the heavy threads is another note, more careful than the first, thought out.

You are Kamiya Kaoru to me.

She smiles faintly, and slides the kimono onto her shoulders.

The third month slips right by her, and time has never flown so fast. Kaoru does a lot of serious soul searching, contemplation, thinking. She decides, late one afternoon as she sits in the library with Enishi, that she's dead.

At least in Tokyo, her friends must believe she's dead. Enishi has told her all about the doll, created to look just like her. If it truly is a perfect likeness, she doesn't see how even Kenshin wouldn't be fooled.

Kaoru expected Kenshin and the others within a week; now it's been eleven. It's strange, but it doesn't hurt much anymore. At first thinking she would never be found was painful, but the days have dulled it, and she feels better in Enishi's company.

She glances at him. He's sitting in a tall-backed chair, made of purple leather, reading a softcover black book written in a language with strange letters. He's quiet. Kaoru watches as he bites his lower lip, reaches out, turns the page, careful not to crease the thin paper.

"Do you read a lot?" she asks.

He must be startled - his eyes dart up, observing her from behind his glasses, but he doesn't jump. He doesn't answer her.

Kaoru shuffles forward a little from her seat on the couch, the only book she can read in her lap. It's an atlas, heavy and very old, just a collection of aged, yellowed scrolls with hand drawn maps of the Japanese coastline. "What language is that?"

He shuts the book, watching her quietly. "It's written in Russian."

"Russian? How did you even get it?"

"It wasn't easy. The exportation of any translated versions of this book is illegal."

She eyes the book suspiciously. "What kind of book is it?"

"It's a religious book. The English call it the Bible."

She wrinkles her nose in concentration. "I've heard of it. I met a family once, when I was traveling with my father in Hokkaido. They were Christians." She nods at the book. "Are you thinking of converting?"

He shakes his head.

"Why? Is it not a good book?"

"It's confusing," he explains. "This one God is supposedly all powerful, and he loves everyone. If someone could do anything and loved every person equally, why would he allow them to die?"

Kaoru hasn't ever really thought about it. She has vague memories of her mother, before the scarlet fever took her, telling her to eat all her food - there are three gods in every grain of rice, and ignoring even one is disrespectful. Wasting food is a sin, too. She leans back, sinking into the heavy knit of the couch. "I guess that doesn't make much sense. But if I was God, I think it would be hard to keep up with that many people."

He eyes her, placing the book down on the coffee table between them. "Are you religious, Kaoru?"

She starts; this is the first time he's said her name. It makes her feel strange, but not bad. "I - no. Not very."

"What do you believe in?"

"Myself," she answers, shrugging. "My friends. The power of human decency."

His smile is bitter, wry. "Humans are not decent."

"I believe that everyone has the capacity for good," she explains. "Even the most evil person can feel compassion, can feel compelled to help another."

"I think you're wrong," Enishi argues. "We're born into this world screaming and hungry - we're parasites until we're old enough to fend for ourselves."

"But bad behavior is learned," Kaoru says gently. "Children see it, and replicate it."

He opens his mouth, shuts it, opens it again. "It's hard to argue with you when you bring up valid points."

Kaoru's lips twitch, a ghost of a smile. "I'm not arguing. I'm only offering my view on things."

For a while they're both quiet, and Kaoru returns to her atlas, observing a detailed section of Kyoto that must have been drawn over fifty years ago. "I'm not..."

Her head snaps up.

Enishi looks uncertain. "I'm not sure how to...discuss. I'm used to fighting. Or yelling. Not...sharing opinions and swapping fantasies."

"It doesn't have to be a fantasy," Kaoru answers kindly. "I've seen it. It starts with you."

And they are quiet for the remainder of the evening.

It's strange how quickly one can change an opinion; first impressions are roadblocks, Kaoru thinks, but they are not absolute.

It's a lazy, hot day in September, nearly four months after she was taken. Kaoru is watching Enishi train in his studio. It's barely four in the morning, and she slept fretfully, nightmares of steel and blood waking her. She sits on the floor with her back against the wall. Enishi doesn't say a word when she arrives, and she doesn't feel compelled to break the silence.

Still, as the sun begins to slip over the horizon, a question burns in her belly, and she finds she won't be satisfied by only wondering.

"Enishi," she calls, and he stills. "Tell me about Tomoe."

She's expecting him to ignore her, maybe refuse and storm from the dojo, but instead he lowers his hands that clench his sword, and their eyes meet. "My sister was beautiful," he says. "Kind to everyone. Our mother and father died when we were young, and she stepped in to raise me." He smiles. "She was my sister, my only friend, and my mother."

Kaoru listens.

He eyes her. "You remind me a lot of her, in some ways. Both foolishly idealistic, both hopeless romantics, a craving for justice that can never be sated."

Kaoru tilts her head. "I don't really picture us being similar."

"Because that's where your similarities end," he affirms, and places his sword on the rack at the north end of the room. "My sister was elegant, refined."

Kaoru wants to hide her annoyance, but can't. "Oh? And I'm unsophisticated and masculine, I suppose?"

He looks at her, unwavering. "I was going to say warm and alluring."

Her cheeks color - she can feel the heat all the way down to her toes, and her head reels with possibilities behind his compliments. She's wearing the plum blossom kimono today, and it feels weightless on her arms and around her middle. She swallows.

Enishi's eyes are knowing, but his face is solemn. "My sister took care of me," he continues, "but she wasn't... bright, like you. She was practical, realistic. She loved me, and I loved her, but she was unsatisfied with our lot in life. It's why she got close to Akira."

Kaoru asks, "Akira?"

"He was sister's friend growing up, from a wealthy family. He always liked her, and she eventually grew to like him, too." Enishi exhales a laugh, but it's unamused, tired. "I hated him. I can't even tell you why. But then Battousai killed him, and for a while I thought she was never going to be happy again."

He sits next to her, their arms brushing as he slides down the wall. Kaoru can feel the heat of his skin through the sleeve of her kimono. He smells like sweat and wet earth, and for a single moment Kaoru is tempted to rest her head on his shoulder.

Enishi glances at her, holds her gaze. "You know the rest of the story."

Her lips tremble. "I don't think you do."

"What?"

"I had Tomoe's journal, Enishi," she reveals, and his eyes grow wide and round. "I was able to read it, to get a better understanding of how she felt." Her mouth is dry, and she already regrets bringing it up. He might actually kill her. "Enishi, your sister loved Kenshin."

"That's a lie," he says immediately.

"I'm telling the truth," she insists. "She did want revenge at first, it's true. But she fell in love with Kenshin, and her employers used her as bait to lure him out. She only got caught in the middle."

"You're making this up," he bursts, and is on his feet in a flash. He gnashes his teeth, feral, growling. "Sister wants Battousai dead. She won't smile for me until I kill him!"

"Smile for you?" Kaoru echoes quietly. "Enishi, you think Tomoe is with you?"

"This journal," he intercepts, "where is it?"

"It's in Kyoto," she admits. "At Tomoe's grave."

"We will go now," he snarls, seizing her by the arm and yanking her to her feet. "We will go right now, and so help me, Kamiya, if you've lied to me, I will kill you."

Enishi calms down, but only when they're on the boat to Kyoto ten hours later.

He's deathly quiet, a deep scowl on his face. The boat is another freight, shipping goods from China to Japan and back again. Enishi's island is a stop along the way, and from what she gathers, he pays them handsomely to do so.

She's terrified, but she trembles because she's leaving the island, and she never thought she would be returning to Japan. She knows she has a chance to run for it once they dock, but she also knows that if she tries, her life may be forfeit. No, she thinks, it's best to go quietly to Kyoto. When Enishi sees his sister's journal, his whole reason for living may change. Maybe, when that happens, he'll let her go.

The journey takes a whole day, and they dock safely late in the evening. Neither have eaten all day, but the look on Enishi's face keeps her from asking if they can stop. The first chance he gets, he takes her by the wrist and leads her off the boat, fingers hot and tight.

"Enishi," she says, but he doesn't look back.

Kyoto is crying.

The rain is uncomfortably warm, and it splashes against her clothes, staining them dark. The hem of her skirt is heavy with mud, and she secretly mourns for it. The cemetery is a long walk from the docks, and it's well past midnight by the time the familiar shape of the headstones looms in the distance.

Tomoe's grave is cleaned, an incense stick lit and flickering gently, the embers barely able to dodge the drops. A thin snake of smoke twists from the tip, rising into the air, vanishing among the stars. Kaoru realizes with a start that Kenshin must be nearby - the incense is new, and a small bundle of fresh, waterlogged flowers rests on the ground at the base of the grave.

Enishi must realize this too. His eyes are narrowed dangerously, and he speaks for the first time in hours. "Don't," he growls.

She doesn't ask what he means, but her eyes scan the cemetery regardless. It's empty save for them. Her arm twitches involuntarily, and Enishi tightens his grip.

The journal is under a straw hat, protected from the rain. Enishi takes it and stashes the book inside his shirt, sparing Kaoru a glance before he, too, watches for shapes in the darkness. "Come."

He takes them to an inn. The mistress of the property is in her bedclothes when she answers the door, rubbing sleep from her eyes, but she perks up when Enishi hands her a small pouch closed with a drawstring that jingles and clinks as it shifts.

The mistress leads them to the nicest room, where only one large futon lays in the middle of the tatami. Kaoru opens her mouth to protest, but Enishi has finally let go of her wrist, and her hand tingles as the blood rushes back into her fingers. It's almost painful, like being pricked with a dozen needles at once. Enishi sits by the small table resting in the corner and withdraws the journal, wiping a stray droplet from the cover before opening it.

Kaoru stares, and after a long while, he flips to the next page.

She tries to stay awake, but her eyes are heavy, and with an empty stomach she doesn't have the energy to wait for him. Quietly, she opens the cupboards and takes the clean, dry yutaka in her hands. This room is large, and she changes behind a folding screen, careful not to make any sound. Enishi doesn't seem to notice at all, so Kaoru slides under the blanket and closes her eyes.

"Kaoru."

She blinks, sunlight splashed across the floor. Her head hurts, and she's so exhausted. Sluggishly, she looks up.

Enishi stands next to the futon, expression unreadable. She opens her mouth, and her lips unstick uncomfortably. "Enishi?"

"You've slept for hours."

She has to strain to get to her feet, and her joints crack and pop. Every muscle in her body aches, her head is spinning, and she hot, so hot. "Did you read it?"

He nods.

"And?"

"And," he murmurs, "I finally know why sister does not smile." He is unhappy, she realizes, but maybe he's smiling, because her vision is wobbling and fuzzy, and she can't tell if he's laughing or crying. Maybe it's neither. "I see now. Sister would want me to forgive him. She would want him to be happy."

"I'm glad, Enishi," she whispers, and the world turns sideways. "I'm so glad..."

She dreams that Enishi is gone when she wakes up. When she does finally open her eyes, and the haze of unconsciousness fades away, he hasn't gone anywhere, and she's overwhelmed with relief. He notices her stirring, reaches out to touch her forehead.

"Kaoru," he murmurs. "Kaoru, can you hear me?"

"You're still here," is all she says.

It takes twenty minutes for her to come to, and she's horribly weak. Enishi wraps his arms around her, pulling her gently up so she's sitting. The inn's mistress brings a large meal, casting her worried glances before shutting the sliding doors. Enishi holds a warm bowl to Kaoru's lips. "Drink," he commands. "You haven't eaten in days."

It tastes of miso, and she wants to gobble it all up, savor it till the last drop, but her stomach hurts after just a few sips.

"Your body isn't ready for a big meal," Enishi tells her, running a thumb across her hairline. "We'll try more food every half hour. You need to eat."

"What's wrong with me?" she asks.

Enishi helps her lie back down. carefully placing her head on a soft pillow. She wonders where he got it. "You have a fever. You need to rest."

"Enishi," Kaoru murmurs. "Why did you stay?"

"We can talk about that later."

Her eyelids weigh a ton, and she struggles to keep them open. "Can I ask you something?"

He says, "You can ask."

"What are you going to do now?"

Enishi takes the covers in his hands and pulls them up to her shoulders - she sighs at the contact of the soft material. "That's something I need to think about. Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes."

"Do you really think there's good in everyone?" he asks. "Do you really think someone like me has the capacity to be compassionate?"

"Oh, Enishi," Kaoru chuckles, her laugh breathy, wispy. "You're being compassionate right now."

He stares at her, and the moment lasts forever. Then, he leans down, just a little, and touches his lips to her forehead. They're cool against her skin, and she knows he runs at a high temperature. She's dizzy again. In her ear he whispers, "I wish you happiness," but Kaoru is already asleep.