Children of the Revolution
Chapter 1: Electric blue
Kyoto, Meiji 14th year, early spring.
Megumi could hear Misao's voice shouting happy farewells and last invitations to change her mind and stay longer in Kyoto, even through the thick glasses of the carriage's windows. She sighed.
After three months away, all she wanted was to get back home. To the place she arbitrarily called home, more precisely. The time spent with her friends had made her painfully aware of the difference.
She had gone to Tokyo to help Kaoru-san giving birth to her first child. It had been a difficult one, but now Ken-san had a beautiful and healthy son. Little Kenji was born with a bunch of red hair, and when she left he was smiling already. It was too early to tell if he'd keep the color of his eyes, which were a light violet. She smiled at the memories. Kaoru-san was of course overprotective, Ken-san was a bit awkward, but she'll never forget the happiness on their faces when they held their son for the first time. It was not HER first time, she had witnessed this kind of scene before, yet never the parents had been close to her. She knew how much it meant to Ken-san. She didn't react as a doctor, but as a person, and as a woman. She had been deeply moved, more than she could have ever imagined.
Now they had a real family. Of course, it didn't change anything to the daily life at Kamiya dojo. It was still busy and full of students, people coming and going all the time. And once a week at least they were going to the Akabeko. Uramura keiji and his family were usually joining. The extended Himura family counted them now, as much as Tae, Tsubame, Yutaro and of course Yahiko. They were all ready to worship Kenji, more or less openly. Yahiko was glad but slightly jealous of the attention Kaoru-san gave to her son, like any older brother would have. Although Megumi suspected that they were all also afraid of Kaoru's reaction to any not blatantly praising comment on her son, their affection was genuine.
She was part of this family too. Yet not completely, as once more, she had been the only one to know the bad news. She had told Ken-san, before leaving. It was highly improbable that Kaoru-san could have other children. He was expecting it. He had insisted to be the one to tell her, once she'd be ready. How could a woman ever be ready to hear this kind of things? And Kaoru-san was babbling around about giving Kenji lots of brothers and sisters. Men could be so naïve. She had gladly escaped her responsibility, though. Megumi's feelings for Kenshin were an old memory; nevertheless she knew that Kaoru wouldn't see it this way. She was feeling miserable enough, and wasn't ready to accept unfair resent for a situation that she had no power on. She wasn't that bad that she could feel any kind of comfort for her loneliness in other people's distress, but a bitter Kaoru wouldn't understand. She would apologize later, of course, but Megumi didn't want to hear any reproach or feel her blaming stare on her in the first place.
Her only day of stay at the Aoiya had done nothing good to her. Although they both pretended to ignore it, each time she crossed Aoshi's icy eyes, she was reviving the past. She knew he did, too. It was painful for both of them, reopening the old wounds, the old guilt. Each time they met, they were too glad to find a pretext to disagree, as they had when he wanted to unbury Kaoru's grave. Misao had done her best to make her feel good, though Megumi was sure that the girl knew perfectly well what was the matter. The little weasel was subtler than she would ever have granted her for. She was sorry that she couldn't respond to her kind efforts, directed as much to her as to Aoshi.
The carriage was going down a little road, next to a cemetery, so slowly that she noticed two human figures, one leaning on the other. A little man and a tall one, who was..
"Stop!" she yelled, passing her head through the window.
She rushed out towards the two men, who were draped in long coats, their faces hidden by hoods. The little man lifted his head.
It was an old man, with long white hair and beard, and washed out blue eyes shining with worry behind his glasses. She couldn't see the face of the other man, yet only by the way his arms were dangling on the shoulders of the elder, she could say that he was wounded or sick. He had obviously passed out.
"I'm a doctor..."she began.
"Take him out of here. Please!" begged the old man. "Please save my son."
She heard whistles. The police. The sound had haunted her nightmares long enough for her to recognize it without a doubt.
"Please," he repeated.
"Put him into the carriage. I'll help you, quick!"
She helped the old man to carry the other one inside. She jumped in and held her hand to him, but he shook his head, giving her a bright yet deeply sad smile.
"Take him away. I'll distract them. I'm just an old man," he added with a force that surprised her.
He was closing the door when her wits came back to her, and she began: "But I live in Aizu.."
"Take him there, doctor, take care of him."
On these murmured, fierce words, the old man shut the door and ran away.
"Go!" she ordered to the driver, automatically.
She closed the window again as she heard the whip slashing in the air. She collapsed in her seat, realizing that her heart was pounding. What had she done? She still had a drug trafficking accusation upon her head and..She stiffened. She was a doctor. She had to help people in need of care, and it was obviously the case of that man.
While the carriage had left the maze of little streets to run full speed on the large road down south, she leaned to the tall body lain on the opposite seats. She pulled the hood of the coat to examine his face. Her lungs emptied under the shock, her breathing stopping briefly.
White, curly hair. Sunglasses almost falling from his nose. Yukishiro Enishi.
The smell of miso shiru reached his senses, deciding him to leave his slumber. Tomoe must have prepared breakfast already..
His eyes fluttered open, the familiar sting of pain constricting briefly his chest, as each time he woke up from his childhood dreams to realize that Tomoe was no more. Yet the delicious smell was real, who could?
Where the hell was he?
He sat up, puzzled, his eyes looking immediately for a door, a window, to secure his exit in case he should escape. And for a weapon in case somebody would try to prevent him to.
The room was unfamiliar, and if it was obviously not a prison cell, it didn't look either like a police station, less like Rakuninmura. The furniture were simple, still of good quality, the futon he was laying on was comfortable, and there were even some discreet decorations, a vase, a piece of shodo, a painting representing blossoming peach trees, which indicated a definite feminine touch.
His defiance faded into cautiousness. There was a woman there. Better that than a dozen of cops, not that he couldn't deal with it, but he realized at that moment that he wasn't at the top of his physical strength. His body was numb. Though he was feeling better than he ever had since...frowning, he looked down, on his arms and chest, to notice at last that his wounds had been correctly treated.
He recognized professional work in the way the bandage had been wrapped around him, and deduced that he was at a doctor's place. The woman was either his wife or daughter, and probably, she was the one cooking now. He couldn't hear any talking, so maybe she was alone. If the man wasn't there he could get away very easily.
Only then he remembered what had happened before he lost consciousness. Not good, his brain was slow. Where was?
The door of the bedroom opened, he heard a gasp before he turned his head towards the intruder. The woman was on the threshold, holding a tray with medicine on it, and as he took a look at her face, astonishment struck him. He knew this face. Battousai's friend. The doctor.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
He was awake. It had taken Megumi by surprise. Considering his state, she hadn't expected him to recover so fast. She didn't know what to expect, now. He was a dangerous man. He was her patient, first, and he had to take the medication right now, she reminded herself.
She tightened her hold on the tray, and entered the room, kneeling and putting it on the tatami floor next to him.
He raised his brows, still trying to figure out how and why. She knew who he was, and she didn't seem afraid. Cautious, definitely, but not afraid.
"Where am I? What am I doing here?" he started.
She answered him, while pouring some potions in a cup.
"You're in my clinic, in Aizu. You've been there for the last two weeks. You were sick and injured. And obviously never had correct medical treatment for some old wounds."
"Where is..Oibore?"
She sent a sharp glance in his direction.
"The old man?" He had called himself Enishi's father, and whether it was true or not, she had rather be careful. The hesitation in Enishi's voice was intriguing, but she didn't want to have too personal conversations with him. It was none of her business.
"Yes."
"I don't know. He asked me to take you away."
"And you did." The tone was dubious AND mocking.
"Yes, I did. You have to drink this," she added dryly, "Or the pain will be back soon."
He just glared at her, with a cynical smile. "I don't think so."
"What do you think? That I'm going to poison you? You've been here long enough, I had many occasions to, or to give you up to the police, as a matter of fact. Now stop being stupidly paranoid and drink this."
Her tone was authoritative, but not overly so. She was talking to him like Tomoe did, when he was a kid, had the flu and refused to take the bitter potion supposed to heal him. She had a point, too. He took the cup and swallowed the greenish liquid. Not too bad a taste, for a medicine.
"Why didn't you? Call the police, I mean," he asked, handing her the cup back.
"You're my patient."
"How come?"
She extended her hand to put it on his forehead. Too surprised, he didn't try to escape her contact.
"You're still feverish. It'll help," she announced, nodding towards the empty recipient, and stood up.
He caught her wrist. "I want answers."
"The old man asked me, I told you. I'm a doctor; it's my job. Now release me, so I can bring you food. I could give you medicine and water, but you didn't eat in two weeks."
In a swift gesture, she freed herself from his grasp, and he let her. Her long hair made a gracious move as she turned around.
After she left, he pondered on what to do. Of course he couldn't trust her. Yet she seemed sensible, and she had no reason to call the police now that he was awake, if she didn't when he was at her mercy. Yes, he could wait and see. He needed to know what had happened to Oibore, too.
He woke up at dawn the next day. The breakfast was already prepared, in spite of the early hour, and once again the smell was filling the house. The previous day, when she had brought him fish, miso shiru and rice, he had oddly expected it to be as bad as Battousai's woman cooking. By association, probably. He had been wrong: the food had been delicious, and against himself, he was salivating at the idea of having some more. He had barely paid attention to the few he was feeding upon, in Rakuninmura, which was better in a way. He could survive on anything, yet precisely his experience had let him know the value of a good meal.
He decided to stand up. She had told him that she wouldn't answer any question while he was so weak and feverish. He had indeed slept most of the day again, and she had come back very, very late. She had looked so exhausted when she came to check on him, that he couldn't bring himself to ask her again, but now, he would.
He rose his body..and fell back on the futon, the helpless moves of his arms sending the vase on the floor, in a muffled crashing sound.
She rushed in immediately after.
"What do you think you're doing?" she exclaimed, kneeling next to him and helping him sitting back on the futon.
He pulled away from her, jerkily.
"I'm standing up..I was trying, at least," he hissed, venom filling his voice. "What kind of narcotic did you give me? I can't move."
Her eyes widened, her mouth dropped opened. "What..narcotic?" she stuttered.
She then shook her head, her hand clasping her forehead, and muttered: "Wonderful, another rooster."
When she stared at him again, it was his turn to be astonished. She was utterly furious, and exploded immediately.
"Are you MAD? Your ankle is broken, that's why you can't stand! Stupid, stupid man!"
She had stood up, dominating him, figure of outraged Reason.
"The bones were literally exploded, I had to operate, it took me HOURS to try to save your leg, and now that it's healing pretty well, you don't find anything better to do than putting all your weight on it? Let me see," she finished sternly, her anger disappearing as fast as it had appeared.
She didn't wait for his approval, and seized his leg. There were few, minuscule stains of blood on the wrapping. She undid it in rapid, precise gestures, and sighed.
"Don't move," she ordered, hurrying out of the room.
His gaze followed her. The woman was crazy. Were all Battousai's feminine acquaintances horrible harpies? There was the little excited one, on the island, and Battousai's woman, a fury, too..This one, for the few he remembered of her, had seemed more demure. Yet she was as instable as the others, and obviously delusional, he couldn't explain her talking about roosters otherwise.
Wait a minute. She had yelled at him like he was some rotten fish. Who the hell she thought she was? Women were NOT to address men this way, and he wasn't that caricature of man Battousai had become, to accept it. He was..
She came back with medical supplies, and, not even looking at him, sat on the futon and began to wash his foot. Opening his mouth to order her to stop, he took for a first time a view on his ankle, and the words died on the tip of his tongue.
It was swollen, red and violet, and the stitches were forming three long scars. At the moment he thought it should be hurting, he began to feel a throbbing pain. He knew it was very bad just by this one glance, he had seen enough wounds to understand it. Some drops of blood were dripping from the scar on the external side. She washed it, and applied some paste on it. The fresh and appeasing feeling told him only then, that he had been in pain since he had woken up. He took another look at her face. She was concentrated, her brows low on her eyes, her lips still pinched under anger, he could say, but her hands were sure and surprisingly gentle. Delusional or not, she knew her job.
"Will I walk normally again?" he asked, against his own volition.
She raised her face to look into his eyes. He noticed that hers had the color of cinnamon, and there was no trace of resentment in them anymore.
"Yes, I think so. If you behave, meaning if you rest correctly. It'll take time, of course, and maybe you won't be able to retrieve all your mobility. But you won't be disabled."
She had stated that with absolute certainty, so much that he believed her only on these words.
"Of course," she went on sternly, wrapping his leg and feet in new bandages, "only if you don't try foolish things again."
"You didn't tell me that my leg was broken," he argued.
"Aren't you all super warriors able to evaluate your own damages?" she snapped back.
He stiffened. To his surprise, she bit her bottom lip, as if she was regretful for her last words.
"I see.." she murmured.
A gong rang in the neighborhood. A Buddhist temple. It gave him the time, it was..
"Already 6!" she exclaimed. "I have to go. I'll bring you food in a minute, and I'll be back in a few hours."
At the door, she turned to him, and said, hesitantly: "Nobody knows that you're here. So don't move."
"As if I could," he muttered bitterly.
He heard what he knew was the entrance door opening and shutting, and moves through the wall. It was past noon, if he trusted the position of the sun, that he was able to see through the window.
She entered his room a few minutes later.
"How do you feel?"
"I have questions. I want answers."
He had spent the whole morning, now that his mind had cleared, trying to understand the situation, and to remember what had been in the report he had to be gathered about her, while he was preparing Jinchuu. It had been as frustrating as his forced immobility, and he wouldn't accept to spend the rest of the day like this.
They confronted each other, face to face, for several, endless seconds. She finally gave in.
"Very well. We can talk during lunch."
She had settled some food few minutes later, and some green tea, too. For a doctor, she was also taking care of the housework well. It was contradictory, but Takani Megumi, he was recalling her name, now, was a contradiction herself.
"So?" she asked, picking up the food with her chopsticks in the same precise, purposeful way that she had manipulated his wounded leg.
"So?" he repeated, slightly mocking. "Let's start with something simple. How did I get here? What happened to Oibore?"
"Do you remember where you were before you fainted?"
"Kyoto. Are you going to answer to my questions with other questions?"
"Only if you don't quit that arrogant tone. Don't glare at me like this. I'm trying to help you, so be sensible and less impatient."
He drank some miso shiru, cursing again inwardly at the woman's disrespectful behavior. Only the perspective that his questions would stay unanswered made him comply. He was at her mercy for now.
"You were in this little road, next to a cemetery. I was passing in a carriage, and I noticed two men, one evidently sick. I ordered the carriage to stop, and the old man, Oibore, is it? asked me to take care of you."
She hesitated. She didn't know if she could talk about the police. It would bring some questions on his part that she didn't want to answer. She didn't even know if she could, to be honest.
"We were pursued by the cops," he provided for her.
She nodded, avoiding his glance, eluding the implied interrogation. "We put you in the carriage, and I was waiting for him to get on, but he refused. He said he was going to distract them, and added that he was "just an old man". I guess he meant that he wouldn't be suspected."
"Old fool," whispered Enishi, so low that she barely heard.
"The carriage went immediately, and we went straight back, making as few stops as possible. I began to treat you with the material I had with me, yet your ankle's state was preoccupying, and I could take care of it only back here."
"We? You said that nobody knew that I'm here."
"Calm down. The carriage was driven by one of my patient. I can trust him."
Enishi snorted disdainfully.
"And he didn't see your face. Neither did I, by the way, before the carriage started again. I've been then careful that he didn't. He knows that I took care of a fugitive, but he doesn't know who it was, and believes that you left 10 days ago. Moreover, he has personal reasons not to go to the police, or answer to their questions. So, as I told you, nobody knows you're here."
He stayed silent for a while, slowly ingesting the food, and her explanations.
"The police could have traced to the carriage."
"If so, I have..friends in Kyoto, who would have known and figured it out. They would have warned me that the police was looking for it. They would even have come in person, probably."
Kyoto. Battousai had some contact in Kyoto. The Oniwabanshu. Takani Megumi. That rang a bell.
"Oibore must be looking for me, too," he let out, trying not to force his memories.
"I had the time to tell him where I lived, and he knows that I'm a doctor. He can easily find this place."
"If he wasn't caught."
She hesitated again. "If you're worried..I can contact these people in Kyoto, to know if an old man was arrested that day. Yet it would be suspicious. I would have a hard time explaining why."
Why. That was the most unbelievable part of that story. The one Enishi couldn't explain at all.
"Why did you do this? Why are you proposing to help me, knowing who I am?"
"You're stubborn," she sighed. "I told you several times. I'm a doctor. I have a duty to take care of sick, and wounded people, whoever they are. I make no distinction of good or bad: I took an oath. I treated some of Shishio's Juppongatana after the battle in Kyoto. I treated your men that Saitoh and Aoshi fought in your Tokyo repair. I treated your comrades, too. You saw me, at Kamiya Dojo and on the island. Or maybe you didn't notice then. But you're no exception. A patient."
"You're hiding me from the police. This is different."
"I don't do it for you," she replied quickly. "I do it for him."
She felt uncomfortable under the piercing blue eyes. Blue like the south sea in summer, with the difference that if the waters allowed to distinguishing the sand at their bottom, his gaze wasn't revealing anything of the soul hiding behind it. And her own answer had been unconscious, automatic, showing too much of something that she had realized only saying the words. Why she hadn't stop. Why she hid him. Why she wanted to help. And it was, probably, because of nothing but a lie.
"Still I tried to kill your friends. I made them suffer," he emphasized, not the least regretful, for what she could say. "Aren't you afraid that I'd go after him again?"
Not the least regretful, yes, though there was too much gall in his voice for him to be serious. He was testing her, challenging her, and suddenly reminded her of some kids who came to the clinic, pretending they'd do again whatever trick or stupid bet they got hurt doing, when they had no intention to. Except that childish tricks weren't the issue now. It was Ken- san, and Kaoru-san, and little Kenji. She had thought about that, of course, during these two weeks, and had drawn her own conclusions.
"Will you?" she nevertheless asked.
"What if I did? Will you get rid of me?" he proposed, a cruel and cynical smile twisting his lips.
"Baka. You're supposed to be an intelligent man, yet no matter how many times I repeat it, you just don't get it. I will never physically hurt you. But," she added, her cinnamon gaze darting into his, "if you had any intention to attack Ken-san again, I will call the police. In your state, you're at my mercy, and in this case I won't hesitate one second."
"And how would you explain them that you hid me for two weeks, knowing who I am? I'm still a traitor, do you know the penalty for being a traitor's accomplice?"
He had only wanted to make her aware that he wasn't stupid, nor as depending on her as she thought, yet her answer paralyzed him.
She had a disabused grin, and said, detaching clearly each word. "If my freedom has to be at the price of Ken-san's sorrow, I will gladly choose the penalty."
She meant it. He gazed at her face, beautiful and serious face, sad and determined face. She sustained his insistent look, and broke the contact to gather the empty plates, bowls and chopsticks on the tray.
She only talked again as she was almost out.
"But you and I know that you won't do that."
His eyes were still fixed on the door a long time after she had left.
The rest of the day, Enishi had spent uncomfortably, her answer still echoing in his head. What was with this man? Why women like his sister, or that doctor, or even the Kamiya girl, were willing to sacrifice their life for his miserable sake?
He wasn't very proud of himself either. After all, she had helped him and took care of him. Still he had provoked her. Each time he was closing his eyes, Tomoe appeared, not as sad as she had been during Jinchuu, but slightly reproachful. The expression was the one she had when he was being rude or ungrateful as a kid.
"Give me a break, Nee-san," he mumbled. "You have to admit that she doesn't make sense."
Takani Megumi had been working at her clinic all afternoon and part of the evening, checking on him from time to time. She had been very distant, yet not angry. She had even answered his questions about the location of the clinic. It was a juxtaposed to her house, on the opposite side to the room he was, so there was no opportunity for anybody to discover him. She had no patient hospitalized at the moment, either.
She had brought him dinner, and he afterwards heard her cleaning the other rooms. There were at least three others. He had got that from the different noises made by the doors. And one more door was leading to the clinic, he had heard distant voices coming from it each time she had opened this one in the afternoon. She then had gone to sleep, in the room next to his, some time ago, and he had fallen asleep, too.
His faculties were back, as he didn't drown into a deep slumber like the previous day. Hearing her talking in her sleep, he had woken up immediately. The walls were thinner between the bedrooms. She was having a nightmare. He couldn't get about what. She calmed down after several minutes, and he stayed still, lying on the futon, watching the ceiling.
"Please, save my daughter!"
The smoke, the yells, she was scared, and she was taken away from his comforting contact. The hammering noises were getting close, she was in the arms of somebody she didn't know, she didn't want to, she wanted to stay with him.
"Otosan!"
It was hell, they said it was like this, unbearable heat and destruction, and death, all around, and fear. She was terrified; everything was crumbling down, the loud sound amplifying in her head until she thought it was going to explode.
"Otosan!"
She woke up, panting, her throat constricted, she was trembling and sweating. Somebody was knocking loudly on her door.
She seized her yukata and closed it around her, shaking away her nightmare.
Enishi realized that he had fallen asleep again when the banging on the main door took him abruptly out of it.
The cops. He had to get out of here. The woman went out of her room while he was trying pitifully to kneel, and prepare to stand up. He stopped when he heard her opening the door, talking to someone and closing it again.
She appeared just a few seconds afterwards.
"It's an emergency. A birth," she explained, putting a plate with some sweets next to him. "I don't know if I'll be back on time for breakfast. Do you still have water and tea?"
He nodded.
"I told you not to move," she added, softly this time, her eyes conveying her understanding. "Try to sleep."
She was gone again.
To be continued..
Author's notes (general and for chapter 1):
About the genre, as it's an alternate pairing, the reasons behind it need to be justified (the title says what I think that Enishi and Megumi have in common), so the characters dealing with their past takes a good part of the story. It's a romance, but not a whirlwind one. There is also an action/mystery plot.
About the rating, there will be a bit of graphic violence later, it could pass for PG-13, but as some adult themes will be developed, I thought that a R-rating was safer.
Continuity/ inaccuracy points: Kenji's time of birth is arbitrary and probably wrong, my knowledge post-manga is close to zero, sorry. For Megumi's house and clinic, I chose a western style building (Oguni sensei's clinic is like this in the manga) with Japanese style interior, that's why it has doors and windows and not shoji.
About the grammar/vocabulary/style problems, I'm still not a native speaker (-). Sorry again!
Thanks a LOT, a thousand, a million to Firuze for her constant support, precious comment, advices, and sharing her knowledge with me (I'll be more precise later (-) Thanks for the suggestion of "revolution" in the fic's title!).
For the readers of "Preys" who might read this, I don't forget it and will update soon, I needed to sort out this short story before!
See you,
Kamorgana.