Categories > Anime/Manga > Rurouni Kenshin


by deadlysakura 1 review

Tomoe and Kenshin think of their lost love.

Category: Rurouni Kenshin - Rating: PG - Genres: Angst - Characters: Tomoe - Warnings: [!!] - Published: 2005-05-29 - Updated: 2005-05-30 - 639 words - Complete

a Rurouni Kenshin fanfiction by Eve
Rurouni Kenshin is copyrighted property of Watsuki Nobuhiro, et al.

He was not everywhere, as she had suspected (or feared? a small voice sometimes whispered in the dead of the night), but there were echoes of him all around her. These echoes fluttered in and out of her conscience because she would not let them linger. A married couple would be strolling past - naturally, the sort where the wife walked behind the husband with downcast eyes, instead of falling into step beside him and laughing together - and she would look the other way until they were gone. She would be in her room arranging flowers, when, out of the blue, she would remember that he once likened her to an iris.
But this was just another price to pay for having placed him in a compartment that was nowhere near her heart, and realizing it only when it was far too late. She lived with it, as she lived with many other things in her life.
One night when she was alone in the house and her father and brother were already asleep, she saw him kneeling at the far end of the room. Kneeling and not looking at her. A touch of unease tingled down her spine; he used to talk to her easily and attentively, unresponsive though she was. Had he become disappointed with her? Or did death simply put a distance between the most intimate people?
"I'll be leaving for Kyoto tomorrow," she said. He did not look back. "They already know where to find this Battousai person. I am to go there and carry out a certain plan."
Still no response. And then suddenly, with all her soul, she wished he were here and she could hold his hand and tell him, yes, of course I love you, I love you so much I will join you in death if that's what it takes for you to forgive me. A smile would light up his kind eyes, he would clasp her fingers and all would be fine, all would be well.
As she continued to sit there, tears misting her eyes, she thought what a terrible thing it was to need death's help to unlock your silence and know your own feelings.
His fighting comrades declared him blade-cold and a little on the stand-offish side, and speculated why he did not appear to need physical solace from anyone. He never acknowledged their half-hearted questions, nor did he sate their curiosity by hinting at an answer. Besides, physical solace was the furthest thing from his mind.
It was enough for him to know that, when the fighting was over and he was huddled alone in a dark corner, she would come and sit beside him.
They did not talk much these days; they never did, in any case. She would simply wrap her arms around him, letting him draw comfort from her very being, wraithlike as it was. He understood now that this what was she had always longed to do - touch the man she loved, cradle his weary head against her heart, wordlessly conveying that she was his haven. Chances abounded when she was alive, yet she rarely took them. Death, he thought, made a mockery of our best intentions.
I'm sorry, he said from time to time, and wondered if it sounded like a mere conversation piece. You had had two opportunities to be happy, and it was me who flicked them away, unknowing and uncaring. I'm sorry.
She smiled and shook her head. Or was it wishful thinking on his part, born from guilt and the need for an apology?
But her smile did not fade, and she stayed with him until the break of dawn.
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