RAINBOWS by Angela-chan
DISCLAIMER: Rurouni Kenshin and all related characters are owned by Nobuhiro Watsuki. The new characters are mine. This fanfic is neither lemon nor yaoi (too young for lemons, too self-respecting for yaoi, sorry if I sound nutty! ^_^). This fic was written purely for entertainment, enlightenment and NOT for profit. I’m not making any money out of this, so you can’t sue me. Besides, I’m too young to be sued! Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and God bless you!
Note: This fic takes place right before Kenshin’s wanderings come to an end; in short, it takes place before Kenshin arrives at Tokyo and meets Kaoru. So if you prefer stories with the classic Kenshin/Kaoru romance, I’m sorry but this fic is not for you.
Faced with the ultimate option of fighting and losing his life before he had the chance to fulfill his dearest wish, or fleeing yet living his final moments in disgrace, the boy’s mind raced as he considered the options of this most crucial dilemma. Not that he had much of a choice, though, for his opponent already had his sword out and held up in a challenging manner.
"I know your secret, kid." The latter spat out his words with contempt. "Even if you beat me this time, you won’t live long enough to taste your victory. So why don’t you just give up now and go see that girl you’ll never see again."
The boy glared at the man who stood before him, the man who had torn open a scar left on the memory of his hometown forever. This was the man whose corrupted beliefs and stubborn ways had inflicted a year of terror and oppression upon his home, the man whose hands were stained with the blood of innocent people. Could he really ignore the chance to set things right, even if it meant that he would never see his one true love ever again?
"I’m not leaving," he said softly.
His opponent laughed. "Sakuya Hitori, you are a fool," he scoffed. "But I have no time for dallying any longer." His face turned menacing. "I shall get rid of you now." His grip on his sword tightened.
Ignoring the trickling of cold sweat down his back, and the sudden difficulty in breathing, Hitori steeled his nerves and lay his hand on the hilt of his own sword.
Not too far away lies the city of Tokyo, formerly known as Edo, Himura Kenshin was thinking as he walked on. What could be awaiting me there?
It had been ten years since he’d begun wandering around the land, seeking truths that would keep him alive where his dark side of the Hitokiri Battousai had failed. He had been almost everywhere, yet it seemed like there were more places he could wander into. And though he enjoyed wandering and meeting new friends and learning new things, he couldn’t forget the fact that he couldn’t wander forever.
Could it be possible that he would one day find a place he could wholeheartedly call his home? But what would a real home be like, if he couldn’t even recognize what one was? The only home he could ever remember was the soothing comfort of being in Tomoe’s arms and letting her understanding love flow into his heart . . . but Tomoe wasn’t here anymore, and he preferred not to think about his past to preserve his peace of mind.
Only a few more hours till dawn, Kenshin thought, looking up at the starless dark sky. I’ll just wait here until daylight, then I’ll move along.
A cold wind rushed past the wanderer, and he shivered, wrapping his arms around him to keep himself warm. Then he frowned. The wind had brought to his ears the faintest strains of . . .
. . . clashing swords?
The memory of bloodstained blades clashing lingered for a moment in Kenshin’s mind . . .
I’ve got to know what’s going on, Kenshin thought. He tapped the hilt of his sakabatou for reassurance, then hurried off toward the direction of the sound.
Hitori stumbled backwards as his opponent pulled the bloodstained blade out of his shoulder. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the spinning images that distorted his vision.
Makimono laughed as he pointed to Hitori’s blood on his blade. "See this, kid?" he said gleefully. "It won’t be long till I have your heart on my blade!"
"Don’t count on it, Makimono-san," Hitori said through clenched teeth. Privately, though, he wondered how much longer he could last like this. His strength was rapidly failing him, and his vision was distorted by spinning images that made him dizzy. His reflexes were much slower, too, and he was more than gravely injured.
"You’re gonna die, boy," Makimono taunted. "Admit it. Just give up and go home—not that you have any home to return to." He let out a sinister laugh.
Makimono did not, of course, know that he had said the wrong thing. Upon hearing these words, Hitori’s heart swelled at the injustice dealt upon him. If I don’t beat him now, I’ll never forgive myself, he thought desperately.
Will I let the man who caused my family and friends pain, who ruined the lives of those who didn’t deserve it, who murdered those who longed for nothing more, live long enough to do the same to other innocent souls?
Closing his eyes, Hitori gripped his katana with both hands and straightened up. He ignored the feel of his warm blood mingling with the cold sweat that poured down his skin, the aching of his tired muscles, the constricting pain in his chest and the nagging urge to give up. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.
His vision was clear.
He was ready.
Makimono did not like the defiance he saw in the boy’s dark blue eyes. "You can’t win," he said mockingly, though with less certainty than he had a moment ago.
"I’m sorry if I’ll have to kill you," Hitori said in a soft, weary tone, the voice of a boy—a man—who was about to do something he had to, though would forever remember and regret.
"You can’t kill me," Makimono said incredulously. "It is I who will kill you. It is you who should be prepared to die."
Hitori smiled bitterly. "We shall see."
Both swords were drawn in an instant. And with a sudden burst of speed quicker than the pounding of Hitori’s thundering heart, both flew toward each other with the deciding blow, cold hatred in the eyes of one, silent determination in the eyes of the other.
Two swords clashed.
A swift gust of wind blew past.
The sky was dark.
Both stood motionless as they landed opposite each other. No sound was heard from either swordsmen. All was still.
Makimono said nothing, but his face registered the shock of being defeated by a mere boy. His eyes bulged, and blood came pouring out of his mouth.
A second later, he fell to the ground with a bloodcurdling scream.
Hearing that scream, Kenshin knew he was too late, and that one of the two swordsmen fighting had been killed. Not wanting to give up hope, though, he rounded the corner and rushed toward the central garden.
He sprang into the battlefield just in time to see Hitori fall quietly.
I’ll never see her again.
Hitori smiled sadly as he fall. It seemed as though he was falling throughout eternity, and that he would never hit the ground.
He had triumphed. He was the victor of the battle, the champion. Because of him, no one would ever have to suffer at Makimono’s hand ever again. Because of this, he was happy.
But he couldn’t smile, and he knew why. The one person he had been longing to see before he died, he would never see again. In a way, it could be for better, for he would then be spared the pain of seeing the anguish of her face when she found at that the sunrise they would be watching would be the last one they’d ever see. But he was also disappointed, for he would never again get the chance to hold her hand, to look into her warm loving eyes, and he would never again get the chance to tell her he loved her.
Forgive me, he thought with a bittersweet smile. Please understand.
With that, he collapsed, exhausted.
"NO!" Kenshin sprang forward and caught the boy before he hit the ground. Hitori opened his eyes, and the startled look in his eyes told Kenshin that he never meant to kill his opponent, and that if things were different, he wouldn’t have.
"You’re . . . probably the last . . . one to see me . . . alive," Hitori panted with a weak smile. "Please . . . be kind enough . . . to deliver a message for me."
"You’re not gonna die yet," Kenshin promised, taking off his red kimono and wrapping it around the young boy. "I’m taking you to a doctor—"
His words were cut short when Hitori suddenly began coughing up blood. It wasn’t till two minutes later when he finally gasped for air.
Kenshin’s face was pale with horror. "You have tuberculosis?" he asked quietly.
Hitori nodded, his eyes sad and tired. "I’m dying," he confessed. "I was told by my doctor yesterday . . . that I probably wouldn’t see today’s dawn."
"Where would you like to die?" Kenshin asked gently, feeling a surge of pity for the young swordsman, who reminded him so much of his younger self.
Hitori gasped for breath before answering. "There’s . . . this girl . . . I want to say farewell to . . ." he stammered. "She lives on the outskirts of Tokyo."
"That’s where I’m headed," Kenshin said, picking Hitori up to carry him. "Just tell me the way and I’ll take you there."
Hitori’s eyes were half-closed. "I’m so tired—"
"Do you want to see her again?" Kenshin demanded, giving him a hard shake. Hitori’s eyes flew open in start.
"I’m sorry," Kenshin said quietly. "I just couldn’t help remembering my first wife . . ." Sighing, he shook his head and began the journey.
"You can’t fall asleep, remember that," Kenshin said sternly. "So I’ll be talking to you to keep you awake. Remember, you can’t fall asleep."
Hitori nodded weakly.
And the journey begun.
Kenshin’s voice droned on, only stopping when it was time for Hitori to give his answer. A soft sigh parted from his lips. He was so tired, and his head seemed to be swimming in a fog. He was so tempted to fall asleep in Kenshin’s arms.
"Stay awake, Hitori." The occasional shake from Kenshin jerked Hitori back to a higher state of consciousness.
Hitori’s eyes closed again, and he leaned his head on Kenshin’s chest. He was so, so tired, and a little nap on the way didn’t seem so bad . . .
The slight pressure on his hand brought him back to consciousness. His eyes slowly opened, and to his utmost surprise, he saw a young woman standing—floating—before him. His eyes widened.
The young woman was like none he’d ever seen before. She was tall, and very beautiful, with long raven hair and large dark eyes. But her face had a sad look that seemed to have been there for a long time, and probably would stay on for that long, too.
"Please don’t disappoint the young girl waiting home for you," her gentle voice whispered.
"Who—" Hitori could only gape at the young woman before him, a shock stronger than his weariness gripping his heart. "Who are you?" he whispered hoarsely.
Kenshin mustn’t have seen the young woman, for he seemed to think that Hitori was talking to him. "Himura Kenshin," he replied, just as the young woman replied, "Himura Tomoe."
Hitori’s eyes widened.
So this is Kenshin’s wife. But if Kenshin cannot see her then . . . His dark eyes went wider.
Tomoe Himura smiled and stroked her beloved husband’s cheek. She stepped up and brushed her lips against his cheek . . . then vanished into thin air.
Hitori gasped, then looked to see Kenshin’s reaction.
Kenshin’s eyes were closed, as if remembering something long gone and painful. Though his red bangs fell over his eyes as he walked, Hitori thought he could see tears in them.
"Kenshin?" he asked softly.
Kenshin looked up and smiled, but Hitori could tell he had made a great effort to do so.
"It’s so hard to lose someone you love," Kenshin said quietly. "The memory of something lost stays with a person forever. It’s something you can’t forget."
"I hope Okimari doesn’t feel that way," Hitori said gently.
Both swordsmen were silent, as streaks of gold began to light up the sky.
"Which way, Hitori?" Kenshin asked.
Okimari inhaled deeply, enjoying the fresh fragrance of the sweet morning air. It had rained the night before, and she expected to see a rainbow that day. Of course, what she had never expected would also arrive . . . though it would arrive in great sorrow . . .
She looked down the hill she was standing upon, and dropped the basket of flowers in her hand the moment she laid eyes on the two dark figures that approached. All the color drained from her face.
The moment Hitori saw the vision of his most beautiful dreams staring back at him with confusion and pain, all his weariness returned. He slipped out of Kenshin’s grasp and landed on the soft green grass.
"I’m sorry . . . Kenshin," he said, gasping for every breath. "But I . . . just . . . can’t go on any longer. You may go now—and thank you so much."
"Hitori!" The young girl rushed down toward him, her arms outstretched. Her face was still pale, but etched with a concern and love Kenshin would have recognized anywhere.
"Hitori." Okimari’s arms flew around the boy, and it had to be confessed that her head lay upon his chest for a few minutes. "Hitori . . . you’re covered with blood—"
"I had to kill him," Hitori murmured, putting his arms around her and holding her close.
"But—what about you?" Okimari asked, drawing her head back. Her face was streaked with tears.
Hitori bit his lip. This was the moment of truth, and there was no escaping it this time. Already he could feel the chill of death upon him. He looked at Kenshin, and Kenshin nodded.
"I’m dying," he whispered hoarsely.
"What—?" Okimari gasped, but Hitori silenced her with a look.
"I’ve known this all along; from the first three months I’d already suspected; yesterday it was made certain," he went on. "I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this before. I guess I was scared of the truth, and I was secretly hoping that it would go away. But now I know it’s not, and that it’s gonna be the end of me."
"Hitori . . ."
"Don’t cry, Okimari," Hitori said, wiping the tears away from her eyes. "At least I’m here, and I got to see you one last time—and that alone makes me happy."
"Hitori." Okimari buried her face in his chest, her shoulders heaving with sobs.
Hitori sighed; obviously his words had no effect on a crying soul. He remembered what Kenshin had said: "It’s so hard to lose someone you love. The memory of something lost stays with a person forever."
He looked at Kenshin and smiled. And Kenshin knew that it would be the last truly happy smile he would see on Hitori’s face. The boy he could have loved like a son . . .
"Thank you very much for everything—Kenshin," he said warmly. "You’re a good man. I hope—I hope you find someone to love again. You may continue on your journey now. Goodbye. I shall never see you again."
"Goodbye, Hitori," Kenshin said softly. "May your final moments in this life be peaceful ones. I’ll take my leave of you now."
He smiled at Hitori and Okimari one last time, then walked away.
Tokyo. The great city of Japan stood before Kenshin, its great rich beauty illuminated by the golden sunrise. This indeed was the next stop of Kenshin’s wanderings.
I wonder if Hitori’s soul has departed already, Kenshin thought. If so, my prayers are with him.
Kenshin inhaled the fresh scent of the morning dew that seemed to be present in the whole city. He wore a peaceful morning smile as he walked down the hill and into the main city. He looked around at the hustling and bustling of people getting ready for the day.
His stomach rumbled. It was almost time for breakfast. He hoped there would be a good restaurant somewhere nearby.
I don’t know where this road will lead, Kenshin thought. But wherever it takes me, I’ll be ready.
Kenshin smiled in preparation for what was waiting for him in Tokyo. He walked confidently down the road, looking around and admiring the pretty houses and the grove of trees that surrounded him.
It was time.
He was ready.
When he looked up at the clear blue skies, he saw a bright, colorful rainbow.
It’s a beautiful day to die, he thought. And it’s a beautiful day to live.
Kenshin walked on slowly, deep in thought. It was another day for him to live. It was another day to seek love in a strange new place. But somehow he felt at ease in this strange place, like he’d known it all his life.
If only he’d known what was coming.
But he didn’t, of course, so he just simply smiled and continued on his way.
By: Angela-chan at
Started and ended: 07/09/99
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