Chapter 10: scent of the unattainable

I dance to the music of misery

Misery will write my memories

Kaoru awoke to a dizzying headache, twisted uncomfortably between the bed sheets. She struggled to pry her eyes open, wondering when sunlight had ever been painful. She rolled over to her side, her head pounding incessantly. She distantly recalled scattered memories from the night before.

The teahouse that had turned out to be distinctly indecent.

Genji resurfacing.

Katsura explaining his philosophy on murder.

Drinking that sweet milky liquor.

Kaoru knit her brows together thoughtfully, her eyes squinting at the painfully bright light streaming from the window. The rest of her memories were rather blurred and unclear – a disconcerting situation for someone who has lived and relived vivid memories, and not only her own. Vaguely she recalled other scenes in broken pieces.

The smell of Kenshin’s neck.

The angry glow in his yellow eyes.

Genji’s moan of pain.

The feeling of being pressed completely against…

Kaoru’s eyes widened involuntarily as she recalled the last memory and she bolted upright – only to fall back painfully against her pillow, her head weighing a ton.

“Finally awake?” a familiar voice filled her hearing.

Kaoru pulled herself to the edge of the bed and peered down with bleary blue eyes. Sitting with his back to the wall and with his red head bowed was Kenshin. He looked up, eyes small with fatigue.

“What…?” Kaoru’s voice grated.

Kenshin raised an eyebrow. “You don’t remember?”

Kaoru squinted and furrowed her brows, pushing her aching head to recall. Her visage showed obvious concern – what had she been doing the night before? And why had Kenshin slept in the room with her?

“Did I…?” Kaoru asked, her voice groggy and apprehensive, “Did we…?”

Kenshin studied her contorting face as she struggled to remember her actions. Gauging from her confused appearance, he deduced that she was not able to recollect a single embarrassing thing.

“No,” he said simply, raising himself up slowly and looking away.

Kaoru stared at his lean figure, still clothed in last night’s apparel. Her grimace of confusion grew as a gnawing memory refused to surface. Kenshin eyed her with concealed discomfort.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

A series of incomprehensible mutterings followed.

“I thought as much,” he said, “Wait here.”

Kenshin walked out of the bedroom and Kaoru rolled onto her back again, irritated. Did he think she was going to go anywhere with this damned headache? And the man made so much noise when he opened the door! Was he doing it on purpose? Every sound – from the swinging of the door to the irritating chirping of birds – grated on Kaoru’s raw nerves and sounded excruciatingly loud in her eardrums. She fought back a wave of nausea, her stomach doing summersaults. The pressure behind her eyes was nearly unbearable.

Meanwhile, Kenshin was in the kitchen, pulling out the biggest glass he could find. He filled it with cold water and then rummaged in a drawer for some extra-strength Tylenol. Silently he cursed himself for not realizing that a seventeen girl such as his sort-of prisoner would not be able to stomach even that tiny bit of alcohol.

Then, Kenshin cursed himself for caring.

He shook out two tablets of Tylenol and threw the bottle back in its drawer, slamming it closed angrily. He paused. And let his eyelids drift closed. And then he allowed himself to remember what she could not.

Kaoru’s eyes were beautiful. And innocently inviting.

He let her pull him into his bedroom, his eyes captured by her warm, blue gaze. She giggled, managing in her stupor to kick the door shut on their way in.

“Come!” she beckoned sweetly, pulling him by the wrists.

The intoxicated teenager tripped and tumbled backwards onto the bed, pulling Kenshin along with her. The assassin found himself hovering over her prone form, his hands planted on each side of her head. She giggled again, her laughter like musical chimes. He stiffened, not feeling particularly in control while sprawled out on top of the lithe girl.

“Kaoru,” he breathed softly, attempting to stand up straight.

But the girl wound her arms around him and locked her hands together at his back, preventing him from lifting himself without hurting her. Kenshin frowned. Kaoru smiled up at him.

“Let me go, Kaoru.”

“Why?” She was childlike, as always.

“Because I want to let you sleep. You need to rest.”

“Why?” Cheerful, tipsy banter.

“You’re drunk and you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Why?” It was obviously a game to her.

“Or what you’re doing to me,” he added under his breath, refusing his body relief by consciously keeping his hips away from hers.

“What am I doing to you?” she asked, her tender face screwing up in concern.

Curses, the girl had good hearing. Kenshin didn’t reply. Instead, he reached behind and tried to pry her fingers loose from behind him. The situation was becoming tremendously awkward and uncomfortable for the assassin. Kaoru tilted her head to one side, watching with a slight smile on her face.

“What’re you doing?”

“Trying to get your hands off of me,” Kenshin answered, deliberately brusque.

“Why?”

Kenshin paused to look down and frown at her. Enough fooling around, he meant to convey. But for a split second, he was unable to put on his icy, cruel appearance.

Her ivory expression was angelic, midnight hair spilling around her head and over her shoulders. But what struck him dumb for a moment was the pure sincerity reflected in her crystal blue eyes. Sincerity and complete vulnerability.

He was caught off guard only for a second. In the next, he was glowering down at her with angry, narrowed amber eyes. He focused his energy into creating a frightening scowl that would have terrified even a hardened thug.

But Kaoru – Kaoru simply smiled up at him sadly.

“Don’t,” she whispered tenderly, “You don’t have to be like that all the time.”

Kenshin’s eyes expanded suddenly. In his short moment of confusion, Kaoru wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled downward with all of her strength. The stupefied assassin landed on top of her, his face nestled in her hair and his body tightly pressed against hers. Her soft curves were painfully obvious to him now.

“Kaoru,” he warned dangerously, feeling the heat rise in his body.

“You smell…” Kaoru interrupted, her voice thoughtful.

Kenshin winced into the side of her head, thinking of how she always commented on his revolting smell. How he was coated in the stench of blood. How he had been dirtied and used as a killing tool.

Kaoru pressed her nose into his neck, inhaling and exhaling deeply. Her cool breath tickled Kenshin’s neck and elicited all manner of bodily responses from the man. He thanked the gods that the girl was far too drunk to notice the indecent bulge pressing against her warmth.

“You smell,” she continued, her voice dreamy, “Like the forest. Like pine trees.”

Kenshin’s entire body stilled within the teenager’s impromptu embrace. His eternally tense muscles responded to the heat of her body and he began to hear his heartbeat. He felt Kaoru’s arms loosen hesitantly around him. Her small hands began to stroke his back slowly, comfortingly- although it elicited rather primal sensations in the man on top of her. Kaoru tilted her head to the side so that their cheeks were overlapping. Kenshin strained his eyes to get a look at her expression.

Her eyes were closed. But her face was free of fear.

“How do I smell?” she whispered softly, her voice become heavy with drowsiness.

Kenshin allowed himself to press his face into her neck. He inhaled deeply.

“You smell,” he whispered, “You smell sweet.”

Kenshin indulged, knowing that he would probably never get another chance. He moulded his body onto hers, savouring the feel of her body under his.

Gradually, Kaoru’s stroking slowed. Her breathing grew regular and, finally, her arms slid away from Kenshin’s back. Almost hesitantly, Kenshin pushed himself up onto his elbows. He leaned over her and studied her sleeping face. Tempted, he let his face drop down slowly towards hers, inhaling more of her sweet scent. Gently, he touched his cheek to hers, exploring the feel of her soft, smooth skin against his own.

He inhaled deeply.

And then sighed.

Reluctantly, he pulled away from her, knowing that it was impossible for him to feel her or even smell her so closely again. He slid his arms underneath her and pulled her entire form onto the bed, placing her gently in the middle of the bed and pulling the sheets over her. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, studying her.

Brushing a stray lock of hair away from her cheek, he stood. He pressed his lips together. In that moment, Kenshin sincerely hoped he would never have to shed her blood. It was all he could promise.

He dropped into a sitting position beside the bed, his mind swarming. Sleep did not claim him until many hours later.

It was folly, all of it. An assassin had no room for such soft sensations.

Kenshin shook his head, picking up the glass of water and tablets of Tylenol. There was no time for such sentimentalism. Last night had been a mistake. One he would not repeat.

He strode purposefully into the room, causing Kaoru to roll her head over to look at him.

“Do you have to be so loud?” she complained grouchily.

Kenshin refused to answer. Instead he held out the glass of water.

“Drink it,” he said, producing the pills, “And take these.”

Rather than argue, Kaoru struggled to rise to a sitting position but her limbs felt as stiff and heavy as lead. She floundered pathetically for a few minutes. Kenshin watched distantly, refusing to help her in any way. Finally, Kaoru was able to lift herself up into leaning against the headrest. Kenshin dropped the pills into her open palm and handed her the water. Then, without another word, he stalked out of the room.

Kaoru ignored his brusque attitude, her headache literally the only thing on her mind.

“Megumi?”

“Yes, sir?” Takani Megumi asked, looking up from the paperwork piled on her desk.

“I need Kamiya Kaoru’s test results and medical papers.”

“Sir?”

“I’d like to look over them this week. Get them, will you?”

“But sir,” Megumi protested, “Her files fill up three cabinets!”

“Oh that’s stupid,” her boss quipped, “Then just get me the medical papers you wrote up during her time in Kanryu’s possession-”

“Possession?! Sir, I object-”

“That’s what it was, Missy,” he interrupted abruptly, “So get me those and also the results of her most recent examinations.”

“For when?”

“Now, of course.”

“Of course,” Megumi repeated cattily, pushing back from her desk.

“Oh and,” her boss threw over his shoulder as he turned to leave her to dig up the information, “Get me your notes on her present physical and mental condition.”

Takasugi loped over to the door to Kenshin’s apartment lazily. Although he had the key to the apartment, he chose to knock.

“Hey!” he called through the heavy wood, “Open up, Himura!”

The front door swung open quietly a second later. Kenshin held the door open for his unexpected guest, silently ushering him in. Takasugi wandered in slowly, looking around curiously.

Kenshin shut the door and returned to his armchair, easing himself into the leather seat slowly. Takasugi spread himself out on the sofa and ran a rough hand through his short, matted hair.

“So,” he began casually, his dark eyes keenly observant, “Where’s the little girl?”

“In the bedroom,” Kenshin replied impassively.

“When’d she wake up?”

“Hours ago.”

“Hangover?”

“Almost gone.”

“Any other reason she should be tired?”

Kenshin shot his superior a sharp look. “Not at all,” he replied pointedly, emphasizing each word.

“Ah well,” Takasugi sighed, leaning back with a smirk, “You’re such a saint.”

Kenshin regarded him coldly, wondering if the man was losing his memory or his mind.

“Anyway,” he said, tossing a black envelope to Kenshin, “Take care of this.”

Kenshin caught the small package easily and nodded.

“Oh and by the way,” Takasugi remarked, “Katsura’s gonna call.”

Again, a quiet nod from the assassin. At that moment, the phone rang loudly.

“Speak of the devil,” Takasugi breathed as Kenshin got up quickly to answer it.

“Yes, sir,” Kenshin said respectfully into the phone, “She is here. Just a moment please sir.”

Kenshin padded quickly to the bedroom and shoved the door open, holding the cordless phone. Takasugi turned his head slightly to see the shaded interior of the room. Kenshin placed the phone on the bed silently, not looking or speaking to the girl who lay on his bed reading a book.

“Such companionship,” he commented as Kenshin sullenly sat back down in his armchair.

“Shut up,” Kenshin snorted.

From within the bedroom, they could hear Kaoru’s soft feminine voice. Takasugi watched Kenshin’s face. Though it was void of emotion as usual, Takasugi knew he was straining to hear the conversation from the concentrated look he wore.

Then came the familiar beep of the phone’s off button. The girl emerged from the room hesitantly, wearing the blue bathrobe. Her eyes darted away from Kenshin and she hurried quietly to replace the phone on its stand. Throwing only one glance over her shoulder at the men, she scurried back into her room and shut the door.

Takasugi turned to Kenshin, who was staring pointlessly at the fireplace. “Not on speaking terms?” he asked, teasingly, “What happened during her drunken state?”

“Nothing,” Kenshin replied tightly, “Nothing at all happened.” And it would stay that way, he vowed.

“Will it interfere with your work?”

“Of course not,” the assassin replied icily.

Takasugi raised an eyebrow. Kenshin rose to ready himself for his assignment.

It was dark, but Kaoru didn’t turn the light on. She sat cross-legged on the bed, staring out of the window. She mulled over her conversation with Katsura Kogoro, debating with herself. Snippets of their conversation flitted in and out of her mind.

“I know you can’t be forced to help the Choshu organization but I hope you will see that it is the right thing to do - even if you think you’re being used as a tool,” Katsura began.

At the same moment, Battousai stood behind the corner of a building and waited for the approaching voices to draw nearer. His long black cloak covered his black sweater, sword and dark jeans. His flame red hair was tightly pulled up in a ponytail.

“People die on the streets everyday. That’s just the way it is. But some of these people wouldn’t have to die if you would help us.”

Suddenly, he swung around and stood before the small group of politicians. Searching the group with keen amber eyes, he spotted his target: the minister Takamatsu. Without a word, Kenshin was flying over the pavement, his hand on the hilt of his sword. In a fluid flash of steel, the politician’s throat burst open and blood sprayed forward violently. The man’s grey head, attached only by a few inches of skin and tissue, lolled backward sickeningly as the dead body fell to the pavement. Kenshin turned to eye the yelling people around him.

“Battousai kills people because I tell him he must. But some die by his hand only because there can be no witnesses to his existence. No one may see him in action and live to tell about it.”

His eyes blank and unfeeling, Battousai surged forward, methodically attacking each of the shocked and horrified men. Even though the dying men were shrieking with pain or terror, the only sound he heard was the swift sound of steel cleaving through flesh and bone. Blood spurted and rained around him, coating the street. One man, who had slipped and been slashed through the lungs and not the heart, was trying to crawl away, whimpering even as he coughed up thick blood. His lips a grim line and his eyes hooded, Battousai plunged his sword into the man’s back, ending his life in a sickening burst of blood.

“However, you have the power to save their lives.”

Turning away, Battousai swung his sword sharply, the blood of his victims flying off the blade in crimson droplets.

“If you could go with him and take away the memory of those who are only witnesses to the assassinations, you would save their lives. This is what I want.”

Awhile later, Kenshin was riding the elevator back up to his floor. Even the strands of his red hair were coated in blood.

“There is one more thing I want to ask of you.”

He stepped from the elevator. His were steps sharp and quick and he wore an expression of icy efficiency.

“Kenshin is a hard man and he has lived a hard life – and this is my fault. I helped make him into the killer he is.”

Kaoru pondered the words carefully as she sat in the darkness of his room. She stared into the blackness of the night sky, weaving her fingers tightly together. He was a mystery to her. He was a killer and a criminal. But she had in fact remembered a few scenes from the night before. The way he had pressed his face into her neck had not escaped her. So perhaps…

“But you may be able to help him.”

She was jolted suddenly from her reverie as the door to the apartment was unlocked, opened and closed again. The steps she heard were light but disciplined. She knew it was him. Kenshin had returned.

“It doesn’t matter that you don’t understand now. Just stay with him. And be yourself.”

Kaoru decided. She slid quietly off the bed and headed for the door. She pulled it open slowly, looking out into the main room. Kenshin was reaching up to replace his swords.

“Welcome home,” she whispered softly.

His face cold and empty, Kenshin turned to stare at her as he dropped his arm slowly to his side. He gazed at her from under red, sweaty bangs.

“Go to bed,” he said quietly but authoritatively.

“Are you okay?” she asked genuinely.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Kenshin replied, turning away painfully.

Kaoru bowed her head slightly. “Good night, then,” she said faintly.

Without pressing the issue, she disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her. Kenshin let out the breath he had been holding in. She was unpredictable sometimes, and terribly confusing. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to harden his resolve to avoid the child at all costs.

A soft, gentle knock sounded at his apartment door. Turning in surprise, Kenshin headed for the door warily and opened it slowly. A tall, beautiful woman dressed in a skimpy, clingy black dress stood in the doorway, grinning sensually.

“Himura-san?” she purred.

“Yes?”

The woman pushed past him into the apartment, swaying her hips. Kenshin pushed the door closed, turning to watch the woman settle into his sofa.

“What do you want?” he asked bluntly, still standing by the door.

The woman leaned forward, exposing her cleavage, and smiled. “I love that raw, dangerous quality in a man,” she said, licking her lips. She beckoned to him with one finger.

Kenshin walked over and stood by the sofa. Unsolicited, the woman wrapped her arms around his waist and began to rub herself against him. Her actions elicited favourable sensations in Kenshin’s body but he remained impassive.

“Oh my,” she crooned, “I guess I’ll have to put all my skills to work tonight.”

Still rubbing her chest against his loins, the woman looked up seductively and slowly began to push down the straps of her tiny black dress.

“Why are you here?” Kenshin asked, trying to ignore the effect her ministrations were having on his body.

“I was sent to you by a friend,” she purred, kneeling on the couch and pushing her hands up under his shirt.

“Which friend?” Kenshin asked, suppressing a groan.

“Why,” the woman answered, nuzzling his neck and pushing her breasts up against his chest, “None other than Takasugi Shinsaku.”

“Takasugi,” Kenshin muttered, closing his eyes. That fucking retarded asshole of damn shitty horse. Internally, Kenshin rattled off as many curses as he could.

Externally, the woman was beginning to plant open mouthed kisses on his neck. Kenshin clenched his fists and tried to concentrate on finding a way to get rid of her. His body, however, was remembering and relishing something, or rather someone, else.

Another body. Smaller, more muscled but still as curvaceous. Moulded against his. Hands gently stroking his back. A sweet scent permeating his nostrils.

If only…

Kenshin’s mind was wandering and imagining alternate situations.

If only…

His senses did not pick up the creaking of the bedroom door.

If only it could be her.

But he did hear the startled gasp that came from across the room. His head whipped up suddenly, his shock causing the woman to stop for a moment and turn around. Kaoru stood staring at the pair, her eyes wide as if in pain and her hand over her mouth.

The three figures remained as still and as silent as stone until a deep, throaty voice interrupted.

“Who is she?” the woman asked, looking up at Kenshin.

He honestly struggled for an answer. He could say she was his prisoner or his assignment and it would be the truth. But that would probably hurt Kaoru. But then, wouldn’t it be better to just break her heart and be done with it? And why all of a sudden did he have the distinct feeling that Kaoru was hurt because of this other woman? Why on earth did he even care?

The assassin was tongue-tied.

Kaoru did not wait for his answer. Instead she flung herself back into the bedroom and slammed the door shut.

“So?” the sultry woman asked, massaging Kenshin’s chest, “Who was that little girl?”

Kenshin looked down, anger beginning to swirl in his amber eyes.

The woman didn’t bother to look up. Instead she began to plaster herself to him. “Anyway, now that the children have gone to bed,” she said disdainfully, “Let’s have our fun.”

Kenshin, suddenly repulsed and enraged, grabbed the woman by her shoulders and flung her roughly back onto the sofa. The woman looked up in surprise and anticipation.

“Oh? So you like it rough?” she smirked sexily, “Put it on me, then.”

Kenshin pointed to the door. “Get out,” he growled.

“Excuse me?” the woman asked, disbelieving.

“I’m not going to repeat myself,” Kenshin snarled, his gaze terrible.

The woman snorted and stood, brushing herself off. “And I thought you were supposed to be a man,” she muttered, heading for the door.

Kenshin stepped ahead of her and unlocked it. She paused before exiting and looked up to make a crude remark. It died on her lips, however, when she met his fearful yellow glare. Kenshin didn’t wait for her to recover. He unceremoniously pushed her out and slammed the door behind her.

“Kaoru!” he bellowed, turning to stare at the closed bedroom door.

There was, of course, no answer. Not even a sob. Kenshin narrowed his eyes impatiently, his reason and control clouded by rare emotions.

“Dammit,” he roared, “Come out, Kaoru! Don’t make me come get you.”

 “Leave me alone!” came a muffled reply from within the bedroom.

His face twisting angrily, Kenshin strode over to the bedroom and pounded on the door. “I’ll break down the door,” he warned, his voice dropping low.

“Fine,” Kaoru shot back, “It’s your stupid door anyway.”

Damn prissy teenager. Kenshin began to pound even harder on the door, not caring whether he was being reasonable or normal or prudent. His instinct simply told him one thing, and he was determined to follow his gut rather than his head at the moment. Just as he was about to bring his fist down on wooden surface again, the door swung open sharply. A very angry Kaoru stood in the doorway, blue eyes glittering with rage.

“Just stop it!” she yelled, “You…you barbaric thug!”

Kenshin shook his finger at her, an unknown mixture of volatile emotions overtaking his self-controlled image.

“Now listen up,” he hissed at her, “You don’t understand what was-”

“And I don’t want to,” Kaoru interrupted, making as if to slam the door in his face.

Kenshin jammed his foot in front of the door so she couldn’t close it. Kaoru pushed against the door angrily, kicking uselessly at his offending foot.

“I wasn’t finished,” Kenshin seethed, “What right do you have to go around all high and mighty and pretend to be moral and-”

“Because I am moral compared to you,” Kaoru hollered spitefully, “You womanizing murderer!”

“I wasn’t going to screw her, dammit,” Kenshin argued back, “But even if I was – it’s none of your damned concern! I’m a man, damn it.”

“So go screw her,” Kaoru spat out, her face twisted between a sob and a snarl, “And leave me alone!”

“Fuck!” Kenshin cried suddenly, punching the door with enough force to leave a dent.

Kaoru froze, stopped by the intensity of his grimace. Kenshin left his fist where it landed, breathing raggedly.

“That’s not what I meant,” Kenshin heaved between breaths, looking up at Kaoru.

She lifted her chin, studying him with narrowed blue eyes. “What is she to you, anyway?”

“What do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“So why ask?”

“I want to know.”

“A hooker someone hired for me,” Kenshin said, grinding his fist into the door angrily.

“I didn’t know you were that kind of person,” Kaoru said scornfully.

“I’m not,” Kenshin said quietly, “At least not anymore.”

“Then why-”

“I didn’t want her,” he interrupted, “I want you to know that.”

“What do you care?” she asked, mimicking him.

“I don’t.”

“So why ask?” A touch of derision was in her voice.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” Kenshin asked quietly.

“Why?” Kaoru asked in return, reluctant to say that remembered being pressed close to him.

Kenshin looked up at her and slowly pulled his fist away from the door. Kaoru sucked in her breath. His knuckles were swollen and split from the impact. She ran around him to the kitchen and hastily pulled out a few ice cubes, wrapping them in a dishtowel. She rushed back to Kenshin and grabbed a hold of his wrist. Surprisingly, he let her. Gingerly, she pressed the ice pack to his knuckles lightly.

Kenshin watched her passively, his eyes hooded.

“You don’t remember anything?” he asked again, softly.

Kaoru didn’t look up and didn’t answer. Instead, she pretended to be engrossed in watching the ice and his knuckles. Kenshin raised an eyebrow as she deliberately ignored him.

“Why aren’t you afraid?”

“Should I be?” she asked, her voice calm.

“I could kill you.”

“So?”

Slowly, Kaoru raised her eyes to meet the killer’s gaze, her hands still ministering to his wounded fist. They watched each other for a few moments, trying to figure out what was going on in the other’s mind.

“Are you afraid of me?” Kenshin asked seriously.

“Sometimes,” Kaoru shrugged, “Are you afraid of me?”

Kenshin snorted, still keeping eye contact. “Why would I be afraid of you?”

A wry smile tugged at Kaoru’s lips. She extended one hand and let it hover in front of his chest. “Well,” she said slowly, “You always get so agitated when you’re around me.”

“That’s because you’re annoying and I despise you.”

“Is that so?” Kaoru asked, pressing her hand to his heart. She took a step forward, all the while keeping the ice on his knuckles. “Am I annoying now?”

Kenshin didn’t answer. Instead, he concentrated on keeping his breathing in check. Damn this girl.

“If you’re not afraid of me,” Kaoru persisted, stepping closer to him, “Then why do you always push me away?”

“I-”

“Hate me?” Kaoru asked, taking yet another step closer, “Despise me? What is it that makes you so upset about me?”

She was now standing a mere inch away from him, one hand now firmly pressed on his chest and the other extended behind her to keep the ice on his hand. Kenshin stared at her levelly trying to ignore the warmth coming from her body, his lips a grim line.

“So push me away now,” Kaoru whispered, her face only inches away from his, “Push me away if you really hate me.” 

Kenshin’s hands closed around Kaoru’s upper arms in a lightning fast movement and she tumbled backwards, the ice falling from her hand.

Before she had time to breath, Kaoru found herself against the wall, her arms pinned to the white surface by Kenshin’s iron fists. Kenshin’s entire body was pressed against hers, his face buried in her neck. He was panting hotly onto her delicate skin and she felt the hair on the nape of her neck rise with the sensation. Her forearms were raised in surprise and her chest was heaving with gasping breaths. But the rising of her breasts was stopped by Kenshin’s hard chest against hers.

The ice lay melting on the floor, abandoned.

Kenshin’s calloused fingers left her upper arms and he forced his arms in behind her. He looped one lean arm around her back and one around her waist, pulling her tightly towards him at the same time as pushing himself onto her.

“You…” he mouthed into her neck, frustrated, “Bitch.”

Kaoru blinked blue eyes in shock and confusion. Kenshin continued to crush her to himself, his lips moving incomprehensibly over the smooth skin under her chin. She shuddered at the feeling, her body awakening to him. Kenshin pushed his nose into her neck, and then into her hair, inhaling her sweet scent deeply.

“How do you do this to me…” he whispered incomprehensibly into her silken hair.

Shuddering with barely controlled passion, Kenshin’s rough hands pushed their way down Kaoru’s back and over her firm thighs. He could feel the girl’s heart race as he pressed his weight against her, forbidding her to move. One calloused hand ran through her strands of thick black hair and gripped the back of her scalp. He pulled his face from her neck and pulled her head back, staring into her face as his other hand gripped her hip. His calculating amber eyes surveyed her flushed cheeks, surprised blue eyes and plump lips. He moved his face closer to hers, sniffing delicately and letting his red bangs brush her cheeks.

No fear. No panic. No revulsion at his touch. Only surprise.

“We can’t do this,” Kenshin said in a cold, clear voice of steel.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, flinging her away from him as he stepped back. Kaoru, stricken, stared up at him dazedly. For a few moments, he looked down at her with a hungry, primal gaze. Then he turned and stalked away to the bathroom, leaving Kaoru to collect herself from the floor.

Chapter 11: preparing to follow through

Even when I stand

I feel myself falling

“Oh?” Takasugi smirked, looking up from his coffee, “You’re uncharacteristically late, Himura. Girlie take too long in the shower?”

Kenshin, striding into Takasugi’s apartment silently, stood over the sitting man and glared down. Raising an eye brow, Takasugi stood, rising to his full six feet before turning towards the kitchen. 

“Can I offer you a cup of coffee?” Takasugi asked casually, “Or did you already get one from the little missy? Or maybe from the madame I sent you last night?”

“Don’t do that again,” Kenshin’s voice came from behind, dripping with icy malice.

“Do what?” Takasugi turned, his eyes mischievous.

Kenshin’s face was hard as stone but his eyes positively darkened with barely controlled rage. “I am your employee. I kill for you,” he snarled through clenched teeth, “But don’t presume to know what I want.”

Takasugi sat down again gracefully, setting a fresh cup of black coffee before an empty seat. “Who said I anything about me knowing what you want?”

Kenshin’s body stiffened from the rage he held within. “The goddamn hooker, Takasugi-san,” he seethed.

“Did I send that?”

Kenshin’s eyes widened and his pupils shrunk frighteningly. Takasugi lifted a hand, placating.

“Fine,” he amended, “But you liked that kind of thing before.”

“I don’t now.”

“Why ever not?”

His mouth a cold line, Kenshin glared an unspoken threat. “What does it matter to you? I do my job.”

Takasugi flattened his scraggly black hair with his fingers and leaned back in his seat. “So you do, Himura,” he smirked, “So you do.”

A crisp, clean knock sounded at the door. Takasugi rose swiftly and swept past the stiff assassin. Kenshin turned his head to see the door swing open.

“Good morning,” Katsura Kogoro greeted the men in his calm drawl from the doorway.

Their leader strode into the room, composed and clean cut. He sat gracefully in the seat previously meant for Kenshin, adjusting his business jacket deftly.

“This won’t take long,” Katsura informed them, pushing the cup of coffee away, “There is something that needs to be taken care of right away. Unfortunately, it will require some preparation and I am afraid we are running out of time as we speak.”

The refined politician titled his chiselled profile to meet Kenshin’s eyes. “The end result, of course, involves you, Himura.”

Kenshin gave a barely perceptible nod, acknowledging his part in the play.

Katsura turned to look at Takasugi, who was feigning a relaxed attitude as always. “This involves the American business man, Allan Morton. He is actually an arms dealer, supplying the remnants of Kanryu’s crime ring with immense firepower.”

“He’s still a thorn in our side, even from the grave,” Takasugi remarked dryly.

“He must be taken care of tonight,” Katsura said, a faint tone of urgency entering his normally composed voice, “Before he has a chance to arrange for the transfer of weapons.”

“Not a problem,” Takasugi rolled his head to look at the stone-faced assassin, “Right Himura?”

Still addressing Takasugi, Katsura continued, “But this Allan Morton is notorious for his lavish outings in Japan. He will, at all times, be surrounded by whores and bodyguards. Tonight he will have a private party in a suite at the Moriya Hotel. Only whores and his guards will be present. This is what you must take care of, Takasugi.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Takasugi waved it off, “I’ll just get our pimp types to make sure all the hookers in town know to split right before it’s Himura’s turn. It’ll take some time to get the word out so I’ll get to it.”

He began to rise but Katsura raised a hand to stop him. “That is what I wanted. But there is something more,” he looked up and met Kenshin’s amber gaze, “Kamiya-san is required.”

Kenshin stared down at his employer’s determined face. “What for?”

“Allan Morton is obsessed with surrounding himself with sex,” Katsura explained in perfect calm, “And all his 10 bodyguards are women – dressed as whores.”

“So?”

“So I do not wish them killed by the sword.”

“What do you want, then?”

“Kamiya Kaoru will erase their memories and bring back reports on Morton’s other deals.”

“I doubt they will wait patiently in line to have their minds explored by that teenager.”

Katsura sighed. “Precisely so.”

“Solution, anyone?” Takasugi interrupted.

A moment of silence hung thick in the air above the three men. Katsura knew his plan, yet he knew it would not be well received. Finally, he lifted his eyes and spoke.

“Takasugi will take Kamiya-san to meet all of the whores involved so that she will recognize them at Morton’s party tonight. During the party, she will erase the memories of all but the chief female bodyguard, since she is always too close to Morton. At precisely 2 AM, our whores will leave suddenly and let Himura in. Himura will immobilize the chief bodyguard so that Kamiya-san can clear her mind. Then, Himura, you will kill Allan Morton.”

Two pairs of incredulous eyes gaped at Katsura’s perfectly serious face. 

“That,” Takasugi announced, leaning forward, “Is impossible.”

Kenshin’s features hardened, he eyes boring into Katsura’s and searching for any hint of a chance that he might be persuaded to change his orders.

Takasugi, meanwhile, continued to rant. “First of all, is the Kamiya girl competent enough to handle not ONE, but TEN, body guards? Can she even defend herself? Oh and by the way, it’s a fucking WHORE party,” He slapped a hand to his forehead, “She will NOT wear the clothes she’ll need to in order to blend in. Or lack of clothes, I mean.”

Katsura, his eyes trained on Kenshin’s, countered calmly, “I do believe that Kamiya-san is quite capable of handling what I have planned. And she will have to comply with the dress code. I also have sources that say she is quite handy with a sword. Don’t you think so, Himura?”

Kenshin regarded the seriousness in Katsura’s eyes with scepticism. “I wouldn’t know,” he answered quietly.

“Well,” Katsura replied quietly, though his voice rang with authority, “You’ll have to find out. I want you to make sure she has a weapon and can use it.”

“No one touches my swords but me.”

“Then have Takasugi find a weapon suitable for her, and make sure she can use it.” Katsura’s voice held no room for argument.

The only answer he received from the assassin was a hard, disapproving stare.

“Shinsaku,” Katsura said, turning to Takasugi, “Go set up appointments with the pimps, find clothes for Kamiya-san, get her some weapons and then return to Himura’s apartment. Then take her to meet our women and give her instructions.”

Takasugi nodded and rose, his departure dimly registering as background noise.

“Himura,” Katsura commanded, “You are to train the girl in some form of self-defence-”

“Sir-”

“This is what you will do,” Katsura said, his stern authority unmasked, “and then at exactly 2 AM you will be waiting outside the penthouse suite of the Moriya Hotel.”

Without waiting for a reply, Katsura rose and straightened his jacket. He turned to leave, stopping only for a moment.

“This must be done,” he said softly, “For the sake of Kyoto.”

And then Kenshin was left alone in Takasugi’s apartment.

Megumi marched into her boss’ office and slapped a thick file folder down onto his desk.

“The racoon girl’s medical reports, I presume,” the burly man commented with a dry smirk.

“Of course, sir,” Megumi replied cattily, “And may I take this opportunity to remind you that Kaoru has been missing for over a week now and you have done absolutely nothing about it?”

“My dear, it’s not your job to think about that.”

“She’s my patient.”

“Not at the moment, she’s not.”

With a loud snort, Megumi flipped her hair over one shoulder and stalked out of the room.

Her boss pulled out a manila envelope from beneath a pile of messy papers and shoved the file folders in. With a few licks, the medical reports were sealed into the envelope. Taking up a pen, the man scrawled a name in the centre of the envelope: to Katsura Kogoro.

As he idly scratched his own initials, “H.S.”, in the corner of the envelope, he picked up the phone and barked, “Send a courier to my office. I have a package that needs to be delivered immediately.”

“I’m not going to touch that!”

“Just take it already!”

“No way.”

“Listen, kid. It’s for your own good.”

Kaoru rolled her eyes at Takasugi. “Yeah right. I’m still not touching that thing.”

“Dammit! You’re putting me behind schedule, missy.”

“Like I care.”

Kenshin watched the argument as he leaned against the far wall of the apartment. Takasugi was shaking a handgun at Kaoru while she simply stood with her arms crossed, shaking her head resolutely.

“You won’t take the gun, the switch blade or the damn pepper spray. I bet you wouldn’t even take a toothpick if I offered it to you!”

“I said I’m not touching any of your weapons and I mean it.”

“Okay then,” Takasugi demanded, his easy-going demeanour lost in frustration, “Just what will you take with you?”

“A bokken.”

“A bokken?” Takasugi ejaculated in disbelief, “You want a wooden sword? How the hell does that work? And how the hell will you hide a wooden sword under your disguise?”

Kaoru shrugged nonchalantly. “That’s the only weapon I’ll carry.”

Takasugi raised a wagging finger. “Listen, you-”

“Nevermind the weapon,” came a deathly cold voice from the other side of the room.

Both Kaoru and Takasugi turned from their debate to see Kenshin straighten up. His interruption caused Takasugi to raise an eyebrow and Kaoru’s heart to skip a beat. Still shaken from the previous night but refusing to let on, Kaoru stared at him and tried to mask the bundle of confused nerves throbbing in her chest.

The night before, Kenshin had dropped her onto the floor and stomped into the shower. She had slowly crept into her room, frightened, exhilarated and confused. However, in the hours that passed, the heat that had possessed her captor had plummeted into a frozen wall of ice. He ignored her, avoided her and refused to look at her. Kaoru felt invisible.

“Just get on with it,” Kenshin said, his voice calm shattering her thoughts, “Never mind the weapon.”

“Katsura said-”

“I’ll teach her some hand to hand combat skills.”

Kaoru opened her mouth to protest violently but her voice died in her throat when she saw the dark look Kenshin was shooting her.

“Fine, fine,” Takasugi said, shrugging, “I don’t care.” He reached for a familiar pink shopping bag. “Let’s get on to the more interesting parts of this mission, shall we?” he said with a devious smirk, pulling out Kaoru’s disguise.

“Sir,” Katsura’s receptionist announced, “This package came for you by express courier.”

Katsura looked up from his paperwork. “Just set it down on my desk.”

The receptionist glided across the plush office and set a thick manila envelope onto Katsura’s crowded mahogany desk. Katsura glanced down at it as the heavy wood doors slid shut. His eye catching the initials “H.S.”, he set aside his work and picked up the envelope. With a quick slide of his penknife, the manila envelope came open and he pulled out a thick file folder.

“Kamiya Kaoru,” he read aloud thoughtfully.

“Hey kids!” Takasugi called as he made his exit, “I’ll be back in two hours. Don’t do anything kinky while I’m gone! Wait till I get back.”

The door shut and an awkward, tense silence blanketed them both. Kaoru turned stiffly on her heel, eyeing Kenshin warily. Kenshin stared back, his eyes masked by amber. Then, slowly, he began to approach the girl. Kaoru frowned.

“What?” she demanded, her gut clenching involuntarily at his approach.

Kenshin didn’t answer, but continued his slow, menacing trek across the room.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Kaoru asked defensively, her stomach leaping into her throat.

Stopping a few yards away from her, Kenshin asked, “Is it correct that you have sword training?”

Kaoru tossed her head defiantly, “Yes, that’s right.”

“What is the style?”

“Kamiya Kasshin Ryu,” Kaoru answered, lifting her chin.

“Never heard of it.”

“I wouldn’t expect that some one like you would have.”

“Why is that?” His voice was cold, and eerily calm.

“Because Kamiya Kasshin Ryu teaches that the sword protects life. The sword is not for killing but for protecting the ones you love.”

Kenshin laughed a dry, almost bitter laugh, “That is impossible.”

Kaoru turned away, glaring at him from the corner of her eye.

“Tonight you have an important part to play in our mission,” Kenshin said softly.

“So?”

Before her next intake of breath, Kaoru felt a rush of wind at the back of her knees. And then she was flat on her back, staring at the ceiling.

“You’re too slow,” came a deadpan voice from above.

Kaoru flipped herself over and clambered to her feet, her cheeks burning with anger. “What was that for?”

“You need to be able to defend yourself.”

“I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

Business, Kenshin chanted to himself as he knocked the little girl’s feet out from under her with a swift sweep of his leg, It’s only business.

“Obviously you can’t,” Kenshin commented derisively.

Kaoru pinched her lips into a tight line, crouching slightly in anticipation. Without a word, Kenshin launched himself forward and grabbed her arm, twisting it behind her back. With a cry, Kaoru jabbed at his stomach with her free elbow and stomped on his foot. Kenshin silently jumped away, releasing her. She whirled about to face him, panting softly.

“Basic and crude,” he remarked, his face a mask of iron, “But sufficient.”

Without even a warning, he was at her again, this time with a chokehold on her throat. In silent approval of her next movement, Kenshin let Kaoru kick him in the shins and pull away. Without hesitation, he aimed a punch at her porcelain face. Kaoru lashed out with her forearm, knocking his punch away. Kenshin’s iron fingers, however, clamped down onto her forearm. His other fist flew at her stomach. Kaoru closed her eyes and braced for the impact.

But the impact never came. Looking down, she saw his fist had stopped millimetres away from her stomach.

“Never close your eyes,” Kenshin instructed, looking at her through red bangs.

Kaoru nodded and pulled away, her psyche slipping into routine martial arts classes. Instantly, Kenshin threw a punch for her face, repeating the exact sequence.

So the two continued to dance in hand to hand combat; Kenshin throwing assaults and Kaoru attempting to defend herself. Whenever Kaoru succeeded in warding him off, he stepped back silently and commenced a new attack sequence. Whenever Kaoru failed, he repeated the attack until she succeeded. And through all the attacks, he surveyed her as if through a distant looking glass.

Kaoru, on the other hand, threw her mind and body into the dance, even forgetting who the man before her was. In her mind, they were in a polished wood training hall, the sound of their collisions echoing of the walls. She focused her energy into defence, her frustration egging her on.

Kenshin watched her through his seamless attacks. While it was true that he attacked her with only half his strength, he didn’t soften the blows either. Kenshin forced his blood to run cold and his eyes to ignore the liveliness before him. He stopped his ears to her grunts and cries, blinded his eyes to her parted pink lips and taut young muscles and he killed the warmth that threatened to spread through his body. He was like an inanimate machine of frosty metal compared with her exuberant effort.

It’s only business, his voice wound like an iron chain through his blood, Business. Nothing more than business.

“Dammit,” Takasugi muttered under his breath as he strode towards Kenshin’s apartment, “Five fucking o’clock already.”

Takasugi rapped on the door loudly, tapping his foot impatiently. It had taken half an hour to get downtown in traffic, a little over three hours to contact all the pimps and arrange for specific whores to meet at the Sakura tea house for a briefing and nearly forty five minutes to get back to their apartment building. Of course, Takasugi thought dryly, it would probably take double that time to force the Kamiya chick into her skimpy disguise.

He heard a rustle in the lock and assumed his laid back personality as soon as the door swung open. Kenshin stood before him, his black sweater rolled up to the elbows and wisps of his flame red hair falling from his ponytail. Takasugi peered into the semi-darkness of the room and spotted Kaoru, stretched out onto the sofa with her hair askew and her chest heaving.

“Getting busy or what?” Takasugi managed a dirty smirk, “I told you to wait for me.”

Kenshin shot him a dark look and made way for him to enter. Sweeping into the room, swinging the pink bag, Takasugi appeared before Kaoru with a devilish smile. Kaoru pushed herself up onto her elbows.

“No way.”

“Yes way, my dear,” Takasugi smiled, dumping out the contents of his bag onto her lap.

Kaoru unceremoniously pushed the semi-lingerie of her lap and onto the floor. “I told you before and I’m telling you again,” she said vehemently, “There is NO WAY I am putting that on.”

Takasugi crouched in front of her and pulled the outfit up. “Those are the orders my dear,” he said, smiling wickedly, “And besides, this outfit cost my sister a fortune.”  He lifted a tiny, black tube top in one hand and a jean skirt that was just as big in the other.

Kaoru swallowed. “Wasn’t there a spaghetti strap shirt in there? I might wear that.”

With his two pinkie fingers, Takasugi dangled a bright red, string thong. “Oh no, my dear,” he chucked, “That’s this. You should wear this too – just in case.”

“In case of what?” Kaoru squeaked, a furious blush heating her cheeks.

“Just in case,” Takasugi sneered lightly.

“But-” began a very flustered Kaoru.

“Listen,” Takasugi said, dropping his tone and leaning forward, “If you don’t want ten women to die tonight by Himura’s sword, you’d best go put this on.”

Kaoru huffed and picked up the outfit in one handful. She stalked off to the bathroom, muttering all the while.

Takasugi stood and stretched. “So,” he asked Kenshin, “Get anything done?”

Kenshin moved for the fireplace. “She will probably be fine as long as she doesn’t pick any fights.”

“So,” Takasugi drawled, “You didn’t get anything done then.”

Kenshin looped his swords through his belt. “She can’t fight off all ten. But she can take one or two, perhaps.”

“Well,” Takasugi said with a shrug, “If that’s the best you could do. Hey!” he asked as Kenshin threw on his cloak, “Where the hell are you going?”

“Out.”

“But it’s still daylight.”

“So?”

“Well,” Takasugi said devishly, “Don’t you want to see her in her new outfit.”

“No,” Kenshin said curtly, spinning on his heel.

“Oh my,” Takasugi whistled, “Aren’t we touchy.”

“Leave me alone,” Kenshin said darkly, tucking the hilts of his swords under his cloak and reaching for the doorknob.

“Don’t forget to show up at 2 AM.”

“I won’t,” Kenshin affirmed, stepping out the door without a glance backwards.

“Don’t forget not to let her get killed.”

Kenshin’s answer was the harsh slam of the door.

Takasugi smiled softly and turned towards the bathroom door, where he heard Kaoru fumbling with the lock. The bathroom door opened slowly and a bare foot emerged timidly.

“Come on out sweetheart!” Takasugi hollered.

“Shut up!” came the instant answer from Kaoru. She shuffled out of the bathroom, a large towel wrapped around her shoulders.

Takasugi stood. “Now how in hell is anyone going to believe that you’re a whore if you act so shy?”

“I’m not a whore,” Kaoru spat.

“Tonight you will be.”

“I’ll be pretending to be a whore. I won’t be a whore.”

“Fine line you’re walking,” Takasugi chuckled, striding over to her quickly.

“Where’s Kenshin?” Kaoru asked, looking around.

“Went out,” Takasugi answered, suddenly pulling the towel away from her shoulders.

“Hey!” Kaoru cried out in protest, wrapping her arms around herself.

She glared at him with all her might, trying to burn a whole through his chest. Takasugi just stared down at her small frame, assessing her. The black tube top barely covered her breasts and revealed her smooth belly scandalously. The low-cut jean skirt hugged her hips snugly but stopped a few inches below her buttocks.

Takasugi smiled appreciatively. Kaoru shuddered.

“Not bad,” he commented slyly, “We’ll just get you some spiky high heels and you’ll blend right in. Too bad your tits aren’t bigger, though.”

Kaoru’s nostrils flared angrily. Takasugi roared with laughter. Ignoring her anger, he pulled her from the apartment by her upper arm.

Kenshin stood the river that separated the districts in Kyoto, staring down into its dark, murky depths. Despite the fact that his arms were crossed and his fingers curled into knots, his visage was as stone-faced as ever. His amber eyes were fastened to the images that flitted across the water. He watched silently as branches of nearby trees waved in perverse patterns over the water, as darkened clouds hid the sun, as people rippled and disappeared over the water’s surface.

But his unemotional gaze drifted most often to one image in particular. A dark form, wavering on the messy waves. And a top that tower of translucent black, a rust stain rippling with the waves as wind ripples hair. His eyes watched the pale mask below him, seeing the face distorted and convoluted to match the water’s mirror. Kenshin’s eyes sank past his reflection, to pierce the murky depths below.

And he despised himself.

Kaoru clenched her fists, letting her fingernails dig into her palms. Takasugi loped along beside her as they headed to their rendez-vous with the whores, glancing down every so often to read the expressions on her face. At the moment, it was obvious that she was struggling to command her ankles not to wobble and her feet not to stumble. Walking in spiked high heels proved to be a novelty for the young woman but she bore it well, inconspicuously glancing down to check for holes in the cement that might lead to her downfall. Walking in such tight, revealing clothes was also a challenge and she alternated between checking for pavement potholes and pulling her shirt and skirt up or down.

They reached the infamous Sakura Teahouse. Kaoru paused momentarily at the entrance, visions of previous nightmares flitting through her mind. But pressing her lips together and steeling herself for the whistles and catcalls that would come, she pushed the curtain aside and stepped in to face her promise to Katsura.

To be continued…