From: Chibi-Chiriko <tranquiltwilight@yahoo.com>

The second to the last installment of "Reiki", and
certainly one of the darkest chapters. ^_^;; I almost
quit working on this fic because of this chapter! >_<
The turn at the end surprised even me, because that
was NOT at all part of the original plot! Oh, man...

<<Argh.  I have a feeling I know where this is going to go and
it's killing me.  Okay, I didn't what Aoshi tried to do in
chapter 5, and I don't know that I agree with it, but I
understand where you're going.>>

  I understand. If some handsome, brooding guy I really
liked suddenly showed up trying to kill me instead of making
me feel better, I'd really curse his guts! But I'm not going
to change it; I like it as it is, and sometimes, real life
is even uglier than what's portrayed in this fic. It's not
always pretty, and it almost never goes the way you want it to.

<<It is really well written,
and I know despite myself that I'll follow it to the end.
Darn it, where's Kenshin to fix everything when you need
him?>>

  Actually, the original plot was *supposed* to have Kenshin
and the rest of his gumi (geez, couldn't they have called it the
Kaoru-gumi at least? It's HER Dojo after all!) come to Kyoto to
help. But, as it *will* be mentioned in my notes later on, 
the story took a life of its own, and went places I never thought
I'd take it, so I guess (snickers) there'll be no Kenshin in this
fic after all. YESSSSSSS! NO MORE RED! WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO, THERE
*IS* HOPE, AFTER ALL! What's really, really, really disturbing is
that Kenshin's just so *perfect* in the eyes of his drooling fans.
He's always just *there* to save people, always there to help out,
but is that realistic? In real life, when you're *dying* on some
hospital bed, do you *see* a cute red-haired bishounen brandishing 
his sakabatou, declaring he'll save you even though there's no hope?
It wouldn't be fair to have him saving the day all the time -- it's
really sickening. So why don't they just make *all* the characters
a bunch of silly, mindless extras so that *Kenshin* can come and
steal all the scenes, showing off the flashing, spazzy red hair
(the shade of which is, when you think about it, impossible to
attain in real life) and the *really* hot body. >_<

  And no, don't think I'm insulting the guy -- it'll be hard
for you to stomach right now, but I really *do* have *some* 
respect for him, and his past, and his principles... it just sometimes
wanders off to a point of not being realistic. *Especially* in the
anime filler episodes. If anyone has a problem with what I just
said, go on and flame me. I don't mind at all. 

  P.S. Sorry for my ranting. I tend to go too far when I'm hyper.

Anyway, without further ado, Reiki 6 is here. Again, 
many thanks to all those who were kind enough to send
me their comments and corrections and stuff. I really
appreciate it! ^-^ God bless!

WARNING!! Some of the darkest events in this fic take
place in this chapter! 

+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

DISCLAIMERS: Rurouni Kenshin belongs to 
Nobuhiro Watsuki, Jump Comics, Shueisha, Fuji TV
and SPE Visual Works. This is a nonprofit work
of fanfiction; all original RK characters are
used without permission from the owners. No
copyright infringement intended.

REIKI
by: Chibi-Chiriko

ACT SIX: Memories are Only a Prison Cell 

For the weeks following that horrible day, I was 
mostly on my own. I didn't return to the Aoiya 
after that (how could I?), and I didn't see Misao
for about fourteen days. I wandered along and alone,
waiting till darkness cloaked the sky before moving
out of my hiding place and setting off into the
streets, where no one would recognize me. My hiding
place, if you wish to know, was then a toolshed
behind a teahouse; I slept there during the daytime,
and when night came, I secretly stole away. 

Running around in circles, that's what I was doing.
As always, ever since I was a boy, I'd been trying to
run from the sadness, from the pain, thinking that
if I'd run long enough, far enough, the misery that
chased me would tire of its game and chase someone 
else. 

Of course, I learned then that that was not true. 
Misery never tires of trailing the miserable, whereas
people *do* tire of running. I was bone weary of 
the hunt, of the chase, and all I wanted to do, really,
was to die.

Was that so much to ask of God?

It certainly seemed so, for no matter what I'd do,
it seemed like I could never die. 

More on that later. Right now, I'd rather speak of
my comrades' plights.

Okina had fallen ill. They say he'd been found at
some gambling den, unconscious, probably from
drinking too much. Kuro and Shiro had taken him home,
and he was probably recovering already. Hell, he'd
be lucky if he died, and I wonder why that did not
happen to me.

Okon and Omasu were trying to find me. They'd been
asking around, placing ads in the newspapers, and even
going so far as to swallow their pride and look to
*Saitou* for help. I honestly didn't care whether or
not Saitou decided to help them.

All that time, I'd never forgotten that this whole
ordeal was my fault. How could I? I was constantly
being reminded of it every time, everywhere I looked.

And yet, all that changed on one rainy night...



Fall was coming. Leaves had turned to red and yellow,
and were drifting off the branches of withering trees. 
Nights were growing longer, days shorter. The 
weather was colder, the winds harsher. 

It was raining heavily that night, bucketfuls of 
water pouring down on this lonely world. I was walking
by myself, trudging through the rain, my footsteps creating
small splashes whenever I moved. 

The sound of turning wheels pounded dimly somewhere behind me.
*A carriage* I thought, though my mind was miles away.
*Who could it possibly be on such a night?*

I shrugged and walked on, ignoring the sound of hooves thumping.
By then, I'd already assumed my emotions were no more, locked
in some cage at the very corner of the deepest chambers of
my soul. Yet something -- *someone* -- had caused them all
to resurface once again, more powerfully than ever before.

A lean, lithe figure seemed to dart across the street,
the movements strangely jerky, uncoordinated. I squinted,
trying to see more clearly. Then my heart suddenly burst 
into a frenzy as the familiar shade of blue clothing,
the tell-tale braid that whipped about in the winds, the
scrawny arms, the pale, bleeding face...

*Misao!*

"Misao!" I uttered a strangled cry, my voice hoarse. I
was shocked into a halt, staring at her. 

She didn't seem to hear me, though she *did* slow to 
a stop. She looked around, as though trying to navigate
her way in the rain.

And then, to my horror, I watched as the dark, looming
figure of a carriage emerge from a curtain of rain, coming
toward my fragile angel like a phantom in the night. The
ground was slippery... Misao couldn't see... the driver 
couldn't see... there was no possible way the carriage 
could avoid her in time...

I leapt into a steady run, and threw my arms around Misao,
shoving her away from the path of the carriage, then diving
down next to her just as the carriage skirted past, 
its driver completely unaware of what could have happened
there.

My heart was beating like a drum, my breathing shallow
and ragged. Misao was in my arms, and she wasn't making a 
sound. She was staring up at me with wide, innocent eyes,
so like the child she used to be. Those cerulean orbs
reflected confusion, wonderment and... 

Joy?

... joy to...

... joy to have found me... so she'd run away again 
for the same reason she did the first time...

Letting forth a loud, unmanly sob, I pulled her into
my arms and wept. She didn't seem to understand at first,
but then her arms went around me and she leaned her gentle
head against my shoulder, and kept whispering, "Aoshi-sama,
Aoshi-sama." 

*Misao... Misao...* I tightened my grip around her, 
letting the rain soak me in its wet embrace.

*You'll never know, Misao.*

*You'll never understand, no matter how hard you try.*

*I can only hope you can find it in your heart to...

... forgive me...*

Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the pounding of hooves
against the slippery pavement, the noisy screeching of wheels
against cracks on the road, the lash of a whip against the 
length of some poor horse's back. But I didn't care. I
banished its growing reality to the far recesses of my 
mind, wanting only to fill the moment with the feel of *her.*
I didn't care anymore what happened outside our private
little world, outside the only tiny piece of paradise 
I dared call my own, knowing full well that even *that*
was a lie.

I heard a loud curse in the air, and the sudden squeaking of
wheels just about a few feet away, as though the carriage had
swerved to miss us. I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my head
in Misao's hair, bracing myself for the blow that would end
it all. How ironic, this pounding heart in me, that I
should be scared of what I'd been desperately yearning for
for so long... 

"Aoshi-sama!" Misao's panicked cry jolted me out of my 
reverie. "Don't let them get me! Don't let it hurt anymore --
Aoshi-sama!" Her scream was broken off when she was suddenly
torn from my grasp, and with a snarl of fury, I reached out
and grabbed her arm, pulling her back. She was sobbing
as she returned to my embrace.. I think I was flinging 
curses at the two dark figures in front of me, trying to
take her from me as fate had done before...

"Shinomori." That patronizing voice -- it was achingly familiar.
I peered through the rain and recognized the feral stare. 

"Saitou?" I whispered hoarsely. "What --?"

"Shinomori-san?" came a younger voice that reflected more
evident concern. I glanced at the speaker, and was shocked
to recognize the face of Seta Soujirou.

"Seta?" 

Seta's voice was calm and strangely comforting despite the
furious torrents of rain that wreaked havoc on us. 

"We were asked to look for you -- please, you've got
to get inside the carriage. It's cold out here."

At first, I thought about trying to escape. Seeing the determination
on Saitou's face, however, and knowing the weariness that must've
been written all over my own, I gave in. 

I let Saitou take Misao in his arms, soothing her apprehensions
with my voice. I only realized then how tired I was, and as my
knees buckled, Seta was instantly at my side; he had
one arm around me and helped me inside the carriage.

For the rest of the trip to God knows where, we sat in silence.
Misao's head was resting on my shoulder as we travelled on.
Saitou was pretending not to notice, but I caught Seta  
watching us with what seemed like sad jealousy in his blue eyes.
I squarely met his stare.

*Jealous? Don't be. You're fortunate where you are right
now.* I was speaking to him, though not with the deceiving 
manner of words, but from one lost soul to another. 

*You protect yourself with your smile, and I protect 
myself with my coldness, but with all masks shedded, you and 
I are just the same. You resent me because I have someone to
love, but God, if only you knew what love is really like... 
if only you knew how harsh, how bitter it is to watch the one
you love slowly waste away, how it slowly kills you to hear
the one you love deny what you once promised...* 

I saw the anguish in his eyes, something I'd never expected to
see in him before, and he quickly looked away. I lowered my
eyes to my hands, which were clenched and sitting on my knee.

The rest of the trip was sung in silence, a broken intensity
thick with the slowly burning tension accompanying the undeniable
ring of truth that was tight around Misao's unconscious form.



"Aoshi-sama!"

I blinked, startled. Had I been asleep...? I looked up, groaning 
softly as I felt a crick in my neck. My muscles were stiff from not
moving for hours, and my right shoulder hurt. 

As I rubbed my eyes, I heard a familiar tune dip into my consciousness.
My eyes widened as the melody registered in my mind... it was the
song the locket played during the last night Misao and I shared
on the roof!

Not daring to hope, I gazed ahead at the slender figure that
stood there, beckoning to me. My heart almost broke, seeing her 
unblemished loveliness, the vision that had ignited the first spark
of real love in my heart.

There was Misao, and in that vision, though it was but an illusion 
in the deceiving disguise of truth, she looked more real and more 
beautiful than ever. No more was the long black braid that swirled
around her body like a bushy tail; her shimmering bluish-black 
hair fell freely in loose, graceful waves, like a black waterfall
catching the glint of the moonlight. Her eyes, her eyes were
strikingly beautiful; larger than life, a shade of blue that 
seemed to sparkle more brilliantly than the bluest sapphires, with
a depth deeper than the deepest oceans, reflecting life like a 
candle that would never go out. Her fair, gentle face was like 
the finest, most delicate porcelain, used only in the most 
expensive of China dolls. 

And her smile... that in her which had first drawn me to her...
it was the mirror of an earnest, innocent spirit that took on a 
tangible form only in the shadowy distance of my sweetest fantasies.
Touching, sincere, endearing -- it set my cold heart on loving 
fire as I looked upon it... and my lips curled up ever so slightly
to match it.

I suddenly realized that this could not be reality, for reality
was far too cruel to allow such beauty, such happiness. We
appeared to be in a clearing amidst trees that looked golden in 
the eternal sunlight. A glade of sparkling pink roses trailed on
either side of where we stood, and despite the soft sunbeams that
warmed us, I caught the familiar patterns of constellations 
scattered across the morning sky, mapped out against a fiercely
flaming crimson-purple plain. Some distances away, I caught 
the green lumps of earth -- rolling hills -- in which their 
summits seemed to embrace the puffy white clouds that hung low in
the sky.

And my eyes traveled back to Misao, whose arms were reaching out
entreatingly toward me, whose voice called out my name with
such careless tenderness that it pinched my heart. 

"Misao," I began, my voice cracking, barely audible over the
wind that had suddenly swept past. 

She didn't seem to hear; she was smiling, and drifting across 
the little garden, laughing a little and letting out soft, achingly
childlike whimpers whenever something inexplicably beautiful 
would fly past. 

"Misao." My voice was louder, and I started walking toward her,
following her. She didn't seem to notice my presence, though she
kept uttering my name on her lips, and whenever I would draw close
enough to touch her, she would giggle and dart away.

I was exasperated. "Misao, why won't you *come* to me?" I demanded
finally. 

That brought her to an abrupt halt. Her feet ceased their gay little
dance, her arms fell limp at her side, and her hair rippled around
her body, shielding her from me like a cloud. 

I sighed with relief, and took her by the shoulders, whirling her 
around to face me. Yet I was unprepared for the sight that 
suddenly stood before me, and in my shock, I let go. 

A disheveled Misao stumbled from my grasp, and lay sprawled across
the grass. She looked up at me with an angry glare, eyes narrowed
and flashing, fists clenched at her sides. Her skin was fine no
longer; scarred it was instead, with dark, purple bruises smattered
over her once-perfection. Dust clung to her now dull hair, 
which lay like a rag around her shoulders. Her dress appeared old
and wrinkled, from tossing and turning in bed each night, and 
her mouth was dripping with blood, mingled with saliva and vomit.

I shrank back in horror, aghast at what I saw, and that was when 
she let out a loud, mocking laugh.

"*Dear* Aoshi-sama!" she taunted, her voice ringing ominously in
my ears. "Look at you -- you're running away again!"

"Good God, no," I whispered, staring at her, wanting to turn away
but unable to do so.

She giggled again, that humorless little laugh, and how I longed
to plug my ears at the sound of it. 

"And I thought you were *brave!*" she ranted, drool dribbling down
her chin. "I thought that years of fighting as a warrior would make
you strong enough to survive everyday living. I guess I thought
wrong -- such a simple task you couldn't even DO, could you?" Her
voice rose into an accusing shriek. 

I started to back away, but her sharp tongue made me freeze in my
tracks. "DON'T!" she exclaimed. "Is that all you can do, Aoshi?!"
I noticed she didn't tack the '-sama' in for respect anymore, and 
feelings of shame swelled in me. "Is that all you can do -- run away
like a coward? Withdraw from the world, withdraw from reality, back
down from the fight -- is that all you're capable of doing? How many
times will you take the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki to get common sense
back into your fuckin' head?" 

"Misao, don't curse!" I snapped automatically, then instantly 
regretted it. 

"Aoshi, don't run away!" she retorted, her eyes flashing wildly. 
"Such little faith you have. How strange, that the words of men should
have such a profound effect on you that you run away on whims and 
come back completely changed. You *never* see anything bright in 
the darkness, do you, not even when someone lights a candle before
your very eyes? You think I have no chance of living, so you 
leave me to die? Tell me something, Aoshi, DOES RUNNING AWAY MAKE
YOU FEEL ANY BETTER?"

My eyes hardened, and my heart was pounding, but I was silent.
I reminded myself that this was a dream, a hallucination of some 
sort, that she wasn't really *saying* these things, that I'd wake
up soon and forget about it. 

I should have known she wouldn't let go; she launched into her
speech, bearing down on me with those coal-like eyes, clinging
tenaciously to what I'd previously dismissed as 'useless sentiments.' 

"Had you actually killed me back then, do you think you would
have felt better?" she pressed. "Would you have felt lighter,
freer, had you done so? If not, then why do you still run away?
Why do you still hide? Why do you stubbornly protect your pride,
when you don't have any pride left to protect? WHY DO YOU HATE
ME SO MUCH?"

"God damn it, I don't hate you, I *love* you!" I burst out.
I felt tears freely running down my cheeks, and I choked back 
a sob. "I love you even though you hurt me, without even realizing
it. I love you even though you die, and I only hide to protect
myself from the pain..."

"But in hiding, the pain is worse, is it not?" she softly 
interrupted. Her tone had changed; instead of anger, 
gentleness, instead of hysteria, a quiet sadness. Her eyes
had softened, and they looked on me with pure, honest tears
in them. The tinkling, heartbreaking little melody swelled into
maximum volume and majesty of the sound as her scarred hand 
brushed lightly against my cheek. 

*Yes.*

"You feel guilty, you feel responsible for what's happening 
to me, don't you?"

*Yes.*

"You hate yourself, don't you?"

*How can I not?*

"Then how can you love me?" she asked quietly, withdrawing 
her hand. My skin tingled, aching for her soothing touch. The
climax of the melody quieted down, so quiet I had to strain my
ears to hear it. 

"I just do," I murmured, knowing it was a flimsy response. Overhead,
gray storm clouds gathered, obliterating the beauty of the 
shining sky. 

And she smiled, and it was a sad, bittersweet smile of painful
acceptance. I smiled, too, though it was a lonely, grieving 
smile, and it pained me to do so. 

"I love you," she whispered, and it was sweet to my ears, 
though it shot anguish through my heart. 

"I -- I know." There was a catch in my voice.

Surprise flickered in those tantalizing cerulean orbs, and
it seemed as though a ray of last happiness had filtered through.
Once again she looked like the cheerful, spirited little girl
who used to chase me and Hannya through the busy Kyoto streets,
the girl whose persistent pursuit always sought those words.

"Forget about me," she whispered compassionately. She seemed
to be slowly disappearing into thin air, and much as I wanted to,
I did not hold her back. "Goodbye, my beloved."

And she was gone.

And the sky, the clouds, the last bits of paradise slowly 
mingled together into a film of cold tears in my eyes.



I heard a soft, clicking sound somewhere near my heart, and
my eyes flew open. A pair of pale, slender hands held the 
locket that had appeared to have fallen open against my chest.
I looked around, and found myself still inside the carriage. I
dimly recalled having gone to sleep. 

Shaking my head, I looked up... and I was surprised to see a 
young woman kneeling in front of me. She was lovely, like a blossom
of life. Not tall, but slim and well-formed, with graceful raven 
locks and gentle aquamarine eyes. At that moment, warm concern
sang in their depths.

"Ano... Shinomori-san," she said softly. "I'm glad you're awake."

"Who are you?" I heard myself ask. And in a softer voice, I added,
"You're beautiful."

She blushed slightly. "Fujita Tokio, at your service," she murmured.
"Misao-san is in my husband's room. He and Seta-kun are watching over
her -- they've sent for a doctor from Aizu to come over and take
care of her."

*Misao?* The name was strikingly familiar. "Who is Misao?" I asked.

I saw her eyes widen, saw her stiffen, and I frowned slightly. Her
face then relaxed into a pleasant expression, and her hand came
over mine.

"Misao is a very, very sick girl," she told me. "She may be dying, but
we're doing our best to try to keep her alive until the doctor comes.
We -- my husband, Seta-kun and I -- believe in her. We try to have 
hope -- we are *hoping* that she lives. We believe in her ability to
rise above this illness that plagues her, we know she can do it."

She was silent for a moment. And then she added, "Would you like to
see her, Shinomori-san?"

I nodded without hesitation.



Tokio brought me into a warm, well-lighted room with had a cozy,
comfortable air to it. The air was not humid, it wasn't too cold 
nor too hot, and it had the slight fragrance of fresh peach blossoms.
Large, comfortable chairs with arm rests lined the walls, and a
dainty white curtain hung over the window, filtering the pearly 
moonlight that was filtering through.

*This is a good place to die* I found myself thinking, as I 
stared at the small fire that burned in the hearth. 

Saitou and Seta stood silently by the bed when I approached. I
saw a young girl lying there, her fingers crossed over her chest,
her hair untied and curling around her shoulders. She was dressed
in nothing more than a clean white yukata, and though her face
had scars and hints of bruises, she looked as though she had 
been washed before having been lain there. A thick blanket was
draped over her body.

"Misao," I murmured. That name... that face... so familiar, though 
I couldn't place them. Strangely, though, it didn't seem to matter.

"She won't make it," Saitou announced, holding his chin high, and
this received a yelping protest from young Seta.

"Saitou-san, not in front of him!" he warned, his blue eyes 
reflecting alarm.

Ignoring him, Saitou grimly went on, "The kitsune onna is taking
too long, and even if she arrived now, it wouldn't make any difference.
Whatever it is, it has the weasel in its clutches now, and it's 
only a matter of minutes before she goes."

I saw Tokio nudge Saitou, and whisper something in his ear. I 
saw but did not pay attention; my eyes had strayed back to the girl
on the bed.

Almost as though she'd sensed me staring at her, she opened her
eyes and looked at me. Cute little dimples rose in her cheek as she
smiled tenderly, and a raspy cough escaped her parted lips.

"Aoshi... sama..." she croaked weakly. 

Without thought, my hand fumbled for hers, and I bent over to hear
what she was saying.

"What is it, Misao?" I whispered.

"One..." She trembled, as though death had already come upon her. 
With a blazing look in my eyes, I banished it back for a moment, as
if to say, 'Not yet.'

"... last..."

I was holding her in my arms, stroking her back, calming her when 
she trembled, and gently patting her back when she coughed violently.

"... kiss -- onegai...?"

Not wishing to deny her final wish, I bent over, and touched her
lips with my own. The kiss was sweet, deep, soothing. I held 
her mouth with my own until I felt her go limp in my arms, until
her heart slowed to a stop, until her body grew cold and lifeless.

I opened my eyes, and saw the final, tremulous smile on her face, 
and I set her back on the bed. Walking as though in a daze, I
haltingly stepped toward the window, and with a sudden motion yanked
the curtains aside, letting the glimmering shafts of moonlight 
steal into the room, bathing the girl's deathbed in a heavenly, 
silvery light.

END ACT SIX
2/16/00
Modified: 2/17/00 
Modified: 2/26/00

NOTES:

Oh, wow, I can't believe I actually finished this act! ~o~ I 
didn't think -- I had a completely different plan for "Reiki" to 
end, and I *cannot* believe it's gonna end this way! I swear, I 
do NOT know what came over me; I was planning for there to be more
angst, more depression, more Sou-chan, and even a number of scenes
with Kenshin and the gumi! Orooooooooooooooooo -- how did *this* 
come to be? Not that I'm complaining -- just overwhelmed, is all.
^_^;; 

Next Act is last Act, I swear! Now I'm torn between a happy 
ending and a drawn-out, even more depressing conclusion. I see
the advantages and disadvantages of having both, and I *know* 
I promised it wouldn't have a happy ending BUT... *shikushiku!*
I guess promises about writing are dangerous, huh? 

Some of you might be wondering why Soujirou's here, and some
might be ready to send me "Huh??" letters asking why Soujirou
seems to be in cahoots with Saitou-kun, why Soujirou *would*
be in cahoots with Saitou-kun and all that... Well, I have
a reason, but I'll probably have to come up with a few companion
pieces to explain the whole story. Yes, it *does* have a story
to it -- I didn't put Sou-chan in on a whim! And did I say that
this fic is somewhat tied to the Kama-chan POV oneshot, the
men of RK songfic and even the Omasu oneshot?? ^.~ They
all come one after the other, and as of now, I'm working on 
*another* major series fic that will deal with someone *else*
in an entirely new setting, in hopes of upgrading his popularity
level with the RK fans. ^^;; Someday, I'm gonna work on
something that's gonna sum up the essence of all these fics of
mine which no one_ever_reads. >_<

Special, special thanks goes out to Jessica Steiner
<chichiri_no_da@chichiri.com> for all those inspiring comments,
suggestions and corrections! This Act never woulda been completed
had it not been for you.

__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Talk to your friends online with Yahoo! Messenger.
http://im.yahoo.com

------------------------------------------------------------------------
Get what you deserve with NextCard Visa! Rates as low as 2.9% 
Intro or 9.9% Fixed APR, online balance transfers, Rewards Points, 
no hidden fees, and much more! Get NextCard today and get the 
credit youdeserve! Apply now! Get your NextCard Visa at:
http://click.egroups.com/1/912/4/_/455156/_/951547151/
------------------------------------------------------------------------