Silk and Satin
 by Tin

 -------------------------------------------

 This is a  Rurouni Kenshin-inspired fanfic written entirely for
 entertainment purposes only. Standard disclaimers apply.

 -------------------------------------------

 Joy.

 I watched him as he played quietly with Ayame and Sazame as they
 squatted down the dojo floor. He was holding a puppet made of twigs,
 twitching it this way and that, making goofy faces all the while.
 I smiled as the two little girls laughed delightedly, clapping their
 hands in glee. Suzame tugged on his sleeve and whispered something into
 his ear. His expression instantly sobered as he listened to her quiet
 murmurs. He nodded gravely but I saw, even from the distance which
 separated us, the lurking amusement in his violet eyes. He beckoned to
 Ayame who then came closer and clung to his hand. I watched as they
 conversed in hushed tones interlaced with fits of giggling. The girls
 hugged him. He embraced them back. The gesture was so tender, so
 natural, coming from one whose eyes always spoke of haunting guilt and
 wary
 pain. I wish I had something concrete to remember that scene
 by, a photograph, a painting, even the twig puppet. I shook my head
 ruefully.
 My heart would have to do. And so I carefully stored that piece of him,
 making sure that no detail was omitted--the way the sun streaming
 through the open doors of the dojo highlighted his hair to a
 polished sheen of red, the gay colors of Ayame's kimono as it blended
 naturally with the muted tones of his gi, his hands, supple, rough,
 callused, as it lay on top of Suzame's dark head. Slowly...slowly...the
 memory crystallized.

 Ayame laughed again, breaking the scene, but the image was complete.
 'There,' I thought. 'One day I will have the whole picture.' He looked
 up suddenly and saw me staring at him. He smiled questioningly, his eyes
 quizzical. I felt the heat rush to my cheeks and I shook my head slowly
 as I averted my eyes. I sensed that he was still looking at me but I
 refused to meet his gaze. Moments such as the one I just witnessed I
 keep as precious treasures, to look at and reflect on when I was alone.
 I do this not only for myself but for him also. Especially for him. I
 sighed.  Sometimes memories frighten, the shadowy specters of a dead
 past  which never truly can be buried. But most of the time, memories
 should  remind one of life, if not its blessing  and beauty, then at
 least its reality.  No one should ever deprive oneself of one's being.
 You can hate life, you can resent its unfairness, but you must never
 deny yourself of the  chance to live. Whatever the personal cost.

 Sadness.

 I watched him as he patiently listened to Yahiko's complaints.
 He gestured to Yahiko who nodded as he held his bokken. He moved to the
 side as Yahiko began his kata, the one which I taught him a week before.
 Suddenly Yahiko wobbled, stopped and shook his head, frowning. He smiled
 and motioned for Yahiko to remain in place as he circled the boy, gently
 correcting and nudging. Then he stepped back. Yahiko began again, his
 face brightening as he carried himself through his movements
 effortlessly. He smiled again at the boy who was waving his bokken
 proudly. I saw his  expression grow reflective, a shadow darkening his
 features. Absently a hand
 came up to stroke the scar on his cheek. But I wonder when he can ever
 dare to touch the scar on his soul.

 Sometimes he just doesn't recognize his own worth. Either that or he
 refuses to do so. I rather think that it was the latter. I recalled the
 time when I first met him and how the thought which crossed my mind even
 through my anger was, "What a sad man." And all through the time when I
 got to know him better, the one question which kept bothering me was
 whether he would ever let go of that sadness. I can only imagine the
 extent of his suffering but never once did I see him complain, always
 willing to help others whose burdens were lighter than his own. I
 realize guiltily that I myself depended on him far too many times to
 solve trivial problems which I was too lazy to resolve  by myself. And
 yet sometimes I can sense his own urgent need for reassurance, for
 someone to lean onto for once. I've always wanted to be that person but
 with that desire also comes fear. Fear of failing him and myself. Can he
 ever--will he ever--depend on me?

 "Hey, Jo-chan, if you don't quit staring at him, you'll burn him alive,"
 a raspy voice growled teasingly in my ear as a hard elbow nudged me
 painfully on the side.

 I felt the first stirrings of irritation. And embarassment. "Sano..."
 I muttered threateningly.

 Sano quirked his eyebrow maddeningly, "What's it with you two, huh?
 If you can't keep your eyes off each other, you might as well lock
 yourselves into a room and stare at each other all day. That way
 you won't distract anyone else."

 "What are you talking about?" I hissed at him.

 He rolled his eyes and motioned towards the other side of the
 room with his thumb, "You'd better go tell the guy you're fine.
 He's got that look on his face again."

 "Look?! What--" I stammered in surprise.

 "You know, *the* look," Sano grinned. "What else did you hope for after
 staring at Buddha knows what for the past twenty minutes?"

 I glared at him, "I didn't see you hanging about."

 "How could you?" he retorted. "'Sides, he told me. I told him you were
 probably praying or something. But you know him when he's serious
 especially when he's worried."

 I stared at him. "Wo--worried?"

 "Jo-chan, you can be so dense," Sano shook his head. "Yeah, wo--rried.
 He probably thinks *he* did something *again*."

 Oh no. I sneaked a glance at him. He was staring at me, fidgeting on his
 feet. His face was anxious, guilty...I moaned inwardly as I remembered
 the time I told him that he must never worry me. He probably thought  I
 said that just because I wanted to be sure of his actions. I never
 bothered to correct that impression because I myself was confused at
 that time
 about the truth behind the ' don't worry me' facade. Damn. How could I
 have been so insensitive? I looked at him again and tried to smile
 convincingly.  He frowned in return. I felt my smile waver. What will it
 take for him to believe and trust again without having to doubt himself
 in the process?

 "Yo, ugly!!!"

 Instantly the blood rushed to my head. I broke away from the unflinching
 violet gaze, glad of the distraction. Yahiko was grinning mockingly, his
 hands on his hips.

 "What did you say?" I growled menacingly.

 "Hey, you're not only an ugly old hag but you're a deaf ugly old hag,
 too!" At this, both Yahiko and Sano laughed uproariously. I elbowed Sano
 on the ribs and grinned when I heard him choke. "Shut up," I scowled.

 "What did you say?" Yahiko parroted in a high-pitched voice.

 I clenched my fists. Time for an exercise. "You're gonna wish you never
 even opened your mouth, Yahiko-CHAN." I cracked my knuckles in
 anticipation. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him apprroach, his
 hands raised in the usual placating gesture. Instead of soothing me, it
 angered me more. Why does he have to be so damned conciliatory? "Stay
 out of this," I said rudely. He stopped suddenly, confusion written all
 over his face.

 "Why the hell should he?!" Yahiko shouted.

 "Because I said so!" I shouted back.

 "What, you just peek on the little guys?" Yahiko asked tauntingly.
 "Scared because he can beat you without even trying?"

 "Uh-oh..." Sano muttered.

 My face was so red I felt like it was going to burst. Of all the dirty
 tricks! Yahiko knew I didn't even come close to...

 He was shaking his head, laughing weakly, "Uh, I don't think so,
 Yahiko..."

 "Kaoru, you're a wimp!" Yahiko howled.

 I stopped short. Wimp? Me, a wimp? I waited for him to say something,
 anything, even the barest hint of denial. Nothing. Apalled, I stared at
 him but he was  babbling incoherent excuses, trying to laugh the
 situation off. Doesn't he think
 I'm strong enough, after all? Was I just someone to indulge, to talk to
 without really seeing, one of his burdens? I began to shake as a surge
 of emotions washed over me. Betrayal, hurt,

 Anger.

 I stomped past a startled Yahiko to wrench a shinai from its perch on
 the wall violently. Without pausing, I grabbed Yahiko's bokken from his
 hands and threw it on the floor, in front of him.

 "Kaoru-dono?"

 I held my shinai in a ready stance. Gods, I'll show him. "Shut up and
 fight."

 "But--but--Kaoru-dono..."

 "KENSHIN," I bit out. "Fight ME."

 He began to protest. I silenced him with an icy glare. "Come on," I told
 him angrily. I took a step forward threateningly.

 He stared at me for a moment. And then, without a word, he bent down and
 grasped the shinai lying on the floor. Yahiko gasped, "K--Kenshin..."

 "And don't even think of 'letting' me win," I spat out. "Because if you
 do, I'll never forgive you."

 He went perfectly still at that. When he spoke, his voice was quiet,
 "All right." Slowly he fell into position, standing in front of me,
 shinai held in a ready stance. For a moment, I wondered why his
 movements seemed to be in slow motion, as if every gesture caused him
 pain. I brushed that thought aside. He was just reluctant. That's all.

 We circled each other. I tried to read the expression on his face, to
 gauge his next move, but his face was blank. No surprise in that. But
 what bothered me was that I couldn't see his eyes. It was as if a
 curtain had been drawn between us so that what I saw was but a
 silhouette of him but there was no substance. Instead of his eyes, there
 was an empty hole...

 I shook my head inwardly. Gotta concentrate. The air was heavy, tense.
 The curtain was getting even thicker...Damn. He was watching, waiting.
 I needed to clear my head. Desperately. I swung at him suddenly, putting
 all my strength behind the blow, as I forced my feet to move faster, my
 body aligning itself already for a preparatory counter-strike. I watched
 as the wooden blade of my bokken flew at him. I pushed myself forward
 buoyed by a surge of adrenaline, speed, and something else... I ran.

 There was a rush of movement and I was hitting empty air. I turned
 quickly, senses focused, and waited. If I cannot catch him in terms of
 sheer speed, I have to make sure that my next attack is precise,
 effective, because I'd probably have only one chance to hit him, hurt
 him. Hurt him?

 A blur of red was suddenly streaking towards me. I blocked instinctively
 and jumped back. He was moving slower than his usual speed but I didn't
 care. I wasn't out to defeat him. I just wanted to prove to him that I
 can be strong, that I can be good enough, that he can believe in me.
 And if this is what it took...Dimly I was aware that I was being
 irrational, that instead of building something between us, I was
 destroying everything we had shared. I glanced at him. He was crouched
 in a defensive position, his head bowed. I willed him to look up so that
 I can see his face. I wanted to see his face. He raised his head and I
 gasped. There was nothing there.

 Clenching my teeth, I launched a flurry of attacks. I wasn't even
 thinking anymore. I needed to break through the curtain, to get closer
 to him. The sound of colliding wood reverberated in my ears. I swung
 harder and harder,  feeling him block and parry over and over again but
 he was making no move to take the offense. Frustrated, I forced myself
 to move even  faster, trying to ignore the fact that it was no use. I
 might as well be fighting with a shadow. And, I realized, he was a
 shadow. I remembered the picture I was creating of him, made up of
 words, images, hidden glances, uncertain feelings. But even as I thought
 about it, the  picture was falling apart in my mind, shards of fragile
 glass dissolving faster and faster. With every swing of my bokken, lines
 were erased, colors paled, images disappeared, so that I was left
 staring into dark nothingness. There was no picture. Just a blank slate.

 *pak* *pak* *pak* *pak*

 The sound was deafening me. But I can't stop. I can't--suddenly, I
 glimpsed a stretch of red. I twisted my wrist, stepped forward, my
 vision filled with red. The red of his hair. The red of his gi. The red
 of his blood. I froze. Stop! Stop! But my arm was too fast or was it too
 slow, because it cannot obey quickly enough the frenzied orders of my
 mind? I squeezed my eyes shut. Darkness.

 *PAK*

 Silence.

 My arms felt heavy, like lead, burdened by the weight of my body. I
 couldn't move. My hands were coiled tight around the hilt of my sword. I
 clenched it even more as I opened my eyes slowly, fearful of what I
 would see. A stretch of unpolished wood met my gaze, its rough edges
 nearly grazing  my face. I stared at it for long moments, unwilling to
 let my eyes stray
 further, as I waited.

 There was a pause and then the sound of ragged breathing. He was
 trembling. Startled, I looked up at him, and saw myself reflected in
 pools of shimmering purple. I felt like I was being sucked into them,
 through them, felt  myself drowning in a miasma of sadness, confusion,
 and pain, felt myself trying to claw out of that abyss, and I found that
 I couldn't because  what I was seeing and knowing and feeling was not
 only his but mine. My breath came in short gasps, echoing the rhythm of
 his, as we stared at  each other.

 "Please," he whispered brokenly. "Please, don't..."

 Tears stung my eyes painfully as it mixed with the sweat already
 streaming down my face. I blinked them away rapidly, not wanting to cry
 selfishly when it was he who needed comforting. Stupid, I told myself
 angrily, stupid. All the time I prided myself that I knew him, that I
 understood him, that one day he would accept himself for what he was
 through me...sheer self- centeredness. I told myself over and over again
 countless times before that I would teach him the meaning of self-love,
 of believing in oneself, when in reality I was out to destroy him simply
 because I couldn't even grasp one basic precious truth about his
 personality. That to love himself, he had to love others first. Only
 then could he acknowledge his worth. It was not complicity. It was not
 guilt. It was an honest search for truth. And that I tried to deny him
 just now, driven by some idiotic notion that
 I should prove myself worthy of him. When in fact, in my smug quest for
 self-promotion, I was putting him down.

 I relaxed as the realization dawned on me that my picture was in the end
 just that. Mine. It lacked the essence, the vitality, the strength, it
 would have had, had I made it with him. Memories are for keeping but
 they should also be shared because they are timeless precious gifts
 which are, and should be, created in

 Love.

 I lowered my shinai and, ever so slowly, so did he. He looked confused,
 unsure, hesitant. I felt a pang of dread as I wondered if I had ruined
 everything. I took in a trembling breath and smiled at him, hoping he
 would understand. His lips curved slightly in response. Good.

 I stepped back carefully so that I was within reach of his sword arm.
 I raised my shinnai, saw the wariness in his eyes, and whispered,
 "If you beat me..."

 He waited and I saw his face slowly take on a shuttered look. No, don't
 look so sad, Kenshin.

 I grinned at him, "I'll be your slave for a day."

 He stared at me blankly, "Huh?"

 "I'll cook for you, do the chores for you, even--well--" I tried to look
 very wicked, "um--you know...In short, I'll do anything you want."

 Was there--yes, there was a definite glint in his eyes. "And if you
 win?"
 he asked.

 I fought to keep from laughing out loud in relief. "Well," I said
 playfully. "*You'll* be my slave."

 His left eyebrow twitched. "Deal," he said. He was still confused but he
 was also most definitely amused.

 "So does that mean--" I began but he was already moving. A rush of air
 in my ear, a blur of red, snatches of violet...

 My bokken fell from my hands. I blinked, not quite knowing how it
 happened. And then he was standing in front of me, his shinai held in
 one hand, its tip touching the floor. He looked at me, his
 violet eyes gleaming, his smile mischievous. I stared back, suddenly at
 a loss for words. When I didn't respond, his smile began to dim.

 "Kaoru-dono...?" he said tentatively. "Um, I'm--I'm sorry...did I hurt
 you?"

 I shook my head weakly. I should really do something about his tendency
 to treat me like a china doll at times. Well, I thought wryly, only to
 the extent that my being me is involved, of course. We still have so
 much to learn about each other...

 I reached out with one hand and placed it on his left cheek, where the
 scar was. I felt him start in surprise at the touch of my fingers.
 I gently traced the smooth outlines of the scar, moving up to where it
 disappeared beneath the fall of his hair, consumed by fire.
 "So what happens next?" I asked him with a smile.

 He stared at me, puzzled, and then he shook his head ruefully.
 'Women,' he must be thinking. I'll trash him for that. Some other time.
 "Well," he said and took my other hand. "You lost."

 Ever since. Ever after. "And what is your wish, o Himura-sama?" I asked
 wide-eyed. I lightly tickled his ear with my forefinger and was taken
 aback when he laughed out loud. And then I was laughing with him. It was
 wonderful.

 "Jeez," I heard Yahiko say in the background. "Look at those two. You
 can never figure 'em out."

 "Don't worry, Yahiko," Sano replied. "One day you and
 Tsubame-chan---ouch! Hey!"

 "As if you and Megumi have nothing going on! Hey, that hurts! Take this,
 rooster-head!"

 "Come back here, you brat!"

 We looked at each other and laughed even more. His eyes crinkled at the
 corners when he laughed and his hair looked even more vibrant as it
 framed his animated face. His laughter sounded beautiful, like the
 soothing murmur of waves in the sea shore. I couldn't, didn't want to
 look away.

 As his laughter died down, he noticed me staring at him. Again his eyes
 asked the same question. "What is it?"

 "Nothing," I answered. "Just keeping memories."

 "What memories?" he questioned.

 "The best," I grinned. "Of you."

 His face softened and I thought I glimpsed a sheen of moisture in his
 eyes. "That's strange," he murmured. "I was doing the same thing, too.
 Keeping memories, I mean."

 "Of me?" I whispered. The very air around us seemed to still in
 anticipation as I waited for his answer. We stood together, hands
 linked, gazing at each other. I didn't move, fearful of disturbing the
 moment.

 He squeezed my hand gently. "Of us."

 I smiled.

 OWARI

 *Well, that's it. I hope Kaoru doesn't come out like she's a
 control-freak
 or something. I think she's a very sensitive and lovely person. I just
 wanted to portray her as she sees herself in relation to Kenshin. Their
 relationship is such a delicate one and, needless to say, they came from
 very different backgrounds which entailed a lot of adjustment and
 understanding on both their parts as they got to know each other. I
 sort of wanted to share my thoughts on how they go about finding
 common ground. Does that make sense?

 Oh yeah, if you're wondering about the title, um, that's just how I see
 them, y'know? ^^

 ~Tin

 BTW, I tried posting this once before but I guess my mail service is not
 working...again  ;;

 http://angelfire.com/tn/Scaramouche/rk.html