Her Ghost In The Fog


The Moon, she hangs like a cruel portrait
Soft winds whisper the bidding of trees
As this tragedy starts with a shattered glass heart
and the Midnightmare trampling of dreams
But on, no tears please
Fear and pain may accompany Death
But it is desire that shepherds its certainty
As we shall see..."


He’d never been so scared.

Even when Enishi’s mist had rolled in and she had vanished, the thudding of his heart in his chest almost painful as he fought towards the dojo, outwardly thinking it was too late and inwardly not believing that a light like hers could, would, ever be put out, he hadn’t been this scared.

“Kaoru-dono! Kaoru-dono!!”

“Ohayou, Kenshin...” He tricked himself into believing he had gotten a response, and skidded through the forest floor to a stop, crispy leaves and dried twigs shooting away from his sandals. His head snapped around, violet eyes flying around the darkness of the trees and foliage.

The dojo gate melted into his mind’s eye, and he turned again, his head over his shoulder to see the owner of the voice that called him.

“Ohayou, Kaoru-dono... gomen nasai, sessha did not mean to wake you.”

“Where are you going?” She asked quietly, hugging the yukata around herself and shivering at the cool morning wind’s damp embrace. The sun was still to rise, but clouds already obscured the sky, dark and grey shedding a thick, dismal atmosphere on Tokyo.

“... sessha has some errands to run de gozaru yo,” he said, and left it at that; she blinked at him once, a small sound that he could barely make out from the gate rising from her throat. She looked like she was about to say something, jaw working soundlessly, before she shook her head to herself and took a step back into the dojo.

“Next time, wait until morning...?”

It was meant to be a command, he knew, but against her will, her voice rose at the end, making it a question; he smiled softly, turning his whole body away from the gate to face her.

“Aa. Gomen nasai, Kaoru-dono. It’s cold, you should go back to sleep.”

“Yes... what a gloomy morning,” she mumbled, casting her eyes up to the sky, before a shiver ran down her spine. Seeing her tighten her elbows to her sides and shuffle a step backwards into the dojo, he couldn’t help but think that the trip to the government buildings would be warmer with a soul such as hers alongside him. “And I have to go shopping... itte irasshai, Kenshin.”

“Itte kimasu... Kaoru-dono?”

She looked back up to him, about to shut the door behind her. “Yes, Kenshin?”

“Ano... I’ll be back before lunch, I should believe - if you would wait, sessha would be happy to accompany you to the market.”

A small smile lighted on her face, and she nodded her head a bit. “Of course.”

Suddenly, dizzied by the morning’s flashback, He found the cold mud of the forest flood underneath his palm, the sakaba drawn from it’s sheath and stabbed into the ground, helping him keep his balance. Her words echoed in his mind, making his head ring, and his breath came in harder huffs, stinging his throat. Feeling like his chest would not expand to allow the precious air into his lungs, he remained hunched over in the dirt, trying to catch his breath that he couldn’t quite remember losing.

Pressing his eyes shut, he wasn’t surprised to find the rest of the day passing through his consciousness, replaying everything intolerably slowly in his head.

It had taken much, much longer then he had expected; hours upon hours of nervous government officials spouting tales of murders in Kyoto, arsonists in Aizu, serial rapists in Tokyo, detectives forcing him to look over the details of a certain case to see if he could spot something they couldn’t; they had offered him lunch, but he had kindly refused, thinking the sooner that he finished this, the sooner he would get back to the dojo and to Kaoru. Giving a weak excuse and quickly bidding everyone farewell when he saw the clock which read three hours past noon, he tracked out of the building, having to force himself to stay at a slow pace. It would do no good to upset the entire police force by running out of there with the infamous God-speed of Hiten Mitsurugi.

Stepping through the dojo gates, about to call out to her, he heard the familiar sounds of bamboo slicing air, and he stepped around the dojo yard to find Yahiko practicing.

“Konbanwa, Yahiko!”

The boy looked up from his katas, nodding in his direction. “Hey, Kenshin! Am I doing this right? I think something’s wrong...”

The rurouni’s smile turned thoughtful for a moment, and he walked up to the boy. “Would you try it again?”

Nodding, the child lowered himself into the stance, shinai tight in his grip - but before Yahiko could even begin performing the kata, he saw what was wrong.

“Your left foot. It’s too far back... try starting with your feet closer together.”

Drinking in the corrections, Yahiko thought for a moment, shifting his foot and adjusting his weight, feeling how the new position felt, before nodding for a second time and trying the kata again. He completed it almost perfectly, and after a wide grin spread over his face. “That feels a lot better - thanks, Kenshin!”

He smiled. “You should really ask Kaoru-dono, though... I don’t know Kamiya Kasshin Ryu nearly as well as either of you.” A hand flattened the boy’s hair, but stopped tousling it as the answer came from below him.

“Busu’s gone.”

“Oro? Gone?”

“Yeah. Shopping, I think.”

“... shopping? How long ago did she leave?”

“A few hours. Probably around one.”

Well, he couldn’t have expected her to wait all afternoon for him... she had other things to do, too. And if she had left at one, then he could expect her back soon - and it was so cold, she would surely like a hot bath.

Even when, an hour later, Yahiko made use of the cooling water, He did not take action; while he did stand at the counter, slicing pickles, wondering what would take her so long, he did not identify the sinking feeling in his stomach until a lanky Sanosuke dropped himself down onto the floor, sitting in wait for his free dinner.

“Oi! Where’s Jou-chan at?”

“Kaoru-dono’s at the market de gozaru yo.”

Sano made a sound of confusion. “No... I saw her walking back this way...”

Deftly swiping shocks of red hair out of his eyes, he turned to eye the ex-gangster, blinking. “What do you mean?”

Sano cracked his knuckles absently. “I saw her walking back from the market a few hours ago...”

“Hours?” He repeated, eyes widening a bit. Everything seemed to speed up, leaving him in its wake, dizzied and confused.

“Yeah. I think she took the forest route.”

“Three women have already been found dead - and not only dead. Himura-dono...” Hesitation, before a quiet mumble, “... they were raped and brutally murdered... wrists and feet bound, gagged... tortured... they were found hanging in the forest... and the cases are all to alike to be done by different people... if you can even call people who do what these people do, ‘people’...”

... nervous government officials spouting tales of murders in Kyoto, arsonists in Aizu, serial rapists in Tokyo...

... detectives forcing him to look over the details of a certain case to see if he could spot something they couldn’t... like the fact that every victim had long, black hair and blue eyes...

... how each woman was seen last at the market...

Sanosuke was ruthlessly shoved aside as the resident chef of the Kamiya Dojo dropped the cutting knife, nearly slicing his fingers neatly in two halves. “Oi - kuso, Kenshin!” Snarling other venomous curses in the quickly retreating back, Sano hollered, “what the hell is wrong with you?!”

Skidding to a stop, he felt his breath coming ragged in his throat, barely able to keep his calm as a horrid image flashed in his mind only long enough for him to catch the sight of deathly pale shoulders, rope wrapped around a slim, oddly angled neck, as wisps of black hair fluttered in the wind.

“Kaoru... we have to find her!” He hadn’t realized how shaky his voice was until Sano got to his feet, walking painstakingly slowly over to him.

“Oi, calm down! I’m sure she’s fine! Probably just taking a stroll-“

“NO! Sano, you - you don’t understand! There’s been... rapes... and... and I didn’t think about it, not until now, but... each victim fit Kaoru’s description,” he didn’t even try to hide his quickly crescendoing voice as Yahiko jogged around the corner, slowing to a stop as he began to make sense of what the panicking samurai was yelling, “and they were all found in the woods, after being seen last at the market!”

The heartbeats that it took Sano to fully understand what he was saying were too much; he broke away, spinning on his heels, jumping over the gate and speeding down the road, diving into the forest without a second thought or word. He heard behind him only a moment before the rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs underfoot interrupted, in Sano’s hoarse yell, “kuso, Yahiko - you take the other side of the river!”

He didn’t know he was crying until he saw the darkened patches of leaves on the floor, blinking back watery lashes as his chest shuddered violently and his body convulsed. The hand on the ground clenched, leaves snapping in his grip, as he found it next to impossible to control the tears pouring from his eyes, the sobs stealing his breath from him. Interspersed in the muffled gasps, her name he choked out; calling for her, crying for her.

This couldn’t be it.

He couldn’t feel her light anywhere; he had scoured the forest until his limbs were weak, tired, weary, until he was completely out of breath, his energy exhausted; this couldn’t be it.

This couldn’t be it!!

Twisting his grip on the sakaba’s handle, he drew himself to his feet, gagging on the swell of his empty stomach in his throat, begging for release, begging for rest. But this was not it; it could not be it, it was not it. This was not the end.

The sky that he caught through the treetops was dark, spotted with a crimsonish grey. It reminded him of when the blood on the ground was reflected against the clouds, back in his hitokiri days - and he realized, with a start, that his hand was clenching so tightly on the blade, and, somehow, as he had stumbled forward using it as a cane, the sharp edge of the sword had switched over.

He thought he heard voices - Yahiko’s, first, the boy calling his name almost desperately; why wasn’t he calling Kaoru’s name, he asked himself dumbly, the answer slipping out of his grasp before he could even get hold of it. As it died down, probably just a figment of his overtired imagination, he thought he heard Sano’s holler booming through the trees, “Kenshin! KENSHIN!!” But, as quickly as it rung in his ears, it was gone again, and there was only the crunch of his feet - why am I walking so slow? - and the howl of the wind.

He seemed to forget what he was doing for a moment, as his body sprawled out on the ground, a risen root hampering his foot. Arms splayed, sword angled in front of his head, he gasped, small high-pitched groans that came from the effort it took to keep the tears away catching in his throat - why am I crying? Why am I here... the forest... what am I doing? How... how long...? Dazed violet eyes flashed widely, confusion cascading through his muddled head like a cold waterfall, and he shivered violently; the eyes shut, and he lay still.

A second turned into a bit, a bit turned into a moment - that moment turned into hours, stretching until the light of the sun began to creep upwards along the horizon, the red-grey clouds sparking like dusty amber in the sky above him.

Drowsily, his eyes parted; without blinking, he watched the underbrush bristle with a silent wind. Nothing chirped, even in the early morning’s rebirth, and nothing moved; he slowly closed his eyes, looking upwards to where the sakaba lay when they opened. Without ceremony, he got to his feet, and slowly, eyes scanned the area around him; he stood for a few infinite seconds, before dropping his shoulders down, limp fingers dragging on the ground until they clasped the hilt of the sword, barely clinging to it as he lifted it, arm sagging with the familiar weight.

He began walking towards where ever, dragging his feet, oddly numb. He didn’t think, he didn’t wonder; he walked, arms hanging limply at his sides, the sakaba an extension catching on the ground underneath him and pulling his hand backwards. Weaving slowly, fluidly, in between trees, ducking smoothly under branches and stumbling deftly through the undergrowth, he moved like a shadow, never quite out of sight but always beyond, his body empty of thought and consciouness.

... back to the dojo? ... no... not the dojo...

His body trekked through the woods in directions he could not name, the scenery looking vaguely familiar cast in the warm stench of the reddened sky. Where is this...? Reality coming back to him slowly, puzzle piece by piece, he turned his head ever so slowly. ... the forest... why the forest...? Why not the dojo? Why, indeed - weren’t Yahiko and Sano looking for me...? Didn’t I hear them calling me...? How long ago was that... was it night then? Is it day now...? Is this a dream...?

His feet stopped underneath him. Eyes blank and mysteriously empty, the violet obscured by muddied thoughts and memories, he looked around; this was not familiar, a patch of forest he hadn’t seen. There was a smell here - the smell of the sunrise, the stench he hadn’t been noticing yet he had been aware of suddenly finding a name - the stench of blood and sex.

And he looked up.

... or... a nightmare...?

Pale, greying skin hung in front of him, small, delicate toes still; dried blood caked identical rashes on the pale, slim ankles. Naked legs, a sickening brownish red staining the cleft between the thighs. Curves that were at the same time familiar and yet suddenly knew, stretched by the weight balanced on the neck, which was tightly embraced by a rope noose. The branch above creaked with the weight as a hollow wind drifted through the cold morning woods, causing the body to rock.

And then, the violet snapped.

The sword flew out, slicing the rope neatly in half; she crumpled to the ground in a heap, legs bending unnaturally underneath the rest of her weight.

His body shook as he dodged forward, the sword dropping to the ground. He couldn’t breathe - she was cold, so cold - so pale, so grey, so cold...

“Kaoru-dono,” he whispered quietly into her hair, ignoring he sickening smell that coated her, the morbid colours her skin was stained. “... Kaoru-dono, wake up...” Smoothing the dark, tangled hair away from her blank face, he chuckled in between sobs, “... it’s late... you have to get up and teach Yahiko... come, now, Kaoru-dono, please wake up...”

She was still.

“... onegai... oh, please gods, onegai... Kaoru-dono... wake up...”

She did not.

“... wake up!”

He clutched her to his chest, burying his face in her hair, shivering to the bone, his body rattling like it never had before. Weakly, he whispered, “wake up... please... please, wake up...”

She never moved an inch; he placed shuddering lips on her forehead.

She was as cold as ice.

“... oh... oh gods, no... Kaoru-dono... K-Kao... Kaoru... KAORU!!! COME BACK!!!!”

"The village mourned her by the by
For she’d been a witch
Their men had longed to try
And I broke under Christ seeking guilty signs
My tortured soul on ice.”

How long did he clutch at her for?

For how long did he huddle with her cradled against his chest like a newborn kitten, whispering weak nothings into her ear; sweet nothings she never would hear, she would never understand. How long did he rock himself back and forth, stroking her hair down, running cold fingers across colder flesh, caressing in death as he never could in life?

How long until the razor edge of the sakaba glinted and caught his eye?

Sanosuke didn’t hear about the commotion down at the market until he arose from his dreadful sleep in his dreadful shack at the dreadful end of gangster territory. Curled against him, Yahiko sobbed; that was why he had awoken. Terribly unlike them both, the ex-gangster dropped his arm around the boy, and the boy only dug himself against the man’s chest further, screaming sobs of agony.

“Yahiko! What-“

“I SAW THEM! Kenshin... and Kaoru... and... and...”

He had came from the forest, his gi draped over the nude woman in his arms who’s skin was hued with a greenly tinge.

The Akabeko lay in slivers, a side of the restaurant destroyed; five corpses slumped over their food, their throats slit cleanly into two halves, bodies skewered.

And he vanished, just as quickly, still carrying his deathly still burden in his arms.

No one heard from them again; although Sano came back one day from a search in the woods much later then he ever had before, with a grimace and a stench of death around him, Yahiko never questioned. Even when he disappeared in the night, a shovel over his shoulder, the boy didn’t mention anything. He came back the next morning when the sun was still rising, casting a blurry orange glow over the land, everything seeming surreal. He wretched outside, suddenly gagging on something mysterious, and slept for the day; when he woke, he sat inside, drinking away all the sake he could find.

Sano never went searching again.

Yahiko stood outside and practiced with his shinai, counting up until he lost place, somewhere around 3000, and then starting over, determined to beat Busu’s taunt that he could never complete more then 5000 in a row.