Genre

Rating

Spoiler Level

Broken Pieces: Chapter 3 - cage to cage

by linay

I fly from place to place

No meaning, no anchor to steady me

If meaning is lost,

We are like aimless birds

Moving from cage to cage

I will never be free.

“Who are you?”

It was a simple question. An expected question. And yet, Himura Kenshin was caught off guard by its direct nature. He pulled back from the girl, having only deposited her on the leather armchair only moments before. Her blue eyes followed him as he stepped back and straightened himself.

“Who are you?” the girl repeated, her voice ringing clear.

Kenshin stared at her. It shouldn’t have seemed an abnormal question. In fact, most people asked it of people whom they did not recognize. She, obviously, did not know him really. So it was a perfectly justifiable question.

However, Kenshin found it completely absurd for her to be asking him who he was.

After all, he had kidnapped her. And he had been her attacker. And he had brought her to this apartment unknown to her. So it was absurd for her to ask him that question so directly. Still silently observing her, he slipped the blood encrusted cloak from his shoulders and tossed it to the metal and glass coffee table that rested in front of her.

Kaoru wrinkled her nose at the sight of the cloak. Then she raised defiant eyes again to the killer. There it was again - that same defiance.

“Who are you?” she repeated with almost an air of impatience, “It shouldn’t be a confusing question.”

Kenshin’s eyebrows went up, baffled by her apparent lack of fear. He voiced his thoughts almost without thinking: “Why aren’t you afraid?”

Kaoru cocked her head to the side slightly. “Should I be?” she asked calmly.

In answer, Kenshin gripped the handle of his sword and swiftly untied the belt that held it to his waist. The rough cloth fluttered to the floor. Slowly, Kenshin slid the blade from the sheath and then tossed the wood aside. With deliberate slowness, he took a few steps closer to the girl and leaned over her, one knee resting lightly beside hers on the leather cushion. With a featherlike caress, Kenshin drew the edge of the blade across the thin skin of her delicate throat.

Kaoru’s breath did not speed up. Her chest did not rise and fall with greater force. Instead, she met his eyes and spoke - her voice even and steady.

“You smell disgusting,” she commented impassively, the stench of the blood caked to his clothing assaulting her nostrils.

Kenshin made no motion to disagree or agree with her uncommon statement. Instead, he pressed the blade to her jugular. She felt the pressure but the blade did not break her skin.

“Do you enjoy your occupation?” she asked, her voice demanding.

Kenshin narrowed his eyes at her. Suddenly he withdrew. Sheathing his sword quickly, he stalked away from her towards the fireplace. He carefully raised the sword over the mantle with both hands and placed it on the rack below that of the short sword.

“Do you?” persisted Kaoru.

Kenshin shot the woman a dark look. Kaoru examined his eyes, half-hidden behind wild red bangs. To her, his brilliant gold eyes flashed with anger. But underneath it she detected an emotion that ran deeper. She caught the strange strain in his angry glare and picked at it with her mind. Was it regret? Was it sadness? Pain? The closest emotion she could pin to the expression in his eyes was that of hurt.

Hurt?

In a killer’s eyes?

Kaoru tilted her head back and observed the high-ponytailed man closely. “Well?”

“Do you think I do?” the man threw back at her as he strode angrily to a bar at the other end of the large suite. He passed behind the bar and threw open the liquor fridge, pulling out a large, frosted glass bottle of Vodka.

“You do your job almost every night, don’t you?”

Kenshin slammed the bottle down onto the counter after having poured himself a drink. He inhaled deeply.

“Does that, in any way,” Kenshin began crossly, “prove that I enjoy my occupation?”

With one brief swig, Kenshin downed the half-full glass of straight vodka. He slid the empty glass across the counter with practiced precision. The glass tumbled over the edge of the sink violently and crashed into the metal basin, almost shattering. Kenshin slammed his palm down onto the counter.

Disgusting, he thought, the taste of it is disgusting.

Kaoru watched, her eyes wide with surprise and alarm. His sudden outburst of raw rage had been much more frightening than his calculated displays of force before. His raw and untamed anger was terrible - and fearsome.

Kenshin inhaled and exhaled deeply, the sound of his breaths unbearably loud in the sudden silence of the apartment.

“The taste,” came a gentle voice from across the room, “The taste and the smell must haunt you.”

Through half-crazed eyes, Kenshin looked up at the source of the voice. He eyes narrowed in glazed, irrational anger upon meeting her sympathetic gaze.

“You shouldn’t,” he growled, “You should not dare to-”

The stabbing ring of the telephone interrupted him - startling both Kaoru and Kenshin. They both stared at the phone as if it were a foreign object. Then it rang again, its shrillness hurting their ears. Kenshin moved to where a phone hung from the wall.

“What?” he growled into the receiver, pulling it violently from its cradle.

Kaoru watched Kenshin’s face as he conversed with whoever it was. The emotions were written plain as day on his face - first anger, then surprise. Intrigued, she couldn’t help but overhear his muttered responses.

“How did you know?” Kenshin demanded.

A look of almost sheepish embarrassment crossed his features for a moment. Only a moment.

“I know you made it clear,” Kenshin said into the phone.

A pause as Kenshin listened.

“She is in my keeping now. Shall I complete the job?”

Kaoru jumped slightly in her seat as she divined the implications of that statement.

“What for?” he questioned solemnly.

An incredulously cocked eyebrow.

“I don’t care,” Kenshin muttered, “You’re the boss. It’s just really strange.”

He snorted into the phone at whatever comment was made.

“That’s absurd,” he grunted, “I would never even-”

The assassin was apparently interrupted. This time the pause was longer.

“If you didn’t want her dead, why’d you issue the order in the first place?”

A slight look of annoyance passed over his face.

“I know it’s not my job to know that. I just think it was a wasted night. So fine sir, I’ll do whatever you say.”

Kenshin clenched his teeth. He was not a goddamn babysitter for some pubescent teenager.

“I have it under control, sir,” he grumbled, closing his eyes.

Kaoru looked up expectantly as Kenshin replaced the receiver onto its cradle slowly. He turned slowly to face the waiting girl. Kaoru regarded him warily. Her attacker was a true enigma. He was older - no doubt about it. But although his age showed through his gait and his demeanour, his sharp, defined facial features held a feminine appearance. Of course, his very long, very red hair that was tied in a high ponytail added to his strange appeal.

“You will be staying here,” the man announced quietly, striding towards the door purposefully.

Kaoru pressed her lips together. “Excuse me?”

Kenshin did not bother to answer her. Instead, he slipped a thin chain from his neck. Letting the chain dangle, he pushed a large key into a heavy deadbolt lock and flipped the key around, locking the door.

Kaoru peered over assorted pieces of furniture. “What are you doing?”

“My employer has decided that you’ll be staying here for awhile,” Kenshin calmly responded as he clicked another deadbolt lock closed, “And you need these keys to unlock the door. And these keys-” He lifted the chain and let it drop around his neck, “-belong to me and they stay around my neck. So you will not be able to leave.”

He turned to give Kaoru a dangerous glare. “And we’re on the 15th floor and there’s no ledge - so don’t sneak out the window unless you’re planning to jump.”

Kaoru stared at him. “And what if-”

“Don’t bother screaming and yelling,” he replied to her unspoken question curtly, “This entire block is owned by my employer and inhabited by handpicked members.” He paused and then added, “And the phones are tapped, for your information.”

Kaoru screwed her face up. “Are you sure you should be telling me this?” she asked with a mocking tone.

The look that Kenshin shot her chilled her. “Does it really matter now?” he asked coldly.

Kaoru could not suppress a shiver. Kenshin, on the other hand, stripped off his shirt and threw it over the arm of a black leather sofa as he marched away from her. He disappeared into a short hallway and Kaoru heard the click of a bathroom door lock. A few seconds later, she heard water running.

What a host, she thought to herself dryly.

Reminding herself that she was not quite a guest, she leaned forward and massaged her sore ankle. From experience, she knew that she would not be able to run or walk without a limp for a day or two. But it was not seriously strained.

Sighing, she sank into the leather armchair. Her eyes roved leisurely about her surroundings. After all, what else was there to do? The Battousai did not seem the type of man to hide an extra set of house keys in a drawer somewhere. And obviously, trying to overpower him with a kitchen knife was out of the question.

The apartment was simple, though quite spacious. She sat in the corner of a very open, very square living space. Around her, several black leather couches and armchairs were spread around a metal and glass coffee table. Black seemed to be one of his favourite colours, she noted, remembering his outfit. Across from her was a steel kitchenette and bar, complete with stools. A small dinette set lay nearby. To her far right, stood the impenetrable door. She sighed inwardly. Then she scrutinized a closed door and dark hallway. She guessed that the closed door would lead to a bedroom and the hall to some kind of bathroom.

As if pulled, her eyes drifted towards the fireplace and mantle at her left. Her eyes rested on the ancient Japanese swords that lay on decorative wooden racks that were far more beautiful than the swords themselves. But Himura Kenshin’s first real guest knew what the swords were actually used for. But still, as any stranger would, his sort-of guest wondered why on earth he decided to keep them on display in such a prominent place.

As inspiration?

As a reminder?

Kaoru’s thoughts turned away from Kenshin’s living arrangements and back to her own predicament.

So, she mused, they had decided against ending her life - whoever they happened to be. That meant, of course, that someone had deemed her valuable enough to keep around.

Someone knew something about her.

The question was - how much?

Kaoru closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She was tired. Tired of the endless chase. The Battousai may as well have killed her.

From one cage to another, she thought bitterly.

But no, Kaoru chided herself. She was being unfair to Megumi-san and Aoshi-san. The doctor, Takani Megumi, had been caring enough. And although the tests and interviews had been as intense as ever, Megumi-san had treated her well. And like a human.

And Aoshi - well - Aoshi had been with Kaoru since she was a child. He had constantly hovered behind her, his shadow becoming a comforting presence. She hoped, with all her heart, that he was all right.

The water stopped running.

Kaoru tensed and waited for the Battousai’s appearance.

Eyes closed and head bowed, Kenshin let the hot water run through his bangs and over his naked body. Pink water swirled down the drain. Kenshin didn’t bother to look. He had seen it before.

With his palms flat against the shower tiles, Kenshin leaned forward and let the streaming water wash the blood away. The shower head was at the strongest setting; the stream of hot water was almost painful as it jet water at him. He tensed and untensed his arm muscles, reflecting on the events of the previous night.

If he had only killed her right away like he was supposed to, he wouldn’t have been in this predicament.

If he’d only killed her.

Kenshin ran his fingers through his loose damp hair, strands clinging to his muscular back.

She would be such a problem. He could just see it now.

Kenshin jerked the shower off and the water rushed from the bottom spout. He twisted the knobs shut and the water flow ceased. Shaking the droplets from his wet, clingy red hair, Kenshin pulled the frosted plastic shower doors open. He towelled his long hair until all the excess water had been absorbed and then he quickly patted the rest of his body dry. He stepped from the shower and pulled a traditional Japanese sleeping robe around his body.

And that is how he emerged from the bathroom: clad only in a blue sleeping yukata and with his damp, thick red hair down his back. He entered the living area in time to see Kaoru tense at his appearance.

“Get up please,” he commanded the startled girl.

“Why?”

“I say so,” Kenshin coolly reasoned, patience thin as ice.

“I need clothes,” Kaoru informed her captor curtly.

“You’re wearing clothes,” he informed her back.

“Unlike some people,” Kaoru sniffed, “I can’t stand the smell of blood. I need new clothes; mine are soaked with blood.”

Kenshin narrowed his amber eyes. “Just be glad it’s not your blood, girl,” he replied in a very low, very dangerous voice, “Now, get up please.”

Kaoru locked eyes with the man, refusing to budge - but not only because she was stubborn. She was also, deep down, afraid of being near the man. The aura he gave off was terrifying.

Kenshin stalked over to where she was sitting and hauled her up by her upper arm. He dragged her across the room and flung the bedroom door open. Then, he all but tossed her into the room.

Kaoru regarded the room with raised eyebrows. A four poster bed? A huge white comforter? Big fluffy white pillows? She turned to the assassin.

“Is this your room?”

Kenshin pushed her fully into the room. “My employer furnished the apartment,” he said gruffly, shutting the door in her face.

“Clothes?” Kaoru called through the closed door.

No answer. Kaoru heard the jingling of keys and a previously unseen lock clicked closed.

“What if I have to go to the bathroom?” she called.

“Deal with it,” came the brusque reply, muffled by the door, “This isn’t a hotel.”

Kaoru stepped away from the door and almost rolled her eyes.

“Could’ve fooled me,” she muttered to herself, taking in the plush surroundings once more.

Kaoru inhaled. The smell of blood on her clothes was truly irritating her. Stepping lightly across the room, she pulled the doors to a tall wardrobe open. Several t-shirts were piled on the shelves.

Black t-shirts? Is it a fetish? She sighed.

She paused for a moment, wondering if it would be all right to use one. Then she snorted. The man had killed half a dozen men, injured Aoshi, kidnapped her - she would rip all his clothes up if she only had the energy. But settling for one clean t-shirt, Kaoru pulled off her pleated school skirt, blouse and jacket and slipped into the black cotton t-shirt.

For a moment, Kaoru wondered if she should stoop to sleep in the bed of a killer. But her fatigue overruled her principles for once. Kaoru clambered up into the bed and snuggled under the blankets.

For a killer, he sleeps comfortably.

The thought was her last as she drifted into an uncomfortable sleep - fuelled only by her extreme fatigue.

Outside the room, Kenshin leaned with his back to the door, rubbing his temples. He listened for the swing of his wardrobe and the creak of his mattress.

She was such a child. Couldn’t be more than sixteen, eighteen tops.

Kenshin briefly wondered about her strange mood swings.

Did she not grasp the severity of her situation? Didn’t she understand that she was his captive, not his visiting niece?

Was she naďve?

Ultra brave?

Or maybe she was just stupid.

Kenshin sighed as he stepped away from the door and headed for the couch. Damn his employer for forcing a mere child on him. Damn him. With a heaving sigh, Kenshin eased himself into an armchair. Laying his arms on the armrests, he let his chin fall forward.

Sleep came. Nightmares too.

Deep into the night, Kamiya Kaoru was tossing under the heavy blankets around her. Her black hair haloed her pale face in the cool moonlight. Her thin, delicate wrists rustled back and forth agitatedly above her head. Beneath her translucent eyelids, her eyes fluttered fretfully.

The racing. The running. The horrible milling. The hundreds of dark, bushy bodies pressing in upon her, crushing her, cornering her. She felt it again. She struggled to breathe, her gasps of air erratic and laboured.

Kaoru’s head tossed around wildly against Battousai’s pillow.

Then suddenly, her wide blue eyes snapped open, a look of pure terror in their depths.

A high-pitched, blood-curdling scream echoed throughout the apartment, shattering the deep night stillness.