Innocence

An alternate universe Rurouni Kenshin fanfic.

 

Chapter Four-

"Probabilities"

 

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"Come back away…"

 

-Jude-

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 Arararararara aira rararara rarara...     

 

Három mér, piros szalag,

 Ej de nem ér...

 

Arararararara aira rararara rarara...     

 

Half whispered, half sung, the words of Yuki's song left her mouth in a visible puff of moist air before becoming condensed on the cold glass of Misao's passenger-side window. Misao herself kept her eyes trained on the darkened road as she drove them both home, loath to tear her gaze away from the murkiness for even a second lest they both become nothing more than a pair of statistics on the front page of tomorrow's paper.

 

The night had been good to them. The bar had had an influx of new customers who were thankfully as coherent to the rules as they were generous. Together, they had come away with more than three times their regular tip money in just that one night. A very good haul indeed.

 

Istenem, istenem

Vajon mi lelt engem? 

Három mér,  piros szalag

 Ej de nem ér körül engem…

 

Yuki pulled her jacket more tightly around her body and yawned. Her rain-speckled reflection on the dark glass copied her, squinting its pretty, almond-shaped eyes and opening it's mouth to reveal its pinkish insides and sharp little teeth as a soft, animalistic sound escaped it. She blinked at herself a couple of times in sleepy curiosity before nuzzling deeper into the faux fur collar that surrounded her pale face.

 

Still not sparing even a small glance at her friend, Misao instead smiled at the wet road, even as it conspired to send her skidding to her death. Somehow, Yuki had braved the strong currents of time, managing to hold on to many of her more endearing childhood habits as she grew into the beauty that she was. It was refreshing, to see something as innocent as a sleepy yawn and stretch from someone who had spent the earlier part of the evening dancing for the pleasure of strange men. 

 

Istenem, istenem

Vajon mi lelt engem?

Nekem is van egy bánat

Vajon mi lelt?

Három mér…Három mér…

 

Arararararara aira rararara rarara...     

 

An oncoming car with its fog lights up to full beam forced her to squint as her sensitive retinas screamed with protesting pain. Stupid fuckers with their stupid toys. All they needed was for a little rain to fall down and suddenly they couldn't see three inches in front of their nose. Her own vision began to blur as her eyes watered in an effort to soothe themselves after their optical onslaught. Her right hand gripped the wheel more firmly and she fumbled around in her pocket for something with which to dry them. Her probing fingers were soon rewarded by the soft, smooth feel of a paper tissue buried under some loose change and a long-forgotten tube of cheap lipstick. Hurriedly she pulled it out, sending the tube rolling out of her pocket and under her car seat where it would soon be forgotten again. She quickly dabbed the moisture away before gripping the wheel in both hands again, the handy little tissue now trapped between the flesh of her palm and the smooth, black plastic, one corner of it sticking out from between the two.

 

"Ararara…" Yuki's singing faded off into silence as her dark eyes caught sight of the napkin in Misao's hand. She narrowed them in curiosity and leaned her head slightly to the side like a little white cockatoo, her lips moving silently as she were reading something.

 

"What's that?" she asked.

 

Misao's eyes remained on the road, "What's what?" she asked in return.

 

"That," said Yuki, pointing an acrylic nail in her friend's direction, "In your hand."

 

"It’s a tissue, Yuki."

 

Yuki frowned as she and her patience suffered in silence. "I mean what is that written on the tissue, Misao."

 

Only then did Misao spare a glance to the object in her hand. Sure enough, a set of figures in bright blue ink glared back at her from the otherwise flawless white paper surface. "Um…" she fumbled, as she briefly flirted with the idea of lying.

 

"Um what?" Yuki impatiently enquired.

 

"Its just some guy's phone number, that's all."

 

Yuki's eyes widened to twice their normal size, "Is that so?!" she exclaimed, "Who is he?"

 

"Just some guy," Misao insisted, still not looking in her direction, "Its no one special."

 

Yuki squirmed so that she was now turned all the way around to face the driver's side, "Oh, the hell it isn't!" she loudly disagreed.

 

"Please Yuki, I'm trying to drive here."

 

"Then tell me how that napkin ended up in your pocket."

 

Misao gave a long, suffering sigh. "Fine," she said, "But only if you sit down and behave."

 

"Deal!" Yuki quickly agreed, righting herself in the seat, "Now spill."

 

"Well," the green-eyed dancer carefully began, "I was singing at the restaurant…"

 

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Although the walls had been dry for days, the smell of fresh paint still lingered in the hallways of the apartment building that the two women proudly called home. Quietly, they made their way up the stairs to the third floor where the door to apartment 304 already stood open, a kindly old woman standing in its way as she smiled at the two girls coming down the hall.

 

"Konbanwa, Misao-chan, Yuki-chan," she said, "I got a little worried when the rain came down, I hope you didn't have any trouble on the road."

 

Yuki kissed the old woman on the cheek, "Iie Obaasan," she assured her, "Misao never took her eyes off of it, so we were okay."

 

Misao stepped up to the old woman and did the same as her friend, "I'm sorry that we're late Sakamoto-san," she apologized, "I drove slower than usual because the road was so slippery."

 

Linna Sakamoto chuckled lightly at the young woman's earnestness, "Ah, my Misao," she said, "Only you would apologize for doing the right thing."

 

Misao flushed slightly but her smile grew a little wider. "Is she…?" she asked, peering into the apartment's doorway.

 

"Out like a light," Sakamoto reported with a wider grin, "She was determined to stay awake until you came home, but the Sandman's spell was just too much for her, I'm afraid." With that, she stepped aside, waving both girls indoors. 

 

Misao loosened the buckles that held her jacket closed as she stepped into the apartment's cozy warmth. The sharp, sweet smell of cinnamon and ginger flirted with her sensitive nose, diverting her attention to a half-eaten plate of homemade gingersnaps that stood on the coffee table in the corner by the TV.

 

Carefully slipping off her sneakers, she silently made her way across the carpet to the couch. The flickering light from the television screen glowed blue and white off of the bundle of sheets deeply nestled in its seat.

 

She could feel the beginnings of "the smile" creeping across her face. How does that Weezer song go again? "I want a girl that smiles for no one else…" The singer really understood how good it feels to have someone smile at you in that way. No. Not "good". There isn't a word in the world that can describe that feeling of being filled to overflowing, your heart literally bursting at the seams and your entire body screaming just to embrace the one who had smiled on you. But in this case, the smile's recipient was still too young to view love as a luxury. To her it was in the warmth of her blankets, the touch of the people who cared for her, the meals they prepared for her benefit. To her it was life itself. It was…it was…

 

"…kaachan…"

 

Misao bent and kissed the smooth little forehead that peeked out from beneath the blankets before she swept the entire bundle into her strong, capable hands. "That's right, beautiful," she whispered, "Mommy's here."

 

Yuki padded in behind her on stocking feet, grabbing one of the cookies off of the plate in a smooth, practiced motion before peering at the object nestled in Misao's arms.

 

"Hey there precious," she whispered affectionately, "Did you miss us?"

 

A pouty yawn rose up from the blankets along with a few incoherent endearments. Yuki smiled and took a bite out of her cookie as she followed her friend out the front door.

 

"I'll be back in a minute, Grandma!" she called over her shoulder.  

 

 Misao crossed the hall and fumbled briefly in her pockets before fishing out an apartment key with a "Haibane Renmei" key chain dangling from it. Deftly, she inserted it into the lock of the apartment across the hall from the Sakamotos, pushing the door inward and brushing her wrist against the light switch on the inner wall.

 

Without sparing a glance backward, she headed straight for the bedrooms. She knew that Yuki was right behind her and would shut the door on her way in. Gently, carefully, she lay her daughter down on the little bed that she had only been able to buy for her because of her job as an exotic dancer. Kissing her again, she switched on the swan-shaped night-light on the wall and tiptoed quietly from the room.

 

Shutting the door quietly behind her, she turned toward the living area, instead finding herself nose to nose with her best friend. Yuki's dark eyes peered accusingly up into her own and an expression caught between a playful pout and a frown wrestled its way across her pale lips.

 

"Well?" she impatiently asked.

 

"Um…" Misao found herself saying for the second time that night.

 

"The phone number Misao," Yuki said patiently and quietly, lest she wake up the baby, "When are you going to use it?"

 

Misao bit back a squeal that would have certainly interfered with her daughter's slumber, "Use it?" she coughed as quietly as she could, "Yuki, have you finally lost your mind?"

 

Pulling away slightly, Yuki gave her tongue a soft but audible click. "Misao, Misao, Misao…" she sighed, "Your biggest problem is that you let your mind do all the thinking for the rest of you." On the last three words, she took a lingering and meaningful glance toward Misao's lower half.

 

Misao's ocean-colored eyes widened to the diameter of dinner-plates as her jaw hung silent and slack. She managed to make a few weak choking noises, but nothing strong enough to wipe the smug look off of Yuki's face as she boldly reached into her friend's jacket pocket and waved the fancy, printed, paper napkin that she found in front of her catatonic countenance.

 

"Oh come on!" she continued in an exaggerated whisper, "From what you told me, prince bloody charming came to your rescue last night and without a thought to his own discomfort, let you mosey off into the sunset with nothing more than a cell phone number and your own free will. Now that, my dear Misao, is boinking material if I ever…"

 

Tearing her hands away from her burning face, Misao grabbed her friend by the shoulders and crisply steered her toward the door. "That's quite enough for one night, Yuki and you're obviously exhausted to be spouting off such nonsense."

 

Yuki pouted and cut her friend a look over her shoulder, "Hey," she said, "God provided the pony, I'm just reminding you to ri…"

 

"Goodnight Yuki!" came Misao's harried whisper as she shut the door.

 

Still, on the other side of the wall she could hear her relentless little friend whistling the "Lone Ranger" theme.

 

Thoroughly flustered, Misao dragged her feet back into the living room and flopped down on the couch. As she did, the tissue that Yuki had dropped on her way out blew off of the cushion next to her and onto her lap. She briefly glared at it as if all the lewd suggestions had come from it and not her perverted friend. She picked it up turned it over in her fingers as if thinking before getting up and making her way into the kitchen. She stepped on the little lever that opened the lid of the plastic bin by the fridge and let it dangle perilously from her hand for a moment more.

 

After a while she sighed, her loudest for the night by far and let the lid drop. She stuffed the tissue deep in her jacket pocket again before hanging it up and heading off to bed. Hoping, all the while, that things would be clearer in the morning.

 

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