Echoes of You

a Rurouni Kenshin fanfic
by Kaoru

Standard Disclaimer: The characters appearing in this work of fiction belong to the ever-talented Watsuki Nobuhiro, SPE Visual Works and probably a bunch of other companies that are going to sue the pants off me if I don't mention them. I don't mean to profit from this guys, just having a little fun! Okay I'm going to my room now...

Warning: This fanfic contains angst, yaoi situations and lemon, though not necessarily in that order. For those who don't know what yaoi is, where the heck have you been, man! Go do a search for "yaoi" on your favourite engine and come back if you like what you find. Go on then, git!

Of course, if you already know what yaoi is, and are fine with that, then be my guest! ^_^

"You spoiling for a fight, punk?" the ruffian scratched his stubble with the end of the pole he held, a cruel smile twisting his craggy features. The mother and child he had just ambushed for their money in a back alley scrambled to get away from their attacker as he now faced his opponent.

"I can't stand cowardly bastards who won't pick on someone their own size," the figure stepped out of the shadows, tossing a half chewed fishbone into a corner. He raised a bandaged fist in a gesture of challenge. "Wanna make something of it?"

The thug's eyes narrowed as his voice dropped to a deadly growl, "What did you just call me?"

"A cowardly bastard! That's what you are, aren't you? Or are you going to do something about it?" Sanosuke smirked.

"You're gonna pay for that, punk!" The thug lunged at him with a roar, raising the thin bamboo pole like a sword, ready to strike his adversary.

"Make me," Sanosuke returned a cry of his own, and leapt forward to throw a bandaged fist towards the man's solar plexus.

And missed.

He reeled back from the impact of a well-aimed strike to his gut, gasping for the breath that had just been knocked out of him. The thug snickered as he struggled to get up from the dust.

"You're getting old, Sagara," the thug mocked the clumsy figure on the ground. Sanosuke growled in fury as he tried fruitlessly to regain his footing on the ochre sand.

"Yeah, I know you, weren't you the terror of Tokyo a long while ago?" The sarcasm hurt, more than the pain radiating from his stomach. "Big bad 'warui' on your back, always going around with that wanderer, what was his name now? Hime... Hino..."

"IT WAS HIMURA!!!" Sanosuke screamed, rage boiling over as he sprung from the ground towards the thug, fists flying.

The thug neatly sidestepped his offensive, sending the end of his bamboo pole thudding into the middle of Sanosuke's wide-open shoulder blades. He laughed heartily as the figure before him crashed once more into the dirt path of the alley, grimacing in pain. The laughter grew even louder as the blood trickling from the corner of Sanosuke's mouth began to seep slowly into the dust, staining it a muddy red.

"Hah! Poor little street cat can't hold his own anymore, can he? So much for the terror of Tokyo! You're not fit to wear that coat!" He prodded the tattered remains of Sanosuke's now-yellowed jacket, the character 'warui' barely visible on its threadbare surface. Sanosuke struggled to free himself of the dark red haze that was beginning to cloud his vision, still trying to get up, to perhaps land at least one punch. "I can't stand arrogant bastards who won't pick on somebody their own *age*..."

The thug's voice faded as darkness infused his mind with peaceful oblivion.

"... Old timer."

* * *

"How's he doing?"

Megumi sighed as she shook her hands free of water at the basin. "I don't know just how much longer he can stand like this. This is the third time this week he's gotten into a fight and we've had to drag him home from the street. What am I supposed to do with him?"

She threw up her hands in frustration. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do! I'm tired, I really am. I want to help him, but it all comes to nothing if he doesn't help himself! He's just going to sink further and further if he goes on like this! I mean, what good will it do for me to fix him up every time someone deposits him on the doorstep if he's just going to go back out there and get himself into another fight?"

"He's just having problems adjusting..."

"It's been *nine years*! Don't you think that's quite enough? Do you know how hard it is on me?" Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I have my regular patients and you know the lines outside the clinic never end! And I have to help every single one of them, because... because..."

Her eyes began to mist over as she leaned back against the wooden panels of the wall. A cool breeze danced through the courtyard, stirring the unswept leaves on the ground into blazing whirlwinds in miniature. The days were getting shorter and cooler now with the approaching winter. The trees had begun to shed their leaves for the coming cold, and they now carpeted the ground in a rich tapestry of red and gold that unfurled itself through the streets of Tokyo.

Megumi picked up one of the leaves that had fallen by her feet, turning it gently in her hand. A maple leaf. She smiled a little at the irony, and clutched it to her heart. The slanted rays of the afternoon sun played across her tired, weary eyes, picking out the years of toil from her once-smooth skin and long, black hair.

"I wish Kenshin were still here," she sighed as she turned to the clouds that wafted aimlessly across the autumn sky. "Maybe he'd tell me what to do."

An old, worn broom lay in the corner of the shed outside. She crossed the yard lightly and picked it up, her face betraying a deep sorrow, one that refused to be forgotten. Memories of the past returned unbidden to her, visions of the fiery haired kenkaku sweeping the leaves to one corner of the yard, only to have his efforts thwarted by an inopportune gust of autumn wind; Of Kenshin, grinning apologetically then returning cheerfully to his futile task; Of the sound of his voice as he tried to dodge the various household items hurled at him by the guardian of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu for an unintentional criticism of her culinary skills.

Perhaps she was the one who took the worst blow when it happened. Who would have known that the legendary Hitokiri Battousai would be taken down, not by the sword, but by enemies smaller than the eye could see?

* * *

Kenshin scrubbed merrily at the laundry, the suds accumulating more on his arms than on the sheet he was trying to clean. He stopped, staring helplessly at the mountain of foam in the tub and wondered briefly if the Amakakeru Ryuunohirameki would be effective in defeating the monster he had created. Deciding that Kaoru's wrath at a shredded sheet would be a fate worse than death if he attempted it, he gave up and resigned himself to getting the suds out little by little. By the time Ayame and Suzume had gone home with their grandfather for tea, he was done. He loved those children, and loved staying at the Kamiya dojo. He had long given up the sword, contented in the knowledge that there were those as capable if not more so than he, who had taken up his ideal of protecting those they loved.

He grinned as he stretched out the clean sheet over the line to dry. Life was a grand old thing, always working out for the best. It was funny that way. The sun got in his eyes and he raised a calloused hand to his brow, squinting through the rays at the clear blue sky. What a beautiful day!

Then he felt it. The sounds in the courtyard suddenly and inexplicably diminished, and a light feeling swept through him, causing him to sway gently on his tiptoed feet, eyes glassy and unfocused. These dizzy spells were happening more and more often nowadays, though he never told anyone about it. He didn't want them to worry. But today felt different somehow, as if a shadow now hung over him that he could not dispel.

The dizziness overtook him and he lurched forward, not even feeling himself hit the ground.

The darkness gave way to a fuzzy image of a face hovering above him, brows knitted in worry. It resolved into Kaoru, desperation was written all over her face. He smiled weakly and wondered how long he had been out. She was saying something that he couldn't quite make out, but he got the feeling it was something to the effect of whether he felt alright, and how worried everyone had been over the past few days. He heard himself say that he was fine and attempted to get up before feeling faint again and lay back down, the room spinning out of control around him. He heard Kaoru cry out, panic rising in her voice before telling him to stay put and the sound of feet across the wooden floorboards as she rushed off, presumably to find Megumi.

He knew he had never been cut out to bear the rigors of being a fighter. That much he had learned from his battles with too many opponents. He had always healed quickly, but each battle sapped more out of him than he cared to admit to himself or to show to the others. It was a sense of duty to the people who needed him that drove him on, negating the increasing warning signals that his battered body was sending him with every fight and laying himself open to danger that he himself had not known existed.

Megumi puzzled over his condition ceaselessly, attempting to cure him with her medicines, but nothing she did would stop the progress of his illness, which racked his body with fever and cough, and caused him to slowly waste away into a shadow of his former self. It was at this point, after several tiring months of trying to fight the infection within him that he realized that it was now far too late to fulfil all the promises he had made to Kaoru. As he held her hand in the cool autumn breeze, resting comfortably in her embrace, the world seemed so far away, a distant whisper to his tired self. He heard himself apologize to her before her voice, calling out his name over and over, followed him into nothingness.

* * *

So many years had passed since. Kaoru withdrew from the world from that time, refusing any new students to her dojo and never speaking again, falling into a waking daze that saw her wandering through the corridors of her house with neither plan nor purpose. The dojo eventually fell into a state of disrepair, and was shut down. The flag of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu flew no more from the once proud eaves of the dojo, now reduced to a shambling ruin of wood and stone.

Perhaps then it was by the will of the fates that the two should be reunited in that double tragedy. No one could have foreseen that the weakened foundations of the dojo would give way that fateful day when an unexpected earthquake stuck the city, burying its owner and her lost dreams in a rapturous symphony of falling timber. Those who had witnessed the collapse said that she had heeded no calls to abandon the building, even to the very end. Every one in the town mourned the passing of both the famed dojo of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu as well as its ill-fated owner, but none of them truly understood her pain. Or the fact that there was another whose grief was magnified tenfold by the fact that she was now truly alone.

Megumi raised her tear-streaked face to the wind once more, allowing its light caress to banish the wetness from her cheeks, like the gentle touch of the man whose heart she knew she never had a hold on to in the first place. Seeking solace in the knowledge that if she continued to help others like Kenshin would have wanted her to gave her some comfort from her pain. It was one that had to be hidden from those who didn't know that even though it seemed that she had given up on Kenshin for Sanosuke, it was never so.

She lovingly replaced the old broom in the shed, like laying the ghost of an old lover to rest. As she released the maple leaf to the wind, she thought she saw him, flaming red hair floating about his shoulders, turning back to smile at her before fading into the light of the sun.

* * *

Yahiko padded softly across the wooden floors, listening for the troubled sleep of one of his closest remaining friends. He stopped by one of the mulberry papered doors, drawing it open slowly to reveal the fitfully slumbering Sanosuke, fresh bandages barely concealed by the tangled blanket, tossing and turning on the tatami. Sweat beaded on his brow as he muttered incoherent nothings to thin air, locked in a phantom battle with an unseen adversary.

He stepped into the room, sliding the thin wooden door closed, and knelt by the tatami. Megumi had administered painkillers and sedatives, but they were doing nothing to drive the nightmares from Sanosuke's mind. Yahiko couldn't keep the rising feeling of helplessness from taking over as he lay there now, falling between deep sleep and agitated dreaming.

Megumi had done her best as always, but it would not be long before even her skills would prove useless in the face of Sanosuke's self-destructive actions. Even now, his scars and bruises were taking much longer to heal than they did before, and the raucous but good-natured Sanosuke he knew was becoming more and more distant, slowly disappearing behind a drunken haze that threatened to completely destroy him. It was painfully obvious that he was killing himself slowly.

Yahiko's brow creased in frustration and he stared at the unquiet form on the mat. There seemed to be nothing he could do to help his friend. Losing Kenshin had been tough, and with the departure of Kaoru came a yawning void in the lives of those they had left behind, but for Sanosuke to take it out on himself like this? Even Megumi had poured all her anguish into helping as many people as she could. He simply couldn't understand why Sanosuke would choose to let himself fall into a downward spiral that he himself had no obvious intention of getting out of. Yahiko knew that if this continued, even Megumi's patience would wear thin, and she would give up on him altogether. He didn't want to lose another of his friends, no matter how willing Sanosuke was to lose himself.

He laid a hand on Sanosuke's feverish forehead, and felt the older man relax under his touch. He shifted slightly, murmuring something that Yahiko couldn't hear. A long overdue calm stole quietly over his face, as he turned to press himself into Yahiko's palm.

"Kenshin..."

Yahiko froze, drowning in the hidden implications of that one name, and how there had almost been a sense of longing and loneliness in that way it had left Sanosuke's lips. It couldn't be... no! The answer to why Sanosuke had acted the way he did gripped him in its icy hold, trapping him in an impossible quandary. His mouth hung open in shock, his mind blank but for the overwhelming urge to run, as far as he could, away from this room and its suddenly confining walls.

*Sano and Kenshin? Dear gods, what went on between these two?*

He had no business in this. He would leave, and he would pretend nothing had happened when Sano woke up. Yeah, that'd be good. Maybe this was all just one big misunderstanding. That was probably it. He turned to get up, but before he could go, strong fingers grasped his wrist, and pulled him to his knees by the tatami.

"Kenshin... don't go..."

*Oh no... the sedatives... they're wearing off!*

Those same calloused hands now reached up to clutch at the collar of his gi, bringing their faces close. Sanosuke's eyes, although still clouded by Megumi's medicine, were filled with a heartrending sorrow. He had never seen him like this before, so weak, so vulnerable. He knelt there, unable to tear himself away from the despair in those familiar eyes, as he slowly realized what it must have truly meant to Sanosuke when Kenshin left.

All this time...

Before he knew it, the distance between them was bridged as their lips met in an awkward kiss, hands grasping blindly at whatever material they could find. It ended just as abruptly as they both lost their balance and collapsed back onto the tatami, Yahiko looking down breathlessly at Sanosuke, eyes still glassy from that unexpected encounter. Those large hands reached up to take hold of his shoulders, and Yahiko found himself pinned to the mat under him, ensnared by Sanosuke's unsteady gaze that somehow stirred up strange feelings within. Some small part of him wondered how on earth he could still be so stong even when under sedation, but this was quelled by the unexpectedly pleasant sensation of lips trailing clumsy kisses along his chin and neck.

"Kenshin... Kenshin..." Sanosuke whispered as he continued to drop little kisses onto his captive, as if the name could not be repeated often enough. Through his drug-hazed eyes, all he could see was Kenshin, Kenshin and that beautiful face he longed to suffuse with passion, something he had wanted to do for the longest time. He almost started when he felt himself being pushed away, but felt his heart soar as his venerations were returned in kind with the gentle pressure of soft lips against his own.

A lump caught in Yahiko's throat as he meshed himself to the warm body above him, Sanosuke's emotions weighing upon him so much so that he thought his own heart would shatter in the knowledge of this impossible love. He sought to cut off Sanosuke's voice by sealing those lips with his, to somehow vanquish those feelings of complete hopelessness that the Battousai's name now evoked. He wasn't Kenshin, but he would try to be for Sano's sake, if just for this moment.

He almost jumped at the feeling of Sanosuke's hands reaching between the folds of his gi and trying somewhat unsuccessfully to tug it off. Understanding what he was meaning to do, Yahiko wriggled out of the loose cotton and before long, lay completely naked under the older man. His face flushed in embarrassment partly at his state of undress, but more at the result of brushing against Sanosuke while trying to rid himself of his clothes, which now lay strewn in disarray around the tatami.

A wave of pleasure washed through him as something pressed against that growing heat between his legs, sending him into the depths of dizziness and filling him with the most wonderful feelings. His arms came up to wrap around Sanosuke's back, burying his face in the crook of his neck, tasting the warm saltiness of his skin and taking in the scent of bar brawls, musk and pine, everything that was Sanosuke.

He sighed in almost-frustration as Sanosuke slipped out from his grip, but the gentle friction of his tongue gliding slowly down his chest turned those sounds of protest into those of supplication, a tender plea for Sanosuke to continue with this maddening torture that drove him wild. He tried to lace his fingers into that spiky brown hair that always seemed to defy any sense of order, but his own body betrayed him, going limp as Sanosuke reached what was currently the centre of of his existence, starting with light breaths upon the rising hardness, and then taking him in, slowly and tenderly and all the more infuriating in its deliciousness. Through fluttering eyelids he reached for Sanosuke's hand, bringing it up to his mouth to imitate what was being done to him, awareness of all else taking flight as he stifled the growing sounds of passion that were issuing unrestrained from his lips.

All of a sudden it was all taken away from him, the loss of contact devastating in its haste. His eyes flickered open to see Sanosuke, still intoxicated, reaching under him for something he couldn't quite see. Then he felt it. Fingers slick from his own attentions, touching him in such an intimate place, pushing, probing, and teasing him apart. He half panicked at the foreign sensation of being prepared and grew alarmed when Sanosuke, who until now was slow and gentle in his actions, took his hips and slung his legs over his shoulders in one swift motion.

His eyes widened as Sanosuke leaned forward, palms flat against the mat on either side of his head, entering him little by little until he was buried deep inside. He gasped at the feeling of being filled, the sensation of tightness not uncomfortable despite being curled up against Sanosuke in such an awkward way. His eyes were half-lidded, lips parted in a dreamy, faraway look that sent a shiver down Yahiko's spine. Gods, he was so beautiful.

Then he started moving, slowly at first, then faster, establishing a steady rhythm of thrusts. Yahiko shuddered, as pleasure ripped through him from that place deep within himself that he never knew existed, but Sanosuke was touching nonetheless. His mouth opened in a muted cry as his own hips began to move in counterpoint, his own erection grinding roughly against Sanosuke's stomach. All he could feel was heat as tension gripped his body, and all he could hear was his own gasps mingling with Sanosuke's fevered breathing above him.

His arms came up once more to take hold of that dazzling face, pulling it down to join his again in a daring duel of lips and tongue, gaining momentum in time with their passion. Violently their mouths moved across each other, clashing more and more haphazardly as they careened desperately towards their climax, distracted by the heat and pressure pooling in the place where they were joined. Yahiko gasped, feeling the warmth of Sanosuke's breath bathe his face, the touch rivalling that growing tightness between his legs. Then his vision clouded over in a blaze of stars as he finally came, the pleasure of release so overwhelming that it robbed him of his voice, the only sound coming out being a choked sigh as his body tightened around Sanosuke, wringing a rumbling, sensual groan from the taller man, bringing him to orgasm as well. The feeling was incredible.

He felt Sanosuke pull out, then the heavy weight of his body tumbling over his own, and a face, flushed and warm, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. His own breathing was shaky as he fought with the thudding of his heart within his chest, trying to calm the violent tattoo that still held him captive. He heard Sanosuke sigh against his skin and murmur the Battousai's name, but silenced it with a trembling finger. He could not bear it.

Gradually their breathing slowed, and Sanosuke began to fall into the shallow whispers of sleep. Yahiko remained awake however, the ache burning in his very soul denying him any measure of rest as he stared blankly at the ceiling with Sanosuke slumbering by his side.

* * *

Sanosuke woke to the sound of rustling fabric and a strange feeling of warmth around him. He vaguely remembered someone... who? Someone who had come to him, offered what felt like... like physical comfort...

His head swam as the images flickered haphazardly in his mind's eye. A flushed face... a warm body, writhing under him... soft, incredibly soft lips mingling with his own... red hair and violet eyes in a dreamy haze...

His eyes snapped open and he gasped. It had been one heck of a realistic dream. But that was all it had to be. Kenshin was gone, and the bitterness of that knowledge rose in him as he balled his fists and clenched his teeth, despair looming over him once more.

The screen door of the room slid open and flooded his vision with a blood red light. He flinched and shielded his eyes from the evening sun, the crimson glow bleeding around what looked like someone standing in the doorway, long hair taking on the colour of the fading sun. His heart skipped a beat. Kenshin? So... it wasn't a dream?

Violet eyes turned to look over his shoulder at him with a sad smile. Sanosuke's heart soared in recognition and joy that his deepest wish had finally been granted. This had to be the heaven he had so longed for, for such a long time. But the fiery cascade that ran darkly down the back of the figure turned slowly to ebony as his eyes adjusted to the light, while those beautiful violet eyes darkened into a rich brown, and the vision of Kenshin dissolved into something else, just as familiar.

He stared in shock as the apparition vanished to reveal Yahiko, his hair grown out and tied in a low ponytail, his mature profile framing his now adult eyes. He looked so much like Kenshin, the same way that Kenshin held himself, graceful and strong, the same compassion in his eyes, the sakabatou slung at his hip, ready to defend those in need. So much like him... there was no one else more worthy to take the place of Himura Battousai. The smile on Yahiko's face faded as he turned and left the room, leaving Sanosuke to gaze at his rapidly retreating back. Memories of his fight with the street thug returned, of the shadowy kenkaku who had stepped into the fray while he was half dead in the dirt, defeating the thug effortlessly and sweeping him up before he lost consciousness entirely. And of how it felt so much like he was being saved by Kenshin himself.

Finally, he was alone. He stared at the sheets piled around him, his state of undress and the scent of another lingering on his skin brooding an uneasy feeling in his breast. Realization of what had to have transpired in the room dawned on him as his gaze fell upon the tatami, stained with sweat and passion. A lump caught in his throat as a heavy weight enveloped his heart.

For the first time in many, many years, Sagara Sanosuke began to cry.

End.

Author's notes:

Phew, that one took a bit to write! Writing something then stopping because you have to get on with coursework is a serious bummer, but I'm glad I managed to finish this sucker, even with the distraction of the FF8 fic. Well, author's notes are in order about this one, I think.

1) I had meant to set this fic in the mangaverse where Yuutarou never returned to the Kamiya dojo. I'm not going to explain just why his presence (as was in the animeverse) would have made a difference to the fic, because that would be a spoiler. The mention of Ayame and Suzume kind of throws a spanner in the works I suppose, because they don't exist in the mangaverse to begin with. I only added that in after a kind soul told me the ending to the manga, and the only reason I didn't know the ending before is because a suitable translation of the last tankoubon isn't available right now. I do *not* like the ending. It makes me mad. So there.

2) And the thing about the maple leaf. The reason I make such a fuss about it is because of an old Japanese custom. When a woman gives her lover a red maple leaf, it signifies the end of the affair. How sad.

3) Yes, I made Yahiko older than he was in the series. All the better to remove that little problem of the size difference between him and Sano. All you shota-afflicted people out there (I know because I'm one of you :D), well tough! *beeda* And the bit about him with the sakabatou was my own prediction of how the series might end on his part. Read the manga yourself if you want to find out if I was right. :)

4) I know this fic (as with some of my previous ones) can lead to a further expansion of the storyline, but I'm not going to do it right now because I still have other stuff (i.e. work) to do. I might consider it if I find the time though.

Do send me comments! I work a lot better like that. :)

The source code of this page and text of this fic are copyright Namikata Kaoru 2000. No unauthorized reproductions please!

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