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Concessions	By : lawless Category: Rurouni Kenshin > General Views: 3636 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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CONCESSIONS
by Lawless

...He willed himself to feel something...But 'hollow' was the word that came to mind...

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DISCLAIMER: This is a fanfic. I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or its characters.

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Chapter 2: Homecoming

Tokyo
Every city has a distinct personality, a characteristic no different from that of a real person. London was an old aristocrat, calmly reserved and wise with age while New York was a spirited youth, teeming with enthusiasm and filled with a zest for life. Each belonged to a different world, a different time.... And Tokyo sat smack in the middle of this chasm.
The capital of the country, euphemistically called the "Land of the Rising Sun," was a busy, bustling land that had crawled out of the sandy beaches of the Pacific. It was intent on its quest for progress, keen and attentive to the ways of the new world and yet, still maintaining an age-old atmosphere of elegance untouched by neither time nor people.
They were sitting comfortably at a small roadside cafe near the quay, owned by a French national known only as Pierre. Their ship docked an hour before and after taking care of a few business, they proceeded to Pierre's place which was only a few blocks away. McKay, a regular patron, had declared to his younger companion that the cafe served the best crepes in the whole country. The compliment was a given, of course, since Pierre's was probably the only restaurant in Japan that served crepes.
"So how does it feel being back, Yang Liu?" Pete McKay, captain of the Sunny Breeze, asked, grinning. "Or should I start calling you Sagara-san now?" His blue eyes twinkled merrily as he stared at his somewhat sullen friend.
"Can't really say, Mac," Sano replied to the gaijin's question. "At least, not until I get a sip of good, old Japanese sake." This last bit was said with an entirely serious face but the mocking tone in his voice said otherwise.
"Just a sip?" The American asked, chuckling.
"A sip and a jug."
McKay laughed appreciatively. Pierre arrived at that moment, carrying their orders on a silver tea service and for a while, the two men were quiet as they ate the different confections served up to them.
"I suppose you'll be paying a visit to old friends?" McKay asked later. He was leaning back in his chair, smoking a cheroot (compliments of the house). At Sano's nod, he continued, "I'll be returning shortly to Hong Kong. I received a wire just now from our Mr. Wu."
Sano paused between mouthfuls. "Do you need me for anything?" Mr. Wu was a client of theirs based in Hong Kong. They usually delivered goods for him - silk, porcelain, tea, coffee, and other commodities - to neighboring islands, Japan included. It was not unusual at all that the captain of the Sunny Breeze would get a wire message from him, requesting a second delivery.
"Nah, I'll handle it myself," the American said dismissively, taking a sip of his coffee (his second cup). "It's just for two weeks besides."
"Because I've got places to go," Sano explained.
McKay's blue eyes twinkled again as he leaned forward, gesturing slightly with his cheroot. "Right," he responded, grinning, "I remember you told me about this girl. You left without telling her anything. I guess she's still waiting for you, huh?"
Sano coughed, nearly choking on his coffee. He had not informed McKay of his real reasons for coming back. Hell, I'm not even sure of it myself, he thought. He only told him that he got a letter and that he needed to go back. The American, for all his innate frankness, was close-mouthed for once, telling him that the Sunny Breeze was preparing for a trip to Japan anyway to deliver Mr. Wu's goods. Sano had immediately taken him up on his offer. Of course, as part-owner of the ship, he had every right to request free passage to whichever country he wanted to be at a given moment. But Sano always deferred to the older man's judgment.
"I doubt it," he finally managed to choke out. He found himself regretting not for the first time ever been drunk and coerced into revealing buried details about his past which he would rather left...buried. He decided that brandy was an effective means of interrogation. Grinning easily, he placed down his cup and idly twirled the unlit cheroot Pierre had left on his side of the table.
The American made as though to stretch as he drew back his chair and stood. "Well, Yang Liu, life's certainly peachy 'round these parts. I'm surprised you even left. But I suppose you had your reasons, as I had mine."
Sano also stood and picked up his long coat. Somehow, he felt strange to be wearing these Western clothes now that he was in his home country. He shrugged into the thick bolt of material, musing all the while about his preferred white gi with "aku" on its back, his symbol of youthful rebellion. He was much too old and much too jaded for that kind of blatant posturing now.
The American was talking. "I just wish you weren't as attractive to the women as you made out to be. I swear, since you came on board, I found myself escorting middle-aged matrons instead of young, flushed girls."
"Sorry, Mac," Sano said, not sorry at all. "Ya just ain't got the looks," he added in his best American accent.
The older man roared with laughter, thumping Sano's back good-naturedly. After his laughter subsided, they talked some more, about business mostly, and as they rounded a corner, he quickly reminded Sano of the luncheon date the next day. Then, the two men went on opposite ways.
Sano walked the busy streets, taking in the sights and sounds that were at once strange and familiar. On the surface, Tokyo was still the same Tokyo he had known. There was little change to be seen. The same old structures stood where they had stood for years. The same stalls dotted the sides of the roads. Even the owner of the shop at the corner was still the same man, only a bit more ancient now than Sano remembered. And interspersed among these familiar sights were new ones, things which Sano recognized in his travels as signs of progress.
He drew to a stop when he reached the old dojo, his mind clouded in memories. He thought that any moment now, he would hear the sound of a young Kaoru screeching at Yahiko along with the crash of something heavy, a bokken perhaps, thrown at her pupil. He was sure that when he stepped in, the first sight that would greet him was a red-haired former rurouni squatting on the ground, hands buried in laundry water and that peaceful smile on his face. It seemed real. It was real. But no longer.
He was coming home to an empty house. Even so, he took a deep breath before he prepared to push the door open...
...And nearly jumped when a young boy collided into him.
The boy ended up sprawled on the ground, glaring up at the tall Japanese man dressed in gaijin clothes staring down at him with an indescribable expression on his face.
There's a perfectly logical explanation for this, Sano was thinking as he found himself looking at Yahiko from seven years ago, exactly the same. He watched the boy stand up and give him the fiercest glare his tiny little body could master.
"Yasuo-chan!" A young woman said, exasperation obvious in her voice. She stopped when she caught sight of Sano standing there. Something nagged at the back of his mind as he gazed at the woman. He felt like he should recognize her. For her part, the woman was also staring at him with a peculiar expression on her face.
"Okaa-san," the boy 'Yasuo' tugged at the sleeves of the young woman who was apparently his mother. "Okaa-san, who is that man?"
The young woman ignored him as she continued to stare up at the stranger. Everything finally dawned on Sano as he at last recognized the young woman in front of him. It made sense. And the young boy was exactly the spitting image of his father. So that could only mean that the woman was... "Tsubame-chan?" He asked tentatively, not quite sure yet.
The woman's pretty face split into a smile. "Sanosuke-san, it's you!"

o0o
"So when did you say he's coming back?" Sano asked later, now sitting comfortably at the front of the dojo. Tsubame came in carrying a teapot and some cups.
"He should be here before dusk," she answered as she poured him a cup.
Sano thanked her, taking the steaming cup as he did so. Tsubame looked towards young Yasuo practicing with a bamboo sword in the yard, an indulgent little smile on her face. "For a minute there, I thought I was seeing his father," Sano volunteered, also watching the boy. He certainly had Yahiko's hot temper and apparent skill with the bokken.
Tsubame flushed and gave a light laugh. They talked for a bit, catching up on old times. They hadn't really known each other that well. To Tsubame, he really was nothing more than that street-fighter who was perpetually asking credit from Tae. And to Sano, Tsubame was nothing more than that shy little girl working at the Akabeko. But she was part of the family now and Sano found that they had much to talk about.
She told him all the recent news about their dysfunctional little family and old friends -- how Misao was now happily married to Shinomori Aoshi, the former Oniwabanshuu Okashira, how Megumi was now an assistant director at the Sanada Hospital in Aizu, how Yutaro, Yahiko's best friend and arch-nemesis, was now betrothed to a German heiress -- including all the tiny, seemingly inconsequential events happening in the lives of his friends, things that he had missed during his seven-year abscence.
They continued their light conversation for several more minutes before Sano realized that he might be holding up any work that Tsubame had planned for that day. He stood up and asked Tsubame about the shrine to both Kenshin and Kaoru. Instantly, a sad look came to the young woman's face as she told him quietly what happened. It was cholera, she explained to him. There was an outbreak in Tokyo some six months ago and nearly everyone at the Kamiya Dojo were affected by it. The doctors did all they could. Megumi left her work at the hospital to try to save the many who were afflicted by the deadly disease, but the progression was rapid. And in the end, not even the most advanced medicine can help those who were too far gone. The disease left a trail of fresh shrines and tears as lives by the dozens were lost.
Later, Sano stared at the shrines, the last remaining symbols of two lives once lived. The kanji names written on the stones were meaningless to him. As he sat there alone (Tsubame had excused herself after showing him the location), he willed himself to feel something that was akin to sorrow or even pain at the loss of two friends. But he felt numb. Nothing. 'Hollow' was the word that came to mind.
He sat there and wondered, without any trace of regret, how things would have been if he handn't left Japan.

o0o
At the harbor...
A steam ship docked and people from all walks of life began streaming out. They pushed against each other as they tried to be the first to step on solid ground after weeks of being cooped up within the ship's confinement. Dock workers and stevedores were hollering at their comrades, who had somehow made it to the ship, giving them instructions on where to place which cargo. There was the usual noise of excited people shouting at the sight of a family member who had been gone for a long time.
A bit removed from all that bustle was an elegant-looking carriage drawn by two magnificent black stallions. The horses fidgeted as though unused to standing still for any length of time. People who passed near the boxed contraption made sure to steer clear for they saw that two fierce-looking men stood guard. Despite the law against it, they were carrying swords which only indicated that the man they were working for must be someone with enough influence as to be able to skirt the authorities.
A thin man ran up to the carriage, was stopped along the way by the two swordsmen. "I have a message from Mr. Wu Tong Shi," the man explained.
The swordsmen did not move an inch until a voice from the carriage said, "Let him through." The thin man immediately approached the man inside the carriage whose face was hidden in the shadowed compartment. "You have a message?" The distinguished accent in his voice told him that he was an affluent man.
The thin man nodded and reached inside the his kimono. Instantly, the swordsmen had drawn their swords and pointed it threateningly at the man who was staring at the blades in terror. "It's quite all right," the man inside the carriage said, a disapproving tone in his voice.
"Gomen nasai," the swordsmen murmured. The thin man then produced a crumpled little note and handed it to the man who read it and promptly folded it carefully. He didn't say anything, merely knocked on the roof of the carriage to indicate to the driver that they should start moving. The crowd dispersed as the carriage ambled along.

- oo - TO BE CONTINUED - oo -

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A/N Second chapter. Wow. only one review? That's very encouraging you guys. *cries* ^_^ Just kidding. Thanks Anubis for your outstanding input. I also hope that this story is going to turn out as you guys and I expect. Yeah, I didn't let the story start with a confrontation between them. I wanted to build up the moment. Oh, by the way, there will be a subplot to this but its unfolding is going to be slow. Pls. don't forget to review. You have no idea how good it feels to read reviews. Or perhaps you do if you're a writer. Anyway, ciao!
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Concessions