I’ve noticed something about the chapters of this story that really irks me: they’re too short. Gomen ne, I never really noticed before, minna. So, in spirit of the New Year and all (ano…yeah), I shall be attempting to fuse more things into longer chapters instead of separating them into numerous short ones.

And the plot? What plot? Heh, you’ll just have to wait and see; all will be explained in the end. Or will it? ^_~

Comments: QuatreLuva@hotmail.com

Desert Rose

By Kat

Chapter 8: Fireside Tales

The soft glow of the moon cast shadows all about the room, only adding to the myriad of dark shapes already dancing silently about on the pristine marble walls in a tuneless manner. The harsh, cold kiss of the desert night air was kept at bay only by two thick curtains of the finest velvet in Kahaktri. It was nights like these when Kaoru was glad for the safety and warmth the gentle hearth provided her, but it also made her sad in a way. The thought of the many people who lacked the wealth or the means to enjoy such simple pleasures as a warm fire flooded her with guilt, and she once again wondered why she had been born of noble blood. It seemed unfair to her on nights such as this that so few should control so much.

I’m starting to sound like father…she mused almost wistfully.

“Hey, Jou-chan, you asleep or something?”

Her friend’s gruff, albeit concerned, voice effectively shattered her inner musings. “No, Sano, not at all. I couldn’t possibly sleep on a night such as this,” she replied softly, turning her gaze to the intricate steps of the flames before her.

The emperor took the few moments of silence between them to observe her as she lie on her side on the floor, her head supported by one arm and the other resting loosely beside her. Of the first things he noticed, the fact that she was no longer the girl he once knew struck him hard. She had grown, naturally, and along with her long legs and gentle curves came the sudden realization that he, although unconsciously, had been regarding her in a different light since the moment of her arrival earlier that same week. She was no longer the little girl he had been so fond of reeking havoc with as a child, his friend and partner in crime, but a mature, young woman bearing the weight of many arduous trials and, though he hated to admit, carrying an air of innocent beauty. Ever more so was the glaring fact that all these hitherto unnoticed changes pointed to one thing: in the seven years they had been apart physically, they had grown ever so much more apart in spirit. It was almost like looking at a young woman he had never even known, never even met before.

His mind began to wander back through the flow of time, back to a place eighteen years passed in his memory, when the two of them still traipsed about the palace knowing nothing of the harsh world around them save what the stories told of. Her father had been appointed to the position of Emperor’s Advisor when he himself had been only a small, mischievous lad of five, and she an even smaller child of two. He remembered how annoyed he had been with her at first; she had followed him around the halls insistently, chattering away in a tongue only a child of her age could master and understand. But then came the day when she had stolen some sweets from the kitchen and innocently, perfectly passed off the blame to one of the many animals roaming about the grounds. From then on, he no longer saw her as a child that had to be entertained and watched after, but a cunning youngster capable of small-time villainies such as himself. And, most importantly, she became someone who could understand him without words. After that saccharine event with the cooks, she became his friend, ally, and apprentice.

A partner in crime and life.

Life had passed swiftly and serenely by for the two of them, each day presenting new adventures and tricks and stories to be explored and experienced, each day nothing like the one that came before it save the setting of the sun and the rising of the moon each daybreak and nightfall. It was the sort of camaraderie that forms only between two people of a singular bond and disposition in life: one that allowed them to struggle through turbulent waters with both oars still in tact while flinging empty insults at one another. After all, what is a friendship without a few storms on the dunes? But even after the worst of arguments, all would be forgiven by sunrise and the day would greet them with open arms once again. It became such a routine that, if ever a day passed when they did not fight or squabble, it was taken as a sign of ill boding for the universe. Needless to say, their quarrels became the stuff of legends.

As the two grew older and closer, many began to speculate on the nature of their relationship and many more still made conjectures and guesses based on their own observations and common sense. The prince and his friend would only laugh and shake their heads at these rumors, for they knew themselves better than anyone else, and it was a great sort of amusement for them to picture themselves married with small children and infants running about the palace, whining and crying for mommy and daddy. It was comical, really, because what kind of a brother would marry his own sister? And so they laughed at the adults around them for a good many years, giving scant regard for the world outside their own.

But, as with all things good and wonderful, their friendship came to a frighteningly obscure obstacle, one that neither of them had ever fathomed before: Death.

When he had been only fifteen and Kaoru the tender age of twelve, a dark shadow fell upon the city of Kahaktri, one clothed in blood and steel. They had been out riding together amongst the sand hills of the desert until sunset, a favorite pastime for both of them that allowed them to escape the overwhelming hustle and bustle of the capital. But when the sun had begun its daily descent beneath the curtain of stars, the winds grew cold and biting, howling from the north and forcing them to turn their heads towards home. He could still remember her face when she had burst into her father’s quarters to show him a beautiful flower she had found, only to discover nothing but pieces of him strewn about the floor and soaking in their own blood and flesh. The innocence and laughter that had always danced in her eyes had vanished in one instant, replaced, at first, with terrible grief and hot, uncontrollable tears as cried over her father’s broken and bloody corpse. Not two days after her father’s murder, the lament in her eyes had faded to a dull, lifeless sort of light, like she was alive but only in body, not in spirit. She had forever lost a part of her, and in turn so had he.

“Hey, Sano?” she asked quietly.

“Mm?” he replied, momentarily extricating himself from his reflections.

“Has it…always been this cold at night?”

He chuckled as her face stared up at him expectantly. “Yes, it is. I suppose you’ve lived so long in the southern kingdom that the chilliness of Kahaktri’s desert nights has been long forgotten, Jou-chan.”

“Or buried,” she whispered, so softly he almost missed it. “In any case, it feels great to be back in the desert. I feel like…like I’m home.”

He only smiled and nodded at her words, once again retreating to the memories that refused to stay hidden.

The army was dispatched and the guards combed the streets for weeks after that, trying in vain to uncover a clue or a trace of the assassin that had slaughtered the Emperor’s Advisor so brutally. But none was ever found, the murderer had vanished with the changing sands and covered his tracks far too well for even a ghost to detect them. A year after her father’s death, Kaoru’s mother had insisted on leaving the palace, and Kahaktri, behind forever; she had said she could still feel and hear her husband’s presence in the walls and hallways of grandiose marble, whispering sweet nothings and lullabies to his wife and child. And so, they had left for the distant country of Taratkiha to stay at the palace with the emperor, a close friend of Kaoru’s late father, leaving everything behind like a terrible dream.

Leaving him behind along with it.

Although he would never admit to anyone, not even her, those seven years in her absence had been nearly unbearable and he often times had wondered if he would ever make it to see the age of eighteen. Yes, he had met and befriended many others since then, the Battousai included, but none could compare to his Jou-chan. The seemingly only bright spot in those lonely years came from the birth of his nephew, Yukishiro Yahiko, a few short months after Kaoru had left; his twenty-two year old sister, Yukishiro Tomoe, and her husband, Sagara Sozou, had brought a ray of light into the dark lives of the palace inhabitants with that one singular miracle. But even then, when he had finally managed to endure two years without his best friend, Fate would not allow him a moment’s repose.

His own father died that night of his birthday, the complications from his congenital disease, the “bleeding cough”, finally winning out over his will to live. He had turned to his closest friend, Himura Kenshin, for comfort and a shoulder to shed dry tears on, only to discover that the redhead had suddenly disappeared from the capital without a word or a trace; the only thing he left behind a brief note promising his return someday. With his world ripped so violently from under his feet, Sanosuke had ascended the throne a lost teenager without time enough for even a night of grief or tears. He was to be the sovereign, and he had to show a strong front to the people despite the tumultuous turmoil swirling and consuming his life. But inside he had yearned for someone to talk to, someone to understand him like the two friends he had lost so suddenly along with his own father.

Then, two years later, his elder sister’s body was found in the streets of Kahaktri, her remains strewn about like Karou’s father’s had been four years beforehand.

How he had managed to keep a firm hold on his sanity and the kingdom as well remained a mystery to the present-day. His younger brother, Yukishiro Enishi, had not been as fortunate; the death of their sister had affected him beyond all rational comprehension. Their mother had died during Enishi’s birth, and so, without a true mother to raise them, Tomoe had filled her shoes and took to caring for her two younger brothers. She continued to do so until the day she had been murdered. It was at his sister’s private funeral, one no one save the royals and palace servants were to have any knowledge of, that the young ruler saw his redheaded friend for the first time in two long years. Although their meeting had been brief, it had left the sovereign with enough hope to realize that he had not been completely alone and that many more secret meetings between the two were to occur, though not indiscriminately. After that, three lamentable, horrific years had passed by at a deathly crawl, each night bringing its own horrors and nightmares to Sanosuke’s mind.

None of his peers suspected anything of his pain and torment; the mask of a humorous, jovial emperor always remained fixed on his face, never once betraying his raging emotions within. It was a trick of sorts that his Jou-chan had taught him through their years together: when life itself seems unbearable and you’re at the threshold of despair, there is no better way to keep the world at bay than a smile upon your face. How very odd it was that the only time he had acted on her advice was when she was no longer around to tease him about it. He had laughed at that; a bitter laugh devoid of any humor.

As time progressed in an endless flow of days, his suffering began to lessen, though not dissipate, with the Battousai’s help and friendship. There were many a nights when neither hide nor hair were seen of the emperor, the only clue to his whereabouts a set of horse tracks leading out into the endless vastness of the desert. The two had found in one another a kind of comfort and sense of belonging that neither of them had ever even noticed they missed. Over time and many secret meetings in the desert dunes and palace rooms, Sanosuke had regained some semblance of his former good-natured self, and the separation that had been eating silently away at him for the past seven years slowly began to fade from the foreground. Then, the unthinkable had happened.

Kaoru had promised to return within a fortnight of his twenty-third birthday, and when he had received that message, he had finally understood what this thing called happiness truly was.

“Um, Sano?”

He immediately snapped his eyes open and fervently shook his head in an attempt to regain his awareness.

“Now look who’s sleeping,” she teased, poking him lightly on the arm. “What were you thinking about that made you so sleepy all of a sudden? Maybe it’ll help me get some rest; it’s getting really late.”

“I…I was thinking about the past, actually,” he replied, scratching the back of his head with one of his hands and giving her a small smile.

She seemed to be taken aback by his response and mulled it over in her mind, and for a moment he thought another long silence was going to ensnare them both. Thankfully, it did not.

A long repressed sigh escaped her lips, her eyes losing their characteristic spark and replacing it with a look of melancholy. “We’ve grown apart, haven’t we? In those seven years…I used to know you like the older brother I never had, Sano, and now it’s like I don’t even know you at all,” she muttered, her gaze fixed on the fire before them.

He smiled sadly at her admission, the irony of it not passing him by. He had been thinking the exact same thing earlier; maybe they weren’t so distant after all. “I know, Jou-chan.”

They stared at the slowly diminishing fire for a while before a small sound broke the stillness. The emperor was laughing.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, her eyes questioning.

“I just…Remember the time we let the birds loose in the kitchen so we could get our hands on those sweet cakes?” he chuckled, his gaze meeting hers for the first time that night.

She also began to giggle at the memory. “Yes, yes I do. We made such a mess of that place…and we never did get those sweet cakes.”

“But we never got caught, either,” he reminded her, smiling as she laughed. “Those were the days, eh Jou-chan?”

The two let the thought run over them, the grins on their faces never faltering.

“Hey, Sano,” she ventured after the laughter had cleared from the air, “just because we’ve been apart so long doesn’t mean we can’t catch up, baka.”

He snorted in good humor at one of the nicknames she was so fond of using with him. “Don’t you think I’ve already thought of that? I always was the more intelligent one,” he mused, smiling devilishly at her.

“Baka,” she retorted, smacking him upside the head with her free hand, effectively wiping the triumphant smirk from his face. After he had finished glaring at her for her retaliation, she sighed with a smile. “Tell me all your secrets, Sano. Tell me everything I’ve missed these past few years.”

“Alright, but you better get comfortable, ‘cause it’s a long story.”

“All the better to tease you with.”

And so he proceeded to divulge everything that had happened while she had been away. He spoke solemnly of how she and her mother were sorely missed by the palace inhabitants, the hidden trace of sadness in his voice not overlooked by her ears. His voice became more uplifting as he told her how he had met Himura Kenshin when the young boy had been transferred to the palace to work as a messenger, but he never once mentioned to her that his friend was now the most infamous marauder in all the kingdom. She would know of that when the time came. He disclosed how the two of them had become fast friends and spoke of many of their ventures and endeavors that had left a few annoyed servants and peeved royals in their wake. She learned the details of Tomoe’s pregnancy and how she had born a child, Yahiko, with her husband Sagara Sozou not three months after Kaoru had left Kahaktri. But four years later, Tomoe had been brutally attacked and murdered while in the city on some errands, and Sozou had disappeared a few short days afterwards. Kenshin had vanished two years prior to that, right after the news of Hiko-sama’s death had spread across the kingdom, and Sanosuke once again refrained from telling her that his friend was alive, due to his current outlawed status. He ended with the story with the event of her letter, which he had received about a month ago, the very day before his twenty-third birthday.

“…and it was about damn time you came for a visit, Jou-chan,” he finished gruffly, reaching for his wine glass after his long speech. But the happiness that her letter had brought him did not escape her senses, despite the fact that he tried so very hard to cover it.

She took a few moments to digest all that he had just told her, realizing all too quickly that, indeed, she had missed a lot in seven years’ time. “I never thought your life would be so…terribly dramatic. I can’t express how sorry I am for what happened to your family and your friend…”

An offhanded wave of his hand silenced the rest of her apology. “It’s all in the past now. I don’t worry about it and neither should you.”

“Oh, alright then,” she responded quietly, caught a little off-guard by his sudden change in mood. But, then again, this is Sanosuke, and he has more mood swings than a camel has fleas.

“What about you? What happened to you when you went off to wherever the hell you went?” he asked, finishing the rest of his glass and focusing his attention on her.

“Well, I’m afraid there’s not much to tell compared to you,” she replied, giving him a small smile. “We left Kahaktri and settled in at the palace in Toratkiha, just mother and I. A few years after we moved there, Mother became very ill and passed away shortly thereafter. When she died, I was put under the care of the royal physician, Doctor Genzai, as you know. I’m really just repeating myself, Sano. I told you all about what happened to me.”

“Not entirely,” he retorted, a sly smile crossing his features. “Tell me, what’s the story behind that Megumi woman you brought along with you? You never told me how you met her.”

She could only laugh at her friend’s question, his thoughts perfectly clear on his face. “If you want to find out about Megumi, why don’t you just ask her yourself?” she challenged, delighting in the way his eyes flickered with annoyance as he looked at her. “Besides, she doesn’t really like it when others talk about her past without her present.”

He bristled in defeat as he settled back against the cushions to watch the slowly dying flames of the fire, only half the meaning of his friend’s words understood. The two of them remained in comfortable, friendly silence as the last flame flickered once and died, leaving a thin trail of smoke curling about itself in the air. The first few fingers of light quietly invaded the room, shooing away the shifting shadows that encroached upon the pair.

Dawn had arrived again in the desert.