Kenshin sighed, resting his wrists against the cold metal basin. Water sloshed and as he peered into the gloom he saw that they were shapes in the water. Strange jellyfish like blobs. He touched a tentative hand to one and cloth swirled against his fingers. For a moment he was perplexed, but then he got it. Ahh, a shirt. Her shirt. He plucked it out of the water and squeezed it out. The phone buzzed again and he clenched the shirt, freezing water trickling over his fingers. The phone buzzed and buzzed, clattering, and then stopped once more. He realized he was still twisting the shirt and clenching his teeth so hard his head hurt.
So is this what he was going to do? React every time something reminded him of a monster he was? Kenshin had made the choice to kill him. He didn’t have the right to feel guilty after the fact. Salamander had a family. So did the young girls who were kidnapped. Who had nothing to do with him or his gang. Girls who, it was rumored, had everything taken from them, including their own will as drugs were pumped through their system. (And you justify murder with murder.)
He flapped the shirt, probably harder than neccssary, making his shoulder twinge and put it on top of some of the closed boxes until it was light enough to dig out his clothes line. Megumi was awake, hands to her face, wrapped in her own pain. Misery. (Guilt?)
He was not the only one with questions this morning.
“Good morning, Megumi-dono,” he said in a warm voice. He grabbed a can of fuel and refilled the spaceheater so he could turn it on, the warm glow shining on Megumi’s narrow back. He reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder a moment to let her know she was not alone.
“After I finish your clothes I’ll start on breakfast, I will,” he said, straightening. “Though I’m afraid this one’s cooking can’t compare at all to yours.”
no subject
So is this what he was going to do? React every time something reminded him of a monster he was? Kenshin had made the choice to kill him. He didn’t have the right to feel guilty after the fact. Salamander had a family. So did the young girls who were kidnapped. Who had nothing to do with him or his gang. Girls who, it was rumored, had everything taken from them, including their own will as drugs were pumped through their system. (And you justify murder with murder.)
He flapped the shirt, probably harder than neccssary, making his shoulder twinge and put it on top of some of the closed boxes until it was light enough to dig out his clothes line. Megumi was awake, hands to her face, wrapped in her own pain. Misery. (Guilt?)
He was not the only one with questions this morning.
“Good morning, Megumi-dono,” he said in a warm voice. He grabbed a can of fuel and refilled the spaceheater so he could turn it on, the warm glow shining on Megumi’s narrow back. He reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder a moment to let her know she was not alone.
“After I finish your clothes I’ll start on breakfast, I will,” he said, straightening. “Though I’m afraid this one’s cooking can’t compare at all to yours.”