AN: I've been inspired by Mamoro's excellent stories in "Ache" to write stories that explore little scenes with much more depth of emotion. Of course, I have so much to learn from such masters, but I consider this a good exercise to develop my own writing.

This scene complements Chapter 6 (The Color Red) of my other fic, "All His Colors," so if you wanted to read that and don't want spoilers on the plot point, stop right now, turn back, and read that first!

.

.


Amber eyes scanned over her unconscious bare form. His own gi that had protected her modesty splayed open underneath her now, allowing the bright lighting of the bath house to reveal unsettling colors tinting her body that made his breath catch with a choking lump and knotted his eyebrows in hard angles of furious, devastated concern. There were three cuts leaking thick crimson on her arms and two on her sides, thankfully only millimeters deep and sparing the need for stitches, but the large gash on her forehead would need assistance. A circle of torn skin around her left ankle spoke of the familiar friction from a chain. The most pressing matter was the festering lump on the left side of the back of her head, just a few inches below the swirl of her hair, which let out a steady trickle of edematous pink plasma from an already roaring inflammation. There were bruises on her face, neck, arms, and legs, with one particularly large dark purple spot covering half of her right arm between the deltoid and elbow. The smear of dirt and dust besmirching her fair skin did not help the already looming threat of infections. Worst of all, there was no way of knowing how many of these insults she had endured while rendered stark naked against her will, in front of sick men who gleefully made their abhorrent intent known.

He'd let his wife suffer all this.

No, he couldn't allow his eyes to fog up with angry tears now. He couldn't let escape the quaking sobs that would overwhelm his chest and squeeze his windpipe shut. He couldn't let his hands remain uselessly clenched on nothing at his sides. He must clean and dress her wounds. Immediately.

With numb resolve, the ex-hitokiri scooped up warm water from the bath into a small wooden pail and splashed some on his forearm and hands before grabbing a bar of soap to quickly scrub away the crusted blood covering them. He deemed his palms clean enough to tend to his wife only after three washes. Slowly, he slid one arm below her neck and the other under her knees to lift her up from the bench of the dressing area. Despite the battering she had suffered, her form felt strong in his arms, lean muscles still taut from the fierce battle that she had refused to cower from. The warmth of her skin pressing on his bare chest reminded him of the many pleasurable nights they had shared since their wedding, except the circumstances leading up to this moment had been nothing short of a nightmare. He clutched her briefly to his stricken heart, bringing his nose to hers while closing his eyes, letting out a strained sigh. He stepped forth and carried her beyond the partition screens.

Gently he laid his wife down on the raised wooden planks beside the tub, setting a folded towel under her head which he angled to ensure minimal stress on the swollen lump, before pouring waves of warm water over her entire body. He made sure the stream did not directly hit but rather cascaded over the torn parts of her flesh. First he had to attend to the wound on her head. After proper rinsing, he felt the bump with his fingers, assessing the extent of damage. The discrete concavities left behind were the hallmarks of a force directed from a blunt hard object, likely a brass knuckle, clearly with direct connection to the gash on her forehead and accompanying bruises on her brow. Thank the gods he'd arrived just in time before the wretched thugs desecrated her, but if only he had been there earlier to catch her fall before her face struck the ground. If only he had accompanied her to walk back from the Maekawa dojo that day. If only, if only… He gritted his teeth and fought back the lump in his throat a second time.

Grabbing her favorite rose-tinted soap bar, he worked up a lather and massaged small circular patterns on the injured scalp, subsequently attending to the tear on her forehead with equally loving devotion. He rinsed off the grime from her wounds before turning his attention to the uninjured areas. While soaping up the rest of her hair, he took his time to soothingly knead her temples, bringing the strokes from the side of her head to the back, then upwards from her nape to the top. His thumb gently loosed the dirt stains around her brows and over her cheek, massaging away the bruises that marred her face. Several pours from his pail chased the bubbles away, carrying with them the matted mess of blood and dust and sweat. Soon his fingers could once again be threaded through the whole length of her silky smooth jet-black strands. How he loved that feeling on his hands.

Setting her head slowly back down on the now-soaked towel, his eyes looked to the rest of her body. As subtle and as sure as it came, heartache seeped in like frost wrapping deep into his bones as he surveyed the broken skin and damages across her porcelain body. The wounds he so often endured seemed abhorrently out of place on his beloved and he couldn't wait to see her restored to spirited health. With careful strokes, he scrubbed away the grime from every inch of her skin, paying special attention to how much pressure and shear his fingers bore down on her wounds. With each trickle of cleansing warmth, the beauty that had always intoxicated him began to show forth once more, and his hands cherished the warm softness of her bare form.

"Mmmhh…" Kaoru stirred, turning her head almost to an angle that would aggravate her wound, which he promptly stopped by putting his palm against the side of her face. Her eyelids cracked open to reveal bleary eyes that still shone a deep ocean blue. He wanted to stroke her cheek with his thumb and kiss the unbroken skin of her lips, to tell her that everything would be alright, but the sudden rush of guilt that seized his heart prompted his gaze to return to the task at hand. He could feel her dazed eyes on his face as she kept her body obediently unmoving, while he continued to clean the wounds on her sides. When she winced slightly, he winced in turn for her sake, temporarily pausing his motions as he looked at her apologetically. A weak smile graced her features even as her eyes narrowed with the pain, her hand squeezing his forearm in reassurance, and he could not discern the feelings of his heart that ran amok with the fury of what the bastards had done to his wife while at the same time breathlessly captivated by her allure even in this state.

She nodded to urge him to continue, and he obliged. His fingers worked even more carefully to cleanse the cut on her abdomen. His hands trailed down her waist to her hips, and he couldn't help but take in the gentle gradients of her curves, kicking his system automatically to a state of arousal as he beheld the quiet comeliness of his wife, wounds and all. His throat went dry and he gulped, rather loudly. How he wished to hear her hum against his skin as they held each other, bodies rocking together in the heat of passion. But no - how could he even bear to think of such things at this time? A frown creased his brows and he shook his head, disgusted by himself, as he promptly returned to the task of cleansing, wishing to dispel the vulgar taint of the previous incident with renewed determination. In that narrow focus, he missed the light pink dusting Kaoru's cheeks and the small curving of her lips. A few tender strokes later, he noticed her breaths slowing once again as her consciousness lapsed.

When he had finished scrubbing the rest of her wounds, he gathered her up and lifted her into the tub, letting the warmth of the water soak into her skin. He positioned one arm under her neck to cushion her bump from the hard edges of the tub. Her head rolled towards the nook of his shoulder and the scent of jasmine from her hair filled his senses, reminding him of the close intimacy they had recently shared together in the quiet of the night. In spite of himself, he lowered his face to the top of her head, taking in a lungful of her sweet smell. She stirred once more, giving off a soft sound of pleasure which only roused his desires further, prompting him to turn his reddening face away from the sight of her naked form. But he held himself steady, even as he had to run his hands down her bosom and over her thighs to clean them, resisting from indulging in unnecessary strokes over those supple flesh mounds. He couldn't continue much longer without feeling like he was taking advantage of his own wife, and after the bloodbath he had wreaked among the thugs and what she had endured in their company he could not impose himself on her without feeling sick in his stomach. Holding his breath, he finished bathing her as quickly as he could before the water eased from tepid to cold.


With heavy-lidded eyes, Kaoru took in the dim shapes coalescing before her, hazy colors of amber and maroon standing out among the greys and dark browns that showed themselves through the glow of a small lantern. The skin of her back felt comfortably braced against a fluffy softness while her chest enjoyed the right amount of warmth under a thin fabric, but there was a sharp pinching pressure on her left arm. Between the pounding in her head and throbbing echoes coming from multiple areas of her body, it took a few moments for her to realize that her husband was bandaging one of her cuts. The warring state of emotions written all over his face hadn't changed from when she had stirred awake moments ago at the bath house. Kenshin... Her heart instantly went out to him, wanting to soothe away the multitude of pain, guilt, and anger that no doubt plagued his soul, but she found all the energy drained away from every inch of her aching muscles, and her mouth would not work to form words. So she just laid there, wafting unspoken sentiments of love towards him as he dressed her wounds.

He turned his head, noticing her wakefulness, and worry shifted to predominate the gaze of his amber eyes. He leaned stiffly towards her but then stopped, seemingly squelching a desire to do something. The anguish and sorrow that flashed in his eyes brought stinging tears to her own, and in horror he mistook that to mean that he wasn't handling her injuries carefully enough, so in panic he turned his attention back to loosen the wrappings. She wanted so badly to pull him close and tell him no, that's not it, that he's not hurting her, but her frustration only manifested an even more pained expression on her face, inadvertently casting a deeper shadow of guilt over his heart. She huffed and shut her eyes tight, surrendering in helplessness as some of her tears leaked out, knowing there was nothing she could do now but to calm herself down and let him continue working without adding to his torture.

Minutes turned to hours as her husband systematically turned his attention to every scrape, bruise, and tear on her midsection and legs, either applying ointment and dressings to each or working a gentle massage to push away the purple clots, careful to uncover only the areas of her body that he was tending to. Secretly, Kaoru was relieved to feel only his touch and his alone at this moment out of any other man in the world, with or without proper medical training, while at the same time deeply moved by the reverence that he never failed to show even after they've been married for months and had bared their nakedness to each other. Warmed by this thought, she risked another glance at him. His eyes rose to meet hers again, and widened slightly when he saw a warm smile brightening her lips this time. She held his gaze momentarily, wishing he could read her heart. Their gentle breaths filled the silence. He blinked those stunning golden eyes and swallowed lightly before turning away to resume dressing her wounds. She let out a small sigh. It wasn't much, but at least his anguish seemed to have abated now.

Once he had finished, Kaoru felt his strong arms sliding under her and wrapping over her frame, before she was hoisted up from the towels and lowered onto the sleeping yukata that he had laid out on the futon. He threaded her arms carefully through the sleeves, and wrapped the fresh clean fabric closed over her. She felt her strength returning slightly, and just as he was about to pull away she commanded the muscles of her arms to move and weakly grab on his shoulders. He seemed taken aback but did not flinch. She moved her arms up until they closed around his neck, and pressed her head against his bare chest, ignoring the dried blood splatters that still lingered there. "Kaoru…?"

He was frozen stiff, but while he was still unsure of her act she was absolutely certain of her embrace. She slurred his name, and her fingers softly stroked his nape. He searched her eyes in disbelief, still expecting the ex-hitokiri Battousai to be worthy of only fear and repulsion despite everything that had passed between them, but even with partially closed eyes her expression was unmistakably tender, and her smile strained but genuine nonetheless. It was all that she could manage. Her strength slipped away and so did the hold of her arms as her vision turned dark once more, but the warmth of her husband enveloping her escorted her fall out of consciousness like the fluttering of a thousand doves sailing through the sky.

.

.

.


AN: So that's my first experiment with more emotive writing. Let me know what you think, and if I should explore more scenes of "All His Colors" (or other new ideas) in this way.