Author's Notes: Just a quick drabble for the sake of putting something up...I hope you guys like it, tehe. :-)
Sometimes, Masuyo would wonder why she married someone like Taizo.
Someone who, at first glance, was so far from her little fantasy of the perfect man.
She could have gotten him, too - that perfect man. She had the looks for it (God knew she did, even if they did come off as a bit boyish at times); she had the method, the flair, the touch that could give her the upper hand with any guy she pleased (Elite, rugged space hero of the Battle of Baraduke? Please, it did nothing to dampen that faint, womanly charm she always had.); she had...well, she had that little habit of handing out kisses after enough alcohol (That was how she got her nickname, wasn't it? Masuyo "Kissy" Toby. Ah well, she thought it was sort of cute.), which seemed to strike a positive chord in some way or another.
So why, out of all the fish in that ocean of a dating scene, did she chose the proverbial beached whale that was Taizo Hori?
No one else could really understand it, either. It had been said enough before the wedding.
"Masuyo, darling, he's all washed up! He probably hasn't even held a job since 1982!"
Maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but he certainly wasn't being the hero that he once was.
"He's a driller, Masuyo. He works with dirt. What kind of self-respecting man would have a job like that?"
Another point. Self-respect? What self-respect?
"Kissy, come on. You should find someone who's up to par with you!"
That...well, she wasn't about to grace that with an answer, but it had been said enough times to warrant inclusion. And she had, of course, taken everything (else) to heart, but ultimately the truth of the matter was less than logical.
What if she just didn't care?
What if she found, through much preemptive aggravation, that she could ignore his shortcomings - his rampant stupidity, his ignorance, his insistent love of traveling that would suddenly spirit him away to some obscure foreign world - for all of the good things he could give her?
What if, when he would return from a trip, cocking his hat (that wide-brimmed hat that she claimed looked ridiculous, but which she actually thought made him look quite dashing) and smiling that "did'ya miss me?" smile, she could smile back and forget all the anger, all the blind and illogical rage she had felt when she first met him?
What if, when he would hold her at night and tell her how much he loved her and how he never, never wanted to let her go, she could say the same in complete truth, even knowing that he would probably forget the sweet sentiment come morning?
What if, when he would sometimes stand by the window at night and just think, she could see his face, see every line and wrinkle illuminated in the soft moonlight and the distant fire of determination burning behind his dark brown eyes, and fall in love with this man all over again?
And when she asked herself this, she would stop wondering. She'd lay her head on his shoulder, or maybe wrap her arms around him and share a (not so drunken) kiss, and she'd be happy.
...And yet.
And yet sometimes she would wonder about something else, and it would make her worry even more. She could ignore the stupidity, the ignorance, all of the shortcomings for now...
...But what if - just what if - she couldn't ignore it forever?