Her Heart Wondered
Honor Raisa
Someone might have babied him.
To look at him, one might never know. She watched him, cheerfully cleaning up the breakfast dishes. She was supposed to be doing something else, not standing there staring at his back, neglecting chores of her own to watch him doing his.
But her heart wondered. Gentle man that he was, had anyone ever just…taken him and held him, rocked him, for no reason at all other than just to bring him comfort, to let him relax into, if not a greater strength, than perhaps a much greater love than he had for himself?
Master Hiko had probably never given his apprentice so much a hug the entire time he'd known him. Tomoe, perhaps, might have held him in an embrace, but she had seemed cold, conserved. Not, perhaps, the sort who would hug someone "just because". Surely his father and mother must have held him? One of them must have cradled him as a child in warm blankets or on soft sleeves, holding him just to hold him.
He stacked the bowls neatly, set aside the tray. He stood and stretched, his face upturned toward the sun. Always that light, peaceful, contented smile. Shielding a heart heavy with burdens. One by one, she had seen many of them lifted, some with her very own hands, any time that she got a chance. But she could never know when the smile had become real.
There were times when it was, though. She knew that. Times, even, more often than not, these days.
But still…so much harshness, so much of his life that he needed to be tough, to go so long without even so much as a smile offered to him. She wondered, did he remember? What it was like to be held, to be wrapped up in pure, absolute love. Did he recall what it was like to breath in the warm, familiar scent of someone and hear all the things that weren't being said? I love you. I loved you since the day my eyes first rested on you. And I will always love you.
He was rolling his shoulders, rubbing his neck, easing out the early morning stiffness. Still she watched. And she wondered…
What if his mother and father hadn't been loving people? They might have loved him, but what if they didn't hold him much, so busy as they would be struggling to live, to keep him fed and clothed and warm and dry. When it took great effort to provide for the simplest things, it was easy to forget what a child really needed.
He lifted the tray of now cleaned and dried dishes and turned and saw her. He seemed surprised, a pleasant smile and a slow, questioning blink that she didn't answer. At least, not right away.
After a few moments, his smile faded into confusion, then the confusion began to melt into worry as she kept staring without speaking. Then, she moved slowly to him, gently taking the tray of dishes from him and setting them back where they were before. She stalled all of his questions and protests by taking his hand, giving it a squeeze. Then she led him into the dojo.
Why the dojo, she wasn't sure. Perhaps because, unless she or Yahiko was training, it always stood empty, and there was less likely a chance of them being disturbed. Or maybe it was because the dojo was the first place she'd had a conversation with Kenshin, the first time she had seen him in clean light.
Maybe it was because it was a place where they were both comfortable. Familiar with. Found peaceful, in spite of the memories of endless bickering and shouts that had echoed off the walls.
His face was the image of affable confusion as she made him sit down, and folded on her knees next to him.
She went slowly, first putting a hand on the middle of his back, just below his neck, the motion firm and deliberate, to show that she did not mean to be sensual by the touch.
"Kaoru-dono--"
"Hush, Kenshin," she ordered, and he fell silent, looking tense and nervous. Not from her touches or her presence, but from not understanding. Perhaps he feared she was about to tell him something that she feared to say, for her silence and mysterious behavior, and the gentle hand on his back.
She smiled, trying to put him at ease, and it worked a little, some of the tension draining from his shoulders.
It came back, though, when she carefully guided him closer, leaning his head to rest on her shoulder. She kept her actions slow and deliberate as before, feeling the confusion radiate off him. But he didn't reject her, and followed her lead. He trusted her. That, in itself, was an amazing gift.
She held him in place until she was sure he knew he was to stay, then slid her hand down his arm, his side, and rested it at his waist. The other hand she used to alternately caress his arm, his shoulder, his hair, smoothing the ponytail at his back. Using the faintest of rocking motions, she soon added a soft hum.
Moments passed. The change was gradual, but she was watching for it, noticed it as it happened. His body loosened, his breathing grew deeper. He relaxed into her, and she marveled how well they fit together. Then he sighed. Soft, with a tremor so faint that she couldn't be sure that it was really there.
Several more moments passed. His body grew heavy, his breathing long and even and deep. She smiled to herself. She had just rocked him to sleep, into a much deeper sleep than she would have thought he would allow…but it was all right. It was because he knew he was safe, because she held him, she kept him safe.
The deep sleep was good for him, she decided. She kept up the gentle rocking, her touches feather light, and her song lowered to a whisper, but never wavered.