I don't own Until Death Do Us Part or Paradise Café. If I did, Haruka would be older and married to Mamoru, by now. But since that hasn't happened yet, I hope this can suffice. Blame Charlie, my errant plot bunny who wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote this; now maybe I can go back to Dancing Queen. Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, TitianWren!
Sixteen Going On Seventeen
I am sixteen going on seventeen
Innocent as a rose
Bachelor's dandy, and drinkers of brandy
What do I know of those?
--Sixteen Going On Seventeen; Sound of Music.
Haruka's first kiss happened one Saturday when she was sixteen nearing seventeen. And she'd been disappointed with it. Senior Kenichiiro Togashi had called her to the rooftop to confess his feelings for the younger girl. He'd then gotten very bold and bestowed upon the high schooler her very first kiss. It had been a light press on her lips that didn't inspire anything more than the mere thought of 'what was that?'
Then again, she'd known that sempai would take and give her first kiss, and none of the subsequent ones that would follow. She also knew that the only one whose kisses would mean anything to her would be Mamoru-san's. It was crystalline clear—just as knowing that she would one day marry him. Nearing seventeen, having grown up at his side, and learning more about him with each passing day, Haruka was sure that she loved the blind swordsman, even with the less than stellar points that he had. She hurried back to the house that she shared with Sierra, Igawa, and Mamoru-san, wondering what Igawa-san would speculate when he saw her running back.
………
"Your first kiss?" Sierra asked, her eyes slightly wide with surprise. Then her lips curved into a knowing smile. "And?" she inquired.
"I think what she's trying to ask is 'how was it,'" Igawa supplied, turning to her with a roguish grin.
Sierra rounded on him. "Hey! Don't put words in my mouth!"
"But you were wondering," he said calmly, adjusting his glasses. "I can see it in your eyes. I merely did you a favor and asked for you. So how was it?"
"How was what?" Mamoru asked, finally joining the group.
"Haruka-chan had her first kiss today," Igawa commented, craning his head back to the swordsman.
Mamoru's face went blank and his lips tightened in response. It seemed that the news was not well received by him. And indeed it wasn't. Hearing that the girl he'd looked after and protected for nearly five years had just gotten her first kiss did not make him happy. He felt a slow, burning anger pool into his gut as he thought about it.
"First kiss, eh?" he repeated, his voice unusually quiet. He focused his sightless eyes on her, his glasses feeding to his retinas an outlined image of a mature woman. He could imagine what she looked like now as opposed to her twelve-year-old self. It was probably time to face reality and admit to himself that she was older, now. Walking over to the couch, he lowered himself to the cushions and focused on Haruka again. Sierra looked at Igawa who had a curious expression on his face—the cat that got the canary, she realized. He was quite pleased with Mamoru's reaction.
"And?" Mamoru queried, gripping his cane tighter than usual. "How was it?"
"It didn't do anything for me," Haruka said flatly. "I was rather disappointed, truth be told."
Sierra marveled at the self-satisfied smirk and brief chuckle that came from the normally aloof swordsman. It was strange to see such an expression and it seemed out of place on his normally blank face.
"Pity," Mamoru said at last.
"Yeah, real pity," Haruka replied.
He fell silent, that smirk still on his lips. Good to know that it hadn't been anything memorable other than it being her first kiss. And of course if that boy ever touched her again, he'd be missing a few fingers, maybe a hand.
Igawa hurried to break the suffocating silence that had followed Haruka's reply. "Ah, Haruka-chan, you don't have school tomorrow, right?"
"It's Sunday," she replied, by way of reminder.
"Right, right. Maybe you'd like to go somewhere as Haruka-chan instead of Haruna-chan?" he suggested.
She turned to him, a delighted smile lighting her face up. She usually went places as Haruna-chan and never with Mamoru. "Can I?" she asked eagerly, turning back to Mamoru. She saw him scowling at Igawa. "Please, Mamoru-san? There's a café that all the girls have been raving about and I really want to try it. Please, oh please, Mamoru-san?"
Mamoru felt himself deflate at her tone. It was that tone; the one that let on how lonely she really was; it bore the truth that her smiles concealed. The swordsman knew that if he said 'no,' she would assuredly agree and even stick up for him when Sierra and Igawa gave him hell. When was the last time she'd been able to spend time as Haruka instead of her alias? How sad that he couldn't even remember. Going out and unwinding might be good for her. At the very least, he wouldn't have to hear that tone again for a bit.
He let out an exasperated sigh. "Looks like I'm outvoted. What the hell, why not?"
Haruka squealed happily. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She bounded off to her room, happily removing her disguise as she went.
"Yeah, yeah." He turned to glare at Igawa and Sierra, noting that their 3-D outlines were smiling at him. Mamoru sighed and tipped his head back; he really had been outvoted. He grinned up at the ceiling.
………
That night, Haruka had a nightmare. She bolted upright, a scream fading into the darkness that surrounded her; she gripped the sheets, as if she were using them as a reminder that it had been just a dream, just a dream; it hadn't happened, yet. She listened intently for the sound of footsteps and was grateful when she heard none coming in the direction of her room. Breathing a sigh of relief, Haruka released the sheets and smoothed the crumpled material, mentally cursing her gift for showing her such horrible outcome, just as that passed, she felt a trickle of gratitude to her gift for showing her. Now that she knew, she could prevent it from happening, in the unlikely event that Mamoru-san's instincts couldn't. And she would prevent it—come hell or high water, she would make sure that it didn't come to pass.
She closed her eyes again, slipping into another dream— this one showing what would happen if her first dream didn't come to pass. This time when she opened her eyes, dawn just was starting to announce its arrival in somber grays and pale pastels. Her neck felt sore; it had been craned so far back that her forehead nearly touched the pillow. For the second time, Haruka let go of the sheets, reminding herself that although it was a vision, it was still a dream—it hadn't happened yet. She explored her neck with gentle fingers and felt her cheeks grow warm and an intimate smile curve her lips when she replayed the events through her mind. She pressed her hand to her racing heart, promising that she was going to make that vision come true at all costs. Feeling her eyelids droop again, she settled herself back on the mattress and allowed her eyes to drift shut. There were no dreams waiting for her this time.
………
When Haruka woke up next, the sun was streaming in, bright and warm, in a vibrant display of yellows, gold's, and oranges on her walls. Sierra was knocking on her door and announcing that breakfast was ready and if she didn't hurry, Igawa was going to eat hers for her. Not caring about an appearance that she was going to fix soon anyhow, she darted out of her room to the breakfast table. Finishing quickly, she sprinted back to her room to dress, missing the grins on the faces of Sierra and Igawa.
The café was bustling, Haruka observed, watching the waiters as they served their customers. Her classmates had been right, the wait-staff was comprised of three men and they were all handsome. Well, there was one woman, but she worked in the kitchen, just as they said.
"Welcome to Green Café! I'm Mikami," a cheerful voice greeted. "Do you have a specific server in mind?"
Haruka blinked and looked up at the bespectacled server that smiled congenially at the couple in front of him.
"Umm…" she looked back at Mamoru briefly, who seemed to be ignoring everything around him, including the starry-eyed looks and whispers that the women were shooting in his direction. "You're fine."
"Yes, I am. Thank you very much, my dear. That's very sweet of you to say," he said placidly. Mamoru frowned in his direction, proving that he wasn't ignoring everything after all.
It took Haruka a moment to process what he'd said. When she did, she blushed a brilliant red. "Umm… it's our first time here… so…"
"Really? Then, I'll be your server. Right this way, please." Still nonplussed, she followed Mikami to a table and blushed when he pulled the chair out for her and pushed it back in when she was seated. "I'll be right back."
True to his word, the waiter returned with two glasses of cool water and smiled at both of his clients. "Well, since this is your first time visiting Green Café, I'll let you know now that we're most known for cappuccinos and lattes, along with a wide variety of cakes and other confections." He handed out two menus and gave the gentleman a perplexed look when he didn't take it.
"Sir?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"
Mamoru ignored their server and focused on Haruka. "Order whatever."
"What about you?" she asked.
"It's your day," he said, with a casual shrug; Haruka was thankful that he couldn't see her blush. He looked over at the waiter. "Black coffee," he ordered.
"Would you like the menu, sir?" Mikami asked, offering it to him.
Mamoru aimed a sardonic smirk at him. "And how am I supposed to read it when I'm blind?" he asked.
Mikami blinked. "Eh? Wha--- you?" he stuttered, before he remembered himself. "Ah! Sir, I'm very sorry!" he said, bowing low in apology.
Mamoru focused on Haruka again. "Go ahead and order. Order something for me too, if you feel like it."
"You trust me?" she asked with obvious delight.
"Sure," he said with a bored shrug. "Haven't I always?"
"Yes," she answered promptly. Turning back to their waiter, who was fast realizing that they were probably his oddest customers yet, she smiled warmly. "I'll take a caramel cappuccino to start with. Let me look over the menu, please."
"Certainly." Mikami put away his notepad and smiled at Haruka before casting an uneasy glance at her odd companion. It was unbelievable that he was blind, but now that he thought about it, why would a man that didn't move with a gimp in his step carry a cane? When he first walked in, it had been with such confidence that he'd thought little of the cane. The man moved as if he were simply comfortable with everything—he'd seen martial arts masters move with that sort of grace and self-assurance. Smiling again, he turned and headed to another table when he heard his name called.
Haruka smiled at Mamoru. "I think you scared him."
He gave her another bored shrug. "He'll live."
She certainly hoped so, in any case.
"Well? Are you feeling better?"
Haruka made a face. "You make it sound like I'm a spoiled child," she complained.
He smirked at that, but sobered almost immediately after. "They were worried for you," he said, quietly. "I think Igawa suspected you might be getting depressed always having to pose as Haruna."
"It is tiring sometimes," she admitted. "But—"
"You knew it was going to happen," he said for her.
"No!" she said, glaring. She felt herself melt at his quick grin. "Well, yes, but—that's not the point!" Haruka stuttered, feeling flustered when he smirked at her again. She huffed in annoyance. "I was going to say that I can always be Haruka at home with you guys."
She turned her attention to the menu and pondered what to order. It all looked so good. But she wanted to choose something that Mamoru-san would eat, too. He ate cake, she knew, but she wasn't in the mood for it. She sighed. Decisions, decisions. One caught her eye—it sounded interesting. Haruka knew that Mamoru-san would eat it even if he didn't want it. Spying their waiter returning with their drinks, she smiled.
"Have you decided?" he asked Haruka, setting down their drinks.
"Yes," she announced, pointing to the item on the menu. "Two, please."
"Absolutely. That's a new item; it's been quite popular," he told her, taking the menu back and disappearing.
"What did you order?" Mamoru asked.
"I'm not going to tell you. It's punishment for earlier."
"Oh? Sounds like fun," he teased. "Guess I'll just have to wait and see."
"That you will," she replied archly.
………
She was definitely trying to get revenge on him for something, Mamoru knew. The plate was huge—whatever it was—and she had the largest smile on her face.
"Vanilla crème brulee," she announced proudly, when he looked at the image of the plate skeptically. "It looked interesting and I'm not in the mood for cakes." Haruka picked up the spoon that came with. "Though… I don't think I was expecting it to be quite so large," she said ruefully. "Had I known, I would have gotten one for us to share. Oh, well, there's always next time."
Saying nothing, Mamoru decided to make the best of it. Picking up his spoon, he dug in. It wasn't bad—not too sweet, not too bitter; nice and refreshing, he decided. If this was her revenge, then he could have ended a lot worse; she could have chosen the sweetest thing on the menu for him. He thanked the gods that she seemed more humane than Sierra. Haruka followed his example, chatting about little things, hoping to get a reaction out of the normally austere man. She got one—P.E. in school; he started to question her about it; the conversation made it feel like they were on a real date. Soon, however, she fell silent and looked out the window. A shadow slipped into a dark alley the next block over; another moved to join it and another after. Haruka put her spoon down and pushed her chair back a bit. Mamoru noticed the change immediately and a frown etched itself onto his face.
"What's wrong?" he asked, putting his own spoon down.
Haruka glared at the tabletop, angry tears lashing down her cheeks and into the dessert.
"Is everything all right?" their server asked, approaching the table with concern.
Mamoru ignored him. By now, the entire café was quiet; girls whispered to each other speculations about Haruka's tears. The main consensus was that Mamoru had done something to make her cry.
"Hey," the swordsman said, reaching out and putting his hand on her shoulder. She was trembling and it wasn't from her tears—she was afraid of something and angry, too. "What's happening?" he asked.
"I'm sick of my dates with you being ruined," she mumbled.
"Eh?"
Drying her tears quickly, Haruka stood and looked down at him solemnly. "If we go right now, no one else will be involved."
Mamoru's jaw clenched. "Shit," he complained, tossing a generous amount of money onto the table and bolting up. With an odd grace that belied his blindness, he turned to the three servers and looked beyond them to the girl in the kitchen. He fixed them all with a piercing glare. The wait staff shivered. They didn't need to see his eyes to feel the intensity of his look.
"You didn't see us here," he said, his voice quiet, but menacing. "Any of you," he continued, sending the warning to everyone in the restaurant. "And if I find that you did, I'll be paying you a visit. And you all should know that my ears work just fine. Trust me," he commented, slinging his cane to balance on his shoulder, "you all would rather deal with the Yakuza goons than me," he finished with a maniac smile emblazoned on his face.
Then, he was gone, with Haruka hot on his tail. Outside, he grabbed her hand and linked their fingers before dashing away from the café and the remnants of their ruined date.
………
Inside the Green Café, the wait staff and guests slowly began to shake off the paralysis left by the strange swordsman. Masuda and Kikuchi approached Mikami. "What did he mean by 'my ears work just fine?'" Masuda asked.
"He said he was blind," Mikami said, adjusting his glasses.
"What? Blind?" Emi asked, coming out of the kitchen. "No way!"
"So he claimed. And he wouldn't take a menu for that reason. He told the girl to order for him." Mikami turned to the others with a smirk. "He didn't act or move like a blind person, did he?"
"Doesn't matter," Masuda said, spying the men approaching the café and turning to the table where they'd been. "They weren't here, remember?" Sweeping the money off the table, he shoved it into Mikami's apron. "Ring up their order after these men are gone."
The bespectacled waiter gave a sharp nod, having also seen the men.
"Nakazawa-san, please clean the table," he said, turning to his girlfriend.
"Right!" Emi efficiently stacked plates, glasses, and silverware and whisked them off to the kitchen. When she returned, she scrubbed the table thoroughly, replacing the small vase of flowers and votive candle where they'd been.
Turning to the other two waiters, he said, "You two have guests to tend to."
"Absolutely."
"On it."
Taking a deep breath, Masuda reached into his apron for his cell phone, making sure that it was on. Then, he turned to the door, waiting. "Welcome," he greeted jovially. "May I help you gentleman? Did you wish for a table?"
The men exchanged glances and one of them coughed. "Actually, we got the news that this girl might have been seen here just a bit ago," one of them said, removing a picture from his breast pocket and handing it to Masuda.
The waiter kept his face studiously blank as he took the picture.
"She ran away from home a few days ago and was then kidnapped."
I can't believe that, he thought, looking at the out-dated photo briefly before handing it back. "Sorry," he said. "We haven't seen this person before."
"You're sure? Take another look," the man urged, not taking the photo back.
"It's Sunday, sir. I've been here all day. This person hasn't been here."
"How about the other three?"
"They've been here all day, too. Nakazawa-san, have you seen this person today?" he asked, holding up the photo.
Emi shook her head. "I've never seen her before."
"Kikuchi?" Masuda inquired, turning to him. "Seen her today?"
"Nope!" came the cheerful reply. "I'd remember someone that cute!"
"Mikami?"
"Oh! What an absolutely adorable kitten!" he crowed. "Is she coming in sometime soon? I'd love to wait on her!"
Masuda turned back to the men, handing the picture back. "I'm afraid that's that. She hasn't been here today."
"How about this person?" another asked, stepping forward and taking a picture out of his pocket and handing it to him.
Masuda stared at the picture of the blind man that had accompanied her. Now he gave them an affronted look. "Gentleman, this might sound a bit sexist and I apologize if it does, but Green Café caters mainly to women. We haven't seen her and we most certainly haven't seen him!" he said, shoving the picture back. "And on that note, you've disturbed business enough. Please leave before I call the police!"
Unsatisfied, but unable to do anything more, the men left reluctantly. "Sorry we disturbed you," one apologized, bowing. "But her parents are desperate to find her and the police suspect that he kidnapped her after she ran away. Sounds weird, I know, but what some people won't do for money, right? If you see her, please tell her that her parents are looking for her."
He's the one that paid, however. I doubt there's money involved in this venture on his part at all! "I shall. Good day, gentleman."
The door shut and Masuda waited until they were gone from his sight before letting out a relieved sigh that was echoed by most of the people in the restaurant. Turning, he began to thank their clients for playing along and apologized profusely that they had to deal with that. Then, he walked into the kitchen and found Emi drying the spotless dishes that their customers had used. He felt a rush of love and gratitude for her. Caging her slim body with his arms, he laid his head on her should and inhaled her unique scent. She lowered the plate gently to the counter.
"They were probably Yakuza and after her for something else entirely," he said. "I can't see a girl like that running away from home like they said."
"No," Emi agreed.
"Is it wrong to be more afraid of a blind man than Yakuza thugs?" he queried.
Emi thought about the man in question. She'd seen him only from the kitchen—but blind or not, he gave her a look that seemed to cut right through her. A chill ran down her back just recalling it. His voice had been coarse and menacing. His lips had pulled into a frightening, maniac smile that promised bad things; his walking stick had acted more like a sword than a blind man's cane. She was scared just thinking about him. Stretching her hand a bit, she covered his and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "I think it would be stupid if you weren't afraid of him."
He let out a breath. "Good."
………
Dodging into a narrow alley, Mamoru stopped to give Haruka time to catch her breath. "How many?" he asked.
"Two chasing us from behind, three in front; the five coming from the café," she panted.
Damn. They were being boxed in. Outside the alley lay open area with a high potentiality for getting innocent by-standers involved. Inside the alley, space was limited; their bodies had barely an inch between them. He led her through the alley. Staying meant they were sitting ducks and that was unacceptable. He took her hand again. "We have to keep moving. How long until they catch up?"
"If we go into the third building on the right after this block, it'll buy us a lot of time," she said sagely.
"How much time?"
"Twenty minutes, at least."
He didn't like it, but it was something. With her in tow, Mamoru began to run. Dodging into the building he stopped and frowned when people sitting in various pews looked up at them before continuing on with their prayers. A church. She'd told him to go into a church. What the hell was she thinking, he wondered, glancing at her. He heaved a sigh. If she hadn't told him anything now, he doubted she'd say anything at all. Well, no matter. He had no desire to spill blood in a church, but if worst came to worst… He began to look around for a suitable place for her to hide. There. The confession box. As good a place as any.
He started to approach, but she seized his hand and pulled with all her might. When she was twelve, that only worked when he was surprised; other times, it was laudable, but ineffective. At sixteen, it made a difference. Her sudden tug threw off his balance and sent him careening backwards. Mamoru managed to catch himself before he slammed into her and sent them both crashing to the floor. "What's—"
"Not the confession box!" she hissed, cutting him off.
Straightening, the swordsman frowned at her warning. "What happens if I ignore that?" he asked softly.
He saw her outline raise a hand and pantomime with one finger a throat being sliced. He frowned. Well wasn't that cheery? He ushered Haruka over there anyhow, a plan forming in his mind.
"Mamoru-san?" she asked, when he deposited her into the thick shadows of the outer nave and began to make his way over to the box.
"Quiet!" he commanded. "Stay there."
"But—"
He aimed a smile back at her. "Trust me," he said.
"Okay."
Flicking out a few loud-hailers, he was able to see a lone person sitting in the box, waiting. He's waiting for me, I'll bet, Mamoru thought. If all else failed, have an assassin in every building that he and Haruka could possibly hide in. And of course, it went without saying that he would go in the box first to make sure there were no waiting traps before pronouncing it safe. It was what a good bodyguard did, after all. Stealthily, he approached the clergy side of the box.
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," he intoned in a low, menacing voice, before dragging the priest out bodily from his waiting trap. The knife that the priest held clattered to the floor and was kicked away by Mamoru. A parishioner would find it tomorrow after returning from the bathroom and take that as a sign that she shouldn't leave Buddhism, after all.
Holding the struggling priest tightly, Mamoru scanned the inside of the box and marveled at how clumsy but accurate it would have been. A space right where the throat of the victim would be had been crafted into the wood of the confession box, allowing for the removal of a small rectangle. From there, it was an easy task to reach in and slit a throat—so long as you knew the right box. And then, unless one knew what to look for, no one would have been the wiser as to how the priest managed to find a dead body on the other side when he opened the piece meant for him to look through, and no one would suspect the priest, either.
"Slitting people's throats on the side now, good Father?" he asked. "Or is it just my throat you're aiming for?"
The reports that Ian St. George had received about Hijikata Mamoru stated that the man was a true monster that didn't necessarily mind resorting to extreme violence. Mamoru went on. "And here I thought that it was against the Good Book to kill."
Hearing that, and from someone like Mamoru, stung. The priest began to struggle fiercely, trying to get away. Mamoru simply held him tighter.
"How do you intend to make this up to me, priest?" he demanded, his voice silky and dangerous. It sent goose bumps down the old man's spine. "Don't tell me you thought you were actually going to get away with it? Tsk, Father. Maybe," he said, hefting his sword, "I should remove the hand that held the knife? It would serve as an excellent reminder to never hold one with that intent again. That's fair, right? What's this? You don't approve?" he asked, when the priest began to struggle in earnest.
Disgusted, Mamoru dropped the man.
"What will you do?" Ian St. George asked, resignedly.
"I'm going to give you a choice," Mamoru said slowly. "You can choose to have your hand amputated, or you can do your job as a priest and perform a wedding ceremony."
It took Ian St. George a good minute to process the latter half of what the swordsman offered. He'd expected to have to choose between amputation or death. "What? A marriage ceremony? For who?"
"Me."
Him, the priest wondered, staring up at the spectacled man. But who else… Haruka shuffled out of the shadows, clearing up that mystery.
"Does this mean you'd rather have your hand cut off?" Mamoru asked, brandishing his sword.
So be it, then. "I thought you wanted a wedding ceremony?" the priest asked, pulling himself into a standing position.
Giving a sharp nod, Mamoru sheathed his katana. "Try anything funny and you will regret it, understand?"
"Boy, I've been alive longer than you. How stupid do you think I am?"
"Stupid enough that you'd turn yourself into a killer and debase yourself," Mamoru answered, following the priest.
"Humph. You really do see through to the heart of things, don't you?"
"Guess I do."
"May I ask why?"
Mamoru thought for a moment before replying. "It's the best solution," he said quietly, making sure Haruka didn't hear. "And it gives me the best of reasons."
The old priest's eyes widened and he turned to Mamoru, seeing the man in a new light. He began to wonder how much of the report he'd been given was true.
"What?" came the menacing question.
"I think you've been greatly misrepresented," he said, softly.
"Bah," the swordsman said, disgusted. "Let's go—let's get this show on the road." He stalked past the priest and Haruka scampered after him, glad that she'd taken the time to dress nicely. Mamoru hadn't known how right he was when he said back at the café that today was her day. It was indeed—today was her wedding day.
………
Haruka's second kiss was the following day after her first, sometime in the early afternoon at an impromptu wedding. A slim, gold band slid smoothly onto her left ring finger as Mamoru repeated himself after the priest. Then it was her turn. Their witnesses and only guests watched with starry-eyed wonder. In a daze herself, Haruka heard herself repeating after the clergyman as she slid a heavier, thicker gold band onto Mamoru's left hand. A strange sensation buoyed into her stomach and she watched him with bated breath, gripping his hand tightly.
"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride," he told Mamoru.
Mamoru focused on Haruka. "Until death do us part, right?" he asked, as a suspicion filtered into his mind.
"Until death do us part," she agreed, her voice solemn and a little sad.
Leaning forward, Mamoru bestowed on Haruka her second kiss; it was a simple kiss—neither drab nor wildly passionate but tingles traveled up her spine, one right after another and she found herself gripping his jacket for support as she grew weak-kneed. She pulled away not too long after and Mamoru looked at her, confused for a moment, before finally understanding. Their twenty minutes were up.
"Go out the back way," the priest said tersely. "Especially since you're not supposed to be leaving at all. God be with you, children."
Taking Haruka's hand again, the newly wed couple left using the Emergency Exit. And not a moment too soon. The thugs that had been chasing the couple burst into the church, looking around for a captured girl and dead swordsman. It was with great disappointment that the priest informed the men that the two had never shown up in the first place and next time, not to waste his time. The men left grumbling to regroup and plan again. Ian St. George thought that whoever or whatever Hijikata Mamoru had been in the past, he was a different man now, in the present. A smile lit up the old man's face. Having someone to protect could do that.
………
Haruka's third kiss happened when she and Mamoru returned home. Before she could cross the threshold of the house, Mamoru scooped her up and carried her across. Whether he'd meant it as a romantic gesture, or simply thought she'd need the physical support after all that running, she didn't know. She decided to think of it in terms of romance, however.
The house was empty, save for a note from Sierra stating that she and Igawa were out and they would be back later. Sighing, Haruka began to make her way to her room, only to be stopped by Mamoru before she could. He pulled her into his room, instead. To his mind, this was fitting. She was his wife, now. Inside his room, she crawled onto his mattress and made herself at home against the headboard. His previous train of thought from when they'd wed came back to him.
"Did you know that was going to happen?" he demanded.
She hesitated for a second before saying, "Yes. I knew."
"Igawa and Sierra?"
"They knew, yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Haruka clasped her knees to her chest and frowned at him. "What should I have said at the age of twelve? Hi, I'm your future wife. That won't happen for a few more years, but in the meantime, will you protect me from the people who want to use my powers? You'd have dropped me off at the nearest loony bin."
She was right and Mamoru knew it. He'd have never believed an outrageous story like that. Stories like that belonged in shoujo manga for teenage girls with no worries to read. Lowering himself to the bed, he clasped his hands together and lost himself in thought. Her life, he decided, had to completely suck. It seemed painful to him that she'd never been able to experience things like sudden surprise and the joy that came with it. He imagined that if she'd ever had any surprise birthday parties, she had to work very hard to be surprised, seeing as she likely knew it was going to happen. If it concerned her or those connected to her, she knew what would happen. What must it be like to know that this is what will happen to you, day-to-day; sometimes hour-to-hour, Mamoru wondered. To know that these people from an emerging country on the other side of the world would want to use her; to know that a certain company would perform horrendous experiments on her; to know that this person whom you accosted at the age of twelve will one day be the man you marry? If I saw what she saw, I would probably be insane, by now. In that instance, Mamoru knew that even though he was blind, he had it easier than she did.
Haruka curled up against the wall and rested her forehead on the headboard, waiting patiently for him to speak again. "I can't imagine your life," he said at last.
She smiled sadly. "It's not all bad," Haruka said. "I met you, finally. And Igawa-san and Sierra-san. You guys became my light and gave me something constructive to do with my abilities. That made it more bearable."
He smiled at that. The light at the end of the tunnel. Shifting, he turned to her and caged her body between his and the headboard. She felt a flutter of excitement at his close proximity. "So about that boy who kissed you, yesterday. You knew that was going to happen?"
"Unfortunately," she agreed.
"Well, here's something he should be made aware of. I'm very possessive. Very." Mamoru cradled her face between his hands; he caressed her cheekbones with calloused thumbs, tenderly. "And you're mine, now. Make sure he understands that if he touches you again, he'll lose some fingers."
She nodded. Tipping her head upwards, he gently pressed his lips to hers and waited for any kind of reaction. When a he heard a soft, pleading sound come from the back of her throat, he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss.
It was too much, too fast and she shoved away from him, covering her mouth with her hand. She hadn't expected that! "I'm sorry!" she said quickly, when she saw him frown. "That was my fault!"
"Your fault?" he asked incredulously. "How is that your fault?"
Her cheeks turned crimson. "It was… surprising. I didn't expect it, that's all."
He should have known that. Mentally, he kicked himself for not knowing. He sighed. What had he been thinking? She couldn't foresee everything. He would have to take this slowly, one step at a time. Taking her hands, he placed them on his chest. "If it gets to be too much, push me away. I will stop. I have no interest in forcing you to do something you don't want to do or aren't ready for."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who should be apologizing—but I'd rather make it up to you."
He kissed her again, gently. Haruka closed her eyes, savoring the contact with him… her husband. A jolt ran down her spine when she realized that she was indeed married to him. When Mamoru felt no protest from her, he deepened the kiss again just a little bit and a little bit more. This time, when his tongue asked for entrance, it wasn't unexpected. He wrapped his arms around her, completely engulfing her petite body in his arms. Her hands slipped away from his chest, breaking the last final restraint. This time it was he who pulled away when her arms wrapped tentatively around his neck, bring them even closer; it was going to go too far if he didn't stop now. She grabbed his shirt before he could remove his arms from her.
"More," she told him, giving him a resolute look that he felt rather than saw.
"Are you sure?" he demanded. "Do you even know what you're asking?"
"Of course I know. And of course I'm sure. And don't ask if I saw this happening," she said crossly.
He blew out a breath. There were, after all, some things that one didn't ask. "I won't," he told her. He kissed her again, his mouth demanding. When only a pleased sigh escaped her mouth, Mamoru pressed her body closer to his, earning himself a small gasp from her. He wrapped her legs around his hips and continued his explorations with his hands and mouth.
"Relax," he said, suddenly, breaking away. "You're too tense." He ran a hand up and down her back, soothingly. "Remember, it's still up to you. I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do."
"Sorry," she told him, trying to regain her breath.
"And stop apologizing," Mamoru commanded. "You have nothing to be sorry for."
"Yes."
"Tell me when."
Dropping her head, the clairvoyant took a few moments to compose herself. Finally, she looked up at him and said, "When."
………
Later, Haruka collapsed in his arms, trying to gain her breath back. She was slightly sore, but, as they said, 'this too, shall pass' and it had been her first time. He'd known that and made every possible effort to be gentle. She sighed and laid her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. That was a sound that she would never grow tired of.
"Are you all right?" he asked, running calloused fingertips up and down her exposed side. She shivered.
"Yes," she said. "I'm fine." She fell silent for a few seconds before saying, "I'm really, really happy."
"That so?" he asked, grinning.
"Yes."
"Good."
"But I couldn't do anything for you," she told him, soberly.
"Really?" He sounded disinterested in this logic of hers.
She glared at him. "What?"
"Seems to me you do plenty already. You warn me of things to come; you support me; you trust me with your most precious possession. And now, you've decided to stay by my side and married me," he said, tapping her wedding band. "What exactly couldn't you do for me?"
Well when he put it like that… "You're right," she concluded.
"Yes," he said, rolling back on top of her. "I am. You'll learn," he told her, removing his glasses. "So don't worry."
She gently fingered one of the thick scars around his eyes and was happy when he didn't flinch away or stop her. "I won't. Can we start from the beginning?"
"Of course. Because we have until death do us part, don't we?"
"No, we have longer. We have forever," she said, pressing her lips to his.
……….
When Tachibana Haruna walked into school on Monday, everyone knew that she was different; the majority of them didn't know exactly how she was different, they just knew she was. There were a few, however, that knew—maybe they weren't in the same boat, but they'd been on the same bandwagon. Of those who didn't really understand, Togashi Keniichiro had been the first to comment to her that she seemed different, somehow. When he inquired about her answer towards his confession, she smiled regretfully and refused, stating that he'd really rather not date her at all. There were plenty of girls in her class that he could date. Disappointed, he turned away, the epitome of dejection and pity. Haruka watched him go, fingering the gold band that hung on a chain beneath her uniform. Mamoru had insisted that she not wear it at all. What if someone saw it? She, however, insisted upon wearing. Who cared if someone saw? She could always say it was a memento from her grandmother.
I don't know why Togashi-sempai was so upset, she thought, walking over to where Mamoru was waiting. "I refused him," she said, before Mamoru could ask. "He looked so dejected when I told him that he'd be better off dating one of the other girls in my class. He should be happy with those girls," she commented. "They don't have possessive husbands that would gladly remove his fingers. Really, I don't know what sempai's problem is," Haruka complained.
Mamoru smirked and took her hand. "I met you long before he did. The others are waiting. Let's go."
~Owari