Daylight Moon
Chapter 1: Crossed Paths
The streets were crowded that day, more than usual given the lateness of the season. The air was crisp and cold and the sky overcast with thick clouds, dark harbingers to the coming of the first snowfall. All around the townsfolk bustled about, hoping to get their shopping done quickly so that they could return to their homes. Their breath imitated the clouds as they gossiped, bargained, and argued with each other and the shopkeepers. They created quite a mist, as the city was small and everyone was anxious to share conversation and news before settling in for the winter.
I, too, will have to find someplace to settle, Himura Kenshin reminded himself, wandering aimlessly about the streets. His gaze drifted from shop to shop, seeing past them rather than the buildings themselves. He blindly took in the clothing, food, and antique stores that relentlessly peddled their wares; he had little interest in what was for sale, and an even smaller amount of money to pay for them. As a wanderer he had grown accustomed to living without trivial or unnecessary things, especially in the winter when work was scarce. Since it was often too snowy to travel during the late months he usually found an inn that was willing to let him work for food and shelter, and there stayed until the snows began to melt. And as spring came so too would he move, further south, until the seasons began anew.
"Hey, mister! Mister, with the sword!" called one of the street venders. "Are you interested in replacing those clothes of yours? I've got—"
"No, thank you," Kenshin replied politely. "I'm fine." He moved on quickly. Often he was noticed and called upon by the shop-owners—the sword he carried made him stick out like a flare, to say nothing of his unusual red hair and violet eyes. But most obvious of his appearance was the crossed scar on his left cheek. It was his mark; a reminder of older, painful days and even more painful memories. He was fortunate in that no one ever made comment of it to his face. Somehow their whispers, however, always reached his ears.
Two years….Only two years of wandering, and already I feel as if an eternity….But it can't be helped. Kenshin paused suddenly, his attention drawn by a faint, very familiar odor. He turned his head sharply toward the smell. It was sweet and delicate, and yet his heart twisted sharply with recognition. He left the busy street to investigate the cause even as his senses instructed him otherwise.
The source was a small shop nestled between two larger ones: a perfume shop. Several samples had been placed on the window ledge where the keeper stood, speaking to the women that passed by. Kenshin approached slowly. The scent grew stronger, until he was standing before a small bottle labeled in carefully drawn letters: "White Plums."
"White plums, isn't it?" asked a lady beside him. Kenshin tried to pay her no notice, convincing himself that he didn't care, but the familiar scent held him, trapped by the sickness in his heart. He stared at the bottle, breathing in the fragrance as if, somehow, it could transcend reality and alter time for only a moment. As if it could make him remember every detail of the woman he'd once known who had worn such a perfume, even as he longed to forget.
"Yes. We don't get many people to buy it, though. It's not popular anymore."
"I see. It is a rather interesting fragrance though, isn't it?"
The voice was familiar. Though Kenshin's ears registered this fact, his mind did not.
"Well, will you buy it, then?"
The lady chuckled. "You're a clever one. Actually, I'd like this one: the Lilly."
"Thank you very much."
The lady paid for her purchase, then tucked the vile into her kimono for safe-keeping. Only then did Kenshin turn to look, having returned somewhat from his brief reminiscences. His gaze was met by that of a beautiful woman with long, flowing dark hair, and eyes that were a deep oak-wood brown. She was wearing a kimono of night-sky blue, decorated with ornate pink cherry blossoms from top to bottom. Her features were sharp with her youth—they were features he recognized clearly.
She must have recognized him as well, for her eyes widened in surprise. "H-Himura! I mean, you are Himura, aren't you?" Her lips quickly formed a grin. "It is you! I didn't know you were in this city."
Kenshin stared back, too startled by her sudden appearance to speak right away. "You're…Idaira Kimiko. I haven't seen you for almost ten years." Idaira Kimiko had been Kenshin's friend as a child, though even then they had rarely seen each other. His training under the hermit swordsman Hiko Seijuurou had prevented him from entering the town they shared very often. Seeing her now, after so long, was shocking.
"My goodness, you've aged," Kimiko went on, looking him over. Her gaze lingered momentarily at his scar, but she ignored it once she saw that it was making him uncomfortable. "But you still look the same, somehow. It's so good to see you. Have you been living here for very long?"
He shook his head. He felt oddly nervous in her presence, and his heart leapt into his throat whenever she asked a question. He was afraid that she'd ask something he would not be able to easily answer. "No, not at all. I've…been wandering."
"As I can see." She plucked at his sleeve, indicating a tear that had been stitched. "Do you have a place to stay, yet?"
"Actually…no."
Kimiko smiled at him. It was strange to see it—he couldn't remember the last time anyone had genuinely smiled at him in a pleased manner, not meant as a taunt. "Good. Why don't you stay with me in my house? My husband is away, but I'm sure he won't mind. Besides, I'm a bit lonely out there. Will you join me? I'd hate to think of you wandering out there when the snow falls."
Kenshin admitted silently that he himself shared such sentiments. Though it was against his morality to take advantage of her hospitality, logically she was solving the problem he'd pondered earlier. It would be a welcomed change to stay for a while with someone who knew him. More than that, a friend.
"Alright. I'm sorry for imposing."
"Of course not. You've been invited." She started away from the shop, with Kenshin just beside her. "I have to do some more shopping, anyway. Would you mind helping to carry some things?"
"Not at all." Kenshin followed her from shop to shop, gathering several food articles as well as paper and writing ink. The shopping didn't take long, and soon they were on their way to the outskirts of the city. He was grateful that she didn't live inside the city itself—if possible, he wished to avoid contacting many people. The winter months often weighed heavily upon his mind, and during such times he long for privacy above all else.
When the they reached Kimiko's house, Kenshin nearly staggered in amazement at its size. "Kimiko-san," he stumbled, "this is your house?" It was two stories tall, twice the size of a normal dwelling in such a small city. How did she ever…?
"Yes, this is it." She led him up the path to the main room. "You see, I'm Ueda Kimiko, now." The tone of her voice changed ever so slightly as she said the name. "This is my husband's house."
"Ueda?" Kenshin frowned, opening the panel for her to step inside. He slipped out of his sandals and followed. "But, I thought…"
Kimiko chuckled faintly. "Isn't it ironic? After everything…I ended up marrying Ueda Shinjirou." She continued into the kitchen. "I would have liked to have married Aono, but he died near the beginning of the war. And since most of my family had died, my husband offered to marry me, and take care of our farm." She began to put away the groceries as she related the tale with a calm, unwavering voice, as if it had happened to someone other than her. "So, we agreed. That was several years ago. This house is only for the winter. My husband is still with the farm, settling everything before the snow falls. Thank you." She took the rest of the groceries from him and put them away as well.
So…Aono Shou is dead…. Kenshin took a moment for respectful silence. "I'm sorry about Aono. He was a good friend."
"Yes, he was."
Kimiko had just about finished the small chore when a young woman entered the kitchen. Her dark hair had been tied up with a piece of dirty cloth, and she was clothed in the simple outfit of a maid. "Oh, Kimiko-sama, what are you doing in here?" the maid asked. She paused when she saw Kenshin, and bowed deeply. Her tone changed to a very precise, practiced speech. "Forgive me, sir. I am my mistress's servant, Minaya Jinko. Please tell me if I can ever be of any assistance to you." She rose again and faced her mistress, and instantly her voice returned to that of a flustered young maid. "Kimiko-san, why didn't you send me on the errands? Ueda-sama told us to take care of everything."
"Oh, don't be silly, Jinko." Kimiko smiled at the younger girl's agitation. "I can take care of these simple things by myself. I did grow up a farmer's girl, after all. Now, why don't you make some tea for Himura and myself? We'll take it in the next room." She began to lead Kenshin out of the kitchen. "And tell Saya and Ryuuka to prepare one of the guest rooms. Himura's going to be staying with us for a while."
"Certainly, Kimiko-sama."
Kenshin followed, frowning thoughtfully to himself. "They treat you with great respect," he remarked.
"They treat me like an Empress," Kimiko complained in response as they moved into the next room. "As if I can't handle anything without help. They forget that I spent my entire childhood working on a farm, and taking care of my grandfather." She chuckled. "Forgive me. I shouldn't put my problems on you. You're my guest, after all." She seated herself beside a small table in the center of the room.
"I don't mind." He took a seat across from her on the flat cushions. "I haven't seen you in so long."
"Yes, it has been long, hasn't it?" She smiled warmly at him, and a bit of a blush entered her cheeks. "I feel so much older now. And you look like a man! How old are you now?"
Kenshin scratched the back of his head, hoping she wouldn't notice that he was ticking off fingers with his other hand. "Um…twenty-one…I think…."
"That's just like you to forget. But then, with the war, I'm sure everything seems a little odd."
He nodded just barely. His pulse quickened momentarily, having not expected her to mention the war so openly. Though for several years it had been his life, now he was anxious to leave such bitter memories behind. If possible, he wished that she would avoid the subject all-together.
"Kimiko-san," Kenshin spoke up, hoping to change the subject, "what happened to the village after I left? Is everyone well?"
Thankfully, she seemed to sense his need for a new topic to discuss. "The village hasn't been quite the same in the past few years, but everyone is doing well. Just a few weeks ago Masahiro-san came to visit. He's married now."
"Oh, really?"
They pair continued to talk, reminiscing about old times and laughing like the children each remembered the other to be. Kimiko shared many stories of her life with Ueda over tea; her girlish spirit seemed to have not waned at all over the years of her adult life. Though Kenshin could be prompted to entertain her with tales of his wanderer's journeys, he danced about the subject of the war, as if the years of which were missing from his memory. She didn't press him on the issue. He was a bit surprised that her curiosity was not more forceful on the matter—not once did she question his scar, or his duties during the fighting. When he realized that she had no intention of divulging his secrets, he found her very easy to talk to.
Several hours passed, and it was soon late in the evening. Kimiko's maids served them dinner, though would not join them despite Kimiko's request. "I try to include them," she confided in Kenshin later, "but they simply don't understand my feelings. Even if there are so many of them about, I don't feel as if I can talk to a single one of them. It's as if I'm alone in this big house." She sighed, finishing the last bits of her meal. "That's why I'm so glad you're here. I'll have someone to talk to during these cold months."
"The pleasure is mine, too." Kenshin also finished. "Shall we take care of the dishes ourselves, then?"
She giggled, as if he was suggesting something mischievous. "Jinko will be upset again."
"Well I, for one, have to earn my stay." He collected the dishes and started for the kitchen, his host right on his tail. They continued to talk as he washed the cups and bowls, dodging out of the way of the flustered and anxious maids. Kenshin found that he was smiling, as if they were playing a game. His face felt strange, reminding him of how long it had been when he'd smiled last.
"Here's your room." Kimiko slid the panel open, revealing a well-kept guest room with a futon and extra blankets. "There's a small oven in the corner, if it gets too cold in your room," she explained. "And a change of clothing, since yours are so…used." She chuckled, plucking at his outfit. "Another part of you that hasn't changed. The bath room is just down the hall, and I'm sure Saya will prepare one for you if you need it."
"Thank you." Kenshin entered hesitantly. It had been a while since he'd stayed in as nice a room as this. Despite the many changes in his routine taking place, he was quickly beginning to enjoy it. The atmosphere here was pleasant, and warm; even seeing Kimiko's face, so unchanged from the years when he'd known her, reminded him of happier, less burdened times. "I really appreciate all you've done for me, Kimiko-san."
"It's nothing at all! Please, sleep well." Kimiko smiled, her cheeks reddening a bit again, and left him for the night.
Daylight Moon
Chapter 2: Pure White Snow
When Kenshin awoke, he was momentarily puzzled to find himself between the covers of a warm futon, in a well-kept room. He remembered soon enough that he had spent the night in Kimiko's house, as her guest. The thought of awakening to breakfast with a friend brought a smile to his lips, though the expression was not without remorse. He climbed out of the covers, shivering a bit at the chill in the air. He took a step toward retrieving his clothing; the tatami made a slight noise.
"Himura-sama, are you awake?"
Kenshin froze. "Who's there?" he called, turning toward the sliding panel. The outline of a woman was there. "Kimiko-san?"
"Forgive me, but no. Her maid, Saya." The woman sounded a bit older than Jinko, but no less polite. "Kimiko-sama wanted to make sure that…well, that you would wear the clothes she provided."
He frowned thoughtfully, then smiled. She knows me too well. He hadn't intended on taking her offer—he didn't want to impose on her hospitality—but now it seemed that he had no choice. "You don't need to worry about me, Saya-san. I can take care of myself."
"With all respect, Himura-sama, it's my duty to take care of you. Please allow me to fold the futon and wash your clothing."
Kenshin made a face at the panel, finally understanding why Kimiko disliked the treatment of her maids. How am I supposed to earn my stay if they do all the chores? I'll have nothing to do. He sighed, reasoning that there would be something later on for him. "Thank you very much, Saya-san. I'll change quickly."
Once Kenshin had changed into the clothes Kimiko had offered—they were a bit big, and of paler colors than he usually wore—he allowed another servant, Ryuuka, to lead him to breakfast. Kimiko was already there and waiting patiently. "I thought you'd never wake up," she said pleasantly as he entered. "It's nearly mid-morning."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were waiting for me." Kenshin sat across from her, and soon after breakfast was brought. "I guess, I was glad to sleep in a such a nice place."
She chuckled. "It's a good thing I met you yesterday; it snowed last night. The first fall of the season. Have you seen?"
Kenshin paused in eating his rice, glancing momentarily at the screen which led outside. He felt his chest grow tight momentarily at the thought of the arrival of winter. For the sake of his hostess, he fit a smile into his expression. "I'm sure it's beautiful, but I'm glad I wasn't outside last night."
"Shall we go out later? I always go outside to see the first snow. It's gorgeous this time of year."
He nodded, a bit vague in his response. In truth he wasn't looking forward to such an outing; the delicate, brilliant white only reminded him of winters past, and the memories that went with them. He hoped that Kimiko would forget her suggestion, and allow him to instead perform some chores for her.
After breakfast, however, she didn't hesitate in bringing up the subject again, and Kenshin had no choice but to accept. He was given another layer of clothing to change into, and met with Kimiko near the rear of the mansion. Where there had once been a breath-takingly beautiful garden there was now only a sea of silver glitter, blanketing the earth and trees. Though the sun was dulled by clouds that morning, the glare off the snow was painful to the eyes.
Kimiko didn't seem to mind. She leapt immediately from the outside porch into the snow, and promptly sank up to her shins. "Oh, cold cold cold!" She climbed out once more, laughing as she brushed off her legs. "I didn't realize it snowed so much! Isn't it wonderful? I've always loved the snow." She skipped further down, finding a path that had been plowed by the servants that morning. "They always leave me a place to walk, because they know how much I like it out here in the winter. Come on." Without waiting for a response she started down the path.
Kenshin sighed, and followed. The trail led out into an orchard of cherry trees—it might as well have been an orchard of clouds, looking at it now. He continued after Kimiko, trying not to stare at the surroundings for too long. The setting felt familiar to him—the snow hanging from the branches, filling the air with a chill that dared to reach deep within him with its icy touch. No matter how hard he tried to escape, the memories pursued, biting at his mind and dragging him down. He didn't want to be out here, his fingers so cold that they were numb.
"Himura?"
It wasn't until Kimiko spoke to him that he realized that he'd stopped walking. She was watching him, concern in her wide brown eyes. "Are you all right?" she asked. "You look upset."
Kenshin shook himself, determined not to indulge in his own problems in her presence. She didn't deserve his burden. "It's nothing. It's just…a bit cold." Unconsciously he reached up and touched his left cheek—his scar. The skin there had always been sensitive, and it felt the cold now more than the rest of him. He felt as if a dagger of ice had been taken to his face. "Please, don't let me spoil your fun."
But her stubborn nature refused to recoil from this chance. "It's the snow, isn't it?" she asked quietly, as if pulling the answers from his very mind. "Bad memories."
He started, confused and alarmed by her quick interpretation of his mood. Quickly he shook his head. "Um, no. It's just...I'm fine, really." He smiled, but the expression felt unconvincing even to him. "You don't need to worry."
Kimiko shook her head, still watching him with those same eyes that understood so much. "You look as if you've lost something important. Something precious, and you're looking for it in the snow."
Kenshin took a step back. He didn't want to hear her—her words that were already raising the memories. It was painful—terrifying, even. He couldn't face that past yet, not here with the winter's cold talons about him. When he spoke, his voice trembled on his lips. "Please, let's not talk about this."
Her face didn't change at first. He feared that she would inquire further, and held his breath in anticipation, but she didn't. She simply stared, as if judging something in her brain. At last her lips parted in a grin. She knelt down, collected a handful of snow, and trotted several feet away. He didn't understand what she was doing until the snowball smacked into his chest.
Kimiko giggled as he stared dumbly at the soggy projectile. "I told you I love the snow," she said cheerfully. "Now come on; let's make some memories."
Kenshin stared as she began to skip further down the path, waving him on. She's not going to ask he told himself, following. He breathed deeply once that fact was established in his mind. She won't ask. She knows you, somehow, and she won't.
It had been a long time since Kenshin had done anything for the sake of fun. They darted among the trees of the orchard, firing off snowballs at each other like a pair of children. Kimiko was much faster than he'd imagined, sneaking behind the lowest branches to ambush him from behind. It wasn't a challenge for him to detect her movements, limited as they were due to the added layer of earth, but for her sake he often feigned ignorance. Soon, they were both laughing so hard that they were forced to stop. Together they sat down in a snow drift, staring up the at silver heaven.
"Even the clouds are beautiful in winter," Kimiko said through a sigh. "Maybe a bit somber, but not quite so active as summer clouds, which are always jumping about."
Kenshin chuckled. His anxiety over the season had faded with their play, and for the first time in years staring into the gray-tone sky didn't cause his hear to throb with guilt. "I like spring clouds the best," he replied. "They bring the rain, which bring the flowers."
"That's true." A break in the clouds floated overhead, and in that glimpse of blue sky they could see the pale outline of the moon. She smiled at it in a kind of wistful, soft manner. "Foolish little moon," she whispered.
"Hmm?"
"The moon." Kimiko gestured to the orb as it was again swallowed by clouds. "Don't you think it's silly that the moon comes out during the day?"
"Silly?" He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "How's that?"
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and in that look he saw a trace of something he'd not noticed before. It almost looked like loneliness, a feeling he knew far too well. "Well, it doesn't belong," she said simply. "When the sun's out, you can barely see it at all." She turned her face upward again. "It shouldn't be out when it doesn't belong, looking pale and sad. At night, it is more beautiful than anything else."
Kenshin frowned. "Kimiko-san? Are you…all right?"
"What? Oh, yes." She faced him, smiling faintly even as her eyes were heavy. "It's just…sometimes I feel like that moon." Again her gaze departed. "In that big house by myself, with people who'd rather clean floors than hold a conversation than me. I grew up in a small house with several people—I'm not used to having so much freedom and nothing to do." He hand dipped into the snow, tossing a cloud of it into the air. "Sometimes I just want to be a farm girl again, I guess. Is that so bad?"
"Of course not." He admitted that he too often longed for days past. Once, he'd been idealistic and innocent. He'd played like normal kids did, and never regretted the choices he made. Even in training with his master, he'd been optimistic and full of passion. He would do anything to feel that clean again.
"You should keep trying," Kenshin told her deftly, hoping that in comforting his friend, he might too find some peace of mind. "I'm sure if you show them how much you care, they'll begin to understand your feelings. It's just hard for them because they're supposed to be your servants."
"Yes, I suppose that's right." She grinned. "And you're here now, too."
"I guess I am." He climbed to his feet, brushed himself off, and extended his hand. "Let's go see."
Kimiko took the offer immediately. "All right."
For the next several days Kenshin stayed in Kimiko's house. After some convincing the maids allowed him to help with the everyday chores: chopping firewood, shopping in the mornings, and even helping with laundry. He even managed to get Kimiko to help him, and she treated the labor as if it were a reward. He didn't see the hint of loneliness in her anymore, and though she often watched him closely she never asked about his scar or his memories.
Every morning they would escape the mansion to walk the orchard path, commenting on the progress of the snow's melting. Kimiko told amazing stories, and Kenshin listened with rapt attention. They were tales any child should have known, and yet nearly all were new to him. For those several days, he felt as if he'd been given a chance to reclaim some of the childhood fate had taken from him.
It was during once such morning that something happened. It wasn't a very large incident, but it occupied Kenshin's mind with such silently forcefulness that it was able to dominate his thoughts for hour. They had just left the mansion together, dressed in winter clothing and chuckling over one of the maids' jokes, when Kimiko reached out and took his hand. She didn't say anything, and neither did he. They continued to talk as they always did, but walked hand in hand, as if they indeed had become young children again.
But to Kenshin it meant something else. He was not a youth unaccustomed to feel of a woman's hand, and again his memories began to rise. Her skin was cold from the weather and dry, but her fingers were long and graceful. He felt that his were clumsy, rough, and old in comparison. An odd feeling came over him, as if she shouldn't have touched him that way, no matter how simple a contact it was. As if some of the blood saturated in his palm would find a way to enter hers.
The next morning when she went to take his hand again, he casually slipped it into his coat. He continued to chat as he usually did, pretending that nothing had been altered. And as far as he was concerned, nothing had. Even Kimiko acted normally. However, he did catch a glimpse of the look in her eyes, and was dismayed to find the lonesome expression he'd detected previously.
But they kept walking as if nothing had changed.
Daylight Moon
Chapter 3: In the Shadow…
As soon as Kenshin saw Kimiko that morning, he knew something was wrong. Her eyes danced about, refusing to meet his for even a moment, and her voice was awkward—she was listening to her own words, as if making sure that each was the one she intended. There were secrets in her mind. But strangely enough, he couldn't figure out if apprehension or joy guided her features. Before he could question her mood, they were joined by an aging woman whom he vaguely recognized.
"Kenshin, this is my mother, Idaira Hiromi," Kimiko introduced. Over the course of his stay she'd begun to call him by his first name. He didn't mind; it was a bit odd, however, as he wasn't used to responding to it. "She just returned from the farm." Then, calmly, she related the cause of her present state of mind. "My husband is still there, as they have been somewhat trapped by the fall of snow. He'll be unable to return here for several days, until the snow melts."
Kenshin bowed deeply to the elder woman. "A pleasure to meet you, Idaira-san. I hope your journey was pleasant."
The woman nodded, though she didn't look as pleased as he. "It was. Thank you, Himura Kenshin."
"I told Mother about you when she arrived earlier this morning," Kimiko explained. "She was glad to hear that you have been fairing well." She forced herself into a more cheerful demeanor. "Well, shall we have breakfast? I'm sure it's almost ready."
Later that day, Kenshin found Kimiko out in the orchard. She had gone ahead of him, which was outside their normal routine. He approached slowly. "Kimiko-san?" he asked softly, hoping to not intrude upon her private thoughts. He very well knew the value of such reprieves. "Are you all right?"
Kimiko glanced up at him, and he was treated to the same half-fearful, half-hopeful expression that had claimed her features all morning. As a swordsman he'd been a master at interpreting facial and body clues, but this one had him stumped. All he could tell was that he was the one causing it.
"Oh, I'm fine," Kimiko replied, motioning for him to sit beside her on the snowy bench. He did. "It's just…when I got the letter from my husband, I began thinking."
"I hope he's not ill…or hurt?"
"Oh no, of course not." She shook her head, still refusing to look him directly in the eye. "It's just…I don't know if I should be happy."
Kenshin frowned. Though he'd often suspected that love had little to do with her wedding Ueda in the first place, he'd received no indications that she disliked the man. "I don't understand."
"Well, I'm a bit nervous." Kimiko's hands curled around each other as she spoke. "I don't know what he'll think when he comes back and finds you here. I think…he might still remember what happened back in the village." She sighed. "But more than that, he doesn't approve of people that have no living, if you'll pardon my rudeness. He doesn't even like his servants. He might ask you to leave. So…I'm glad that he's not coming yet, but…when he does…. That's what I'm worried about."
Kenshin nodded, mulling over the situation. "I don't want to be a bother," he said truthfully. He didn't want to leave—he enjoyed sharing Kimiko's company, as she was easy to talk to and very kind. She had nothing but sympathy for his unwillingness to speak of his past, as well. But he also didn't want to cause any problems for the delicate life she was leading. "As soon as the snow melts, I'll leave."
She turned on him swiftly, her eyes carrying a bit of what might have been fear. "But…but where will you go?"
"To another inn, I guess," he answered. "You don't need to worry about me. I've been living by myself since I was fourteen."
"Yes…but…." Kimiko chewed on her lip. Her hope had been replaced by desperation. "But I don't want you to go. There's so much we still have to talk about—still so much to do. I…I thought…." She glanced away as if in shame. "I don't know what I really thought. I knew you'd have to go eventually, but…I just wanted this to last longer, I guess." She bit her lip, gathering her thoughts and courage. "For the first time in so long, I feel…like I'm not lonely. You've been more of a friend these past few days than any of the people in this house have been in years. And I don't want to lose you."
Kenshin gulped. Her words and tone were making his nervous. There was something else hidden in her female heart, which was a territory he could not claim to know or understand. "I don't want to stop being friends with you either, Kimiko-san," he said carefully, "but I don't want to cause any problems. You have a good life here. I can't take that."
Her hand took his. It surprised him, as she hadn't attempted to do so since the first time he evaded her advance. At last she was able to meet his gaze directly, and the look of anxiety and pain there stole his breath away. "Please, don't go," she begged. Her eyes were watering, and a tear liberated itself through a path down her cheek. "Please."
"I…." He didn't know what to do. She was pleading with him, and he couldn't honestly say that he would remain in this house for much longer. Already he and Kimiko had become amazing close—dangerously so. The more time they spent together, the more his fear grew. He didn't want her to see the terrible things he'd done, and he didn't know how to steal the sorrow from her gaze. He couldn't let himself get any closer. He was tempting fate already.
Kimiko lowered her head and leaned it against his shoulder. He didn't try to stop her; he hadn't the strength to do so even if he'd desired it. Instead he wrapped his arm around her, welcoming her against him as she began to cry. Even if he didn't understand the source of her pain, if could find some way to ease her despair he would welcome the chance. For despite all her strengths she was also frail, and lonely. Just as he often felt.
"I…know how it feels." Kenshin heard his voice before he realized that he was speaking. "To lose someone. To watch them go. It's scary, isn't it?"
"Yes." Kimiko clung to his thick winter coat, trying to wipe her tears away. "It hurts when you can't do anything."
"If only…one thing were different. That's what I always think." He swallowed with some difficulty, as his throat had begun to constrict with unwanted memories. "One change, and everything could work out, right? It always feels that way."
"Yes." She lifted her head and gazed into his deep violet eyes. Her lips turned in a faint smile. "I guess…we're more alike than we thought. We're both afraid of losing something."
Again Kenshin gulped. "I…guess so."
Kimiko's smiled widened a bit, and she returned to leaning against shoulder with her arm hooked around his. "Let's just stay like this for a while," she suggested, pulling her smaller body closer to his. She was warm, and she smelled of sweet perfume and spring. "Just a little bit longer."
"Alright."
That afternoon the snow began to fall anew. Kimiko was busy attending to household business, which left Kenshin to do the chores alone. He tried to keep to the house interior, so that he wouldn't have the feel the steadily increasing cold. But he couldn't keep his mind from wandering. For the first time in days he found himself remembering the war, recalling all those images that caused him so much pain. His fingers trembled around the dishes he washed. Fearful of his own frail heart he eventually abandoned the work and sought privacy in his room. It wasn't until nearly dinner that he emerged, searching for some human company to ease his pains. Kimiko would take his anxieties away. She always did, even if her presence raised a different kind of apprehension in him.
When he reached the main room, however, he found Hiromi, and not Kimiko. She was praying over the small shrine that had most likely been constructed in honor of her dead family. Kenshin allowed her silence, hoping to move on before disturbing her. He had started to leave when she spoke. "Why are you still here?"
Kenshin stopped, turning back. "I am a wanderer, Idaira-san," he answered with the most polite tone he could muster. He didn't want to antagonize his hostess. "I am merely seeking work to pay for my food."
"We don't need any more servants," Hiromi told him tartly, climbing to her feet. "Especially not murderers."
He froze with her words, his heart pouring its blood all through him until his skin felt hot. He quickly forced himself to take another breath. "So," he said weakly, "you know."
"Yes. I'm quite aware of the rumors." She faced him, her expression not malicious but very calm and still. "And my daughter is as well. She knows very well who and what you are, Battousai. I think everyone in the house knows by now. What will you do?"
Kenshin gulped. He didn't know what to do. If Kimiko knew…why hadn't she said so? Why did she consider to feign ignorance, and speak to him so openly? She should have been afraid, the way everyone feared his name.
"You won't find any peace here," the old woman continued. "She's not for you. She's married, with a good husband and a good life."
"She doesn't love Ueda," he said boldly, as if any change of subject could draw the knowledge of his identity away from her brain. "She's miserable here, Idaira-san."
Hiromi nodded faintly. "My daughter is a dreamer. She's been waiting for you, I think, to come and take her away. But could you provide for her, shelter her the way Ueda has? Forgive me for speaking so freely, but you are not a man that can easily be made a husband, are you?"
I don't want to be a husband. I…. Kenshin shook his head, as her words were plucking forth even more painful memories. "I…didn't come here to take her away. I just want to stay—she is my friend. Can't—"
"You can't love her the way she wants you to."
This is too much. I…what does she think I am? Can't I just…just stay here, where I'm wanted? I don't want to leave—not back into the cold. I can't live that life anymore, knowing that there's a place where I can stay. It's so lonely out there….
Hiromi turned her back on him and began to leave. She didn't say anything, as if her point had already been made. He didn't try to stop her. He stood there, frozen and distraught, for several long minutes. The memories were too much. They rose up in waves against him, beating back his sensitive heart. He wavered on weak legs, covered his mouth with his hand, trying to quell that awful storm inside him. But the cold attacked from all sides, numbing his fingers with its cruel pain, until he was on his knees, trembling.
Tomoe…oh God, Tomoe…. I thought I could be a good husband, for her.
Someone touched his shoulder. They were slender, delicate fingers but also strong, moving down his back in an attempt at comfort. They urged him closer and he did not refuse. A pair of warm arms welcomed him, and like a child he curled in that gentle embrace. He hid within the folds of delicate, scented fabric until his shaking lessened, and the agony subsided.
Kimiko did not speak for some time even after he had recovered from the brief relapse. She stroked his back like a loving parent, smoothed the hair from his eyes, and simply held him. He never wanted that moment to end, supported by her care.
"Come with me."
Kenshin lifted his head, carefully easing himself back even though he wanted nothing more than to stay, safe with her. Her eyes were bright and serious, and her voice quiet. "Come with me," she repeated, helping him to his feet once more. When he didn't complain she took him by the hand, and led him through the empty halls to her room on the second story.
Kenshin entered hesitantly, unsure of what to think. The room was spacious but mostly empty, save a few painted scrolls and small cabinets for clothes and futons. Kimiko moved to a small stove in the corner only to find it already prepared. Then she indicated for Kenshin to sit.
"Kimiko-san…." He didn't know what to say. He'd been rude to her, to push himself upon her like that selfishly.
"I have known." She retrieved a thick blanket from one of the short cabinets, and wrapped it about him. "Since I first met you in the town, I knew. You see, Saya came to us from Kyoto escaping the war, and she knew all about the stories. She told them to me." She sat in front of him. "I recognized the scar immediately. I'm sorry for not mentioning it, but I thought it best."
Kenshin lowered his head, unsure as to how he should respond. "I'm sorry," he said at last. "I…should have told you."
Kimiko nodded just barely, her eyes heavy on him. "I don't blame you. I've…just been wondering how many of the legends are true."
"I…." Kenshin licked his chapped lips, struggling with himself. You can trust her, his heart seemed to cry. It's been so long. Someone will understand.
"I should explain." As soon as he began to speak, she moved to sit beside him. Though at first the proximity made him nervous, he found that her hand over his helped him keep his courage. "I was Battousai during the war. But I never meant to cause so much pain," he quickly added. "I was doing it for the era. So that…the survivors…."
"Yes, I know." Kimiko waited patiently for him to go on.
"It was a terrible time. I…lost myself, in the bloodshed. But among it, I found…her." He swallowed hard. "Her name was Tomoe. I…loved her better than myself. And it's my fault she's dead."
Kenshin then went on to describe the circumstances under which he and his wife-to-be had met, in the darkened streets of a fated Kyoto night. He spoke of her beauty, her spirit, and her quiet, ice-like exterior that only he had seen the cracks in. The tale of their times together brought joy and nostalgia simultaneously to his voice, and sorrow and guilt tainted him in retelling her death. The entire tale spilled like tears from his lips, causing him to shake with the ancient memories.
Some time later, the story completed. He kept his head down, eyes closed and lips trembling as he waited in think silence for a response. Her voice never came. Instead, that same pair of arms pulled him close, cradling him against her warm and delicate body. "I am sorry, Kenshin," she whispered into his hair, shedding tears of sympathy. "You loved her terribly, didn't you? You miss her."
Kenshin bit his lip, tentatively returning the comforting embrace. "I…I just don't know what to do," he replied in a hoarse, ghostlike tone. "I don't even know…if she hates me." In shame he hid his face in the fabric of her kimono. "What if…she wishes me dead? To be with her…or as punishment…. Could I go on? Could I…."
He stopped, startled, as a wetness formed in his eyes. Before he realized what was happening to him he was crying, each tear tearing more down his cheeks. He couldn't stop them, couldn't speak through the strength of his sobs. Desperate for some comfort he clutched Kimiko to him, crying into her shoulder, mourning his ancient loss.
Daylight Moon
Chapter 3 Part Two: …of Unattainable Light
Kimiko waited, silently patient, as Kenshin rested against her and cried. She offered no words of comfort nor admonishment for his weakness. She had no advice to give to him. But more than that she was there, the warmth of her body speaking in place of any pale verbal assurance. Her delicate, sensitive hands stroked his hair as if he were a small child in her arms. The steady beat of her heart helped to calm him after a time, but the pain still rested in him heavily like fallen snow, searingly cold to the skin.
Kimiko didn't hesitate to take that pain, to hold it despite its weight and severity, to try to relieve it from him. Without a word she drew it from him, warming his frozen body with hers. It was a familiar feeling for him, bound this way. Somehow, the scent and feel of a woman always left him helpless.
At long last Kenshin recoiled, steadying himself with his hands still on her shoulders. She only watched, waiting to see that he had recovered. "I'm sorry," he told her softly. "I'm always taking advantage of you, Kimiko-san. I…didn't mean to give you my burdens. I don't need you to feel sorry for me."
"I took them myself," she replied evenly. She reached up, unafraid, and cleared the remnants of tears from his eyes. "We're all weak at some time, Kenshin. We all have our battles to fight, if only under different circumstances. That's what life has taught me."
He swallowed hard, and nodded. "Yes…I believe you're right. But what about you, Kimiko-san? What battles do you fight?"
Kimiko's eyes danced away from his briefly. "Just one. And always against myself. It's loneliness." She diverted her eyes again, not because she was embarrassed at having shared that with him, but in fear of his reaction. "My sorrows can't compare to yours. But…will you listen? I feel like you're the only person that will understand."
"Yes. Of course." Kenshin tried to smile encouragingly, for her sake, but he realized that the gesture was unnecessary--she didn't need it, especially when he wasn't strong enough to provide it. So he listened, hoping that she could feel the sympathy behind his lack of outward support, as he had hers.
"Ueda-san and I were married during the war," she began, still not facing him even as he body shifted closer. "Just after Aono died. My father wanted me to be married; in case something happened to him and Brother, the farm would need to be in capable hands. As it turned out, he was right. They both died during the first winter of the war, of illness of all things. Mother and I were distraught with grief, and that's when Ueda-san made his offer." Her voice held no bitterness, but a kind of hollow lamentation. "I had no choice, really. He said he cared for me a great deal, but I didn't believe him. I…."
"You don't love him." Kenshin instantly regretted speaking so openly, but he could see in her face that it was true.
"Yes." Kimiko licked her lips. "I…really wanted to love Aono, even if he infuriated me more than anyone. He seemed to understand me…like you." She met his eyes directly, causing his insides to quake. "Now, I feel like you know me better than anyone. That we're the same, somehow. I…I don't belong here, Kenshin." She wrapped herself in her arms with a sudden fit of passion, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders. He was startled bu didn't resist. "Sometimes I just can't stand it, living in a house of puppets. If Ueda-san really did care…but he doesn't, and I'm all alone in this awful house. I don't belong here at all."
"Kimiko-san." He tried to speak, then realized that he didn't know what to say to her. He understood--it startled him, but he knew that he did. The endless days of wandering, no matter how many people he surrounded himself with, only made the loneliness more acute. The hollow eyes of strangers picked him apart whenever they took in his scar--the very mark of his shame. And no matter where he went he felt as if space bent around him, separating him from the people he tried to help. He didn't belong with them--with this world. He wanted to be somewhere else, where he could be understood and, perhaps, even cared for.
Kimiko looked at him. "You do understand," she whispered. Her hand, with all the tender comfort she was capable of giving, reached out to him. It slid over his scar, down his neck to his chest. Her eyes squinted a bit, and gently she probed the flesh beneath his gi. "So many scars," she murmured.
He stared at her, surprised. "What do you mean?"
"Your scars." She eased the shoulder of his garment off--he shifted awkwardly--and indicated a long, pale line of skin. It was a scar, doubtlessly from the war, barely visible in the dim light. "They're everywhere," she said quietly, running her fingertips over the invisible markings in his skin. "Every battle…like pieces of fabric, torn, and mended. But never complete."
"Kimiko-san, I…." Kenshin faltered when he looked into her eyes. Their deep brown shade was warm and inviting, as if threatening to embrace him more completely than her arms. For she was a startlingly beautiful woman, full of passion but also fear. Fear that she would spend her life suspended in a life that did not suit her, reflecting a light she would never hold for herself. That she would never find the dark beauty of a night sky from which to shine her love of life for the world.
But there was also something else inside her eyes--hope. It has been a long time since he'd seen that emotion, expressed so clearly and boldly. Kimiko's fingers trembled as they moved again to his face, brushing over his scar. In those simple movements she accepted and forgave the sin that had created it, as simply as if she'd said the words aloud. And before he realized what was happening she drew him closer. Her lips, warm and soft, tested a kiss against his. A chill ran through him at the brief, intimate contact. The reaction from his body surprised him--his heart began to race, pounding blood through his temples. Her breath poured sweetly over his skin and caused it to tingle.
She kissed him again, just as softly, not demanding but filled with restrained desperation. He drew in a shaking breath as if having suddenly emerged from deep, cold water. It had been years since he'd experienced this kind of sensation before--for his body, an inconceivable amount of time. Her smell, her warmth, and the faint taste on her lips seduced his loneliness. He would do anything to ease that ice within his heart, to grant himself peace. He needed her to understand how painful his years of isolation and searching had been. How long, and how lonely.
Kenshin kissed her back, hesitantly at first, then more deeply. She responded in kind, wrapping him again in her arms, holding him tightly. He could not resist.
My heart…it is this fragile after all….
Kimiko awoke slowly the next morning, from the most beautiful dream she'd ever had. For long after it had ended she imagined that it was real; her limbs were comfortably sore, and her heart free. It was only when she recognized the texture under her hands as human skin that she realized: it wasn't a dream.
Kimiko sat up, being careful not to wake the man sleeping beside her. She could barely breathe from joy--he was still there. She had not awoken from another dream, only to find cruel reality in its place. She touched him--his face, his arms, his hair, assuring herself. And in joy she nearly cried, thanking every god and spirit she knew that it was him beneath the covers of the futon. It was still her Kenshin.
He is so beautiful. Kenshin, if only you knew how long I'd…. She curled her fingers around his hair, and traced the lines of the scars on his chest. She did this for several minutes idly, enjoying the feel. Please, please don't let me wake up. I'll do anything, if only--
"Kimiko? Dear, are you still in bed?"
Kimiko froze, her hand still poised over Kenshin's face. The voice was her mother's, approaching from the stairs. A quick glance told her that Kenshin was--thankfully--still sleeping. She breathed slowly to calm herself, and then changed briskly into her yukata. By then her mother was just outside, and she hurried to the panel, hoping to reach it before--
The panel slid open. Hiromi stood there, already dressed and seemingly impatient. When her eyes landed on Kenshin, however, her expression darkened. Kimiko stood frozen, breathless. When her mother spoke, the words were harsh and cold. "Come with me a moment, Dear."
Kenshin's attention was drawn immediately by the unmistakable sound of a hand striking skin. His eyelids flew open, searching the interior for some threat even as his senses were lazy from deep sleep; such sleep he hadn't experienced for a long time. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. And then he remembered.
Kimiko. I…was this what I wanted? His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of arguing.
"I don't care." It was Hiromi, just outside the room; he could barely see her shadow outlined in the panel. Another figure stood before her, slightly bent. "What were you thinking? Not only are you a married woman, but to take a vagabond--a murderer--into your bed! Are you trying to get yourself killed? Meiji hasn't come so far that you no longer have to respect your husband!"
Kenshin closed his eyes. No…not anther. His fingers curled around the blankets surrounding him, and bit his lip. It's my fault….
"You're a fool, Kimiko. Ueda-san has helped us infinitely--how can you selfishly throw all his gratitude and support away? For this man? This killer?"
"But Mother you don't understand--"
Another slap. Kenshin winced, drawing a shuddering breath. No, she didn't understand. No one could understand them. He'd found peace--dreams free of death, after so long, only to have it be taken by someone who didn't understand--could never understand.
"What I understand is the way of the world. Your husband will be back in a matter of days. Will you present your filthy trophy to him, stained and violated as you are now? Think of your future for once, Kimiko; your real future. Without Ueda neither of us will survive. You belong to him now, and that won't be changed. If he found out he could very well kill you both. Is that what you want to happen to your precious killer? Do you understand? I said, do you understand me, Daughter?"
"…Yes, Mother."
"You're to get rid of him. Right away."
"…Yes. Mother."
"Good. I'll have the servants prepare a bath for you right away."
Kenshin laid back down, as if he'd never awoken, when Kimiko reentered the room. He gave the guise of sleep in hopes of not having to suffer whatever look may be on her face. The silence was greater torture. He could hear her pained breath, and the stumbling gait of her feet as she approached the futon they'd shared. She knelt beside him. He would not stir, however, no matter how much it pained him. He hardened his will against the sweet aroma of her breath, and the warmth of the fingers on his face. He would not--could not--be the source of another's pain.
Kimiko leaned over him, and offered a kiss to his closed eyelid. Her tears wet his cheeks. "Kenshin," she said in choked, despairing whisper. "I love you."
Kenshin dug his nails into his palms and remained silent.
Kimiko left the room without attempting to wake him. When he was sure that she had gone Kenshin also dressed, in the same clothes he'd worn yesterday, and journeyed hesitantly downstairs. Being very careful not to encounter any of the maids--and especially Hiromi--he moved quickly to his guest room. There he changed into the clothes he'd originally worn in coming to the Ueda house, leaving the extras in a neat pile near the folded futon. He slipped his sword into his belt, and fixed the tie of his hair. These actions were familiar to him, and the precise methodology gradually allowed his mind to slip into a calm. He'd stayed too long, and it was time to move on.
He did not belong here anymore.
Kenshin ate breakfast with the servants, not meeting any gazes. Only after he'd finished did Jinko approach, and she insisted that he take some of their food with him when he left. He hadn't mentioned leaving, but somehow they knew. Graciously he accepted, knowing that it would be foolish to travel into the winter snow without food.
He had just left the kitchen when he met Kimiko. She had come to eat her own breakfast--her skin was still moist with the bath water, having washed the traces of his fingerprints off her body. She had changed. Her eyes were now dark, weighted by the shadow which rested behind them. Without meeting his gaze she lowered her head, and said calmly, "Kenshin, I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave. My husband will be returning with the rest of the servants, and we won't have room for you anymore." Only he could tell that her voice was quivering with emotion. "Please, leave with our blessings and be well."
Kenshin nodded, slowly and vaguely. There was no need to speak anything more, as he already understood. Drawing this moment out would only harm them both further. They were already separated, surrounded by misleadingly pure snow. "Thank you, Kimiko-san, for allowing me to stay this long under your hospitality. I won't forget you."
She bit her lip until it bled, but he didn't act as if he noticed. It wouldn't do any good to acknowledge her pain now, when it was too late; even if she was saving them both. She had embraced reality, knowing full well the fate it would bring her. There was no other way.
"Good luck, Kenshin."
"And you too."
Kenshin turned and began to exit the room, the house, and her life. He heard her swift intake of breath, could almost feel her tears, but he willed himself not to turn or regret. We all have our battles. Not all of them can be won. With a deep breath to steel himself against the cold, he stepped out into the winter morning and walked on, a solitary figure against the snow.
*End