I. Legacy

He has nothing to offer her but himself.

The name Yakushi means next to nothing; if anything it would be prudent for him to take hers. Kabuto might even prefer that, but then, what did Yutani mean? Not much more. And it, being the last tie to Sano, her father, might be a burden Kairi will be glad to be rid of. He can respect that, as much as he craves a family name of legitimacy.

It hurts a little that he can't offer her parents or a title or any kind of fortune. He knows that the last thing she's marrying him for is some kind of dowry (with the roles reversed), but it's a point of insecurity for him all the same. Other men could have introduced her warmly to loving in-laws and given her all sorts of things like a house, heirlooms, gifts any woman would love. It was all Kabuto could manage to secure the ring of silver and sapphire, to tell what he remembered of the woman who had raised him.

Kairi, however, doesn't mind in the least, and that's a comfort. She listens with glistening eyes when he talks about Nonō and the children at the orphanage he thought he'd forgotten. She treasures the ring and the little presents like the robe he'd made and the hermit crab he'd found by the sea. That's all the legacy he has. That and whatever knowledge he can pass down to her.

But, he reminds himself, she's not marrying him for any sort of compensation. She never loved him for things like that, but rather for the heartfelt smiles only they can elicit from each other, the mutual willingness to listen, the understanding, and the absence of fear. The kisses and embraces and laughter and whispers for their ears alone.

Kabuto can only offer these things. But she'd known that when she'd said yes, and she knows it now. It's enough.

He is enough.

And she is infinitely more.