Genpuku

I hope this chapter explains why Yahiko was so seemingly uncaring about Kenji's understandable wish to fight alongside him. Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing! Especially to Hitokiri Jinchuu and Murasaki 1/2 for your comments and prompting! It keeps me on track.

Chapter Seven:
A Moment for Us


The only thing about being married was that, unless the husband was having an affair, had been caught having an affair, or, in their case, was afraid of bleeding onto his wife, he was expected to sleep in the same bed as her. It wasn't that Yahiko disliked sleeping with Tsubame; the complete opposite, he very much liked sleeping with her, even in just the literal sense of the word.

There were just sometimes he wished he could toss and turn, throw off the covers, and pace around the room without disrupting her.

He wasn't trying to replace Kenshin, as Kenji had accused; replacing Kenshin had never been the goal. Being someone Kenshin could trust and rely on, someone who could stand on his own and fight for his beliefs, that was always the goal. Following in Kenshin's footsteps; then one day stepping out from behind to stand—walk—fight—beside him; then, in the end, to surpass him and step out in front and on his own…that was the goal. Sano had succeeded, in his own way. Yahiko would some day do the same.

Was that arrogance? To believe in himself so fully as to think he could ever be 'better' than Kenshin? To willingly take the jobs offered, knowing the risks involved and the price not only he, but everyone around him, could potentially have to pay should he fail? To put some government official—no, the very institution of government itself—before his own life, before the happiness and security of Tsubame, the one person he'd ever loved more than anyone in the world? To do that, and then deny Kenji the same. Was that arrogance?

Well, yeah. It was arrogance. Yahiko nearly laughed aloud. But that arrogance was balanced by a sense of duty, responsibility, justice, and a need to honor his promise to Kenshin and Kaoru to keep their children safe while they were away. Letting their eldest son accompany him on dangerous missions where either one, or both, of them could very well lose his life wasn't the smartest way Yahiko could think of to keep Kenji safe.

Arrogance. Yahiko shook his head, slightly, and smiled into the darkness of the room. He knew he was arrogant, but he knew also he had reason to be. He'd learned the final technique of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu at age ten. He'd fought alongside the most legendary swordsmen in the country. He wore the kanji for evil on his back, inherited from one of the strongest men Yahiko had ever met—and if Sagara Sanosuke wasn't the walking epitome of arrogance, then who was? It didn't excuse his behavior any, didn't make it okay for him to be arrogant, but Yahiko had come a long way in changing arrogance to confidence, blind cockiness into skill-based pride. He was the way he was, and he had his reasons.

He didn't let any of that interfere with his fighting, though. When he practiced, at the dojo, he kept himself in the mindset that he always had something to learn from his partner, no matter how experienced they were. When he fought, using the sakabatou Kenshin had given him on his fifteenth birthday, the crucial point was to defeat his opponent, live or die. He couldn't afford to be arrogant, to even think about arrogance. Fighting was about focus, skill, speed, endurance, determination, sometimes teamwork, and a little bit of luck.

A lot of luck.

"Yahiko-kun?" Yahiko turned his head to see Tsubame roll onto her side, her hand reaching out to run gently over his ribs, her fingers unerringly finding just where it hurt most to soothe with her touch.

"Sorry. Did I wake you up?" He sighed as the throbbing lessened under her tender strokes, and smiled faintly at her in apology. "I was just thinking I wanted to go pace."

She shook her head, her hair tumbling into her eyes. "I couldn't sleep either." Her breath caught, a quick, ticklish inhale, as his hand slid low over her hip, mirroring her touch. "Are your injuries hurting?"

He couldn't deny that, but they weren't the reason he couldn't sleep. "My side mainly is what's giving me the most trouble." The deep leg wound and the shallow gash in his arm barely bothered him as long as he was careful not to strain them, but his ribs ached constantly. "But that's not what's bothering me."

"I know," she said, and she did. The depth and breadth of what she understood about him so often took his breath away. "Kenji does love you, you know."

Yahiko couldn't help the sad little scowl that crossed his face at that. "I know." It was a sullen mutter, hurt because of Kenji's reaction to what, in his mind, was the only reaction he could have given. He tried to shake off the feeling and repeated on a sigh, "I know. I'm not worried that he'll hate me for it forever. He'll be upset—I would be, I was, in the same situation—and he'll probably sulk and refuse to talk to me for a while, but in the end he'll get over it. It's not in his nature to hold a grudge. He's like Kaoru; he doesn't hold grudges well. I don't know if he'll ever really forgive me, but maybe one day he'll understand. I never thought I'd be in the position where…where it'd be like telling myself 'no'." He sighed again, heavier. "We'll move on, somehow, in any case."

Tsubame slid her hand up Yahiko's side, over to slip under the loose collar of his yukata to press her palm against smooth, bare skin, feel the steady beat of his heart, so big, so troubled, beneath her skin. "You don't have to be Kenshin-san," she murmured, knowing without needing to be told what was bothering him. She leaned closer to press a kiss against his throat, just under his jaw. "I love you because you aren't Kenshin-san. You understand what Kenji-kun's going through, and so you can help him through this."

This time it was Yahiko who said, "I know." He also knew Tsubame was trying to distract him, to relax him, to let him sleep, and welcome as her distraction would be, a part of him resisted, still wanted to brood and pace. But his heart leapt when Tsubame rolled closer, snuggling carefully up to his good side, and her teeth nibbled daintily at the skin on the side of his neck. "But I never thought I'd ever be in Kenshin's position, where I have to tell him 'no'. I know what it's like to be told not to come, but…I did the same thing Kenshin did to me all those years ago. Kenji knows there's danger out there; he only wants to help, and who knows, maybe he might be able to. But I've rendered him helpless and useless and unwanted by telling him 'no'. I can't afford to risk him. Not like this, not for this."

He knew what it felt like to be left behind, indeed. The memory was as fresh and clear as if it had been only earlier that same evening; the years had afforded him the objectivity to view that event as the catalyst of his real growing up, but the time that had passed hadn't dulled the shock and pain—the tears—that had knifed through him. That feeling of inadequacy, standing just outside the dojo gate all night, with the image of Kenshin's fleeing back burning into his consciousness, would live with him forever.

He'd wanted only to help, and Kenshin had told him 'no'.

"You had good reasons." Tsubame's voice wasn't placating, which Yahiko knew she understood would only irritate him rather than help. "Kenji-kun is a good swordsman, like he said, but he'll have his chance to fight for his beliefs later. He doesn't belong in this fight, against people trying to ruin our government. Kenshin-san did that for him—for all of us. Kenji-kun isn't part of that, of that past."

As always, her astute observations both startled him and warmed his heart. His hand moved to cup her cheek, tilting her face to his for a long, lingering kiss. Tsubame was blushing and breathless when he leaned back, her lips parted slightly, her eyes soft and sleepy with contentment. His voice was serious when he spoke.

"I sort of half-expect Kenji to do something rash in response to my telling him he can't come with me. It's hard living up to Kenshin's name, and it's not a task I envy him. I feel bad leaving like this and asking you to take care of him, but tomorrow afternoon I'm going back to the station to meet with Chief Uramura to plan out a course of action." He heaved out a breath. "Times like these I wish Sano were back, or at least Yutaro weren't in Germany right now."

His one-time rival now shared with him the title of 'master' of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu—well, Yutarou was more 'assistant' master. Their uneasy feud was resolved into a friendship heightened by frequent verbal and physical sparring, mainly in playful jest…but sparring nonetheless. Yutarou had accompanied Yahiko on a couple previous jobs with the police but had been in Germany for the past year. He came to Japan as often as work allowed, and Yahiko found himself missing the little pain sometimes in-between the long breaks when Yutarou was away.

Sometimes.

Yahiko slid his hand down Tsubame's arm, to link his fingers with hers. He brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. His throat tightened, and he had to fight to speak the next words. "Tsubame…Tomorrow morning, before the meeting, there's going to be a service for the police officer who died saving me. I was thinking…it'd be nice if you could be there, too. You know him." Faint puzzlement flickered across Tsubame's face, followed quickly by an instinctive flash of fear, sadness—there were few policemen she knew, but she would grieve peremptorily for whichever one had passed away.

Tears burned, viciously hot, in Yahiko's eyes, the words choked as he whispered, "Shinichi. It was Shinichi. He's got…He had…a wife, two kids, and she's pregnant with their third. He died so I could live, and give us a better chance of taking these guys out for good." Tsubame shifted, and Yahiko had one moment to battle back the tears before her arms came around him, so gentle, so strong, and she pulled him carefully into her embrace.

He buried his face in the curve of her neck, pillowing his head on her chest and letting the tears he'd fought to hide pour forth. "Oh, Kami-sama, Tsubame. Shinichi."

Tsubame hadn't known Shinichi Kosaburou well; she'd only met him a handful of times, because Yahiko tried his hardest to keep his police work from touching his home life. But she liked the young lieutenant based on those few times she'd met him. The first time she remembered meeting him was when she had delivered a large order of catered dishes to a nice-sized house in a quiet neighborhood. Yahiko had accompanied her, part bodyguard, part deliver boy, and had been surprised when he recognized the man who opened the door with a two-year-old balanced on his hip.

Yahiko had known Shinichi longer, off and on since he was ten. Tsubame must have seen him then, too, that fateful day in the long summer of Meiji Eleven, but she had no distinct memory of him, of his face, even though she'd been there when Yahiko had first met him. She'd been more preoccupied with Yahiko and what he'd been about to tell her than thinking about the policeman they'd just run into.

They were close, as work buddies went; Tsubame knew Yahiko might go out with him for a drink after a job, but they weren't anything like Kenshin-san and Sanosuke-san had been.

And he had died so Yahiko would live.

Yahiko nestled a little closer to her, bringing back Tsubame's wandering thoughts, and she knew the sharpest edge of grief had passed. His grip on her shifted, more of an actual embrace rather than clutching at her shoulders. She pressed her lips to his temple and answered his old invitation. "Of course I'll go to the service for Shinichi-san. I was going to go by our apartment tomorrow, anyway, to check up on things, so we can do that when we stop by for our formal clothes. We'll have to leave the children with Tae-san at the Akabeko during the service."

Gratitude infused Yahiko's voice. "Thank you." For understanding. Tsubame's mouth slipped over his face to tease with lips and teeth and tongue, rolling him onto his back and shifting over him to straddle his waist. Careful not to bump his ribs or his bruises, she settled her weight over him and spread her hands flat over his chest beneath the opening in his yukata. Yahiko still wanted to brood, to let his mind run over plans and possibilities; he wanted to grieve until he fell unconscious into the pit of sleep.

But Tsubame's mouth was hot, and it teased and tormented, and promised, and her hands were busy as they tugged at the sash tying his yukata closed, spread the interfering garment aside, and moved lower.

"Tsubame—" His voice was strangled, and his mind flashed white, burned empty of all rational thought, his body arched avidly against her loving touch as her hands moved beneath the folds of his yukata.

"Shh, shh." Her mouth on his gentled to soothe, and her eyes gleamed through the dark with a tenderness that simply took his breath away. "Easy, Yahiko-kun. I love you. Tonight, let me." Her words were sweet entreaty, ardent promise, and so frighteningly sincere Yahiko could feel his heart stumble. "Let me love you, Yahiko-kun. I love you, so much."

And when her mouth skimmed down his chest, lower, lower; when Yahiko's breath gasped out on a low, shuddering groan that shimmered through Tsubame's body and soul; when finally, finally, all the tension exploded, drained out of him and the last of his worries dissipated into the night, Yahiko blinked back sudden tears of perfection and thought, Kami-sama, Tsubame. I love you, too.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Tsubame woke slowly, vaguely away of a nagging discomfort in her lower back. She shifted slowly, mindful not to wake Yahiko, and rose gracefully to her knees beside him. She'd fallen asleep with her head pillowed against his uninjured right side, scrunched up uncomfortably beside him with one foot hanging off the edge of the futon on the floor.

He was sleeping peacefully, his face lax and unguarded in sleep, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. Tsubame could watch him sleep for hours and never tire of it. He was always so independent and strong when he was awake; it was as if the only time she could ever truly watch over him was when he was asleep, all vulnerable and cute.

He needed his rest for the upcoming fight, both physically and emotionally. The tears Tsubame had hid earlier trailed soundlessly down her cheeks now, and she lifted her sleeve to her face so the treacherous drops wouldn't fall onto Yahiko and wake him. Shinichi-san…Yahiko had talked about him, as he'd talked precious little about his police jobs and what they entailed. There was pride in his words whenever he spoke of Shinichi, and admiration and affection. In a way, though they weren't especially close, Shinichi was the friend Yahiko had known the longest. Together they'd been through some harrowing experiences, together they had fought the man known as Kujiranami during the summer of Yukishiro Enishi's revenge, and that had forged a bond between them stronger than any other.

The summer of Tsubame's eleventh year was one of the longest and hardest in memory—first, with Yahiko and everyone gone to Kyoto to fight the faceless threat that was Shishio Makoto, who she'd never seen and never would; then with Yukishiro Enishi and his revenge, the death and devastation his plan for revenge wrecked. It had been the first of many, countless many, times Yahiko had left her to risk his life for others.

It was the only time he'd apologized.

But you only said you're sorry if you meant it, and Yahiko was nothing if not honest. He'd learned growing up that you didn't make a promise you couldn't keep, and you never say anything you don't mean.

After that first time, he'd never apologized again for putting others—nameless, unidentified "others"—before her, because you only say you regret your actions if you truly are repentant for what you've done.

And if you were truly repentant, if you really are sorry…then you wouldn't keep doing it, over and over again.


Written: 7.26.06

Author's Notes: Slight Jinchuu Arc spoilers, if you haven't read it…Shinichi Kosaburou is a low-level police officer introduced in the Jinchuu, or Revenge, Arc of the manga series. In Book 25, he and Yahiko fight Kujiranami, an ex-samurai who fought Kenshin. Yahiko runs off to fight, and Tsubame tells him that nobody's around to protect him. In return, Yahiko says, "Because nobody else is around, I have to fight. I'm sorry…but it's something I've decided, to fight for those weaker than me, people I see who are suffering." That's the gist of it.

Glossary:
Kami-sama: "God"
-kun: affectionate suffix for males
Sakabatou: Kenshin's reverse-blade sword
-san: polite suffix; "Mr./Mrs./Ms."