14. Domestic tranquility

The hot air enveloped Kenshin's body like a cocoon, the humidity sticking his hair to the back of his neck and making sweat trickle down his sides under the thin fabric of the blouse. He stood with his eyes closed, shoulders relaxed, the sheathed sakabatou a familiar weight in his left hand.

He took a silent breath and let it out slowly, extending his senses into the foliage around him. The air was solid with the whine of the cicadas, a sound so steady it was almost a silence. Woven over and through it were the simple songs of the birds in the stand of trees in front of him; under it the distant whoosh of traffic from the nearby roads.

He could feel the sunlight on his hair and his left cheek, could feel its heat on his shoulders through the blouse. The soil was soft under his zori. He could smell loam, and the sharp green scent of crushed vegetation from where he'd stepped coming to this spot, and the faint spiciness of the trees, and below it all, barely discernible, the discordant note of petroleum fumes.

He took another breath, stretching his senses further, feeling for human ki. He could sense a vague presence away behind him and to the right, in the direction of the house, and beyond that an even fainter tickle in three or four directions.

Good.

He was alone.

Kenshin lifted his hands and dropped his weight, his body settling in one smooth motion into the familiar stance: right foot forward, knees bent, sakabatou held horizontally by the sheath, right hand hovering in front of him with fingers splayed and ready. Another long moment as he allowed himself to become aware of the details: the texture of the windings at the top of the sheath under his left palm and fingers; the slight weight of the skirt where it hung across his right thigh; the seams between the toes of his socks where he gripped the straps of his zori. He took another calm and silent breath, and let it all come together.

Kenshin's eyes sprang open and he exploded into motion, whipping the sakabatou out of its sheath with a speed even his own vision couldn't follow, twisting his wrist to flip the blade and striking deep into the thick green, the razor edge whistling low across the fragrant soil. He sprang forward and spun, sword flashing around him, up and then down and across, reflected sunlight cutting intricate patterns through the heavy air.

It was over almost as soon as it had begun. Kenshin landed with a slight tap of one zori, the sound eaten by the soft soil, and slid his sakabatou gently back into its sheath. He stood still for a moment, his breathing normal, his body tingling ever so slightly from the exertion. Then he turned to examine his handiwork.

A garden lay before him, eggplants and melons and greens and lanky cucumber vines and at least three kinds of root vegetables, carpeted with the severed stalks of what had been a waist-high sea of weeds mere seconds before.

Kenshin smiled happily.

o-o-o

"A home-made bento lunch? Yuriko, you've become domestic!"

Yuriko set the cloth-wrapped bundle down on the cafeteria table and slid onto a chair, smiling at Rika in spite of herself. She'd been on the phone with the chemistry department secretary when the other two had left for lunch, sorting out the rooms for the end-of-term lab exams. It hadn't taken her too long to find their table near the windows of the bustling cafeteria.

"Ha," she replied as Rika reached across the table to untie the cloth. "Domestic? You know I couldn't cook to save my life." She shooed Rika away from her bento and spread the cloth neatly around the black plastic box.

"What, then, you've decided cafeteria udon is even worse?" Rika waved a hand back and forth through the steam that rose from her bowl of noodles.

Yuriko shrugged awkwardly. "Homemade's always better," she said, and lifted the top off the box. She started to salivate almost immediately, her eyes going wide as she took in the box's contents, each item tucked neatly into its own little compartment.

Rika and Hitomi both leaned forward to see, identical expressions of curiosity on their faces.

Hitomi raised her eyebrows. "That looks good. You made that? It must've taken ages."

"No, I never have time in the mornings," Yuriko replied, plucking the plastic chopsticks from their narrow slot and then glancing up to flash a shy smile at her friends. "Kenshin made it for me."

Hitomi smiled delightedly. "That's so nice!"

"Yeah, no kidding," Rika quipped. "When's the wedding?"

Yuriko felt her face flush. "Kenshin's just a friend!" she insisted defensively. "There's nothing going on!"

Of course there wasn't. How could there be? She'd never had a boyfriend; she and Kenshin had been kids together. They were friends, that was all. Friends as close as family.

Right?

Rika smirked. "Heh. Liar."

Yuriko growled, surprising herself, and suppressed a sudden urge to kick Rika under the table.

"Hey, Rika..." Hitomi was saying in a low tone, her brown eyes uncomfortable behind their rectangular lenses. "I wouldn't..."

"Fine. Sorry." Rika was still smirking, amused. "I didn't mean it." She picked up a long white noodle in her chopsticks and leaned forward, brushing her pastel neck-scarf back out of the way with her free hand. "But you know it's true," she added, and slurped up the noodle.

Yuriko clenched her teeth and took a long breath through her nose. She mustn't kick her coworker, she told herself. What was it with her today? Hitting Kenshin this morning, and now this? She had to get a grip on herself. Violence was no solution to anything.

She shook her head, dabbing at her bento with her chopsticks, and took an experimental bite. It was just a bit of seaweed salad, but the flavor filled her mouth as she munched down on it, sesame seeds popping delightfully between her teeth. She smiled eagerly and tried the tofu.

Kenshin had done a fantastic job, Yuriko thought as she chewed. When had he had the time to prepare all this? Maybe he'd done some of it last night, while cooking dinner. Or maybe he'd gotten up really early. This had been so kind of him.

"So Yuriko," Rika said, looking up from her udon. "What's he like? Where's he from? What does he do? Come on, give us the story."

"Yeah," Hitomi added. "We've been wondering since yesterday."

What was he like? Yuriko swallowed a bite of rice. Where to start...

"He's..." she began. She'd never been terribly good at describing people. "He's a good friend," she said. "We've known each other for ages."

"Yeah, but what's he like?" Rika repeated around a half-chewed bite of udon.

"He's... you know. He's just Kenshin," she hedged. She could see him in her mind, could see those gentle eyes of his, could see his soft smile. Those gentle eyes, and the steel will that lay behind them.

Rika had arched an eyebrow, waiting for her to go on.

"He's kind," Yuriko began again, slowly, shifting her eyes slightly away from Rika to gaze out the big plate-glass window at the trees of the quad. "He cares about people. Not just out of courtesy; he really cares. And... and he never gives up." She paused and took a sip of her weak cafeteria tea, smiling to herself. "I guess he's stubborn that way. Or determined. Determined's a better word." She glanced down at the teacup in her hand. "He has a big spirit," she added, almost to herself. "You forget how little he is."

"Little?" Hitomi prompted.

Yuriko glanced up. Hitomi and Rika were drinking in her words, their faces rapt. "Yeah," she said, and grinned. "Little. He only comes up to here on me." She held a hand level with her eyes.

Rika raised her eyebrows. "That's not good," she said, in mock disapproval. "A husband should be tall enough to sweep you off your feet."

"Dammit, Rika! There is nothing going on!"

"Sorry!" Rika yelped, and clapped a hand theatrically over her mouth.

"Go on," Hitomi prompted gently, gesturing with her head so that the ends of her bobbed hair swung back and forth beside her ears.

Yuriko sighed. Rika's inappropriate comment and her own subsequent outburst had thoroughly derailed her train of thought. "There's not much to say, really," she replied at last. "He's just Kenshin."

"And he's a good cook," Rika added. "And he cares about you enough to make bento for you."

"He likes cooking," Yuriko replied. "He made me breakfast this morning too. And dinner last night." She scooped up another bite of seaweed salad and popped it into her mouth.

Rika smiled delightedly. "That's wonderful, Yuriko! That's the best kind of house-guest!" She made a show of grimacing at her noodles. "Now where can I get one...?"

"Hey, Yuriko..." Hitomi was looking puzzled.

"Yeah?"

"Don't you live in an all-women's apartment house?"

"Uh..." Yuriko stopped, chopsticks half-way to her mouth. She'd told them about Kenshin cooking for her, without realizing the obvious implication. There was no way she could tell Rika and Hitomi about how she'd dressed Kenshin up as a girl. Now that she thought about it, it had been a preposterous idea. "It's," she began, "it's, ah, it's complicated."

Rika dismissed her discomfiture with a wave. "So tell us more! Where's he from? What does he do?"

"Uh..." Yuriko said again, suddenly at a loss. Where was Kenshin from? Had she ever even asked? She must have known at some point, but the memory was just gone. And as for what he did....

"It's... it's been a long time since we saw each other," she hedged. "We've got a lot of catching up to do, and there hasn't been much time."

She took another bite of her bento to give herself time to think. It was true; there hadn't been much time. There'd been this morning at breakfast, but she'd been rushed and Takamori had been going on about that spectacular breakfast Kenshin had made. There'd been the evening before, but with Hana at the table they'd made only small-talk, and after dinner it had been even worse, with Kenshin caught in the crossfire of Motoko and Hana's little argument. Kenshin could be very frivolous when he didn't know how else to deal with a situation, she reflected. And before that, there had been only Sunday evening, on a crowded train and then at a crowded dinner table. Kenshin had been too exhausted to string more than a few words together after that.

Yuriko toyed with her food, a puzzled frown creasing her forehead. What had tired him out that badly? He'd been ready to collapse by nine that night, had still been fast asleep when she'd left for work the next morning. And now that she thought about it, he'd looked worryingly thin, too, as if he'd been ill recently. How had she missed that? She should have noticed it before, certainly when he'd taken off his kimono to put on her spare blouse Sunday evening. But she'd been distracted then, too giddy with the joy of being with him, and then too shocked by that horrific memory of Kyoto.

And it was more than just physical. When she'd first seen him at Sae's place there'd been a strain in him, as if he'd been barely holding on to his composure. And then there'd been that moment coming into the dining room Sunday night, when he'd very nearly lost it.

Something was wrong, Yuriko realized suddenly. Her concern was followed by a surge of protectiveness, leaving her feeling clear-headed and fierce. The look in Kenshin's eyes when she'd first stepped into Sae's apartment, the way the violet had gone wobbly with tears...

Kenshin needed her. Something was wrong, and compared to that the strange gaps in her own memory were unimportant.

Unless...

"So how did you meet him, then?"

...unless they were somehow connected. Yuriko tapped the table with the back ends of her chopsticks, fishing desperately through her memory. How had she met him? How had she met Kenshin? There'd been that flash of memory the previous evening, that fleeting image of the old-fashioned house, but other than that there was nothing. Just a sense of long familiarity, a sense that they'd each been the center of the other's life as time had flowed on and on around them. A sense of a Kenshin-shaped hole in her heart that she hadn't even known was there until it had been filled.

Yuriko smiled a happy-sad smile. "I'll tell you later," she said softly.

Rika raised an eyebrow. "You, my friend, are being evasive."

Yuriko looked back at her, still smiling, and didn't deny it.

"Fine." Rika said it with a laugh, as if enjoying a joke. "Tell us later. I'll look forward to it." She slurped up another noodle. "When do we get to meet him?"

Yuriko opened her mouth and closed it again, startled. She could, she realized. She could bring Kenshin to meet her friends. He was really here, with her, and she could introduce him to her friends. The thought made her heart race a little, as if mingling these two aspects of her life were just a little bit dangerous. A small smile crept onto her lips.

"How about the office party?" Hitomi suggested.

"Yeah!" Rika smacked a palm with her fist. "The office party on Friday! You're coming, right? You can bring Kenshin along! It'll be brilliant!"

"The office party!" What with Kamakura and the marriage meeting and Kenshin, Yuriko had forgotten all about the office party. She'd never really enjoyed the annual dinner and karaoke bash; it had always left her feeling subtly excluded, as if everyone else were having more fun than she was, especially by the time they got to the sake-lubricated singing. But with Kenshin there with her, maybe it would be all right. Except--

"But what about the reservations?" she said. "And aren't we supposed to be bonding or something?"

"It'll be fine!" Rika said. "I'll talk to The Boss and get Kenshin invited. You'll see." She winked at Yuriko. "Stable families lead to contented workers," she quipped.

"Dammit--" Yuriko's ears went hot.

Rika had already thrown herself back in her chair, laughing. "Sorry, sorry." She brushed tears from her eyes. "God, you are so much fun."

Yuriko shot a glance at Hitomi, desperate for support. But the other woman had her eyes squeezed shut, and her shoulders were shaking with laughter.

o-o-o

Kenshin leaned against the scaly bark of a fir tree and wiped sweat from his eyes with the back of his wrist. Cutting the weeds had been the easy part. Gathering them all up and stacking them on top of the heap of decaying leaves over by the trees had taken the better part of twenty minutes, leaving him sticky and itchy and covered with tiny bits of plant material. He frowned and shook particles out of his skirt. It was a good thing he'd at least had the presence of mind to roll up the sleeves of his borrowed blouse before he'd started.

Nevertheless, he thought, it had been well worth it. He let his eyes play again over the vegetable garden, smiling with anticipation. Those eggplants were just mature enough to pick; they would be tender and not seedy at all, just right for marinating and braising. And the carrots and burdock could be cut into matchsticks, flash-sauteed and then steamed...

Kenshin straightened up and headed back toward the house to where he'd left a shallow washbasin near the outside tap. He ran cool water into it and rinsed the leaf particles off his hands and arms, then splashed a little water onto his face.

There. Better. He blinked drops of water off his eyelashes. The weeds were taken care of; now he just had to clean the floors and go do the shopping. There were no students around to do the cleaning like there'd been at the dojo, and he needed tofu, vinegar, wakame, sesame oil, maybe a few other things for dinner tonight. He'd harvest the vegetables after he got back, so they'd be as fresh as possible. Kenshin picked up his sakabatou and got to his feet once more.

o-o-o

"Bad news," Rika said as she re-entered the office and crossed over to her desk.

"Hmm?" Yuriko looked up over her shoulder, hands hovering above her keyboard. She'd just opened up the enrollment database: with the end of term coming up, it was time for students to apply to graduate and time for her to check that they'd fulfilled their program requirements.

"The Boss says no go." Rika sprawled into her chair and swiveled around, pushing her feathered hair back from her face with both hands. "The dinner's for office staff only; no guests allowed." She spoke as if quoting, a grimace on her face.

"Mm. I'd kind of thought so," Yuriko replied. The senior administrator was big on staff development, which included the not entirely voluntary 'informal socialization events.' She was not one to be crossed, either; while Rika called her 'The Boss' in private, it was always 'Ando-san' to her face.

It was too bad, Yuriko thought as she turned back toward her desk. She'd been looking forward to introducing Kenshin to her friends. She licked her thumb and plucked the first of the graduation applications out of her inbox.

Rika was quiet for a little while, the only sound the faint whoosh of the air conditioning and the takata-takata of Yuriko's keyboard as she typed in a student's name.

"I meant it about stable families," Rika said, after a few minutes.

"Hmm?" Yuriko scanned her eyes down the screen, ticked a couple of check-boxes, and clicked the 'submit' button.

"Friday nights are precious." Rika's voice was restrained, thoughtful. "I'm... I'm sure The Boss would understand if you don't want to spend the time with us office folks."

Yuriko raised her eyebrows. She'd had so little time to talk to Kenshin as it was. A Friday night.... Was Rika offering to help her get out of it?

She swiveled around to look at Rika again. "Thanks, Rika," she said sincerely. "You don't have to, honestly. But... I'll think about it, okay?"

The other woman smiled. "Don't forget, though: I still want to meet this Kenshin of yours." She paused, thoughtful. "Hey, d'you want to do lunch this weekend? I can ask Hitomi too. I don't think she's doing anything."

Yuriko considered. They'd met for lunch several times before, at Rika's suggestion mostly; every couple of months, in fact, in the three years since the other two women had joined the staff. With bringing Kenshin to the office party no longer an option, a weekend lunch was probably the best way to introduce him to her friends.

"Yeah," she said slowly. "Maybe. Although I might go home to Kamakura again this weekend. I haven't decided."

Rika smiled. "It would be nice, if you're going to be here," she said. "Saturday, then? We could meet you at your place."

Yuriko hesitated. Yes, they'd gone out to lunch together, but Rika and Hitomi had never actually been over to her place before. It was a reluctance on her own part, a reluctance to combine her work life with her apartment life. And besides, she shared the common spaces with her household. Compared to Rika and Hitomi with private apartments of their own, her living situation seemed inferior, childish even. And she didn't want to impose her work friends upon her housemates.

What's more, she'd have to get Kenshin dressed as normal and smuggle him out. A twinge of unease settled into her stomach. She had lied to her housemates. It had been expedient, but it had created an inconsistency between her home life and her work life that could become complicated if the two came too close together.

Yuriko suppressed the worry. She'd always kept home and work separate. She'd think of something, and just now it would be too complicated having Rika and Hitomi meet her at the apartment house.

"Sure," she said. "But let's meet at a cafe or something. I'll let you know about Kamakura."

Author's note:

Rest in peace Haku Baikou. You will not be forgotten.