Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Alas, no.
Notes: This is short, but I felt it deserved its own chapter. Besides, I've had the second section written for months; so I'm happy to finally get to share it! Also, you're welcome. :P
Betas: My Internet super-friends, NinnyTreetops and Broomclosetkink. Their comments and advice were very much appreciated!
Love Seized
There is a hint of snow in the air, which has them take their evening tea next to the fire rather than on the porch. Kenshin sits with his back against the wall and spins his top as Kaoru prepares the beverage – barley, at this hour.
"We've been here for six months already…" he whispers absentmindedly. There is no particular inflection to his voice, but Kaoru knows that he wouldn't have merely stated such a fact. There is something he is trying to say. Their day has been good, the evening is quiet and easy, so she eggs him on.
"That's right," she replies, and chuckles before adding, "I hope I have been a decent fake wife".
He briefly smiles at that, but still doesn't look at her. He waits until she has placed the tea tray next to them and grabs her hand instead, covering it with both of his.
"Let's not just pretend." His voice is lower still; he stares at his hands around hers and pointedly not at her, but there is no mistaking his words. Nor their meaning.
"You and I," he repeats, "let's not just pretend."
He hears her gasp and finally looks up at her. Her other hand covers her mouth, and tears gather at the corner of her eyes. Kenshin cannot remember a time when Kaoru has been left speechless. Worry knots in his stomach, because even though he has wanted to do this for days he hadn't planned tonight (and what if this is too fast?), but then, wonder of wonders, Kaoru nods.
She nods, and chuckles again when joy overflows, and he is infinite.
He gathers her to him, until she is sitting in his lap – it is not close enough, not even when Kaoru wraps her arms around him and rests her cheek on his shoulder and moves as close as physically possible, but he will figure out a way around that later.
Kaoru winds her arms tighter around him then lifts her head. Her forehead touches his – he can see and feel only her, and that is good. She is laughing, and crying, and Kenshin knows he is, too, but this isn't a moment for small measures.
Kaoru has thought about it. In the quiet moments, between chores and training, when she watched Kenshin work or cook, or simply be. She has wondered at their relationship, at what will or will not change once they get back to Kyoto. She has no doubt that the Ishin Shishi's actions will be riskier than ever, that they'll have to be more secretive, more implacable than ever, and where will that leave her? Could Kenshin and her afford the luxury of time together?
But she wants it. She knows, deep down in her bones, that she wants it. It is her choice, like trusting hitokiri Battousai was her choice, like offering to follow him to battle hell and back was her choice. She chooses him, and she is nothing if not determined, and no war is going to come between them.
Kenshin knows all caveats better than she does, and if that doesn't stop him, then she has no doubt that they'll find a way.
"You're right," Kaoru finally whispers, and there are more tears and the promise of a thousand suns in her voice, "let's not just pretend."
He captures her lips with his then, and Kaoru knows she'll never get enough.
When they finally remember the tea, it has long since gone cold.
Their wedding is a quiet, private affair – just the two of them and the priest at a small shrine in Otsu. There are no friends or family to come celebrate with them. Looking at them, the priest doesn't see a seasoned warrior and the assistant master of a kendo school. He sees a young man and woman who must have been cruelly reminded of how short life can be and who want a chance at love while their world still stands.
He proceeds with the ceremony, declares them husband and wife, smiles at the disbelieving wonder that shines in the man's eyes and at the brilliant smile that alights on the woman's face.
This is what keeps their country from collapsing entirely, he thinks. Love seized and not wasted, and still, beneath it, hope for a brighter future.
In spring, cherry blossoms by night. In summer, the stars. In autumn, the full moon. In winter, the snow. These are always enough to make sake delicious. If it tastes bad, that's proof there's something sick inside of you.
On their wedding night, they huddle by the fire and share a bottle of the best sake they could afford.
The evening has been utterly mundane: there was still dinner to prepare, and dishes to wash, but there were also entwined fingers, tender smiles, and stolen kisses. Kenshin trembles and cannot take his eyes off his new bride, cannot wrap his mind around the fact that she is here, that she will always be here. He kisses her again just to feel her there, and knows, from the way her hand tangles in his hair, that she understands.
He refills their cups when they pull apart, and lifts his for a sip. Delicious.