A/N: Now I know Megumi comes across as something of a plot-device; however, I do think she is the most mature of the female cast and the most likely to see matter, shall we say, clearly. Given her somewhat abrasive nature, I also think she'd be the least likely to sugarcoat things. This chapter plays a bit into Kaoru's fears, more so to tie them with what I make of her previous experiences. This is all speculation, of course, as we know very little about Kamiya Koshijiro, however, we do have the timing moire or less. Kaoru was born in 1860, about seven years into the Bakumatsu. Assuming drafting works more or less the same and given the standing of the Kamiya family, I believe this means Kaoru saw little of her father until his return in 1868 - now going by conventional child psychology, she would not have had the necessary time to build those early bonds with him and would naturally be reticent to accept him. Having said that, for the purpose of this story, she learned that he was a good man and in the end loved him only to suffer greatly when he left again.
Without going too deeply into it, in this story her accepting Kenshin is a correction on her part. When her father returned, he was not the man she expected him to be and she rejected him. Older being when meeting Kenshin and with the regret of having let her father take off without ever making her changed feelings plain, she was acting out an attempt at atonement. When Kenshin left, she would of course conflate it with the earlier situation of her father leaving.
I am probably nowhere near the truth with the analysis, but that is alright as far as I am concerned. Hopefully you will enjoy this take.
Megumi's laughter grated on her nerves. Kaoru shot the doctor a sharp look. "You needn't do that," she huffed into her tea. "I know I'm being silly." It wasn't as though it hadn't crossed her mind to reassess her stance every now and again. But having said what she had, Kaoru did not feel comfortable taking any of it back. Her father certainly would have told her to begin as she meant to go on and as far as she could tell, she had. Only that she wasn't too pleased with the results.
"And that," Megumi pointed out sagely, "is why you are as you are." One could almost see the fox ears and spindly whiskers. A sigh followed. "You do as you please, but do not think matters will simply righten themselves if you ignore them long enough."
The tea tasted like ashes on her tongue. "There isn't anything to righten." She knew it was a lie even as she spoke the words. Megumi's snort betrayed her disbelief. Redding in discontentment, Kaoru protested her innocence yet again to the apparent amusement of the doctor. Seeing no recourse but to put paid to the matter she somewhat harshly delivered, "I cannot see what difference it makes to you."
Something akin to annoyance flared on the older woman's face. "In some ways," she spoke, her voice even, "you are still such a child. If you cannot answer Ken-san's feelings forthrightly then you had best confess to it." As a general rule, Megumi did not waste time. She had neither the disposition, nor the patience to coax anyone into attempting feats of great sacrifice. She would not do so for her friend either. "That wishy-washy attitude of yours will not do. He has been clear. Isn't it time you were the same?"
But she hadn't been unclear. And she told the doctor as much. "On the contrary, I went after him, all the way to Kyoto." It was not a grievance, not precisely. Part of her did understand the reasons behind his choice. She would've continued were she not interrupted.
"You're doing it again." Megumi pushed her cup away. "Kaoru, there is no shame in not being ready yet. In fact, it'd be a great wonder if you were." The understanding she found in those few words caused a shiver of emotion. "Having said that, keep in mind that any marriage wherein the beginning is marred by mistrust cannot help but fail." Only Megumi would have been able to make such a point in that particular manner. "You say you hold no grudge, that you carry no anger and yet look at how tense you are now."
There was little use in lying to herself. "But I have decided to forgive." Wisps of steam curled on the air, trembling and dispersing with her movement of the cup. Kaoru closed her eyes, not against the tastes but against, that was still sweet.
"You ought to speak to Ken-san." Straightening, Megumi reached out gently until her hand rested on the edge of the table. "And if you cannot find it in yourself to forgive, you should tell him. This is not something to keep to yourself."
Unable to think of a single response to refute the woman's points, Kaoru let the matter drop. She did not enjoy Megumi's lectures. They made her feel even more a child and even less worldly than she usually did. Those were the words of a woman and Megumi had spoken to a girl. Someone like the doctor seemed to have such an easier time of accepting the imperfect nature of the world and it drove Kaoru insane that she herself mightn't do the same without a pang of guilt. What a terrible feeling that was.
And she could most definitely not bring such a subject up with Kenshin. She would not know what to say, how to explain the essence of her discomfiture and if one could be certain of anything then that was the fact the man would take it for something it was not. Better to just remain as she was. He'd asked her live with him in the new Meiji era and she had accepted. It had to be enough.
Whatever the case, Megumi took her leave after a time. She had patients to see to, she'd explained calmly, and could not afford to delay any further. And with that she had unceremoniously left Kaoru on her own, with little to do and much less to occupy her time with, except for the brief time it took to wash the teacups.
Yahiko was and would remain at the Akabeko for a time, doubtlessly to aid and protect little Tsubame and eat his fill while at it. Kenshin had yet to return from the market and she did not begrudge him the exeecise. As for herself, she had no students to see to, certainly not at such a late time in the day. The sun would set soon, a chill creeping in the air in spite of the warm glow bathing wood and grass and earth.
Seated on the porch, her feet dangling over the edge, Kaoru eyed the main gate. Indeed, she did not begrudge Kenshin his leisurely walks, except that she felt rather lonely in his absence, as though something essential were missing. And to think she had known him for so short a time, yet their bond was such that his absence rendered her nigh useless. Kaoru brought a hand over her fluttering heart. She pressed gently with some hope that such an action might bring her some semblance of relief. It was not to be. The bothersome organ squeezed painfully at the noisy creaking of the gate opening and Kaoru jumped to her feet, not even bothering with the stone step in her haste to climb down.
"You're back," she stated the obvious, hands reaching out to rest on his arm gently, barely there. The relieved note in her voice was difficult to suppress but she did her best for a cheerful smile. She wasn't upset with him for leaving that once, not anymore in any event. He was back, with her, where he belonged.
"This one is home, that he is," came his answer. Kaoru leaned into him for a brief moment. He was solid and steady and would not disappear on her. The warmth radiated off of him and into her. She longed to press her whole length alongside his and hold Kenshin closer still, but did not have the courage.
"Welcome home." She hoped the words conveyed what she could not otherwise show, yet turned her gaze away from him. He'd bought a fair load of groceries. Kaoru looked at the basket, considering what to put where. "Let us go in," she urged, "and put those away." He did not release his burden to her care even when she gently tugged on it. Understanding he would not do so even if she insisted, Kaoru resigned herself to climbing the stone step and entering. Kenshin moved noiselessly behind her; she still marvelled at it at times, his ability to move as a shadow might. And yet no matter how silent, she felt him still, an awareness of the heart. Once more she touched the bothersome spot.
"Kaoru-dono?" Startled, she jumped. Kaoru looked over her shoulder in a questioning manner. "Is something the matter?" The underlying concern gave her pause. Kenshin cared; she could not doubt that, at least. As to whether he cared in the same way as she did or he went along with what was expected in a bid to set her at ease, she found it difficult to tell, precisely because she couldn't convince herself she minded the reasoning behind his offer. At the same time, she was not easy not knowing.
Forcing herself to relax, she did her best to assuage his obvious fear. "Not at all; I was just thinking of something Megumi said." Something shifted in his gaze, but on the whole he seemed to accept the words as a satisfactory explanation. Kaoru hurried to build upon that foundation, "You know how Megumi is." His hum of agreement called forth a true smile from her.
They worked together to put the purchased foodstuff away. The mindless motions were easy to go through and Kaoru was thankful that conversation was not Kenshin's primary concern as she found some peace in the moment. Once done, they repaired to the chamber where Kaoru has entertained Megumi. She was glad she had disposed of the cups, but found she ought to have considered more thoroughly that cold tea was not precisely a favoured beverage.
"The tea," she muttered, about to pick the pot up when a hand gently covering her shoulder stopped her. "The tea is cold," she explained, more so he might let go. To her surprise, however, he did not comply. But then, she at times forgot just how commanding the man could be when he wished it.
"Leave it." It was instinct that guided her then to listen. Kaoru nodded carefully before sitting down, hands demurely in her lap after a short awkward dance of uncertainty. Kenshin seemed to have an easier time of it. Kaoru pursed her lips for a moment as she considered him. "What are you thinking of?"
She blinked. "I do not think I can put it into words." Not clear ones, in any event, and a muddled response was not much of a reply at all. "Suffice to say, I would not even know where to begin." She imagined a great many people would have, at that point, pressed her to make an attempt anyway. Not Kenshin; he met her claim with a gentle nod. Ever so carefully, he moved until he was seated next to her.
Before she might guess his aim, he put an arm about her shoulders, a rather daring gesture coming from him, and pulled her weight against his body. Seated as they were, her shoulder connected with his and she brought a hand up, thoughtlessly, to brace against his chest. There had been occasional touches between them, embraces of joy and comfort in the wake of some crisis or another. The hold he bestowed upon her in their empty house was different. It wasn't relief, although she thought she felt some of that. She did not think it was pity either. Rather, it was something akin to comfort but sharper, somehow hungrier. Awareness coursed through her, stiffening her limbs.
Kenshin drew back to her utter disappointment. "This one apologises, that he does, Kaoru-dono. It was meant to make you feel better, not disconcert you." It took her a moment to put meaning to his words, but as soon as she had, she threw her arms around him, not quite certain if she did it to keep from hitting him or to keep him from fleeing.
"Do not speak such words to me," she chided in a serious tone. "Had I not wished you to hold me, I would have said something." Her fist would have, to be certain. "It is simply that," she paused, leaning back slightly to better look into his face, "you are the first man to do it." He watched her back intently, the play of gold and violet in his gaze arresting. Swallowing her fears, she forged ahead, "I am still learning, therefore I might hesitate at times, but that does not mean I dislike it by any means."
To prove her point, she settled against him, feeling her face heat up. Kaoru assumed she was the red of ripe cherries by then, thus did her best to shield her visage. To think on the words she'd said made her blush harder still. It was a wonder her head did not explode. She wished, not for the first time, that she'd not lost her mother so young. A few words of advice would have done her all the good in the world. Tae, bless her heart, did her best. But Tae was an unwedded woman, who was bound to know just a tad more than Kaoru knew herself. For pity's sake, she had need of a matron in this.
She felt his chin settle atop her head as he leaned back against the wall, the movement bringing her with him. "This one is glad to hear it, that he is. For a moment," he trailed off, as though uncertain if he should unburden himself to her. She moved her hand against his shoulder and squeezed encouragingly. He made another attempt. "Certain matters once unveiled cannot be forgotten, that they cannot. Knowledge most especially. This one needs to remember the disparity therein, that he does." Was he trying to convince himself or her?
She would not pester him, Kaoru decided. Kenshin spoke of the past but seldom and with good reason. He had taken his leave of Tomoe in the truest sense but recently. She did not like to pry. But at the same time she was glad; pleased that he was willing to take her at her own pace, to consciously rein himself in. "Does it bother you at all?" she questioned. "Is it more difficult because you do know?"
The man took his time answering. "In some ways." She was glad for the honesty. It would have hurt her had he denied it. "But as for being bothered, this one finds irrelevant, that he does. Kaoru-dono has already agreed to spend the reminder of her life with this one. There is no more to ask for, that there is not." Her poor Kenshin, Kaoru mused as she burrowed her way deeper into the embrace. How he must think of himself to say such words.
"I want you to be happy," she told him in a decisive manner. "Better yet to be happy together; as happy as we are now." His hummed agreement soothed her. In the end, she pulled herself together and lifted her weight off of Kenshin. He let her go easily enough though his eyes did not leave her form even as she seated herself properly at his side. Kaoru waited for him to follow suit. "It is so quiet, is it not?" she commented, listening for the signing of the crickets, though she supposed they would not be hearing that particular symphony for much longer. Winter was sure to set in soon enough.
"Do you miss the noise?" She considered the question. Gaze into her lap, she blinked half-forgotten memories away. It was not the moment to become lost in that.
"In some ways; noise helps distract one, does it not?" She raised her head to look at him, feeling rather foolish for prattling off at him, "My father had students during the day, of course, but in the evening it was often just the two of us. He often worked on repairs later during the day. I would take care of the laundry. That sort of quiet is nice though." He gave her his attention, seeming to wish more from her. "I do not truly recall much of him before his return from the war. But I do not think he was the same; mother used to say he was a man whose smile could not be wiped off but he rarely smiled in those first years. He would just sit on the porch for hours on end, staring ahead. If mother had not fallen ill, I do not think he would have pulled himself together." She paused for a moment, looking at Kenshin for reassurance. "I did not find it easy to reconcile the man in my mother's stories with the one who'd come back from battle. I didn't particularly make it easy for him, I imagine, but he did his best to take care of his wife and daughter. It is easier to appreciate his actions now that I am older."
"Did you find it difficult because he had been gone for so long?" The question itself, she knew, was incomplete. Kaoru's fingers clenched into the folds of her kimono, the cloth thick and unyielding. She concentrated on breathing, willing herself to answer in a steady voice.
"That may well have been part of it. I did not know him at all for a long time and then when I did learn something of the man he was, the intensity of it left me uneasy. I was easiest with him when we cared for mother." She shifted, interrupting the flow of her speech. "And then he began training me; I was somewhat old to be just beginning, to be sure, but it was something to do beside sitting at my mother's side, twiddling my thumbs uselessly as she faded before my eyes." Kaoru sighed deeply. "The first time my father returned, I wondered why he had if he was simply going to ignore us. Now no matter how hard I wish it, he is not going to return."
Tears filled her eyes. Kenshin said not a thing; perhaps he knew words would not soothe her. Instead he took hold of her hand, squeezing gently. "There is no shame in shedding tears, that there is not." She wondered if he had noticed the thread, if he had noticed that she always seemed to somehow be left behind. She wondered if he would address it. Kenshin did not disappoint her. "This one will stay with you for as long as you wish it, that he will."
"Good; that is good," she managed after a time, squeezing back, albeit a bit too hard she did not doubt. "I will never want you to leave in any event, so that is just as well." He was smiling gently at her; she liked that kind of smile upon his face. It made her feel tremendously safe, as though she could weather everything and anything if he only continued to smile at her in such a manner. Yet she knew she ought not to keep him overlong; she had taxed him with her worries and he deserved, as she had said, some happiness and peace.
With that in mind, Kaoru opted for retreat. It would be rather difficult to tear herself away if she hesitated even further. "We should get some sleep," she noted, rising to her feet slowly. He was still holding her hand, looking up at her with an unspoken question. Kaoru shook her head. "Come, Kenshin, the night is growing colder and we've much to do on the morrow."
He accepted that, standing as well.
They parted ways. She felt better for having spoken to him.
"Hirota-san," Misao called out gently to the old fellow seated in the corner as she carefully balanced the weight of her burdens, "I see you have chosen to remain with us." Omasu, who was just coming out of the kitchens by the looks of her, offered to take some of the purchases off of her hands, which Misao gave up without a fuss. "Okon said she is taking hers straight to the kitchens," she spoke to the woman. The only possession she did not release was a jug of sake. With a smile on her lips, she moved carefully so that she might seat herself across the elderly man. "My apologies, you have caught me returning from the market."
"And what a pretty sight that is," he noted into his cup of tea. "Do not let me keep you from your duties, Misao-chan. I should hate for your Jiya to be cross with me." There was something in his voice just then, the same thing she'd heard when he spoke of her mother.
"Jiya will not mind; in fact, I believe he will be very pleased I am making myself useful." Leaning back, she offered a smile. "And I confess I am curious; you spoke of my mother, "Hardly anyone mentions her to me."
"Yoshie-san," he sighed, "aye, I can see that they would not." Misao frowned at that manner of reply. "She has been gone a long time now. Life is for the living, Misao-chan." It was not that she did not see the wisdom in such words that she still insisted on her way; she would like to know something of her mother."
"I dare trouble an honoured guest with my questions, but do so with a sincere heart." They sat in silence for a time. Misao struggled to keep a patient expression upon her face. She knew some of the story of her parents' lives, but at the same time a great deal of it was tightly bound in mystery. Her grandfather had died before she had any of the necessary capacity to understand even if she had been told and Jiya either did not know or did not care to enlighten her. Yet she wished to know, whatever it entailed; the good and the bad, all of it. "Did you know my mother well?"
Hirota put down his cup. "As well as any, I would guess. It was in the years during which I served with your Jiya that I was sent to Hokkaido, to the Ishikari Plain. They now call it Sapporo, but in those days it was a barely developed bundle of humanity. Still there were some wealthy families and more than a few willing to dip into the realm of politics. It makes perfect sense that ears were needed." He paused there and took a dip of his drink before clearing his throat. "By some accident of fate I was placed in the Ueno household. As you might well guess, the family had two children, Takeshi, the eldest, already a man grown, and Yoshie, a slip of a girl I was much surprised to learn was soon to wed."
Misao knew that part. Her father had been sent to Hokkaido for some reason or another and upon meeting her mother, he'd spirited her away from a much-loathed suitor. She'd not know her mother was to have wed the man. Keeping silent, she leaned in encouragingly. Hirota placated her by continuing, "Suffice to say, Yoshie-san caused her family a great deal of grief when she chose to run away with Hideki-san. I always hoped they were happy together."
A fan slapped against the edge of the table, breaking Misao out of her reverie. With a sharp sound she looked up to see Jiya and his troubled expression. "You just couldn't help yourself, could you?" he demanded of Hirota. "Misao, this was not the way I wanted you to learn of the past."
"Are you perhaps afraid?" Hirota cut in, "that she should grow to resent the interference?" To her utter astonishment her usually pleasant Jiya glared. "Misao-chan, this rift caused by Yoshie-san within her family is an old wound. Her brother would see it repaired, as much as can be. In this new era, old grudges should die."
Mouth falling in a slack oval, she found herself at a loss for words. She turned towards Okina. "Is there a reason, other than your wish I had learned of this in some other way, that I should not pursue this?" But she could see in the man's face that he had nothing to give her. No reason for which she ought to take a step back and let the matter drop, thus Misao looked back towards their guest. "My mother's brother, this uncle of mine, what precisely does he wish for?"
"The chance to know you. Here," he spoke, retrieving a folded piece of paper from his sleeve, "for you." She reached out with trembling fingers and took what had to be a letter. Misao opened it gently, peering down at the elegant script. She did not concentrate on reading for the time being, but rather on the craft which went into formal missive. "Nenji, you ought to read it as well. Takeshi-sama is aware you are acting as Misao-chan's guardian."
It was then that she began reading. Misao had never considered herself a hard-hearted woman. She found it easy to let emotions sway her and easier still have them well up within her. It was then little wonder that from the first few lines, she was struggling to contain her tears. To say that the letter was one of much tenderness and unbridled hope would not do it justice. She recognised in the writer something of herself. The wish to reunite what ought to be kept together.
"I do not understand," she said in the end, folding the missive with great care, "why now? Why not when my parents had died, why not a year ago or five or seven?" Much as she felt, she was no longer a child to be swayed only by emotions.
"The old master is dying; I believe he would make peace on his deathbed. He wants to see what remains of Yoshie-san." Misao bit into her lower lip at those words. Her first instinct was to refuse; and yet, she had not turned her back on greater atrocities.
Rising to her feet, she bowed to the man. "Hirota-san, I need some time." It was the wisest thing she could think to say. She knew who she wanted to approach with the news, and she knew she had to do it fast before her courage left her.
The response was deemed acceptable and she left the two men conversing in low tones. Misao knew not where she would find Aoshi. She searched the gardens and his office, gently tapped on the frail frame on the shoji impeding her from seeing into his chamber and lastly made her way the small space used for practice. It was there that she found the man, kodachi in hand.
Loathe to interrupt when he was in the middle of what appeared to be a complex exercise, she seated herself of a cushion and admired the motions he went through, doing her best to take not of the finger points she could discern. Her wait was not long, not that she minded. Aoshi, having likely been aware of her arrival, ended his attack and put aside his weapons, reaching out for a towel as he watched her. "What brings you here, Misao?"
"I need some advice from a clear pair of eyes." She held the letter out to him with both hands, body leaning into a bow. This was a request; she ought to put her all into it. A moment passed before he took her burden from her. Misao lifted her head so as to better watch the man while he perused the lines. Once finished, he sat down next to her, passing the letter into her care. It was clear that he was listening for her worries, expecting that she would not need more prompting. Misao took a deep breath before speaking, "What do you know of my mother's family?"
"They hail from Hokkaido, more specifically the Ishikari Plain. Your maternal grandfather is a man of some means, albeit his support of the Shogun during the Bakumatsu made his position rather difficult. I understand his son is somewhat of a scholar." He seemed somewhat uncomfortable. "Misao, I–"
She shook her head at that. "Would I be exposing myself to harm if I were to consort with them?" He gave her the expected answer; that he could see no reason why she should come to any harm. "Then why is everyone so very ill at ease? How am I to take that?"
"There is some difficulty between the families." Misao assumed he spoke of the elopement. She told him what Hirota had said by manner of refutation. But he surprised her with further knowledge. "Old Ueno has long since forgiven his daughter; he even took her back in after her husband's death. But the Okashira would not be parted from you. He forbade any further interaction once he'd retrieved you."
Misao took a moment to think his words through. "Are you saying my mother's family would have been perfectly willing to look after me, yet the Okashira chose to place me in the care of what was effectively a stranger?" He did not respond to that, after all, what could he say? Reining in her ire, knowing she could gain but little by it, Misao continued, "Surely after he died, the new Okashira might have seen the wisdom in placing a child he did not wish involved in the Oniwabanshu in the care of a family with no ties to such."
"I was tasked with looking after you. As for the other, it was the wish of my Okashira; I would not have felt right to disregard it." She could have screamed with how angry she was. Misao bit her tongue instead. "You were a child; such knowledge would not have helped you in the least."
"I was alone," she protested with feeling, wincing to her the loudness of her own voice. Tempering herself some, she tried once more, "You left me and I was alone." He looked as though he might speak, so she held her hands up. "Pray do not; I know you could not have taken me with you. I understand. But I was still alone, abandoned without a word of warning. Okina and the rest were kind. But they weren't my family." She held his gaze. "I think I can understand a bit of how my mother's family feels." She bowed to him until her forehead nigh touched the ground. "Okashira-sama, I beg you to reconsider."
Hands grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to rise. "Take someone with you, if you would go." She softened against him at those words. He left her go then, continuing, "I would rather you not stay overlong, if it can be helped."
Lower lip trembling, Misao forgot herself for a moment and caught one of Aoshi's hands between her own. "I only meant it a little bit as a reprimand," she said with candour. "Aside from which, I do not believe we will stay long at all. I still have Kaoru-san's wedding to attend. If Himura-san should screw his courage to the sticking place, that is." Then she caught herself when she gazed into his face. He must have been taken aback by her boldness. Misao patted his hand apologetically before releasing him. "That is to say, it is good and well to be on better terms with my mother's family, but it does not change my feelings towards any of you."
He made a noncommittal sound; she imaged more an acknowledgement than a response. But Misao was happy enough with that. She was, after all, easy enough to please.
End notes: I can only hope this was satisfactory. I am aware there are some daring moves on Kenshin's part, but I also believe Kaoru would be accepting, especially as it is comfort on his part rather than anything else.
Thank you for taking the time to read.