She had
hoped that the withdrawn samurai would notice her even more with the
breath-taking kimonos she wore. There was no doubt that he looked at her
differently; she even turned the heads of other men on the street when they
went to town to buy groceries for dinner. And she followed Grandmother Yamazaki's
instructions to the very angle of her head when she strolled on the avenue.
This
continued for a week. And the next.
Weeks
became months.
Not a
word from the redhead.
In the
following days she became weary and began to think that despite the changes she
had brought on herself, the timid samurai wasn't at all interested in her. She
then thought back to the old woman's words.
' . .
. Some bees are just not meant to be attracted . . . '
The words
struck at her like a gong and reverberated inside her head.
' . . .
Not meant to be . . .'
The low
yowling of a neighbor's dog could be heard from her room. Wind seemed to run
past the tops of trees in a hurry, and the low roar of thunder replaced the
dog's howl. In a twinkle of an eye, the rain poured heavily. It was then she
accepted the many simple facts that she swallowed as truth: that she can never
be of anymore interest to Kenshin than a friend, this despite her well
worked-for change within her cocoon into a butterfly, that she was perhaps too
young for him, and on, and on.
While the
rain poured, she wept.
She could
not bear the sight of him. She did everything she could to avoid him, leaving
early in the morning before the redhead could make breakfast, missing lunch and
dinner altogether with the excuse that her lessons with the students would take
longer than expected. She even sent the boy Shintaro to bear the message. It
wasn't long before the old woman noticed.
One
afternoon while the boy practiced in the yard, Grandmother Yamazaki called to
Kaoru.
"Dear,
come sit by 'Baachan."
She did
so reluctantly.
"Now,
tell 'Baachan what you've been running away from."
Slowly,
she told the dear old lady her feelings, choking back a sob here and there. The
grandmother nodded and smiled as she finally broke down and cried on her lap.
"Everything
was wrong, 'Baachan . . . I did everything was perfect, but it didn't
work."
The old
woman took a handkerchief from her obi as she did before and wiped the tears
form Kaoru's eyes.
"Kaoru-chan,
didn't I tell you some bees are just not meant to be attracted?"
She
nodded at this with disappointment.
"Didn't
I also tell you that even if this is so, flowers will continue to bloom because
others will come to cherish and admire them for what they are? Kaoru-chan, the
flower plant isn't doing this for the sole purpose of being admired. It does so
because it is what satisfies the plant. It blooms for its own sake, with or
without an admirer. I thought you got the lesson the first time. Let me tell
you again. These things I've taught you, do them with the purpose that they are
what make you happy. If you cannot allow yourself to let go and find happiness
in yourself, then all of this cannot help you. The gentleman you have in mind
is not the only man in Japan, Kaoru-chan. My humble opinion is that you are
limiting your beauty to a bee that is not responsive. I've heard from other
around town that you've roused the interest of many men. Men are not blind to
beauty and kindness. You possess both. If only I had another son, surely I would
have pressed you two to be together by now!"
This last
statement made her laugh through her tears.
"But
really, you alone can make yourself happy with the decisions you make. You can
either allow yourself to chase this blind bee and hope he will notice you, or
you can let him go, let others find you and give you the happiness you need.
This is your final lesson, Kaoru-chan. 'Baachan has told you all she can."
She
understood word for word. All the while she thought of being subdued in
sadness, she never thought she had the power to pull herself out. There was a
renewed sparkle in her eye; she had made up her mind.
"Oh,
'Baachan," she said as she embraced the old lady, "you've been so
good and helpful to me, I don't know how to thank you."
"Your
first daughter will do," the old woman promptly replied.
Kaoru
laughed, and it felt good to do so. "'Baachan, I don't even have a suitor,
little less a husband!"
Grandmother
Yamazaki chuckled softly. "I give it a month. Promise, Kaoru-chan?"
"I
promise. 'Baachan, you're the closest person I've ever had to a mother."
Now
laughing a bit louder, "Oh, Kaoru-chan, how you flatter this old lady! How
I do want to adopt you so much!"
They
giggled together, prompting the boy Shintaro to stop swinging his wooden sword
in the air out of curiosity. A koi fish jumped out of the water for an instant
as the sun slowly bid goodbye over the horizon.
--------xoOox--------
'She has been acting unusual.
'Ever
since she came back from the festival in town, she hasn't been the same. She
hasn't been teaching her students lately. She would take a walk alone in the
early evenings right before dinner, in deep thought. Her eyes look as if they
have seen a sad picture, her brow slightly crumpled from worry. I offered to
accompany her, but her forced smile and reply that she would like to go by
herself drives me to worry.
'Was
it someone who upset her? New that is bothering her? Or was it me?'
All these
thoughts ran through his head. He came back home from fishing to find the
stoves in the kitchen with boiling pots on top of them.
'The
doctor must be over.' He turned and nearly ran into Kaoru, her hands
holding a bowl of tofu.
"Oh,
I'm sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going."
"That's
all right. No harm done." She
smiled at him, leaving him in quiet amazement to see her take the chopping
board, lift the knife out of its holder to cut the cube of tofu into smaller
cubes. She took off the lid of the pot, added in the cubes of tofu, stirred it
twice and tasted it. She smiled. She did this all naturally, like a chef.
"I
forgot to tell you, I want to cook dinner tonight." She glanced at the
basked he was holding as he stared at her. "I'll go and prepare that, too.
Thanks for catching fish today."
He
mindlessly gave her the basket, watching her as she twirled the knife in her
hand, scaled and degutted the fish with several swift strokes.
'Amazing
. . .'
"Oh,
could you watch the pot for awhile? I forgot to get the watermelons from the
well." With his nod, she left the kitchen. He approached the pot simmering
with delicious smelling food. Taking the ladle, he scooped a little broth to
taste it.
'Wow,
this is even better than my cooking! Where did she learn how to cook this
well?'
Matters
were getting stranger every day. She has been withdrawing from her company, and
she politely did so. Most of the time he spent with her was during meals. Even
then she was recluse, keeping to herself in deep concentration and thought. Out
of respect for her, he let her be.
Dinner
was as bit different that evening. The boy and former gangster took their usual
places, their stomachs grumbling at the smell of food.
"Kenshin,
you've outdone yourself this time. It smells too good!"
"Man,
why couldn't she make food like this?" the boy smirked.
"She
did."
His
company was dumbfounded. "Come again, Kenshin?"
"I
didn't do any of this except catch the fish."
Kaoru
entered the room with the pot of rice and sat at her usual place. All eyes were
on her as she took their bowls and filled it with rice, not looking up until
she finished filling hers. Both the boy and Sano were wide-eyed and gaping.
Smiling, she dismissed any possible denial and said, "I hope you like
it."
They all
ate in silence. Sano couldn't believe it, but his palate loved every bit of
food. Yahiko's cheeks bulged with food and looked like he would choke. The
redhead marveled at the taste, yet at the same time pondered at all the
oddities that came to be. After everyone had his fill, she asked, "Was it
all right?"
"Yeah,
surprisingly. But really, it was very good."
"Thank
you, Yahiko. I appreciate that compliment."
She
turned to Sano, but he was already falling asleep. She smiled.