I'll Do My Crying in
the Rain
Chapter Two -- What
Comes of Honesty: The Girl Seta Soujiro Loves
By Gabi
The farm, Kuri saw,
when they finally came upon it, was a pleasant and tidy little place. The house buildings stood a bit back from
the stable and stockyard and beside the house was a neat little garden, which
Kuri could tell even at a glance was carefully tended. The stockyard was a little muddy and rutted,
but that was to be expected from the light rain that had fallen the previous
morning. All in all, Kuri would have
likely enjoyed their stay at the farm greatly, were she not completely
preoccupied with trying to figure out what Soujiro was thinking.
He proved as benignly
unreadable as always, and even though among all the people in Japan, she was
the one best suited to reading his moods now, there were times when he was as
mysterious in his motives as a cat.
Sometimes she even wondered if he had motives for half the things he
did. It didn't seem to her that he did,
many times, although she wasn't privy to any of his secrets either. It was as
if Soujiro were the leader of some secret society and she had to pass all sorts
of strange tests and rituals before he would so much as let her know what they
were having for breakfast. He had once
so much as told her (of course he didn't actually tell her, she had to infer it
from what he said, but then again, he didn't actually ever tell her anything,
so it's not as if she had gone out on a limb assuming what she had assumed)
that it was for her own safety that he never told her anything, and while this
had pacified her for a while, she being the trusting sort and he being the man
that she loved, there were times when Kuri got fed up and seriously doubted the
danger of her knowing what they were going to have for breakfast. This was one of those times.
So as she followed
meekly behind Soujiro, as he followed at a relaxed pace behind Mataemon Shinji,
she found herself muddled, confused, and frustrated, and as she had had quite a
long, silent walk to brood over her frustrations, by the time they actually got
to the farmhouse, she was in no mood to be fed and then shooed to bed. She was also quite aware of all the little
tricks Soujiro employed to keep her in a pleasant mood, although some of them
slipped by her until she reflected upon them.
She was also in no mood to be pacified like a child. She wanted answers. No, she wanted his answers. He had all of hers, guarded carefully away
from the perils of the world, to comfort him at the strangest times. He had also told her this one rainy night
when they had spent a miserable night huddled under some bushes. Well, he hadn't actually told her this
either, but she had inferred. Being
with him had made her very good at living on inferences.
But it wasn't really
fair. She offered him reassurance of
her feelings at every chance that presented itself. He offered, well, he offered himself, nothing more, and nothing less,
no, that wasn't right either. He offered
a lot less, because Kuri gave herself openly and honestly, while she had to
guess and infer and hope and despair as terribly subtle emotions played across
his face. Was he really giving her
anything at all? Well, yes and no, but
there were times that Kuri ardently wished that he would just trust her and
offer a little more of the yes than of the no.
When they finally
trudged onto the front porch of the farm house, Mataemon's wife, Tamako was
waiting for them with a lantern. She
was surprised and pleased at the guests and seemed to Kuri to be a very jolly
matron indeed. She ushered the three of
them in with little pomp and announced that dinner would be served
immediately. Her husband tried to
protest about how there were chores and how their guests needed to bathe but
she would hear nothing of it. The
chores and baths could wait a few minutes for a hurried supper. Tamako seemed like a no-nonsense woman, and
Kuri immediately liked her. She dished
up delicious, steaming hot food and begged that Kuri excuse the disarray of
their meal. She explained that they
often had a swift, impromptu supper in the fall months so that there was time
enough after it to finish the chores before dusk. Kuri nodded and agreed that it was a good plan and that she was
used to such suppers as she had also grown up on a farm. She politely thanked Tamako and Shinji and
then settled again into a brooding silence as she tried to put everything she
wanted to say to Soujiro once she got him alone in order. She paid little more than cursory attention
to the conversation at the table, although Soujrio spoke frequently. She paid enough attention to know that he
didn't talk about anything important.
If Soujiro noticed that she hadn't eaten much or spoken hardly at all,
he didn't say anything. After dinner,
Kuri helped clear the dishes as Soujiro went out to help Shinji with the
chores.
After she finished
helping Tamako inside the house, she stole outside, even though she was fairly
sure that sweet-tempered, meek wives were not supposed to help with farm
chores. Tamako let her go with a
knowing smile on her face. After all,
she too had once been newly married.
Meanwhile, Kuri was determined to speak with Soujiro alone. She had to; there were things that needed to
be said, and she was willing to shovel manure to get the chance to say them.
When she found
Soujiro, he was in the barn, mucking out a stall. She crept in quietly and scouted for Mataemon, then stopped,
suddenly unsure of what to do next.
Soujiro gave no sign that he had seen her. He kept to his work, raking out the soiled straw so new straw
could be laid. He had rolled and tied
his hakama at his knees, although she was unsure how they could get any dirtier
that they were now. Swallowing, Kuri
gathered her courage and tentatively approached him.
He looked up when she
drew near and didn't seem surprised to see her. He finished mucking out the stall and then leaned his rake
against the wall before turning to speak with her.
"Daijoubu ka,
Kuri-san? You didn't eat much at
dinner. That's not like you."
So he had at least
noticed. That made her feel marginally
better.
"I'm not
sick," she began, and tried to think of what she needed to say first.
"That's
good," he smiled absently and then innocently observed, "I'm
glad. I was worried that maybe those
mushrooms you found were poison and that they had made you sick."
Kuri kept her temper
under control, although the deadpan look she gave him garnished with clouded
brows was enough to clue him in that he had said something wrong. He was about to attempt to pacify her when
Mataemon emerged from the stockyard.
"Tamako says the
bath is ready, Seta-san," he offered good-naturedly, "She sent me out
to find your wife."
Soujiro nodded and Kuri
opened her mouth to protest. She wasn't
finished talking to him yet. The bath
could wait.
"Matte,"
she cried even as he politely took her by the arm and led her away. He turned back to Mataemon as he left.
"I'll be back in
a few minutes to help finish the chores, Mataemon-san, I just need to make sure
that Kuri has everything that she needs."
The farmer smiled and
raised a hand in agreement before picking up the rake that Soujiro had leaned
against the wall.
Soujiro pointedly
ignored all of Kuri's protests.
Whatever she wanted to talk to him about could wait until after she
had a bath. He was certain that running
around in wet clothes for the better part of the day, despite how warm it was,
had to be unhealthy. The sooner she
took a bath, the sooner she could put on clean, dry clothes. He was certain this would raise her spirits
at least some degree.
Kuri, on the other
hand, was sure that Soujiro was pointedly ignoring all her protests because he
simply didn't want to talk to her. He
certainly didn't understand what she was trying to tell him. He just walked her up the steps of the
bathhouse and presumed that a nice warm bath would make everything better.
"But
Soujiro-kun!" she protested, wringing her hands in frustration.
He raised a finger
and placed it on her lips with the same carelessness she observed whenever he
touched her, "Whatever it is, it can wait until after you've had your
bath. The water is getting cold,
Kuri-san."
"But!"
"After your
bath," he insisted firmly, and refused to budge or listen until she
begrudgingly went into the bathhouse.
Kuri waited for
several minutes in the dim interior of the washing room before poking her head
back outside the door. Seta Soujiro
apparently had no idea who he was dealing with. She had to talk to him privately and she was going to talk to him
privately, even if he didn't want to listen.
After briefly scanning the yard, she opened the door and tiptoed down
the steps. She was on the last step
when he spoke.
"After your
bath."
He was leaning
against a tree at the edge of the yard, half concealed in shadows. His arms were folded comfortably against his
chest and he was watching the bathhouse with much interest. Seta Soujiro knew exactly who he was dealing
with.
"I'll be here when
you're finished bathing, Kuri-san.
There's no rush. We can talk
then."
Kuri opened her mouth
one last time to try and reason with him, but then closed it. The terms of their meeting had been
set. He wasn't going to listen until
she had taken her bath. She sighed and
then turned and walked dejectedly back up the steps and into the bathhouse.
As she undressed, she
attempted to reason out his actions. He
rarely gave her orders or ultimatums, and only then when their lives depended
on her obedience. She vividly
remembered the last time he had given her a command. His voice had been soft, deadly soft, and they had been standing
in a Kyoto alley late at night. She had
knelt in the shadows, unable to move, frozen in place as she watched him duel
in the moonlight.
No, whenever he
wanted her to do something, he asked her politely. That was one thing the boy had in abundance, politeness. She wondered if perhaps he had something on
his mind, and that was why he had demanded she bathe so he had time to think
about it. Not that it mattered. He wouldn't tell her about it even if he did
have something on his mind. She sighed
and tried to think of happier things as she concentrated on cleaning herself.
Eventually, she
managed to dismiss much of what was bothering her from her mind. It did feel good to take a real bath in a
real bathhouse. It had been some time
since she'd had one. Mostly she just
had to make due with rinsing off in rivers whenever she knew that he was
otherwise occupied. The water was chill,
but it invigorated her, and after some strenuous scrubbing, she left her dirty
clothes in a heap and settled into the warm furo in the next room.
Her ears pricked
once, as the outer door opened and Tamako called, "Just getting your dirty
clothes dearie!"
Kuri called back a
grateful thank you and then settled a bit deeper into the water, drawing her
knees to her chest and letting the warmth of the water soak into her. Although she had been in a great hurry to
talk to Soujiro before her bath, now that she had settled in the water, she was
loathe to leave it.
Kuri sighed even as
she wriggled her toes in the water.
Could he even understand how she felt?
*
Soujiro remained
standing half in the shadows watching the door of the bathhouse for some time,
and idly reflected upon their day. He
was still unclear as to why Kuri was upset, but he had a feeling he was going
to find out about it soon enough. He
was about to return to helping Mataemon with the chores when he suddenly
realized that he had escorted Kuri to the bath without benefit of a towel or
robe. Somewhat distressed at his
oversight, he left his post for a few minutes to retrieve a spare towel and
robe. He met Mataemon coming around the
side of the barn and the cheerful, burly farmer informed him that the chores
were done and thanked him for his help.
He then escorted Soujiro to his wife who gave him a towel and a robe and
remarked rather evasively about the bath being unoccupied.
Soujiro had to laugh
at himself as he started back to the bath.
Kuri was more cunning that he gave her credit for. She'd just waited until he'd abandoned his
watchful post and had then snuck out to find him. Perhaps she had merely snuck out to prove that she could, it was
the sort of thing that she would do, although he was still confused as to why
she wanted to avoid her bath so much.
Still, there was no use wasting hot water. If Kuri had snuck off, then he might as well bathe while the
water was warm. Later, when Kuri came
looking for him, he'd simply usher her back to the bathhouse and build another
fire. He even resolved to let her say
whatever she wanted to say before her bath.
If it were that important to her, then stalling her bath for a few
minutes (or a few hours, considering the way Kuri talked) wouldn't hurt
anything.
Sure enough, the door
to the bath was standing slightly ajar, and when Soujiro peeped in he found
neither Kuri nor Kuri's dirty clothes.
"That's my
Kuri," he laughed softly to himself, and then set about undressing.
*
In the back room of
the bath, Kuri heard slight ambient noises, but brushed them off as the small
building settling and creaking. It was
not like there was any way someone could walk in on her anyway, not with
Soujiro standing guard in front of the building. Still, just to be sure, she squeezed up against herself and sank
a little lower into the tub of warm water.
*
After some hard
scrubbing, Soujiro finally got all the muck and grime off of his body. He rinsed his hair one final time and then packed
the soaps away, back into the small wooden bucket where he had found them in
the first place. He stood and rolled
the muscles in his back. They were a
little sore from the carrying and raking he'd done. Those muscles in his back were ones he rarely used, even when he
gave Kuri the occasional piggy-back ride, so it was understandable that they
were now a little sore with disuse. It
had been years since he'd had to haul bales of rice bigger than he was, after
all.
He dismissed this
thought absently. He had too much to
worry about already. Kuri was upset for
some reason. He didn't have time to
spend dwelling on his past. His present
was more important.
Leaving his robe
hanging from a peg behind the door, Soujrio picked up the clean, dry towel and
pushed open the door to the back room without a second thought. It took a few seconds for his brain to
register that he was not alone in the room.
*
Kuri responded
quicker, although it was not to any great effect. She made a choked, surprised sound and her eyes widened more than
she thought possible. Soujiro was
standing in the doorway. Soujiro was
standing in the doorway and he was not wearing any clothes. The only scrap of cloth he had with him was
a towel, which thankfully (or unthankfully) concealed his man bits. He was staring at her in the same
dumbfounded idiot way she was sure that she was staring at him.
All the sudden, he
seemed to recover himself and he cried, "Sumimasen!" and snapped his
eyes shut, "I thought you were out of the bath!"
She blinked and
finally recovered herself as well, but he spoke again before she could.
"Sumimasen,
Kuri-san. I'll be going now," he
turned on his heel and Kuri suddenly realized that here of all places she was
guaranteed to have a private audience with him, and circumstances being what
they were, he might actually listen.
Before she had time to reconsider or lose her nerve, she called him
back.
"Wait," her
voice trembled and he froze in place, as if disbelieving that she had called him
to stop. Kuri took a deep breath and
then tried again, "I need to talk to you, Soujiro. I need to talk to you and I need for you to
listen. Please."
He started to ask
what was so important that couldn't wait until they were both clothed, but
decided better of it. There was
something in Kuri's voice that simply told him that it was that important.
"Hai, I'm
listening, Kuri-san. Does this have
something to do with why you've been so upset today?" he turned back
towards her out of politeness, although he kept his eyes closed.
She nodded tensely
and realized that he couldn't see her.
Her voice trembled as she spoke again.
"Soujiro, we
can't do this if you won't look at me."
Soujiro shifted
slightly on his feet and she could tell that once again her words had surprised
him.
"Sumimasen,
Kuri-san. I didn't look because I
thought it would make you uncomfortable," his voice was soft, but she
could feel an undercurrent to it, and it made the hairs on the back of her neck
stand on end.
"I
understand. Thank you, but I need for
you to look at me so you can try and understand what I have to say," her
own voice wavered in a way quite uncharacteristic.
He nodded and then
cautiously opened his eyes. They stared
at each other for another breathless moment before Kuri blushed and looked
down. After a few moments of awkward
silence, she started to speak.
"I don't really
know where to start, so I'll try to tell you what I feel. It's hard.
I've been trying to work out little speeches to you all day, but none of
them turn out any good. I'll just have
to trust that you'll be able to understand," she took a deep breath,
"I've been traveling with you for a long time now, and we've been through
a lot together. I'd like to think that
we've grown to trust each other. I know
that I trust you. I've always trusted
you, and I'd do anything that you asked me to do, even if you didn't give me a
reason, but sometimes, sometimes I wish you would."
"You wish I
would do what?" he asked, his voice still soft. She knew he was looking at her, but suddenly, it no longer
mattered.
"I wish you
would give me reasons. You never tell
me anything. You never trust me to do
anything, on my own. You never ask my
opinion seriously. You never tell me
anything that you're afraid might upset me, even if I have a right to
know. I wish you had asked," she
had worked her self up to the point that now she fighting tears, her hand
brushing against her eyes in a sorry attempt to keep him from seeing.
"You wish that I
had asked what?" he prompted, wishing for some way to comfort her, but
unwilling to go any closer while they were in their current state of undress.
"I wish that
you had asked me before you told Mataemon-san that I was you wife. It hurt me so much that you could just tell him
that and not think about what it meant.
It hurt even more because you never show me that you care about me, I
just have to live hoping that you do," she shuddered under a sob that she
barely contained.
"What do you
mean, Kuri? After I fought with Noriko-san,
I came back to you. I'm always worried
about you. I think about you all the
time. I've always protected you . .
."
Suddenly the words
that Yoshida had offered her several months before fell into her grasp and she
couldn't stop herself from shooting them at Soujiro now. He had hurt her so much, and he still didn't
understand.
"Love and
protect are not the same. They're two
separate words and they mean two different things."
He was silent for
several moments, and she wondered if she had hurt him so much that he didn't
want to speak to her anymore. Finally,
he spoke.
"Yes, I suppose
you're right. They do mean different
things."
Finally she couldn't
contain her frustration any longer and she sobbed out, "I love you!"
She buried her face in
her arms and hugged her knees to her chest.
She wanted to disappear.
Nothing had happened like she had wanted it to happen. Everything was falling apart. Then he spoke, and his voice was warm, and
thoughtful, as if he had discovered some great secret.
"I know. I think I've known since the beginning. Still, it feels nice to hear you say
it."
She wanted to cry in
confusion, but couldn't as she was already crying. What did he mean by that?
Did he mean that he loved her too, or just that he found her
comforting? Did he want her? Did he love her? Was she just his friend?
She had to know. After
confessing herself like that, she needed to know. She deserved to know.
Timidly, she looked
at him again, trying to read his impossible features, and when she couldn't,
she knew that she had to expose herself again, if she wanted any hope of a
response.
"Do you,"
she began softly, then stuttered because she was unsure how to phrase it,
"Do you want me to be your woman?"
She didn't know what
to expect as a response. Once again he
shifted positions, and he closed his eyes.
Then he laughed, and
she felt as if she were being torn in two.
It was not a harsh laugh. It was
sweet and gentle, but it was still a laugh.
She hushed herself completely and waited for him to speak, hoping
against hope that he would say something that would quell her fears and ease
her pain.
"Iie, Kuri. I don't want you to be my woman. You're not ready. I don't want you to be my woman," he repeated softly,
smiling gently, "But I need you to be my girl. Please, just keep being my girl."
His girl. His child.
She was a child. He thought of
her as a child. His sister. His girl.
She wanted to curl up and die, or hide some place far, far away. After all they'd been through, she'd hoped
against hope that he would love her, not just as a friend, not just as a
companion. She wanted him to love her
as a woman.
Just as she'd always
known. She'd dared herself to hope, but
she'd always known, really, deep inside.
He didn't think of her as a woman.
He probably barely even thought of her as a girl. She was ragged, often dirty, cavorting about
in boy's clothing. She had no manners,
no tact, no grace, no beauty. She was
just a child. She was just a ragged,
homeless child that he took pity on and kept because she comforted him. She made him feel as if he were doing
something good by keeping a ragged little street urchin safe. She was his child.
All these thoughts
flashed through her mind in a few seconds as she stared at him. Finally, he cocked his head to the left and
asked softly,
"Do you
understand?"
There was only one
answer she could give him, although it took every ounce of her willpower to
keep her voice steady and even.
"Yes."
He smiled, "I'm
glad."
There was another
tense span of seconds and the he spoke rather awkwardly.
"I had better be
going now, otherwise Mataemon-san might think we're up to something," he
laughed softly, and it stung her, "Don't be too long."
She nodded dumbly and
watched him go. She kept herself
perfectly still until she heard the outer bath door shut and latch, then she
could no longer keep up the pretense of strength and just let herself cry.
*
Soujiro didn't see her again that night.
Somehow she managed to sneak past him after her bath, and when he
finally found her, she was curled up in the blanket on one side of the doubled
sleeping mat. She was curled up in a
ball, and her hands were fisted tightly in the blanket. He wondered how she could be comfortable,
but then shrugged. She was apparently
comfortable doing many things that he was not comfortable with yet.
His gaze was soft, as
it always was when he watched her sleep.
He didn't have to worry about her when she was asleep. He didn't have to worry about what she'd
think when she saw him watching her. Of
course, now he really didn't have to worry about that either. He smiled at her fondly. She was much braver about speaking her
feelings than he was, but now that they were being honest with each other, he
hoped it would get better.
He knelt beside the
mat and watched her steady breathing for several minutes, then folded down the
blanket on his edge of the futon and eased himself under it, being careful not
disturb her. After he settled, and after
he was sure that she was still sleeping soundly, he looped his arm around her
waist and pulled her snugly against him.
She made a little crying sound that he was sure was in response to some
strange dream, and then was still. He
lay his head against her still drying hair and let his nose barely graze the
bottom of her earlobe. He sighed gently
against the stillness of the night, and then, content with her peaceful and
rhythmic breathing, Seta Soujiro slept.
*