I'll Do My Crying in the Rain

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.

*