I'll Do My Crying in the Rain

Chapter 3 -- All in the family: The path they walk alone, they walk together

By Gabi

The first thing Soujiro was aware of was the peaceful warmth that the blankets afforded him against the icy air that chilled his nose. He wrinkled his nose, but that did little to warm it, so he edged down a little so the heavy blankets covered him nearly to his eyes. The chill of the morning air made him confident that the Indian summer was over and that with the first cold snap, autumn had truly arrived.

The second thing that Soujiro became aware of was that Kuri had shifted and rolled in her sleep, and in doing so, had curled against his chest. Her cheek was warm against his chest that was only partially covered by his borrowed robe. Her head lay pillowed in the hollow of his right shoulder and her neck and back followed a simple smooth curve that he had fitted his right arm against absently, almost familiarly, when she had turned.

Her hair was mussed and had fallen into her face. It was loose around her neck and it fell down over her arms, which he saw she had curled against herself as if she were some small animal. He studied her intently and then brought his free hand to her face to gently brush back the hair that was obscuring it. With a feather touch he tucked most of the errant hair back behind her ear and in doing so discovered that while tossing about in her sleep she had managed to pull her own borrowed robe all out of shape and expose one pale rounded shoulder and a tantalizing bit of soft flesh that was partially concealed by the natural fall of the robe before it got too interesting.

He forced himself to close his eyes for a few moments. When he opened them, he lightly pulled the loose fabric of the robe back over her shoulder although he could not ignore the single tremor in his hand as he did so. Knowing the old adage about idle hands and devil's workshops, he found It necessary to gently grip the edge of the blanket to keep himself from becoming too interested in the contours of the robe.

He had made this decision some time ago, when he had first began to seriously yearn to lose himself against her, inside of her, to claim her completely. He couldn't do that to her, he had decided. His own childhood had been taken from him. He wouldn't end hers prematurely. There were also obvious risks involved as well. Soujiro was quite aware of where babies came from, and he had no intention of fathering a child any time in the near future. It was the only logical thing to do.

Of course, it had been much easier to come to this conclusion when he had been sitting up by the campfire alone, watching her sleep. Circumstances were altered somewhat when the girl in question was sleeping in his arms clad in nothing but a loose robe that was too big for her. This was not even taking into account the previous evening when she had declared rather adamantly that she loved him while she sat in a tub of water absolutely naked. It was as if fate were conspiring against him. Every moment seemed to bring a new challenge to his willpower and there were times that he had no other recourse than to completely shut himself off, rather than do something that he would regret. He was sure these instances confused Kuri to no end, but he was at a loss as to how to politely explain it to her without letting too many details slip.

Still, she had surprised him with her question the previous evening, and he had had the greatest difficulty in exercising restraint. She was hurt. She needed to be comforted. She was begging him to touch her in just the way he ached to, but she didn't know what she was asking. She was a girl. She was a sixteen-year-old girl under his protection and he was firmly of the opinion that she was completely unprepared for what she asked for. She hadn't really thought about it, he was sure. It was just something that had come out when she had worked herself up over his lack of personal affection. Well, there was a middle ground between the two extremes, and he resolved he would try to be more obviously affectionate, although he had no idea where to begin. This would have been a question to ask Yumi, although he dismissed that thought quickly from his mind, because the thought of Kuri and Yumi in the same breath disturbed him, and he wasn't sure why.

Suddenly, he heard a muffled clatter in the front room of the house and peeped out from under the covers to see a pale dawn through the slits in the window coverings. The farmer was awake. It was time for morning chores, although Soujiro was loathe to leave the warmth and security of the nest of blankets for the chill caked mud of the stockyard. He let his eyes wander over her again and another tremor in his free hand made it obvious what choice he had to make. It was beginning to be too much, even for his resolve.

He lifted her gently, so as not to wake her, and slid his shoulder out from under her head. He tried not to let too much cold air under the blankets as he abandoned his haven and threw himself to the mercy of the icy October air. After making sure he hadn't disturbed her and that she still slept heavily, he discarded his robe and dressed quickly in his freshly laundered clothes. He folded the robe and left it on top of a couple of extra blankets that were stacked in a corner of the room and absently reminded himself to tell the farmer's wife not to wake Kuri. He thought she deserved the sleep, after the harrowing day she had had previously. He might even have time after the chores to sit for a few minutes and watch her sleep undisturbed.

These were the simple pleasures he entertained as he softly slid the door to the room shut and left to face the watery light of the farmyard dawn.

*

Kuri dowsed awake to find herself curled in a little ball, knotted in a pile of heavy blankets, and yearning for something she couldn't quite place. She poked her head out from under the blankets to find that it was mid-morning, and the sun was shining brightly, although it had done very little to warm the air. After a cursory glance around the room, Kuri spotted Soujiro's robe folded neatly on a stack of blankets. She felt somewhat gratified to know that he had at least slept in the room, but there was a quiet part of her, deep inside, that was still aching from the rejection he had glibly offered while smiling that damnable smile of his. Still, even if he didn't . . . love her, at least she could find comfort in being near him. He had at least granted her that, and after living on so little affection for the majority of her life, she found that she could force herself to be content with it.

She felt a little hollow inside, and as she glanced over at the space beside her, she couldn't help wondering what it would have been like if his answer had been different, what it would have been like to spend the night in his arms and warm to his gentle, patient touch. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the heels of her palms against her face. She couldn't think about that. The best thing now was to try and go on the way they had been. Maybe someday he would call for her to fulfill the very role she yearned for. Until then, she could content herself with scraps.

She shook her head and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The air was chill, but she still ventured from the tangled nest of blankets. It was far too late in the morning for her to be sleeping, and she felt guilty. She knew that everyone else on the farm had been up working for hours while she had laid-abed sleeping.

She pulled the loose cotton robe around her and then padded quietly over to the corner where her hakama had gi had been neatly folded and laid. She began to undo the ties that held the hakama crisply in shape, but a voice behind her nearly startled her off her feet.

"Not that today. Wear your yukata."

She turned, startled, to find him standing almost behind her. He could be so silent when he wanted to be. He'd scared her almost out of her skin. Swallowing hard, she finally managed to settle back down on her feet after flailing forward. He did not seem perturbed and apparently felt no need to apologize for startling her, because he requested no forgiveness. He simply stood behind her, arms folded inside his gi, and waited for her to acknowledge him.

She glanced at the open sack that stood near her feet. It contained all their possessions, which, while they were scant few, were far above and beyond anything she had possessed previous to becoming his companion. The garment of which he spoke lay folded and tied neatly in paper, underneath her small collection of "pretty rocks" and a small painted wooden dog that Soujiro had bought for her at a Shinto Shrine outside of Kyoto.

The yukata was actually the only change of clothes that she had. He had wandered off from her one day earlier in the summer on the pretense of business and when he had returned he had brought her a treasure tied up with brown string. The garment itself was beautiful: heavy layers of cotton lined with silk. It was heavier than a traditional yukata but lighter than a kimono, making it a much more versatile piece of clothing. The embroidery on it was intricate and lovely, brown, gold, and red leaves of autumn, along with a scattering of harvest nuts. Kuri was extremely doubtful that they could have ever afforded the beautiful garment had they bought it from a seamstress, not in a month of Sundays. Something in his eyes made her too wary to ask what personal favors he had called up to get the yukata, but he had seemed satisfied with her ecstatic response. For her, the yukata was just as important as the crooked hand stitching on the right shoulder of his gi. He had chosen it for her. It was special.

"Why?" she asked quietly, calmly staring him down.

"Tanabata," he spoke softly, meeting her calm gaze with a complacent smile of his own, "We're going to a festival today."

*

She didn't really know anything about the festival. Soujiro had explained a few things to her as they went, but the festival wasn't one she was familiar with. It was a star festival, he had spoken softly even as he kept her in step beside him. She could tell that he was purposefully limiting his stride so that she could walk beside him and not behind him, as she normally did. His left hand fidgeted with the frayed threads of his sleeve as he spoke, something she noticed, but was not sure he was aware of. She wondered what was on his mind, although she was certain that there were few chances in hell that he was going to tell her anything.

"Tanabata is the festival of the stars. This is the only night of the year that Hikoboshi the cow herd can see the woman that he loves, Orihime the weaver," he glanced off to the left side of the road as if he saw something extremely interesting.

Kuri rolled her eyes. He was being less than subtle. Something was preying upon his mind in such a way that he seemed at a loss to conceal it.

"It's also a festival of good luck and good wishes. You make a wish and then write it on a strip of paper and hang it from your door. If you pray with your whole heart, then the wish will come true," he coughed and seemed distracted by the left side of the road again, "There are some other traditions about Tanabata, but they're not very important."

She cast a sidelong glace at him, but he only smiled at her blandly. She refrained from comment.

They traveled along the road for a little while longer, and then Kuri was forced to stop flat when they came upon a sizable mud hole that had created a trough in the road. She made an exasperated sound and then bent to roll up her yukata so it wouldn't get muddy as she picked her way around the side of the road. Before she could straighten she felt an arm at the back of her knees and another against her back and she was swept up and deposited neatly on her feet again. She blinked and looked around and found herself on the other side of the puddle although she hadn't felt him jump.

She looked at him for a long moment. He touched her so casually, as if it didn't mean a thing to him. As if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to do. It frustrated her, and just seemed to drive home the fact that he found her non-threatening in a physical sense. She was a girl-child that you could pick up and deposit like a sack of potatoes, not a woman whose permission you had to ask. There was nothing improper about him hauling her around. She was like his sister . . . but something inside her tingled about the way he left his arm around her waist for a spare moment longer than it needed to stay.

He drew back of course, like he always did, back into his shell, back into his own personal space, away from her, away from contact. She sighed. It was going to be a long day.

"Tired?" he asked curiously, at her sigh, "I could carry you the rest of the way."

Her brows clouded. Here he was again, offering her all the comforts that a child would want. She felt the urge to throw a rock at him coming back on, "I'm fine. I'm not tired. I'll walk, thanks."

He nodded and there was an awkward silence before they started walking again. Once they were on the move again, it took them little time to get to Sendai town, the site of the festival. Sendai was a medium sized town, gaily festooned for the festival. People thronged the streets examining the beautiful decorations, buying trinkets and keepsakes from vendors set up on the wooden sidewalks, and generally enjoying themselves. There was such an atmosphere of merriment that Kuri had difficulty staying moody and was soon hopping about and chirruping to Soujiro about some of the paper kites and streamers that were flying over the town.

The world was bright and lively, and it was easy for Kuri to forget her own sadness. There was so much to see that she wasn't quite sure where to start. She dragged Soujiro down one of the more crowded streets and straight to a booth with beautiful dried flowers. She was shyly peeping at them when she was suddenly startled by a voice from behind.

"Kuri-chan?"

She turned, placing the voice instantly, but still disbelieving. It wasn't possible . . .

"Oi! It is you!" Kuri suddenly felt herself tackled from behind in a way that she couldn't help but recognize. She squealed and wriggled and made a number of happy astonished sounds. Even as she flailed forward, she saw Soujiro thumb the blade of his katana from the corner of her eye. Distressed and disturbed, she cried out,

"Iie iie, Soujiro-kun, it's all right!"

He raised an eyebrow as she disentangled herself from the other person and after getting a great deal of squealing and hugging out of her system, she managed to regained her balance. Kuri couldn't help but smile in a cracked, lopsided, but altogether proud way as she waved her hand grandly at her assailant.

"Seta Soujiro, I'd like you to meet my sister, Hina."

--

Author's Note:
If you're interested in joining the mailing list, please send an email to subscribe-soujiro-fiction@topica.com or just drop me a line at Gabi@pinkfluffy.net. The Rainy Day Trilogy Website, with art and lots of other stuff is now up at a temporary location until pinkfluffy.net is restored. Come see us at http://www.geocities.com/pinkfluffynet/fanfiction/