Insecure
By: Psychotic Tanuki
Chapter Four: Family Portrait
My father had always been a strict man full of honor and pride. When I was younger, I would be terrified of him—so terrified of him that I turned bashful and shy around him. He was a man who had lived a hard life, and succeeded. I don't know much about his life, since my father was also a quiet man. He was harsh, strict, and a severe disciplinarian and I have been on his bad side more than once—ending up in severe punishments on my part. Despite all that, he must have been kind. A cruel man would've never sheltered me all my life.
My mother was sweet, affable and a truly intelligent lady. She was untraditional in that she was much smarter than my father in many, many things. Before she died, I can remember a sweet smile and a gentle voice. I remember that she was always tired, I don't know of what, but she always looked like she wanted to sleep. I don't know why she was tired, she never seemed to be doing anything strenuous, but I can't help having a sneaking suspicion that she was tired of life itself. Too often would her smile turn into a tight lipped frown and sighs of frustration would escape her. She often told me, "I only live for my sweet little Kaoru." Although she smiled, I kept wishing she'd smile because she was happy.
It was a fragile existence. We all treaded softly on eggshells, unaware of what would make someone angry. For me they would put up a smile, for me they would continue in living a lie. For me, my father would check his anger against my mother and for me my mother would stop complaining about my father. As long as I was happy, the silent war would cease for another day and so I continued my childish antics. Of course, I couldn't understand any of it. All that mattered was that mommy and daddy were happy. That's all that mattered. For them, I would be a happy child. Behind the happy family, was a vicious cycle.
In a way, I guess you could say my father killed my mother. Now that I think about it, I can never remember her being completely happy with him, no matter how well he treated her. There was no love in their arranged marriage. At least, if there was, it was one-sided. My mother married beneath her blood, or so she seemed to believe. In an argument with my father, I had heard her say that I was the only good thing to come out of this 'marriage'. It didn't help that my father had irreconcilable temper. Quick to anger, quick to regret, my father often did stupid things that would anger my mother in an instant.
My mother was never really happy. As a child, I could feel a sense of sadness that clung to her that never really seemed to go away. All I know or remember about my mother was that she had come from a well to do family and that her father was a famous doctor in our area. When she was my age she walked around wearing silk kimonos and had the finest education. My father was a poor boy, with big ambition and a big heart. Mother's father must have liked that and arranged for the two to marry when the Maekawa Dojo opened—my father as one of the teachers there. My mother never got over the downgrade from high class living to the moderate living of middle class. Sometimes she would make kimonos for me and cry. Seeing my cotton kimonos, she would sob of a time where I could have worn silk kimonos just as she had. That I should have been able to read great books of literature like she had—but I have yet to read them.
Daddy didn't really help the situation get better. He's one of the most brilliant swordsmen I've ever seen, but when it came to women, he was tactless. My mother loved the intellectual world—growing up with my grandfather, she must have. My father could not understand that world, to tell the truth, neither can I—at least…I never had the chance to. Daddy couldn't understand why she was unhappy doing 'woman's work' and why doing the laundry, cooking and cleaning never seemed to bring her as much joy as other women. He forbade her to do the things she loved most—and it killed her. I watched as she withered away before my eyes and when I was ten, she died.
Of course I blamed my father. I didn't see reason not to. At her funeral, he didn't even cry. For a while, I really hated him. I was already scared of him, and what mommy said was a big, bad, evil sword. Daddy had killed people during the war and Mommy had frowned upon that. I thought he was heartless because he had not cried. I never knew that he grieved in his own way for months and months. It was pure luck that I had stumbled upon him crying over my mother's last silk kimono.
Daddy had never cried. I saw him cry just that once, and it scared me more than any story of Hitokiri Battousai eating little children (which turned out to be a load of bullshit), evil demons, or one of daddy's punishments. He was just hunched over, sobbing a loud wail of primal anger and hurt. It was such a raw sound of despair, a shriek of pure sorrow that it made me freeze up and I couldn't move. I could feel my heart pounding inside my chest and that sound made you want to run away. To see a grown man cry—truly cry isn't something you can recreate. There's something very disturbing, something very wrong about it.
After Mommy's death, Daddy ceased to try and make me into a lady. The only times I had been vaguely interested in girly things was when my mother was alive. She had been so graceful and poised and I wanted to emulate that. My father—, who was uncouth in many ways, was strong, mentally and physically. I wanted to be strong too; I wanted to be better than a weak girl. I could never be happy being a weak girl who couldn't do anything on her own. When I told him that, he got ready to scold me and send me off to cooking lessons when he got a funny look in his eye. He let me learn Kamiya Kasshin Ryu, the style of non-killing. He never once went easy on me; perhaps he went harder on me than the others.
Even so—it wasn't fair. He still sheltered me from the harsh reality that was the world. He had always preached about honor, manners and politeness—though he hardly practiced it at home—and how I must 'hold my head higher than the clouds.' I never really understood at all—wasn't there some good in everyone? Didn't everyone deserve a second chance? Why should I ever have the need to 'hold my head high above the clouds'?
When my father died, those words are the ones that truly held a place in my heart.
My mother and father were so different and yet so beautiful. I want to believe that I am just as strong as my father and just as beautiful as my mother. I don't think I'll ever be as beautiful as my mother—or as strong as my father but I can hope. I can strive for that goal and I can learn to be happy, if not for me than for them.
They say a woman falls in love with a man who is similar to her father. I used to scoff at that saying. A) I was damn sure I'd never get married, let alone fall in love and B) I would not marry a strict man with an iron fist. My father would've liked Kenshin. Just the same, I think Kenshin would've liked my father. I'll admit, there are similarities between the two that are uncanny—and perhaps that's why I had grown attached to Kenshin in the first place. My mother…might have despaired. Despite her untraditional role in life, I think it would have shocked her too much to see a man do laundry, and clean with such vivacity. But she had always told me to find a man that would take care of me and in that way, perhaps she is happy in heaven. Kenshin would've liked her too. Perhaps it gives me strength to know they could've been friends.
My new family—one filled with brothers, sisters and love. It is the family I never had, and at the same time, the family I've always wanted. Sort of—I never really wanted a freeloading brother type figure, or a ridiculing older sister but they both grew on me. In that way—Megumi never bothered to hide reality from me. In that way—Sanosuke never felt the need to protect me from the truth. They were my guardians who guided me and kept me humble.
Misao was always the one who I could relate to the most. With her bright eyed cheerfulness and undying faith I learned many things from her—although I've never really told her that. In that way—Misao was my inspiration to improve myself.
But perhaps the most influential member of my new family was Yahiko. 'I want to be strong' he said. Deep in those eyes, and deep within his heart—I could see that he would surpass me, my father and perhaps Kenshin himself. Despite our bickering, he taught me many things as well and he never gave up faith in me. Perhaps I am more of a mother to him than a sister and perhaps he is more of a son to me than a brother. Nah…
At the head of my new family is Kenshin. More and more now, I think my life is beginning to revolve around him. Its scary but I don't mind. He is my family. I am his. That's all that really matters.
Mommy and daddy were always on my mind. Would my mother disapprove of learning kendo? Does my father agree with the decisions I've made? Have I brought my family honor? I still think of them often, although, I've been thinking less and less of them. Their faces are growing blurry and their voices distant. I'm afraid that I'm forgetting them, that I'm replacing them with a new family.
No one treads on eggshells anymore. No one is killing each other slowly.
And despite the fact we've gone our own ways—no one is alone anymore.
No one is unhappy.
And that—that is enough.
AN: XD…A very personal chapter for me seeing that after watching the Seisouhen and Kaoru's description of her family—it seemed so very much like my own. Granted, neither of my parents are dead yet—the family life she described was very much my own. It still is and thus the long time I spent on this chapter. Much of the scenarios are my family life and I hope you don't mind my ramblings.
And I can only hope that one day my parents will learn to stop antagonizing each other—if by divorce than so be it—I can't take it anymore.
XD…ANYWAY~~~ Deep down they must have some sort of mutual understanding because
I can still see them talking very amiably when they think I'm sleeping on the
couch. Thus—I think this is the chapter that I had most wanted to do for a
while.
*bows* Thank you for reading this much so far.
Please stay with me for the next few chapters as they are the last.
Infinite nemo—Much happiness was achieved after reading your last review. When I started out to write this fic, I didn't expect much success and as I expected I didn't—at least not like my other fics, but to see that a few people enjoy what I'm doing—than I don't care because its all worthwhile. XD…I think in the next few chapters I will have more than introspection and thank you for the cookies.
*Chomp* I'll take you up on your offer.
Inuki—XD…that was the purpose of this fic and I'm glad to see that another person sees that. As for Watsuki painting her two dimensional? *shrug* I'm not so sure about that, I think it's more that Kaoru is overshadowed by Kenshin and Sano's overall strength. Kaoru's not meant to be the main character but rather, Kaoru's strength is in that she can stand by what she believes and offer something that Kenshin's been looking for since that cold snowy day.
Dear god…I have absolutely no life. =____='
Angie-- :] I'm glad I decided to continue too.
Nobody--*Success* I was pleased to read that I invoked the feelings that I had hoped.
*Laughs like a maniac*
gracianeko—And that my friend, is the point of this fic. *bows*
…If there was anybody I forgot—and somehow this time around I think I did *scratches head* Let it be known that you have my utmost thanks.