Yay, second chapter! ((is proud of herself)) Review responses for chapter one can be found in my livejournal on the entry labeled 11/13/05. It you go to my FFN profile, the link to it can be found labeled as my "homepage." Thanks to all who have read, reviewed, and spread the Koharu/Kuranosuke love thus far. You've no idea how much it means to me. ((smiles))

Chapter Two: Snow

As the days wore on, Kuranosuke drew closer to the conclusion that Koharu would make a horrible noblewoman.

When she'd finally recovered from the shock she'd experienced when Kuranosuke told her that she could live on his grounds, the girl had let out a shriek so shrill, a dog miles away would convulse upon hearing it, and frolicked out of the room, giggling.

She'd giggled for goodness' sake.

And, when she'd picked a room, she'd selected the one closest to the front gates, barely fifty paces away from the cruel, cold, unpredictable outside.

Had she been born the daughter of a daimyo, she would have known that the edges of one's property were the most open to attack; an intelligent lady would have certainly opted for a room in the center of the castle, close to Lord Takeda's room.

Of course, the mere thought of a woman—never mind a giggling one—residing in the room next to his seemed more than a little awkward.

He turned her odd choice over in his head, attempting to look at her reasons for selecting it and failing miserably, for failing miserably was something that Kuranosuke just did.

But what if, he asked himself, pointedly ignoring the voice that hissed "failure" in his ear, she decided to stay close to the front of the building because… should she want to leave… she could slip out unnoticed?

He grunted aloud at his own foolishness. I doubt it. I've given her a home, haven't I? I've offered her the perfect opportunity to start her life over, and she's elected to live it out. Why would she want to leave here, leave me

It was a good thing Kuranosuke was snubbing "the voice," for it was screaming, she'll leave if you fail again!

He hadn't need to have heard it to know that he was determined to do everything in his power to keep her from leaving.

Despite his love for Sango and muliebrity as a whole, Kuranosuke didn't know a thing about a woman's interests. Jumping to the conclusion that all girls loved clothing—much to the chagrin of the feminist portion in his brain—the clan head sent a dozen servants carrying armfuls of clothing to Koharu's room, making sure that all pieces were both varied and beautiful. Koharu would certainly need a change of clothes—her apron was positively filthy!—and, being a girl, she was sure to appreciate the numerous outfits he'd provided for her.

While wandering the grounds the morning his maids had dropped off the clothes, he passed her room by a handful of times. The sun was positioned in such a way that her profile was invisible to him, but a slight breeze blew the sound of her laughter in his direction.

He couldn't help but smile.

And smile.

And smile.

And hold a hand to his mouth to hold back the thunderous guffaw that was threatening to slip out.

And wonder if Sango was fond of fashion, too.

The next day, Kuranosuke had been making his way toward a lookout tower near the entrance of the palace when Koharu had hollered for him. "Takeda-sama! Come see what I'm wearing!"

Kuranosuke chuckled at the honorific and, turning toward the area from which he thought her voice had come, said, "Please, Koharu, call me Kurano…"

His breath stuck as he gazed upon the peasant girl.

Her hair had been loosed from its scarf and tumbled down her back, each strand straight and shiny, obviously brushed. She'd chosen to wear another mo-bakama, this one more pristine that her other one.

But more than anything else, Kuranosuke noted the pink kosode that covered her form, a loose-fitting shirt randomly dotted with patches of coral…

Kuranosuke thought that it was all terribly ironic.

"You look wonderful, Koharu," he said once his brain caught up with his eyes. She is not Sango… she is not Sango… she is not…

"May I suggest a green apron to complement the pink, though?"

Ironies were only enjoyable if they were of one's own making.

Koharu loved the idea of having a life's mission. Growing up in such a desolate, stifling place as an oil master's house, she'd decided that her existence must have had more of a point than her being tough enough to brave working thirteen hours a day. She'd been alone for fourteen years, making friends only with her shadow, and even it disappeared once the sun dipped below the horizon at the end of the day. Certainly being alone wasn't why people were born. There must be something more, something missing, something…

…Miroku…

That day from three years ago slipped into her thoughts yet again, and, giving into the memory, she fell into herself to recollect.

Koharu knew that she hadn't been the only girl taking a lunch break the day he had appeared. There had most definitely been more nubile young ladies wandering around her village that would have been willing to share her straw mat with a handsome young monk. So then why had he sought out her? Why did he feed her, as other pretty ladies' stomachs grumbled with hunger? Why Koharu?

The answer to all three had been clear at the time: fate had sent him her way. While the first eleven years of her life had been replete with loneliness and misery, he was the one with the crying-on shoulder; he was comfort and security, and he was her solitary hope and dream.

Though he would never, ever know it, and she wouldn't, couldn't tell him, she thought him to be her life's mission.

Even after he left her side, she felt a pleasant trembling inside of her that told her she would see him again.

She would never forget the day, a single evening after his departure, that she'd arisen early, slipped out of her "home," and watched the sun rise. Her shadow had formed behind her, awake and ready to say hello.

She remembered that it had been tinted purple with the early morning rays, and a distant jingling noise had filled her ears.

Her life's mission would be with her always, bound to her feet so long as she faced the sun and kept believing in tomorrow and true love.

In Kuranosuke's home, the paper door that formed a barricade between herself and the gardens allowed only a little light to filter into her room. Every morning she would rub her eyes, stretch and yawn, and get to her feet slowly, her movements lethargic and lengthy. Then she'd spin on her heel to say good morning to her shadow but be met with only the sight of her disheveled bedding and an unforgiving wooden floor.

While surrounded by hundreds of guards, scores of servants, and a single seigneur with a weird laugh, Koharu's loneliness was becoming more and more suffocating, as if life had put her lungs into an unrelenting stranglehold.

"Spring is my favorite season."

"Humph… is that so?"

Koharu picked a flower from a nearby bush and turned the stem around in her fingers. Beside her, a retainer by the name of Aki, a girl big in breast but small in patience, stood hunched over, pouring water over a few bunches of flowers. It was Aki's sole duty to keep Kuranosuke's gardens growing, green, and full of life all year round. Truth be told, she wished they would all shrivel up and die so she could be released from her work and go off on her own; her actually working in the Takeda household was the result of a stupid promise made by her father, and…

"What's your favorite season, Aki-chan?"

Aki wished that Koharu would shrivel up and die, too.

Still, few girls on the grounds made an effort to open up to her, like the flowers that Aki tended for in the summertime, so the opportunity to socialize probably wasn't so much of a curse as she made it out to be. At any rate, her answer was immediate. "I like the winter."

"Oh?" Koharu looked up from the yellow-tinged petals of the blossom she held. Despite the fact that it was supposed to be immaculately white like the others in its bush, Koharu knew that the world had its way of making everything imperfect. "Why is that?"

Aki's brain had little time to produce a sane answer. "Because in the winter, everything dies."

She needn't have looked up to feel Koharu's eyes boring holes into her skull. Recovering quickly, the gardener said, "Um… I mean… snow. Yeah. I like snow."

Koharu shook her head. "Okay. I don't like snow so much, though."

"Why not?" Aki asked, half-interested.

Koharu gave no response; how was she supposed to put into words why white was her least favorite color? Ever since that horrible demon with the mirror had attacked her a few weeks ago, seeing anything that pallid frightened her. She thought it funny—ironic, even—that the seemingly deficient bloom she held wasn't really so imperfect. Instead, she stated, "Would you like to know why I like spring, Aki-chan?"

Aki yawned and scratched her chest idly. Koharu took this as a response in the affirmative. Glancing at the flower, the peasant girl said, "The reason I like spring so much, Aki-chan… is because it's a renewal. Spring cleans everything up and makes things better. Spring is nature's way of telling the world that it's alright and we should all start again." Koharu smiled, folding her arms across the lap of her new kimono, a black one with pink trim that Kuranosuke had left in her room that morning. "I wish it was spring all the time, Aki-chan."

Aki nodded in mock agreement, lacking the heart to tell her that spring would go on unappreciated without the winter. "Humph. I still like snow."

"But why, Aki-chan? Snow is cold, and… and… and suffocating. How is something like that enjoyable?"

The gardener wrung her hands on her mo-bakama in an attempt to keep herself from snapping Koharu's neck in two. Koharu couldn't understand that Aki's life was one huge mountain of ice; it trapped her on the castle groups, kept her from scurrying away from Kuranosuke's residency to be free and content and normal. Like the tight laces of Koharu's kimono, which made their wearer choke and cough from lack of air, Aki's life kept her in an unabated grip, a stranglehold.

Aki was slowly suffocating and too deaf to hear Koharu sneeze because, all along, she had been allergic to flowers.

Aki's hands relaxed, her clothing falling into place over her curves. "Perhaps… perhaps I'm just a masochist."

Koharu nodded, wishing that life would take its hands off Aki's pretty pretty neck and go torture someone else. In the end, Aki-chan…

…aren't we all?

Koharu woke the next morning, alone as usual, with no shadow dancing behind her to offer a ghostly company. After blinking the final traces of sleep from her eyes, she dressed herself—in the pink and green outfit, worn on leisurely, slow-moving days—and slid open the paper door…

…to find Kuranosuke standing before her.

Despite the fact that her clothing was loose and comfortable, her voice was strangled all the same. "Ah! Ku… Takeda-sama! What a…"

"Really Koharu," the lord interrupted. "Call me Kuranosuke."

The not-taiji-ya didn't speak for a while and coughed into her hand instead. Quickly recalling that, if she didn't say something soon, Kuranosuke would start laughing, Koharu stammered, "Um… I would actually…" Pause. Cough. "I'd prefer it if you'd let me call you Takeda-sama."

The seigneur nodded, and the reticent response told her that she'd earned permission. What he would never tell her was that Sango was reluctant to call him by his first name as well.

"What is it that you want, Takeda-sama?"

He started, seeming to forget why he'd gone to her in the first place. "Yes," he stated with a smile. "I wanted to know if you are happy here."

"…happy?"

"Yes; happy."

Koharu felt stupid for forgetting the definition of the word.

"I… suppose so."

"Good. And while we're on the subject, is there anything I can do to make your stay here better?"
Of course there is, Koharu thought. You can bring Miroku-sama to me. You can get rid of that creepy laugh of yours. You can stop showering me with gifts and make this place more a home than a residence.

…but…

But you can also make me forget and make me realize that this place is more like a home than any other I can think.

"No… but Takeda-sama!" He, who had already begun to leave, turned only his head around to face her.

"…please show me your hands."

Koharu couldn't claim that she knew her host well. But she had certainly predicted the onslaught of laughter her inquiry had brought about. "My hands?" He chuckled, his chin jutting toward her in a point of evident amusement. "Koharu, my hands?"

"Mhm." Next to the shaking, broad-shouldered mountain of a man—who, now that she thought about it, was a lot taller than she remembered Miroku being—Koharu couldn't help but feel as tiny as her latest statement had been. She was intimidated by him, to say the least, much more afraid of him than she'd ever been of Miroku. Better not interrupt the eruption, then…

"Alright."

"Hm?" This was Koharu's non-answer, and she blinked up at him, at a figure that all but cast a shadow upon her.

"Alright; you may see my hands. Either or?"

"Just the right one, if you please. Palm up."

He nodded and complied, turning said hand to face her, almost as an inadvertent sign of peace. Koharu's eyes drank in the undisturbed, uncalloused palm, the various deep lines spiderwebbing their way across it, the joints of the fingers and the strangely awkward knuckles…

She nodded.

She saw no scar.

She saw no hole.

She saw no cuff.

And the air hung stagnant about her.

He is not Miroku-sama… he is not Miroku-sama… he is not…

"G… g… good-bye, Takeda-sama!"

And she pulled the door shut on both Kuranosuke and the first fourteen years of her life.

Aki watered the flowers that afternoon, bored even more so than usual. As much as she was loath to admit it, Koharu was a distraction from her monotonous, dull work, and her absence made the tedium that was Aki's life all the more evident.

She sighed, watching water cascade out from the container she held, wishing for the sun to peak out from the dense covering of clouds so a rainbow could form.

But there would be no rainbows for quite some time.

When Aki withdrew from the bush, having sufficiently watered it, she pulled her head back to look at the grey sky…

…right on time, in fact, to feel a cold something press in on her forehead.

She needn't have looked to know that it was white.

The gardener set down her can, wiped the remnants of the snowflake off of her face, and cast a furtive glance at Koharu's room nearby. She wouldn't be happy when she heard.

"Winter is coming on fast…"

End chapter.

While rewatching a few episodes in the series, I noticed that Koharu and Sango's outfits are very similar. Both wear a kosode, the long, loose-fitting shirt, and a mo-bakama, or an apron. If I've made a mistake identifying either article of clothing, please tell me.

According to an online translator, "Aki" translates into "wearisomeness" or "tiresomeness." And, according to my lovely readers, it can also translate into autumn. Thanks, guys! ;-D

With all of that said and done, please review! I'm sure you have something to say, so do tell me whether you like this or not. Thank you, and until chapter three! ((waves))