It started before it was a crime, before she'd get in trouble for believing; it was a part of her and a part of her life. Kiki did think of it, for if she didn't, she would not have been strong enough to keep on going when it was declared illegal, what felt like just the following year later, even though she knows she held on to it for years.
Her Bible rested comfortably nearby, a priceless gem, that she, being fully literate, could read, having bought a while ago. And so, she read and studied and prayed. And that was enough to lay a foundation down for her life, and then one day, things changed and slowly changed overnight, it seemed like.
When it became illegal, she hid her obvious signs of faith. No longer was greeting people with the Sign of the Cross a very public gesture, it was reserved for Church and then, just the minutes beforehand. It was a quiet seeming thing, partly because she broke the law, the legal law, every single time she shown evidence of her Faith.
And then, there's the way it ferments the urgency within you, makes it grow stronger. And it's something that becomes fully physical, because you know that if the wrong people see it, you'll be pulled before a court of law or tortured or killed, and she fears that she's not strong enough to hold onto her Faith before others. She fears that it will spill from her hands like drops of water.
And she knows that would be safer. But she sneaks into houses for Mass, or underground, places that hopefully won't be easily found out and discovered. And it's here when she meets him, with the bright brown eyes that don't know even a lick of deception, with the kind smile that makes her feel at home and safe, that feels like a fire burning inside the fireplace, so warm and so familiar and so comforting.
And it's here, that they meet at first. Off to the side after Mass, they talk and talk about everything. His name's Mitsuhide, and he's not of a royal family, not of nobility, and he'd barely became Christian before the persecution, but he's so thankful and happy that he's here, and so afraid that if he hadn't converted then, he wouldn't ever have found his way here.
And somehow, together their fears feel manageable. She, who fears she'll renounce her Faith if brought to torture, and he, who doubts he'd stumble into Mass in the midst of persecution. So, they find a safe haven in each other.
And before long, they are meeting outside of Mass, walking the streets together, endlessly talking. When they are in public, their lips are sealed about their Faith. They greet with a raised hand, a wave of no motion, and they hurry towards each other. They share of other things in public.
He tells her of his little sisters; they are not Christian. And he fears of what will happen if he tells them about his Faith, now that his life is in danger. He fears that maybe they aren't close enough and if they are, he fears what danger their lives will be in if they convert.
So, they talk about his sisters' favorite games, for they are still children, and they talk about jokes that make each other laugh. They talk about families, and Kiki shares that her father lives far away now, but she doesn't know if he's like her, meaning breaking the law to live out a Faith that could lead to certain death.
And Mitsuhide's hand slips into hers, and it's a comfort that she hadn't realized could be found there. And they talk about everything but the future. Because to talk about the future, they don't know if they'll be brought to certain death soon enough, if they will last past these years as friends, as a couple, as whatever they are balanced between.
So, they talk about the past and the present, and laugh and fight the tears and the fear together. But it's Mitsuhide by her side that gives her a little extra strength. When she does hear from her father, there's an engagement involved with another man, a chance that Kiki could marry someone else of wealth, protect her social standing, but endager her life.
He feels like he's nothing like her, and she barely gets out that she knows someone she'd like to marry. But her father's a good listener, even though she's afraid to tell him why, but Mitsuhide is more than a comfort to be around, and she could trust her life with him. They'd both die as martyrs otherwise.
And their marriage is no secret, but it's done so differently. It's done in a public ceremony of worth, of note, and even his family is there, but they slip away later to the Priest for a Blessing, because they dearly need one for strength.
It's different to be around each other all the time, like having words to say and no voice or perhaps the opposite. It's hard to define the risk to both of their lives, but it's a risk they gladly take on together.
"It's so weird for us to be marked as criminals." Mitsuhide's voice is hushed and casual, like he's somehow just talking about the weather.
"The government does what it wants." Kiki answers, slipping her hand back into his, "And its citizens bear with it."
"I love you anyway." Mitsuhide murmurs, "I love God, even if it makes me a criminal."
"I love you too." Kiki whispers, quiet as can be, "And I love God too."
And under the rush of a steady growing silence, Kiki also adds, "And we can be criminals together."
"I like that." Mitsuhide answers, nudging his shoulder against hers, "It's not so lonely this way."
And Kiki just smiles her agreement; it's definitely not as lonely to have him here with her, as her confidante and her husband, the other part of their life as criminals.