Limbo
Part 2: Incomplete
She knows for certain that she will always feel inferior.
Perhaps, she thinks as she twists one long, red strand of his hair around her pinkie finger, it is because she was first. Kaoru is young and ambitious and knows she radiates innocence – but she is not blind to the shadows shifting just under Kenshin's gentle violet gaze. She can see, there, in a brief reflection of his eyes as he looks up at her with a smile, that his wife still haunts him.
His wife. Kaoru has to look away from her naked lover for a moment, her stomach clenching at the thought. Carefully, she smoothes his bare shoulder her rough fingertips and reasons with herself, thinking back to the moment when she first met Tomoe.
Closing her eyes, she can still see Tomoe's dark eyes and her ethereal, pale face. She is beautiful beyond words. And yet, Kaoru knows that Tomoe knew then that her husband would stray from her perfect, lovely side. Oh no, Kaoru didn't realize it at the time; but there had been something strange in those deep doe eyes that had spoken to her, had almost warned her. Her hand had been cool, Kaoru remembers, cool as the earth freshly turned in a grave.
She had become Kenshin's lover without even realizing it, their mutual passion ignited when he saw her practicing with a wooden sword. Unable to refuse him, she had eagerly been swept up into gentle caresses, fond kisses and an endless string of conversation – sensible and nonsensical.
But still, Kaoru knows that the ghost of his marriage sits at the foot of their borrowed bed, piercing him every time he pierces her. He is always slightly apologetic after they make love – to her or his wife, she is never really sure. She almost hates herself but she still tries to carry his guilt away with her ceaseless talk; always telling him stories, always laughing and always, always, always asking questions. She despises him when he simply smiles at her and doesn't really answer, instead filling the gap between them with jokes and small talk.
Sometimes she blames Tomoe. Tomoe, in all her poise and elegance, had not been able to keep her husband from searching elsewhere. Tomoe, with her silent grace, had anchored her husband for a reason unknown to her. But sometimes, when Kaoru asks about what Kenshin did before becoming a professor, a strange look clouds his face and he is unable to look at her. It is a look of a man haunted. This look always signals the end of a visit and Kaoru knows that he is reeled back in to his wife. She wonders why he is bound to Tomoe so tightly and yet not tightly enough. And when she asks, he cannot answer.
Sometimes she blames Kenshin. Perhaps if his love were stronger or if he had more self-control, they would never have been thrust into this half-love. And yet, she knows he cannot help it. She knows deep in the pit of her stomach that he both loves and hates her for her joyful exuberance. She feels how his guilt eats him when he kisses her.
But mostly, of course, she blames herself. His wife is beautiful and kind. She hates Tomoe; then feels pity for her. Kenshin is wonderful and strong. She loves him madly and then despises him because she does not want to share. She comes between them – and loves and hates and then loves and finally hates it.
But still … she presses her lips to his and relishes the moments that he is willing to give.