A/N: Yes, believe it or not, this story is not dead. My life has been very hectic the past two years and as luck -note sarcasm- would have it, the file where I saved this story became corrupted when I was ten pages into the next chapter. I hate to admit it, but for the first time I nearly abandoned a story out of pure frustration. But I persevered and remained determined to finish. Luckily (and this time I'm not being sarcastic) I managed to recover some data but I still had to rewrite a good portion of the beginning (which was extremely difficult since I had written it over a year ago.) I would like to thank everyone who didn't give up on me: Javal, kokoronagomu, and everyone else who reviewed me patiently. You guys gave me the willpower to finally get this long, overdue chapter out! This one's for you!
Disclaimer: Nope, still a poor college student.
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Chapter 5: Quiet Life
By Kenkaya
Kaoru awoke to birdsong. Blinking open sleep crusted eyes; she rolled lazily out of bed in a bundle of morning disarray. The girl was, simply put, a mess; pale green robe twisted indecently in places and sticking to her body like a second skin amid the balmy Indian summer breeze. Feminine modesty kicked in and Kaoru's first coherent action was to check for the presence of her companion, blue gaze darting frantically to the wall where he usually rested. Nothing but bare boards. Not surprising really, she thought with relief, the man rarely slept past dawn.
Cooking fish and spices invaded the air, assaulting her nostrils with their pleasant aroma. She smiled.
It had been an unspoken agreement between them from the start. Kenshin (who turned out not to be a bad chef) began breakfast early, leaving easily prepared leftovers to pack for the noonday meal. When the couple returned from their excursions to town nearby, Kaoru took her place as dutiful wife. The man had a cast iron stomach (an admirable quality in the young woman's eyes) gulping down her mediocre food without complaint. Then again, she thought cynically, he only had to suffer one meal a day.
Bare feet padded softly as Kaoru walked across the room and stepped behind the changing screen. A summer print yukata, the very same she set out the night before, hung ready for her. The whole set-up practically screamed domestic.
Kaoru sighed wistfully. She couldn't t remember ever being more at peace in her life. The arrangement they had was nice, if a bit unexpected. She had always imagined herself beside Keisuke in the dojo; doing katas, teaching classes, and every evening waiting for the illusion to shatter as she fulfilled the role expected of every woman. Her childhood sweetheart had been no different than any other man in this regard. She poignantly recalled many times last year when Keisuke half-playfully insisted she skip practice for a set of cooking lessons. Oh, how she had made him pay dearly those days during lessons!
Yet, she continued her former line of thought, slipping petite arms through buttercup sleeves, life with Kenshin was much different. He was unafraid to kneel on knees beside her, doing his fair share of chores (particularly laundry,) perfectly willing to make up for her own shortcomings, and they always "worked" in town together. The two were hardly ever apart. Kaoru didn't have a typical marriage with Kenshin: they had a partnership.
But, and she had to remind herself that this was a big 'but,' their wedding was a sham. Kenshin was an assassin in hiding with a price on his head. She was there to lessen suspicion. Nothing more. Once the threat was over and his skills were needed again, they would go their separate ways; probably never see each other again.
Kaoru slid the rose colored obi in place. For some reason, the reality of eventually parting with Kenshin filled her with an inexplicable sadness. Still, as she told him in the bar what seemed so long ago, she refused to dwell on past regrets. When the inevitable came, the young woman would walk away with a smile: cherishing all the precious memories gained. Oh, she knew her path from then on would be hard. She had been off to war, doing God knows what and quite possibly (as local gossipers would excitedly presume) sharing a bed with God knows what. That alone was enough to ruin her reputation beyond repair. And there was no guarantee her father would forgive her rash actions so quickly. Kaoru finished off the butterfly knot with a swift tug. Any consequences resulting from her decisions would dealt with in due time. Push come to shove, she would prove it was possible for a woman to survive on her own without falling back on the whorehouses as was too often the case.
Resolve firmly in place, Kaoru slid aside the shoji and stepped outside. The house they shared was small: consisting mainly of three rooms connected by a covered, wrap-around porch. She immediately turned left, heading a short distance around the corner to the kitchen.
The smell of simmering miso and steady clunk-clunk from chopping vegetables reached her senses long before the doorway came into view. The shoji was wide open to let kitchen heat escape, offering Kaoru an unabashed view of Kenshin's back as she paused silently at the entrance.
He seemed so at ease, humming softly, red ponytail swaying gently as he moved to fill a tray of pickles. One would be hard-pressed to imagine this man as a killer. That is, until a closer look revealed the almost unnatural fluidness of his motions. Or the straight, vigilant poise of his shoulders. She noted how smoothly he handled the knife, with an incredible grace underlying his deadly abilities.
"Good morning, Kaoru," Kenshin greeted, breaking her reverie. Not once did his violet eyes stray from the cutting board.
"Morning," she answered automatically, inwardly kicking herself for obviously ogling. Kaoru knew, despite her desperate wishing, that he had noticed. His constant awareness used to unnerve her slightly, but she had long since grown accustom to it.
"Would you like to eat inside or outside today? It's quite warm already."
"Outside sounds nice," Kaoru responded absently, moving quickly to set a place for them on the porch. His formality irked her somewhat, though he had long since dropped the honorific from her name. Still, she tried not to begrudge him. Her father's household had been one in which manners were hardly emphasized (though that might not have been the case had her mother lived) and she was well aware that she was the one acting outside the norm in this case.
Focus fixed on her task, it was the raven haired beauty's turn to be the subject of observation; though her watcher did so with much more subtlety. Kenshin angled his head downward, peering sideways through the curtain of his fiery bangs. Rays of morning light danced across the black sheet of her hair, reflecting a bluish tint that matched her wide, azure orbs. He had to admit, in that moment, that Kaoru was indeed a very attractive woman. Her cheerful expression, her carefree air; everything about her radiated with a purity and brightness he found remarkably soothing. Bold and compassionate, simple yet mysterious--- to him she was the epitome of innocence. The innocence he lost when he came to Kyoto, the innocence that drove him to kill, to the insanity his life had become. And deep down, in a twisted way, he envied her because he wanted to be her. Should be her.
She rose in a fluid motion, chore complete, and smiled down on her work. The way her mouth quirked, the dimples that crinkled under her eyes, everything seemed so genuine. Kenshin slowly felt the envy in his heart melt into something akin to admiration. Kaoru was the strongest woman he had ever met; that inner strength was what kept her innocent. And, when he glimpsed the sparkle in her eyes as she turned to announce her triumph, he couldn't bring himself to hold her in contempt. Not anymore.
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Kenshin didn't have to sense him to know he was coming. Glaring expectedly over lacquered rice bowl, he saw Iizuka crest the hill, new pack of supplies slung casually across his back. Today was delivery day and the distributor had finally arrived; late, as usual.
Kaoru's brow creased in distaste as she noticed his intense stare and turned around for herself. Kenshin forced himself to suppress a small chuckle. For some reason, he found himself enjoying little moments like these more often.
"Sorry to interrupt you meal, Himura," Iizuka apologized in an unconvincing tone. He removed the crate from his back. "Here's the delivery, as promised."
"Weren't you supposed to be here at dawn? Why, it's almost midmorning," Kaoru commented casually, as she did almost every week.
"Bold words from a woman who didn't have to climb up that damn mountain with a barrel on her back," Iizuka mumbled on cue, rubbing his lower back for emphasis. Blue eyes merely rolled in response.
"What news?" Kenshin asked once the ritual was over.
"Not much," Iizuka sighed. "Takasugi finally died in that rotten jail cell they threw him in. More of a relief than anything if you ask me. Disease was killing the poor guy before they caught him anyway. Katsura is grieving naturally, but he hasn't taken a break. Claims it would be a disservice to Takasugi if he did. Just lay low a little longer."
"Takasugi was the one who recruited me. I am sorry to hear of his passing," the redhead bowed respectfully before returning to his food. Iizuka blanched, a reaction that did not go unnoticed by Kaoru.
"Why don't you join us Iizuka-san?" the raven-haired girl offered with a sickeningly sweet smile. She raised her bowl, "I made extra."
"W--- well, I've done my job already. I really must be going---"
"Oh, but I insist!"
Iizuka took a tentative step back while Kenshin hid twitching lips behind his chopsticks. Not many women could force a man like Iizuka into a stalemate so easily. Then again, she did score a hit in the balls a little over a year ago; that probably had something to do with it.
"I'm afraid I'll have to decline your request!" Iizuka let out in a rush. "I really must be going, see you next week!" he was scurrying down the hill in an instant.
"Coward!" Kaoru muttered after his retreating figure. Kenshin laughed quietly, face still covered, but such a limited gesture couldn't hide the nearly invisible crinkles along the corners of his eyes. She noticed and smiled brightly at the reaction she received.
"You don't mind that I took credit for the meal, do you?"
Kenshin lowered his hand, having finally schooled his expression.
"No, not at all," he shrugged.
"It was worth it to see him squirm," she grinned.
"Yes, it certainly was," he smiled, this time openly.
Kaoru beamed and they shared the rest of their meal in companionable silence.
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Otsu was a quaint town, surrounded by mountainous forest and quite isolated. A single passageway to and from Kyoto provided the only escape. Roads were narrow, lined by small homes, each bearing witness to many generations within their respective families. One could almost call the whole arrangement picturesque. Husbands and wives knew each other from childhood, sons followed in their father's footsteps indiscriminately, daughters weeded the same gardens their grandmother's nourished years ago, and life had pretty much settled into an unspoken harmony between individuals.
So, as one could very well imagine, an outsider to this quiet sanctuary was as rare as a summer snow, and just as much a spectacle. Kenshin and Kaoru were no exception.
"Himura-san!" a girl-child squealed as they entered town.
The exuberant youth dropped her rag doll and rushed to intercept them, pale blue yukata grass stained at the knees. She was soon accompanied by a throng three and a half feet high, jumping up and down, each trilling their own version of, "Himura-san is here! Himura-san is here!" repeatedly. The much anticipated Himuras smiled back at their admirers, greeting them just as warmly (though with a bit more restraint.) Soon, adults joined the tiny fray, women pulling overly excited children away while others proceeded to start a line-up for their wares. Kenshin dropped the heavy wooden chest with a sigh and flipped the lid; business was officially open.
The day fast set into its usual routine for the incognito couple. Men and women alike came to them with their pleas, trading goods (or in the rare case, money) for the cures they offered. Kenshin gave short, polite responses to inquiries about his health or comments about the weather before moving on to the next buyer. Barely an arms length away, Kaoru engaged in idle conversation with several customers, hands flailing expressively as she spoke. The redhead couldn't help but smile as he prepared the next order; Kaoru had a way with people he simply couldn't match and for that he was grateful.
Time flew by. Around mid-day, the early morning rush thinned out, leaving the pair a few moments of respite before the next batch came along with their demands. Kaoru unwrapped their meal, served her husband his share, and proceeded to make short work of her lunch. Occasionally she would fill the void with mindless chatter; but for the most part, the two sat in peaceful quiet under the noon sun.
"Finished eatin' already, busu? Pretty soon you wouldn't be able to fit in that kimono anymore."
"Why good day to you too, Yahiko-CHAN," Kaoru snipped at their six-year-old interruption. The boy stood to just below the woman's waist, tan face flushed with fury.
"How many times I gotta tell you, busu?! Don't call me 'chan!'"
"And don't call me 'busu!' Children should respect their elders."
"I don't see an elder," the boy pulled a child-sized shinai from the belt of his green hakama as if in challenge. "Just an old hag."
"Oh, Yahiko, is that new?" Kaoru asked, ignoring the insult in favor of examining the bamboo sword. A sort of longing seemed to shine in her deep sapphire eyes.
"Yeah, my uncle gave it to me," he brandished the mock weapon awkwardly, almost losing his grip in the process. "I am Myoujin Yahiko, Edo samurai! Take me on if you dare!"
"Not with your grip like that! You'd barely last a minute against someone with even the most basic of training. Here," the woman rose, voice oozing eagerness. "Let me show you."
"Nuh unh! What does a girl like you know? My father's a samurai in the Shogitai," his chest swelled with pride at the words.
"And my father is the master of a dojo. I may not look it now, but I use to be pretty decent back in the day. Father even let me help teach a few beginner classes before I left," Kaoru smiled at the memory, a misty, almost nostalgic expression on her face.
"Really?" Yahiko questioned with a skeptical look, completely belittled by the awe in his voice.
"What do you mean 'really?' Here, I'll prove it to you."
Kenshin merely smiled as Kaoru approached the young boy and, with professional ease, proceeded to correct his form. Neither eyes nor mouth betrayed his surprise.
The hitokiri had known his pseudo-wife belonged to a samurai family; that she had been raised in a dojo and taught to respect its ideals. And the few martial conversations they had proved without a doubt she fully understood the mechanics of combat. Still, he never imagined that she might actually have been trained in the art. That she could possibly have found joy in it.
"Here--- relax your grip a bit. No, not that much--- you'll lose your shinai that way. Just loosen up your wrists--- you'd hurt yourself if you fought with them that stiff."
Watching her stride around Yahiko, adjusting arms, legs, back and anything else she saw fit, Kenshin realized the foolishness of his error. Kaoru had never moved with the delicacy most women did. Of course, that could easily be attributed to her motherless upbringing, but there was a strength and grace in her step all too familiar. A quality he almost instinctually searched for in street crowds. And then there were the mysterious calluses on her hands he'd felt but never questioned. To not notice these signs in someone he'd seen practically everyday for the past year, as a practitioner of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, was a disgrace.
"There! Now swing!"
"Hya!" Yahiko cried out, bringing the shinai down with him in a smooth arc. The boy stared at his hands for a moment, as if surprised the movement had come from them, before turning to Kaoru and breaking out in a toothy grin.
"I--- I did it. That was awesome!" he punched his fist in the air, whooping excitement.
"Well done! You just might make a decent swordsman after all!" Kaoru beamed at her makeshift student. Sapphire orbs sparkled with a contentment Kenshin had never seen before. A badly suppressed whisper sounded to their right and old habits immediately kicked in. Violet eyes bordering on steel blue scanned the small scattered crowd; staring unabashed at the foreign boy and strangely knowledgeable woman as they celebrated. Even after the two calmed, gossipers persisted. Assassin lids narrowed dangerously on the cursed individuals.
"Kenshin? Yahiko needs his order now."
"Of course," Kenshin dug into his crate promptly to hide the start. Kaoru furrowed her brow knowingly but otherwise remained silent. They were both perfectly aware exactly how close a call that had been; never since their arrival had either come so near to giving themselves away.
"How is your mother, Yahiko-kun? Has her condition improved any?" the sham medicine man inquired politely to cover his slip.
"Not really," messy black bangs hid sepia eyes as the youngster bowed his head. "She has good days--- but then she just gets worse all over again. Grandfather and uncle both say its Dad's fault for going to war and leaving us here. That they shouldn't have let her go off and marry an outsider in the first place. Sometimes," he lowered his voice barely above a whisper, as if the volume caused him physical pain. "Sometimes they say--- very bad things."
Neither had anything to say to those words. Kaoru bit her lower lip anxiously before reaching out and placing a reassuring hand on the troubled boy's shoulder. Kenshin grabbed the parcel he'd just prepared, held it out to Yahiko, and displayed a rare, true smile.
"Here, this should help your mother feel better."
"Yeah, thanks," small hands reached out to the offered pack. A moment of comforting silence passed as the three of them stood there; holding on to a feeling far too fragile to shatter with mere words.
"I--- I guess I better get home with this," Yahiko lifted his head, sporting a telling grin. "See ya for tomorrow's pick-up!"
The couple watched cheerlessly as the child ran off, waving frantically behind. He faded from sight and the hitokiri allowed himself a brief flash of anger. Otsu might have possessed peaceful, small town charm; but today had been a grim reminder that such calm was like innocence. Not easily maintained, and once lost, never returned.
"Ne, Kenshin?"
He perked at the sound of Kaoru's hesitant voice. Cautiously, the redhead turned to acknowledge her; eyes once again a warm amethyst color. She leaned almost uncomfortably close. Her tone lowered to a barely audible whisper.
"I--- I'm sorry--- about earlier. I didn't realize we were attracting so much attention."
Kenshin stared blankly for a moment, unsure how to respond to her honest apology. Not when he himself felt even more responsible for his lack of control. She stared expectantly, traces of dread lacing the atmosphere around her, and he realized with a start that she was waiting for his response. Finally, after an awkward silence, he settled for shrugging nonchalantly and brushing the matter aside.
"These things happen sometimes."
"Maybe," Kaoru shuffled back uncertainly, gentle breeze teasing raven forelocks. The man beside her felt she hadn't really been consoled but, glancing back at the young woman's profile, he was at a loss for anything else to say.
"Himura-san?"
A plain woman, long dark hair swept up in a dramatic style, stood nervously in front of him. Kenshin faced her, merchant's mask in place, realizing somewhat forlorn that the conversation with his wife would have to wait until they were both alone and away from prying eyes.
"How may I help you today, Toki-san?"
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Dinner proved a sorry affair.
Kaoru sat stiff as a statue, head bowed, blue gaze riveted to the safety of her lap. She held her bowl at chin height (obscuring any other features that might give her expression away) and picked tiny bites at a slow, calculated pace. Ebony strands hung loose over her shoulders from a work-mussed ponytail. She made no move to push them back.
Across the table, Kenshin behaved no better. He shoved food almost mechanically into his mouth while giving furtive glances over at his companion. Occasionally, he set the rice bowl down, lips twitching as if steeling himself for a long-due outburst; only to pick the meal back up and resume his previous behavior soon afterward. He wanted to sigh, exasperated. The words echoed clear in his mind, yet somehow, when he resolved to say them they never seemed quite right.
His teacher may have taught him to be a master swordsman, but a little lesson on how to deal with women would have been much more appreciated right now!
Lost amid his own rumination, Kenshin stretched wooden chopsticks blindly toward the pickle dish. His fingers collided with smooth knuckles smaller than his own. A soft gasp echoed through the thick air.
Every muscle in the young man's body seized up, teeth involuntarily clenching as he slowly lifted reluctant lids. Two heads rose in time and the world stopped. Kaoru's face went slack, pale hand retreating from the pickle dish though she hardly seemed aware of the gesture. Kenshin sat just as hopelessly mesmerized, engulfed in her watery depths as she was submerged in his violet haze; twin pupils mirroring each other's anxiety.
In that moment, all thought left the hitokiri. The blood, the violence, the killing: everything that torented his soul vanished. Cleansed by her ocean blue. Lips parted of their own accord, and from them escaped the most unlikely sound. Faint as the softest breath, it may very well have gone unnoticed, if not for the unnatural silence shrouding them.
Oro.
Kenshin blanched and immediately slapped a hand over his mouth. Chopsticks clattered, forgotten on the smooth polished table. Where had that come from? Not even the all-knowing Hiko knew that particular sound. It was from a life long past; a life innocent of swords and slave traders. A strange crept up the back of his neck and Kenshin realized with astonishment that he was blushing for the first time since leaving his master over a year ago.
A suppressed snort reached blood pounding ears and shock transformed into pure, utter horror. His face flushed a shade past scarlet, petrified gaze fixated on the girl trembling before him. Her hand mimicked his, clamped tightly over her mouth, with cheeks the same brilliant red. But while the man sat stone still, mortified; her shoulders shook gleefully, tears of mirth pooling generously in the corners of her eyes. Kenshin wanted to sink into the floor on the spot.
Kaoru was laughing at him.
The young woman suddenly doubled over, free arm hugging her stomach for support. Kenshin, amazingly, felt his face grow hotter. Her giggles were audible through white fingers now: muffled guffaws bounced off the walls, each peal louder than the last. The flustered young man was too embarrassed to think, to realize the hand over his mouth had balled into a fist. That it was swinging down fast.
Bang!
The raven-haired girl fell silent, staring flabbergast at the fumed redhead. He was shaking, violet-blue eyes wide and unseeing. Kaoru didn't have to be able to sense ki to feel the waves of distress pouring out of him.
"Stop that," he rasped. "Just stop."
He was completely dumbfounded. Emotions the hitokiri couldn't comprehend flooded in and out, leaving the boy completely helpless in their wake. He was ashamed of his outburst; the current situation unlike anything he'd ever faced in his entire life. Lids closed on embattled amethyst as a frustrated sigh escaped the youth. Fighting a death-duel seemed less stressful at the moment.
"Kenshin?" Kaoru inquired meekly when he rose suddenly. Fiery bangs shielded troubled eyes in shadow as he turned, walking in a daze toward the porch. Desperate to flee the stifling room, the man neither looked at nor acknowledged her as the shoji slammed shut resolutely between them.
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The chill night breeze pierced skin as it hit his cheeks, pausing only a moment to play with red silk threads atop his head before moving on. In the distance, a few stubborn cicadas still chirped, though their song was a dying one. Kenshin lifted his chin to the sky and folded ice-numb hands into billowing, navy-blue sleeves. Autumn was definitely on the way.
The young man sighed loudly, stars reflecting off of darkened violet irises. Nearly an hour had pasted since he walked out on Kaoru and already he was starting to regret the action.
Another loud breath released as he lowered a forlorn gaze to unsandaled feet, hanging listlessly over the porch edge. How could he lose it like that? True his emotions had been a bit erratic lately, but the former assassin attributed this to suddenly being thrown into a peaceful atmosphere in contrast to a Hellish one. Such empty excuses couldn't explain today. Or the growing confusion in his heart.
Confusion. That was the best word to describe how she made him feel. In Kyoto, inner turmoil took a large back step to the chaos outside; here in the country, there were no violent missions to distract him. To chase away the thoughts deep down he'd rather ignore.
Or the nightmares.
Thin lips pressed white as last night's gore-coated image flickered through his mind. At least the dreams were something familiar in a strange new life, horrifying as they were. Those he could deal with.
But lately, ideas bordering on treason kept popping in and out of his head. Why did he kill? He told himself long ago that he wielded the katana in service to the people. But who did he really serve? Katsura led the movement and Iizuka gave him the black envelopes, but in the end he was just following orders. Hoping vainly that his efforts would pave the way to a better world.
Hiko denounced him because of that hope. Kaoru's words of a sword that protects rather than kill echoed across his memory with fatal timing. But could he really accomplish that? Protect without killing? He had to admit, the ideal presented a very nice dream.
Kenshin sensed her before he heard shoji slide open quietly. Bare feet pattered lightly against sanded planks, coming to an abrupt stop behind him. She sucked in air through flared nostrils and he waited, alert, for her to speak. Instead, he felt the weight of a heavy blanket settle over his shoulders.
"I--- I thought you might be cold out here."
He turned to face the nervous woman with round purple orbs, taking in the sight of her trembling form. She had changed into a pastel colored sleeping yukata since he saw her last, dark haori wrapped tightly around her torso to block the chill. Her long hair had also been braided and slung casually over the right shoulder. Lithe fingers twiddled impatiently. Kenshin realized yet again that she was waiting for him but, like last time, words failed him. Her demeanor wilted as minutes passed in silence and (eager not to screw-up a third time) the boy blurt out the only appropriate phrase he could think of.
"I'm sorry."
Kaoru nearly jumped at his admission, sapphire blue widening as the bigger picture finally dawned on her. Kenshin found himself looking away from her penetrating stare; for once, the weaker of the two as unwanted emotions piled one on top of the other and swirled together into a single congealed mess inside his skull. He couldn't even muster the willpower to give her an obligatory nod as she lowered herself onto the floorboards beside him. The torn boy opened his mouth to apologize again when Kaoru cut him off.
"You don't have to do that, Kenshin. You're not psychic and," her voice dropped an octave. "Neither am I."
"I suppose not," he answered, the only one he could provide in all honesty. She 'hmm'ed an affirmative and raised her face to the sky. The couple sat there for a while, stargazing, the soothing sounds of nightlife encasing them in a blanket of solitude.
"You know, I was thinking," Kaoru began, shattering the peace. "We really don't know that much about each other do we?"
"I know you're from a samurai family," Kenshin shrugged, unsure if he was ready to head in the direction her innocuous question promised to take him. "That your father owns a dojo where he teaches an unusual philosophy, he passed down his kenjiitsu to you and--- a childhood friend, when that same friend disobeyed those teachings to join the war--- you ran after him and ended up--- here."
"Well, that's all true," she hesitated a bit. "But those are pretty basic facts. There's more to everything than what you just said. I'm sure you've been wondering why my father taught his daughter how to fight when I should have been learning how to cook and care for a household. Haven't you?"
"Your past is your own. It's not my place to demand that which is at your discretion to give," Kenshin stated with an indifferent gesture. "I'm sure you have questions about mine as well but you never intruded on it. So, what reason do I have not to respect yours?"
"That's very considerate of you," Kaoru smiled at his endearing words. "But my life is no secret. I don't mind telling you---"
The redhead inclined his chin, waiting patiently. She may have told him otherwise, but the woman was fighting fear to reveal herself. He couldn't help but wonder, what was she afraid of?
"My mother died when I was very young," she opened the narrative. "I don't have many memories of her. Mostly, I remember watching my father in the practice hall as a child--- he swung the bouken with such strength and speed, and his steps were so graceful, filled with precision--- like a dance. My earliest memories are of standing at the dojo door, peeking at him as he taught lessons, naïve enough to believe he wasn't aware of my presence.
"When I was eight, he caught me sneaking into the dojo--- trying to emulate his moves with one of the student's shinai. I was so scared that he would be mad. After all, girls didn't do things like that. But instead he laughed and corrected my grip," she chuckled a bit, nostalgia ringing through her voice. "Our relationship before was distant at best, but afterward, he began teaching me the sword and took me almost everywhere he went. Neighbors whispered things about us, of course, but father never seemed bothered by it. Looking back, I don't think he really knew how to raise a daughter--- that's why he didn't mind their taunts. He had finally found a way to relate to me and didn't want to give that up. I guess I sort of became the son he never had. Back then, I was content with that---"
She drew her knees up, hugging them fiercely. The young man merely held his tongue, unsure what encouragement he could possibly offer, and waited for the meek girl to continue on her own.
"Not long after I began attending classes, Keisuke turned up on our doorstep. He was just a scrawny little runaway and everyone ridiculed my father for taking him in. 'Kamiya was too kindhearted for his own good,' they said. But Keisuke soon proved them wrong--- he was a natural at kenjiitsu, fast becoming a star pupil and city champion. I remember--- my father was so proud of him."
Here she paused, as if deliberating how to break the next half to him. Kenshin had a foreboding feeling he wouldn't like what she had to say next.
"I--- I adored Keisuke like a brother--- he was always kind and didn't mind sparring with me or just simply sitting in the yard to talk. The other boys usually shunned me because I was sweaty, unrefined, and beat most of them in lessons at some point. Not Keisuke. He treated me like an equal--- perhaps--- that's why--- I didn't mind when father arranged our engagement."
Kenshin felt himself go rigid. He wasn't surprised (far from it,) he sensed the sentiment each time Kaoru talked about Keisuke. Still, the impact of hearing those words from her mouth left him frozen.
"I was twelve at the time and believed, because of the way everyone else acted, that no one else would be willing to marry me. So, I was happy to have found Keisuke. I--- I did love him--- but not romantically," she flicked a pointed side glance toward Kenshin. "I realize that now."
"So you followed him here," her audience whispered hoarsely, head bowed. "He left to join the war and you ran after him."
"Yes, I was so mad at him!" Kaoru fumed. "I couldn't just sit there and do nothing as my father grieved. But I didn't know which side he joined, so, when I arrived in Kyoto I decided to get a job before starting my detective work. As fate would have it, the inn that accepted me happened to be tied to the Ishin Shishi. Later, I found out Keisuke joined the Shinsengumi," she cocked her head with a playful grimace. "I've gotten myself into quite a predicament, haven't I?"
"So it seems," Kenshin responded dully.
"Actually, I hate to admit, I feel my biggest loss since then was throwing away the bouken my father gave me. I carried it to defend myself during travel but people would have found me too suspicious if I had one in Kyoto. I haven't practiced at all in the past year either. I may have put on airs for Yahiko--- but I'm probably completely out of shape now," she sighed wistfully. "I kind of miss it."
"I could tell," she blinked at his sudden interjection. "When you were teaching Yahiko today--- you seemed--- happier."
"I guess so," Kaoru smiled. "So--- you don't mind?"
"I don't see why I should," he spoke matter-of-factly. "The past is exactly that, the past. What you do in the present says more about you than what is already said and done."
The words surprised even himself (especially considering his violent internal reaction) but on second thought, Kenshin realized he truly meant it, down to the last syllable. He didn't begrudge Kaoru at all.
"I'm glad," she breathed, petite hand snaking up to clutch the fabric over her heart. "Very glad."
"Mine's not quite as long as yours," he captured her attention with the unexpected phrase. Immediately, she assumed the worst.
"I didn't tell you my past just so you'd tell me yours," she blurt out in a rush. "It's alright, if you don't want to---"
"No, its fine," scarlet bangs swayed in rhythm. He told her briefly of his childhood. Of the small village--- he couldn't remember exactly where--- that he grew up in. How his parents were farmers and about his two older brothers. The man kept his explanations cut and dry. When he reached the cholera epidemic that killed his family, his sentences became even more clipped. He lived alone as a homeless orphan a short while before a slavers' caravan swept him up. For several months he traveled with them; too skinny and frail looking for desirable labor. Eventually the slavers spilt up. He was herded with a smaller group headed to the city. The bandit's attack was properly glossed over though Kaoru still gasped in horror. From there, he recapped the time with his teacher, their disagreement, his subsequent running away and recruitment by Katsura.
"How sad," she whispered after he completed the tale.
Kenshin spun around to meet her tear laced lids, deep sapphire brimming over with empathy. They grew larger and larger, until his vision was consumed by unfathomable blue. Jasmine filled his nose as warm breath flowed across his skin, all senses blocked from everything but her. He couldn't budge, like a fly caught in a web, and still she leaned closer. Soft lips brushed his rough cheek over the skin of his vertical scar. Fire seemed to devour him, racing through the blood in his veins even as her touch cooled the burn. Eternity passed as she pulled away and beamed up at him.
"Thank you for sharing with me, Kenshin."
He watched in a trance state as she walked back to the bedroom, rice paper screen sliding softly shut behind her. And he swore in that moment he could do it. If anything, he swore his sword could at least protect her.