After writing this chapter I decided to up the rating on this fic to M.
Another Battle for the Wolf – The Reunion Part 3
As soon as Hajime leaves the port's office, we head to the ryoken. Somehow I'm not surprised to learn that the harbor master's brother was a member of my husband's troop. The inn is not too far from the port and Hashimoto-san greets us as soon as we arrive, offering to take Tsutomu from me. We've been here for several days, enough time for him to recognize her, and not be concerned with her presence. She has played with him each day as the two of us visited over tea, exchanging news about our families. Her grandchildren live in Hokkaido and rarely visit, so it is a treat for her to have a baby around to dote on. I would not be inclined to leave him with a stranger, but she and her husband were such good friends of my parents that they are like an aunt and uncle to me. I glance at Hajime and he gives me a nod of approval. Gently, I transfer Tsutomu to Hashimoto-san's open arms. He squirms a bit before grabbing at her hair. She tells me not to worry, asking me to stop by and nurse him after Hajime bathes and the both of us have eaten.
Being a married woman, herself, I have an idea that she understands how I feel right now after being separated from my husband for so many months. I will be eternally grateful to her for this kindness. She indicates that there is fresh, hot water in their large furo. She had no way of knowing exactly when we would return from the docks, so she must have kept a fire under it for hours, another indication of her gracious hospitality. I am sure that when my husband has finished his bath, there will be food for both of us waiting in our room.
The bathhouse is in the ryoken's back garden. It is far enough away from the main building that bathers will not disturb the rest of the guests. Hajime follows behind me, as I cross the yard and make my way to the structure. Negotiating the steps, I enter, walking carefully in case the floor is wet and slippery.
I go straight to the shelf, checking to see if there are fresh towels and clean yukata. Smiling, I realize that I did not even need to look, not with our very efficient hostess. The air outside is a bit brisk today, but it is quite warm in here due to the heated furo. For now I remain wrapped in my kimono. Perhaps I can talk my husband into helping me washing my hair. It is much easier if I have help due to its thickness and length.
Hajime lingers outside. Maybe he is checking the fire to make sure it is still going strong. It is not until I smell the fragrance of tobacco that I realize he has stopped for a smoke. He wouldn't be a bit nervous, would he? No, he wouldn't, and I can't imagine why I would even let such a ridiculous thought cross my mind. Perhaps it is because those butterflies in my stomach that were flapping their wings earlier have returned. But this time I think they are there due to anticipation, rather than anxiousness.
*****
Tokio walks in front of me as we head to the bathhouse, giving me a great view of her backside in the process. I have always admired the shape of her neck. A well dressed Japanese woman is not supposed to show any curves when she wears kimono; she should look as though her body is straight like a log. No matter how well dressed my wife may be, I know what is underneath those carefully arranged layers of cloth.
It's definitely time for a cigarette break. It won't take long; I probably won't even finish it. Pausing in the yard, I let Tokio go into the bathhouse alone. It only takes seconds to retrieve a smoke from the pack I keep in my breast pocket. Once it's lit, I take a few long drags before flicking it to the ground, and stepping on it. I'll be sure to pick up the butt when I return to the main building, as it's not good form to leave a mess for others to deal with. Right now there is more important business to attend than smoking. Before I join my wife I check to see that there is enough wood on the fire to keep the furo warm for quite some time, since I don't intend on taking just a quick soak in the tub.
Silently, I enter the bathhouse, almost as if I was stocking prey, not that I would consider Tokio to be that, at least not all the time. Locking the door behind me, I ensure that my wife and I won't be interrupted. Most people don't bathe at this time of day, anyway. If they want to, that's their tough luck. They'll just have to wait; I was on that ship for far too long. I have the rest of the day off, and I don't intend to waste it, especially since Tokio and I seem to have a very capable babysitter in Hashimoto-san.
*****
Concentrating on getting the bath things ready, I didn't hear him open the door, and I almost didn't hear the click of the lock that tells me that this is likely to be more than just a bath session. Before I can turn around, soft footsteps approach me from behind, so I stay where I am. The next thing I know a pair of arms slip around my waist and draw me into firm, warm embrace. I've been married to him long enough to recognize what he is up to.
"Not now, Hajime," I whisper to him.
"Then when," he responds, kissing the base of my neck, causing a tickling sensation.
"Soon," I say, as one of his arms leaves my side and the fingers of his right hand trail up and down my cheek. Although this sends a shiver down my spine, I manage to maintain my composure. I have a husband who needs a bath first; everything else will have to wait.
"Hajime, strip and I'll wash your back," the tone of my voice tells him it is a request, rather than a demand. All good wives wash their husband's back, and I am no exception.
*****
Either she is too tempting, or I have been gone too long, but thoughts of a bath are far from my mind once I'm inside the building with her. Coming from behind her, I slip my arms around her waist before leaning down and kissing her gently on the base of her neck, breathing in her scent. It's just like the memories of her that surfaced on those nights in Kyushu. She smells freshly bathed. I smirk to myself. I hope she doesn't mind taking a second one today. After a bit of word sparring with her it's evident that I'll not get what I want, until she gets what she wants…a clean husband.
I allow her to help me take off my jacket even though I am quite capable of doing it myself. If she wants to do it, who am I to argue with her. However, I do insist on removing the rest of my clothing without help. Out of the corner of my eye, as I undress, I see my wife retrieve the pack of cigarettes from my jacket's breast pocket and place it on the shelf before picking up a small cloth. Not much escapes my notice.
*****
Standing behind him, facing his backside, washcloth in hand, I wait patiently for him to finish undressing, draw a bucket of water from the furo and sit on the small bench, so I can scrub his back. He reaches backward and hands me his remaining clothing, which I carefully fold before placing it in a basket. Even though it will be laundered tonight there is no need to wad his uniform up carelessly. It isn't until he turns to face me, bucket of water in hand, that it achingly hits me just how much I have missed him. I inhale sharply, my eyes immediately travelling to the scar on his leg after having glanced at other things, which brought a blush to my face, along with the feeling of being a new bride. That scar has to be where he was shot, as he didn't have that one when he left for Kyushu.
*****
I shake my head and give a little snort at Tokio's reaction. It's not like she's never seen me in a state of undress; but it has been a while. Serves her right, I have no sympathy for her, as she was the one who insisted that I needed a bath first. She seems frozen in place, wide eyed, as I walk past her and settle onto the bench, my back toward her. Since she can't see my face, I allow a little smile to creep across my lips when I finally hear her move towards me from where she was rooted to the floor.
*****
The wash cloth slips from my hand and lands on the floor, as I watch him sit on the small bench. I don't even realize it happened. Almost hesitatingly, I touch my fingers to his bare shoulders once he is seated. It has been so long since I have felt his skin beneath mine. The muscles in his back tense slightly at the contact. Then he raises a hand and covers the fingers of one of mine with his. Leaning over I whisper to him that I missed him, and that I am so happy to have him home. It is only then that I release myself from his touch to pick up the cloth from the floor and dip it into the pail, wetting it, so I can rub it across the bar of soap. I start to scrub the plains of his back, willing my mind not to wander, to keep my focus on the task at hand. As I trace gentle, but firm circles across his shoulders, I think about how much I have missed the quiet strength he brings to my life.
*****
Her firm, gentle touch has always relaxed me, so it puzzles me when I tense slightly as her hands rest on my shoulders. It's the first time I've felt her touch on my skin, since returning. Over these last months, I've been conditioned to avoid contact with my adversaries; that's the only way a warrior can survive. But I'm no longer in a war zone, and this isn't another soldier attacking me. It's my wife for kami's sake, and what she is doing is as far from an attack, as the night is from the day. Reflexively, I reach for one of her hands and give it a little squeeze to reassure her that I'm not dissatisfied by her action, quite the contrary. Her gentle touch and the missives, whispered into my ear, remind me of what I missed while I was away, and serve to increase the desire that surfaced the moment I saw her, as I stood on the deck while the ship was docking.
*****
When I am done with his back, I hand him the cloth so he can finish washing, while I undress. I've already had one bath today, but another won't hurt, especially since I didn't take the time to wash my hair this morning. As I place my clothing in the dirty clothes basket and reach for a clean wash cloth and hair soap, I hear him dump the bucket of water over himself, then dip another one from the furo. He always seems to be able to clean up quicker than I can. Coming up behind me, he takes the wash cloth out of my hand; then guides me to the seat. Apparently, it is now my turn to get my back scrubbed. It has been so long since the two of us have been alone together.
*****
This woman has always been irresistible to me. Instead of cleaning her back, I lean over and trace a few kisses along her shoulder, giving her a hint of what is coming, not that she needs one. It is only then that I grab the cloth and gently draw it over the smooth skin of her shoulders, and down her arms. I'm tempted to wash more than just her backside, but I finally decide to relinquish the cloth to let her finish the task. If she wants help with her hair, as she often does, I can start on that. It will get us into the furo that much sooner.
One at a time I remove the pins from her hair, causing it to tumble like a curtain that has been released from its ties. I stroke her long tresses, letting my fingers thread through them. Her hair is as soft and seductive as I remember. She's leaning over to scrub her feet, when I ask her to close her eyes so I can gently pour some warm water over her hair to dampen it. As efficient as I am, it doesn't take me long to work up a lather with the hair concoction she hands me. She swats at my hand with one of hers when my fingers bear down on her scalp, giving it a firm, brisk rub.
"It's good for your circulation," I say with authority.
"And for creating bald spots," she replies with a slightly amused tone of voice.
"No, it's those ridiculous, fancy hairstyles that cause those," I shoot back.
She doesn't give more than a small 'humpf' in response, having the graciousness to know when she's been verbally bested. I'm amazed at how easily we fall back into our old routines; it's almost like I was never gone from her life.
I only needed one bucket of clean water to rinse myself. However, even as small as she is, my wife always seems to need three of them. I've concluded it's because of that mass of hair of hers. Not that I'm complaining about it, because I'm not. I retrieve another couple of full buckets, and carefully pour them over her, making sure all the soap is gone before leading her to the tub.
*****
After washing my back, assisting with my hair, helping me rinse, and poking a bit of fun at me in the process, Hajime ushers me into the furo. I am glad that he didn't leave his sense of humor behind in Kyushu. Some men carry the aftermath of a war with them where ever they go, regardless of how many years intervene. Thankfully, that has never been the case with Hajime.
The water is pleasantly warm, and I am buoyant, which allows me to move easily. As soon as he joins me, I settle onto his lap, facing him, straddling his legs. I am grateful to finally be reunited with him after being apart for such a long time. This is the way life should be. We merely gaze at each other for a few moments. It's as if we are trying to convince ourselves that this is not a dream and that we truly are together again. It doesn't take him long to claim my lips. Pent up emotions rise to the surface, and once more the two of us become one.
*****
Author's Note: When I finished writing this, I realized that the scenario had to be subconsciously (since I wasn't thinking about her fic when I was writing this chapter) inspired by Chapter 26 of Jesphoenix05's AU Stargate/RK fantasy crossover, The Place Where I Belong, which is posted here at ff net. It is a wonderful tale of how the relationship between S and T slowly develops. If you would like to read a sweet romantic moment between S and T, head over to her fic and at least read Chapter 26.
Hajime finding Tokio 'irresistible' is a nod to another wonderful fan fic, 'Irresistible', by Kamorgana. The finished version is posted in the Files (Saitoh based fics) of the yahoo group: rk_bad_boys_citrus_paradise. A link to this yahoo group can be found on Kamorgana's ff net profile page. (A portion of 'Irresistible' is also posted here at ff net.)
A furo is a Japanese bathtub. The Japanese wash and rinse before getting into it for a soak.
A straight profile is the goal when dressing in a kimono. If you have curves, it is necessary to pad yourself around the waist with a towel so you have a 'straight' looking body profile, like a log, according to a local Nihon-go sensei, who was born and raised in Tokyo and conducts kimono dressing workshops.
There is one more, short part to the above scene before it is finished.