acceptance, compassion, support
Swordsmanship demands intimacy, a lifestyle decree that Himura Kenshin knew all too well. Seasoned killers at the hilt such as himself were familiar with the sounds of men who writhed with air in their veins and who gagged on throat fulls of their lifeblood. The howls and shouts of agonized panic that came from clawing at an open wound, the sickening crack that resounded when metal splintered bone, the whisper of a vengeful promise on a warrior's dying breath all resonated in his endless nightmares.
If there was one thing Kenshin was grateful to his sword style for, it was the swift execution. Never had he been tempted to savor a drop of bloodshed nor in an enemy's suffering. In the time that it took for an opponent to bite the dust, he would already be in the act of cutting the next one down.
During those hellish years of death and destruction, he had never dreamed that he would ever again be allowed to find solace in the comforts and joys of marriage. Back then, the very thought of a woman's tender compassion and fierce support as he knew with Kaoru would have been beyond the bounds of possibility to him.
She was too much.
All that she was to him was more than he had ever dared to hope for. Kaoru's philosophy proved that those who wielded swords did not have to be without love in their heart for mankind. Every sin of his that she accepted made the strain of his burdened soul a bit more bearable. The past that she acknowledged helped him find closure in things left unanswered. She laid him to rest in a warm lap, a bed of passion, an honest home, and a welcoming embrace. She helped him engrave the tomb of his past with vows of life and love, promises in sickness and in health, and a final bid of mortal farewell.
Under her affectionate touches and the harsh scrutiny of the world, his cross-shaped scar began to fade. The grudges no longer ran as deep and his heart began to bleed for entirely new reasons.