.
For weeks, the little shrine became almost like a home. Shinta worked next to Sanosuke and Katsuhiro splitting logs and building makeshift structures. Both men had been stable hands back at the manor, and Shinta had hardly spoken with them beyond coordinating the keeping of Akira's horse, but now they shared the same work, the same food, the same shelter.
Sanosuke didn't talk much beyond cursing and grumbling, often to Shinta's silent agreement, but Katsuhiro could spend hours spinning a tale. Even Shinta could see he was handsome - he had a smile for everyone, he flirted shamelessly with the old women and the young girls, and he worked hard. He guarded Sano's volatile moods like a mother and traded gentle smiles with Kaoru.
Shinta saw the way Kaoru and Hiro smiled at each other. He saw the way she fought with Sano, answering his sarcasm with quips of her own, needling him when he sulked, worrying for him. He saw the way Sano's eyes would sometimes follow her around the yard.
Shinta might have been jealous, but he knew that Mirine watched Hiro like a hawk, and he knew that Kaoru, however much she smiled at anyone else or fought with anyone else, was his. The way she touched his arm when she brought him his meals. The way she smiled when she was with him. The way she looked at him.
Clearings in the forest, away from everyone else, in the afternoon sun, on a bed of fallen leaves - the heat of her mouth, the smell of her sweat, her body clinging to him, her joy, his release... Shinta almost didn't recognize himself, his need for her, his happiness. He lost his mind in wonder at the light of her smile, the peace of lying in her arms.
.
The days became colder. Nearby families began to bring gifts for the shrine, and then he would always have to find her, because she had disappeared into the forest. He would find her, and she would stare into his eyes and tell him to say her name.
Shinta could almost ignore the desperation in her touches, the shadows growing under her eyes.
It occurred to him that they should leave this shelter, leave this mountain before the winter set in, but it was late, very late in the year to begin a journey. They would be risking starvation or worse.
The gift-bearing pilgrims had reminded him of his own obligation to the family who had helped him. One night when Kaoru had crept to their corner early to sleep, Shinta knelt in the shadows at the altar. He lit herbs and shook prayer sticks, and he remembered blinding white snow and the cold, Akira's skin so cold, Akira a ghost while he was still alive. He remembered the family, their children, and he thought of a mild winter and a rich, wet spring. He remembered the cold. He felt the warmth in his own body - he had survived famine and wars and winters. She had spared him so far. She could spare others. He squeezed his eyes shut and he begged her - "Please."
.