A/N: I'm posting this chapter early because I'll be out of town tomorrow. Backstreet Boys concert in St. Louis, here I come! My chronic illnesses will no doubt kick my ass for this, but honestly, I wouldn't miss this trip with my four best friend for ANYTHING!
Thank you to everyone who is reading, reviewing, and subscribing. I appreciate the feedback so very much! It keeps me going. :) This chapter is dedicated (more than usual) to Syolen, just because I can. Are you guys reading Truce? You should be. Also, help me beg her for a new chapter, because I am going through withdrawal.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
"Why won't you just talk to me!" Kaoru doesn't shout, but she does raise her voice. A tabi flies past Kenshin's ear, tossed in a fit of frustration.
Her husband spreads his hands, attempting to pacify her. His motions and submissive stance are undermined by the angry gold of his eyes, which he tries (and fails) to hide behind his bangs. "Kaoru, I do not want you to concern yourself with the politics of –"
"It's too late for that, Kenshin, so stop saying it!" The second tabi follows, whacking against the rice paper screen before flopping dejectedly to the floor. Kaoru is breathing heavily, hands balled into tight fists at her sides as she tries to regain some control. She wants to beat sense into her husband – she wants to ply with him with kisses, to bring the smile back to his mouth and the sweet, violet shade of happiness to his eyes – she wants to not be here, where he keeps secrets and comes home covered in blood. "You wanted to come to Kyoto, and I followed you. I came because I love you, and I want to honor Tomoe-san. I did not agree to this trip so you could return to being a hitokiri!"
They both suck in a sharp, startled breath. Kaoru's very heart trembles, terrified; neither of them have said it, have acknowledged what Kenshin is doing. In fact, Kaoru has done her best to avoid it.
"I do what I must for the country," Kensin whispers, "for your...for our future, and that of our children and grandchildren."
One hand knots in the fabric covering Kaoru's stomach. For their children and grandchildren, for the lives of those not yet born, Kenshin will sacrifice himself on an alter of war. A war that should be ended, at least for him.
"You don't have to. Please, Kenshin. We can leave. You've done enough. Let the others finish this bloody work. Let's visit Tomoe-san, and leave. Tomorrow, or the next day –"
"I've made promises, Kaoru. I will not sully my honor by turning my back on them."
"But Kenshin –" Desperation and bile alike burn at the back of Kaoru's throat, making her stomach clinch and dizziness take hold.
"I'm sorry, Kaoru. I am. But for now, we stay." Rarely does Kenshin use this voice in presence; it is cold, brooking no argument, no question. His face, which she once thought as inhuman as it was beautiful, is seemingly sculpted in ice. The fluidity, life, and wonder have been stripped away, leaving only the steel forged remains of a warrior.
There will be no changing his mind.