Kendo no Go
In the Language of Kendo:
A Fanfic in 100 Chapters
by Akai Kitsune
08: Itadakimasu
~*~
Kaoru loved to eat. More importantly, she loved to eat
good food.
"Marry a man who loves you, Kaoru-chan," her mother had
warned her very seriously, long ago when she was still a little child and too
young to understand how the world worked - which was why Kioku told her, of
course. "Get married to someone whom you can really feel like spending the rest
of your life with."
Kaoru had, naturally, questioned the love between Kioku and her father, but
the older woman had simply smiled and told her to finish eating her rice. Which
she did; she liked rice. With soya sauce. And green tea-flavoured desserts.
She would never - not for a million yen, although
something like that would be tempting with a family such as hers - say that she
married for the love of her husband's food, but she would admit - for a lesser
price, perhaps - that his skills were at least one of the things that drew her
in. Particularly when one considered her own culinary prowess. How a former
assassin had gained better cooking skills than someone who was good friends with
a restaurant owner, she couldn't tell, but Kenshin was always able to surprise
her, so she tried hard not to dwell on things like that. It wasn't as if she
could ask him - at least, not like that. Something told her that he would not
like to explain after that question.
Another thing that often puzzled her was how happy he was to cook. He was
never asked to cook... it began on his first morning at the dojo, and besides a
few failed attempts on her part, he had cooked their meals ever since. It may
have seemed odd, for the man of the house to assume all domestic
responsibility, but it worked for them. It wasn't as if Kenshin had any skills
to find a job with. At least, not a job he was willing to accept. And no one in
the house wanted him to work, anyway. His cooking was certainly better than the
alternative - and even Kaoru was ready to admit that.
In fact, the only thing that Kenji seemed to actually like
about his father was the meals he cooked. When he was old enough to eat solid
foods, he was fascinated at how interesting it became when it was nothing more
than a pile of discoloured goo. He enjoyed spreading that same goo all over
everything - himself, his parents, the room - and was determined to do every
possible thing with it besides it's original purpose... that is, to be eaten. It
was amusing, to say the least; rather, it was amusing the first few times. After
the laughter had died down, and Kenji was peaceably sleeping in his room, Kaoru
was certain that her husband did not appreciate seeing his hard work
decorating the floor. He was never vocal about it - it was Kenshin, after all -
but she easily recognized the flat, unhappy glint in his eyes as he knelt and
scrubbed the hardwood to perfection. Later, she often asked him if he was all
right, and he would smile, and shrug, and say simply, "Kenji is happy. Why
should I not be?" And it would be left at that.
Why shouldn't he be happy? Their child was smiling, something he
rarely did in his father's presence. That alone should be reason enough to feel
some joy. Yet she couldn't shake off her uneasiness, her grief, whenever she saw
him hunched over the spattered food, his body moving back and forth as he
cleaned, to hide the brief, stricken shivers of misery and tears.
~*~
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