Kendo no Go
In the Language of Kendo:
A Fanfic in 100 Chapters
by Akai Kitsune
14: Callous
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Sometimes Kaoru would have killed for smooth hands.
'All right, perhaps not kill,' she would berate herself for the
word choice silently, and of course never, ever vocalized, especially with
Kenshin's good hearing, 'But something extreme, at the very least.'
She never really regretted her lifestyle, the way she had chosen to live. Her
school was her purpose, her true love - one of them - and she knew she couldn't
give it up, even if she tried, even if she wanted to.
But she wanted smooth hands.
Just to feel the softness rub against her face, the silken touch of elegance
that - surely - all women must have possessed except for her. To provide more
comfort for her husband, who himself already knew what soft hands felt like, who
had loved a woman with soft hands.
Soft hands, hard heart.
Funny how the roles became so reversed, she liked to muse, on the rare
occasions when she was awake and he was not, and she lay in bed watching him.
Funny how they had changed so much.
His first love had been a woman who could take care of his every need,
tolerate his every action - his work, his moods, his secrets - and his second
love...
Ah, his second love...
'And I,' she would add fiercely, hands fisted and curled around
the blankets, 'Was a girl who found someone to meet my needs.'
'I was so selfish, wasn't I?'
'But... is that such a bad thing?'
She wanted to brush her fingers through his hair, to feel the softness in the
warm flames, but she knew her touch would wake him. It always did.
And vaguely, she wondered if Tomoe had ever been able to touch him without
waking him up, with those soft hands, a woman's hands.
Once she had touched him, and he had placed a sword at her throat. It made
one think, sometimes; how much a person had changed.
In the past, when he woke at her touch, he smiled sleepily, and asked her why
she was still awake.
'Because I'm thinking of you, of who you are, of who I am.'
'Because sometimes I'm afraid of dreaming of a sword at my neck.'
'Not yours, though... never yours.'
It wasn't as if she could tell him. His smile would fade, and he would get
that look in his eyes - that guilty, stricken look that made her want to hug him
and hold him or throw him through the wall, depending on his reaction to the
former - and there would be no sleeping that night. Not for him, and certainly
not for her, knowing that he lay awake, grieving and apologetic for giving her
nightmares.
'Not yours...'
There were some things that Kaoru could not stop thinking
about, could not discuss with anyone, even if Kenshin wondered what she was
thinking of so deeply. He was always in such good humour when he asked, a
secretly amused smile on his face and a merry sparkle in his eyes, and she
couldn't help but let her thoughts be distracted long enough to consider what he
might be so amused by. To escape, she sometimes listed off several chores to
keep him busy, or asked him to take Kenji somewhere so they could have a quiet
night to themselves. She refused to allow her thoughts to tarnish his more
pleasant moods.
She knew - had known for quite a long time - that she had very bad timing,
occasionally.
She thought of a great deal of things, usually when he wasn't watching her.
She thought of the strange parallels between herself, her husband, and the woman
who had been his wife so long ago... the actions they had taken, bringing their
lives together, yet still separated.
She, much like Kenshin before her, had taken in a stray, and fallen in love
with him.
'The difference? Well...'
'His stray had smooth hands.'
She didn't mind his hands, though, as much as her own. A man's skin was
supposed to be hard, worn from working his whole life. Her father's hands and
been covered in tough skin, and she had felt it when he held her, or tickled her
chin to make her laugh. There was much love in those hands.
Hard hands meant working hands. They meant strength, support, power. As much
as she liked the idea of it, she still felt as if a wife should have
something to give back to her husband.
'His stray could cook for him.'
And oh, how she loved his cooking. Especially when her own was so... so...
'His stray... she... she could...'
'She will stay in his memories forever.'
'He will always remember her touch. Her smooth, ladylike touch.'
Her touch had startled him into pulling his sword to her neck.
Her touch had brushed a tear from his eye, smiling as she left him forever.
At Kenji's birth, she did not mind her hands so much,
because she had finally given her husband something with smooth skin.
That alone would have been enough to bring her joy... if she hadn't been too
busy thinking of other things.
She reveled in her baby's softness, brushing her long, thin fingers across
his chubby cheeks, his delicate hands with tiny, clinging fingers. She loved to
hold him close to her, and feel his exploration of her face - despite any eye
poking involved - and hear his delighted laughter, echoed by her own. She loved
the smile that always lit up her husband's expression when she held the child
out to him, encouraging, calling out.
"Come hold your son, Kenshin!"
Your son. Yours.
'Our son.'
'Our son, with soft hands, and such a warm, pure heart.'
Soft hands, warm heart.
She loved to hold him close to her, feel his warmth and his love... but hated
the way his heart hardened when his father touched him.
Rough hands has earned him a hard heart.
Aren't those the hands that brought about peace for this generation?
"For him," Kenshin told her, his eyes distant as he gazed
down at their baby's sleeping face. "I think of it now, and even if I never knew
it before... what I did... back then... it was for him."
Your son.
Yours.
"My son," he murmured, brushing his finger against Kenji's
cheek. The child stirred, pushing the hand away for disturbing his rest. Kaoru
felt a frown tighten her face, and she touched his hair - just a soft frock of
auburn string on his newborn head, really - to calm him.
Kenji's arm lowered, his hand closing around a single finger, ignoring the
callouses and old cuts that marred the skin. Kenshin knelt beside him, smiling
slightly, not moving to touch any other part of him, but simply watching.
Admiring. Adoring.
"My son..."
Kenshin slept like that for the entire night, his body curled around that of
his child's - his only child's - as Kenji held his hand until morning beckoned
for his awakening.
y
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