Kendo no Go
In the Language of Kendo:
A Fanfic in 100 Chapters
by Akai Kitsune
39: Tatami
~*~
Most of the time, Kaoru did not mind
Kenshin's extended favours to the police chief and his various
government employers. They kept him busy - which was good - and
they paid well - which was very good - but it was only
when the "extended" missions were stretched, so far to
make her wonder if he was ever coming home, that she grew annoyed
with his disappearances. During his absence, she would tackle her
own job and numerous chores with a sharp vehemence, so much that
even Yahiko was wary to irritate her on certain days. She
couldn't really help it, though; what woman wouldn't be angry
when her husband was too giving of himself to ever say no to
those in need of his aid?
So, naturally, she found ways to distract herself until he
returned, sweaty, tired, and bearing his own quiet frustration
and contained anger. He would kiss her cheek, hold her for a long
moment, his eyes carrying a distant look - as if he couldn't
really see her, as if he couldn't imagine finally being home
again - and would whisper those sweet words, beautiful,
tantalizing, and oh so familiar to her.
"Tadaima, koishii."
And her eyes would water, and he would ask what was wrong, but
it was the steam of the miso she was cooking, or the onions she
had chopped, or a reaction from too many spices, and it wasn't
because she was happy, so very happy that he was home, finally home.
When he was gone, she liked to cook.
A lot. Kenji complained just as much, wailing that it was too
much, and that he had had enough, and that Yahiko-niichan would
like it better, and he was full, so full mommy and could he go
play with the cat now, please?
But the cat was dead, of course, and daddy was coming home
soon, so couldn't he just wait and finish his dinner like a nice,
quiet little boy?
No.
'Why aren't things ever easy?'
'Baka. When have things ever been easy, Kaoru?
You used to love challenges.'
'But Kenshin always used to be here to help.'
She always felt guilty for her terribly unfair thoughts,
afterwards. It had, after all, been her idea that he leave
the dojo more often, find some sort of job or regular income,
although she had hoped that he would find something a little more
local, instead of becoming the government's own little
errand-boy. She couldn't help but remember, bitterly and with a
fierce protectiveness, the "errand" against a certain
revenge-seeking hitokiri which had nearly cost her rurouni his
life. He did not, in any way, owe them anything.
Yet he still left his home, time and time again, for their
sake, at their beck and call. He was so much like the leaves of
fall - the same leaves that Sanosuke had described as he poured
over the great tale of Kenshin's battle with Shishio, the ones
which had snapped under the growing pressure of his ken-ki as he
miraculously returned to life to make his final stand against the
madman - allowing his life to be pushed and carried by the wind.
"Sessha wa rurouni."
"It is time to wander again..."
Sometimes she wished - selfishly, for her sake and Kenji's -
he could find the strength in his heart to, just once, refuse to
give his aid. Sometimes she wished she had never encouraged his
wanderings.
Sometimes - although the thought left her throat dry and her
heart empty - she wished he could be a different sort of person,
if only so she knew he would always be with her.
Chief Uramura came to visit the dojo
on a strangely cold day, little less than a week from Kenji's
fourth birthday. He had always been civil to them all, and Kenji
liked him well enough, so Kaoru welcomed him into their home and
invited him to dinner. Kenshin had fortunately made a run to the
market that afternoon, so naturally she offered to cook the fresh
fish he had purchased while they spoke in the other room. She had
no doubt what it was that they would be discussing.
Kenshin had missed Kenji's last birthday; a mission which had
gone too long, a promise broken in an already fragile
relationship. His bond with Kenji was scattered: at times the boy
loved him dearly, and at others would have nothing to do with
him. Kenshin welcomed any and all affection he was given, yet
never resented being slighted - although, knowing it was mostly
his own fault, he regretted it. If Uramura's request was what she
suspected it was, he would no doubt be absent again.
Bringing the rice pot over to the crackling fire in the center
of the kitchen, she slammed it down with loud vehemence, hoping -
childishly, really, but who could help it? - that both men heard
it and took her meaning.
Kenshin did, quite pointedly.
In the middle of chopping the vegetables, her knife forming a
resounding -thwack- against the cutting board, Kenshin's
voice, curious and concerned, called out to her from the other
room.
"Kaoru? Is something
burning?"
She was about to reply that no, water boiled, it did not burn,
when she realized, suddenly, that she could smell smoke. Slowly,
almost dreading the sight and cursing whatever gods liked to make
her life miserable, she turned around.
Her shriek was enough of a sign for Kenshin, and he burst into
the kitchen, staring in surprise at the scene before him, as
Kaoru took a hesitant step towards the pot of heated water, in an
attempt to extinguish the flames quickly spreading across a
tatami beside the fire pit. Cursing under his breath, he swiftly
moved her aside and grasped the burning mat, carrying it outside
towards the well. She winced, hearing a sharp cry of alarm, a low
hiss, and his hard breathing, as the flaming material was doused
in the water. After a long moment, he returned, gently favouring
a hand - his sword hand, she noticed - with his teeth gritted in
barely concealed pain. Kaoru glanced back at the chief, who was
peering into the kitchen with surprise in his expression. Kenshin
looked at her, then at him, then smiled softly.
"Sumanu," he bowed his head slightly, "I think
dinner will be delayed."
As if that were the only thing that mattered.
"I'm sorry," she apologized
for what must have been the fiftieth time, carefully bandaging
the burns on his hand, "Does it still hurt?"
"Iya," he murmured, his
eyes lowered, watching her work. "The salve helped a great
deal."
She was silent at that, sending unvoiced thanks to Megumi and
her gift of her family's special medicine.
Uramura fiddled with his glasses for a moment, coughing
quietly. "Himura-san," he started after a moment,
"I'm sorry for whatever disturbances I have caused in your
home. Please accept my apologies."
Kenshin shook his head. "No apologies are necessary,
Uramura-dono."
The police chief nodded, not in agreement, but simply
acknowledging the dismissal. "I don't suppose we could
continue our discussion tomorrow afternoon, at some
point...?"
Kaoru's hands froze for a moment against his. Her eyes
flickered to where Kenji was playing with a small top in the
corner, blissfully unaware of the coming celebration and her
sudden burst of anger at the extreme unfairness of life.
'So he'll leave again, and he'll miss it... and
he'll be sorry for it, as always, but it can't fix whatever
damage is being done between himself and Kenji...'
'... someday he'll learn, won't he?'
'Won't you, Kenshin? Please?'
"Uramura-dono," Kenshin
raised his head, his eyes full of stubbornness and iron resolve.
"I'm afraid I can't accept the job this time. I have already
made commitment to my family, and I will not break that."
Kaoru stared at him, her eyes wide and shining with hopeful
joy. He sent her a small smile, brushing his thumb lightly across
her cheek.
Uramura watched them for a moment, then nodded again.
"Hai. I suppose that's for the best. I will see you another
day, then."
"Another day," Kenshin
murmured. Kaoru smiled back at him, brightly and without
restraint.
Someday.
~*~
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