Kendo no Go
In the Language of Kendo:
A Fanfic in 100 Chapters
by Akai Kitsune
47: Tofu
~*~
Kenshin was a
good shopper. He liked to shop; he was happy to shop. Kenshin
could find the best deals, the best foods, and did not take his
time and sidetrack, if he could help it.
Unfortunately, despite whatever
aspirations he might have, Yahiko was not Kenshin.
The Tokyo samurai had always
grumbled about chores of any kind, whether it involved
practicing, cleaning the dojo, cleaning the house or, heaven
forbid, cooking to relieve the workload on Kenshin's back. Kaoru
was at a loss as to why he found his life so tormenting. He
received free board, free food, free lessons, and yet he
failed to understand that a little work around the dojo was the
least he could do.
She had forgotten what it was
like to be ten years old.
So when she summoned him to go
on the dreaded mission for tofu, she received, instead of her
cheerful rurouni's, "Hai, Kaoru-dono," a scowling,
reluctant grunt of the boy she had taken in as a student and
prospective little brother. When he was sent on his way, instead
of returning as soon as the errand was finished, he wasted time,
he purchased what he had to whatever the price, and he often
stopped by the Akabeko to "visit"; more likely, to eat
and flirt with a certain young waitress.
It wasn't as though she
disapproved of the budding romance between Yahiko and Tsubame.
For from it: she encouraged it as much as she could, despite
merciless teasing. Yahiko deserved it, anyway.
But she hated waiting
for a meal - after a long day of training to earn the money he
thoughtlessly flouted at the restaurant - for the sake of
indulging a child who disrespected her at every opportunity.
Kenshin
encouraged her to let it go, most of the time. It was an awkward
age for a boy, he said, almost as bad as the early teen years.
Never sure what you're too young for, too old for.
He was training with Hiko at the
age of ten. Not much room for play, there.
"Not
many girls to speak with, either," he added with a mild
smile, making her feel a little ashamed at her anger. Where,
after all, was the harm?
Despite his
words, there was nothing Kenshin could do to curb her occasional
resentment of Yahiko's actions. Sometimes she was unforgiving,
sometimes he deserved it, but either way, he more often than not
received the punishing end of her bokken.
Indignant, fierce, he would
retaliate with words.
And the cycle would begin anew.
Later, she would wonder at how
easily they lost control. One word, two, and they were at it like
rabid dogs. Kenshin would smile, of course, and discretely vanish
as they tumbled over each other, vying for a victory to gloat
about later. Such was their pride.
"That's
the only thing we share," she complained to Kenshin once,
after a particularly long fight that sent Yahiko out of the dojo
in an uncharacteristic fit of anger.
Kenshin naturally disagreed.
"I think you share a lot of things," he answered with a
gentle shake of his head. "You just need to think further on
it.
"Like
what?" she asked skeptically.
He hadn't even hesitated in his
response. "Your pride is one example, but what you are proud
of is another. You both wish to bring honour to your
family name, don't you?" She thought upon this for a moment.
"You also want to protect people, no matter what the danger.
You're both incredibly reckless, yet at times, very wise.
Whatever you do has great purpose. You both," he said
finally, after an extensive pause, "Have my utmost
respect."
She had smiled at this,
wondering just how he always knew exactly what to say and how to
say it. She quickly sent him out to find Yahiko while she
prepared dinner, thinking as she did so, 'You forgot one last
thing, Kenshin... you forgot that the most important thing we
share is you.'
~*~
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