Kendo no Go
In the Language of Kendo:
A Fanfic in 100 Chapters
by Akai Kitsune
87: Futon
~*~
When Kaoru was young, she
sometimes spent the night curled up in her mother's arms, sharing the warmth
of her parent's bed, away from whatever had frightened her. Her father
disapproved, but there was a great deal he disapproved of when her mother was
alive, so they paid him no heed.
He didn't often object, even
if he thought she was too old for such indulgence.
After her mother's death,
Kaoru spent her nights alone, in her grief and in her fear. Sometimes even in
her joy, though she loved her father and knew he loved her. But he was always
a stern, serious man, not to easily brought to smiles or laughter. She viewed
him as a challenge, and he often said that stubbornness was ingrained into the
Kamiya blood. It was days like that when she wished for a child of her own -
to test this theory, or to make her father proud, at the very least. She had
proven to be the very opposite of all that was female, otherwise, or so she
usually thought.
But she was young - too
young, at heart, as Gensai-sensei often chided almost enviously - to think
about having children, and there was time enough for that. Though not enough
for her father, she learned. Knowing suddenly that people, however loved, did
not live forever, was a very harsh lesson.
It was
this lesson she kept in mind almost constantly, after Kenshin began living at
the dojo. His mortality was very important to her - she learned this each and
every time his life was in danger - and it was quite true, what Megumi had
said: he was no god, no immortal. Simply a strong, gifted, and incredibly
lucky man.
'Lucky to live
through such... such...'
'Such horrible
times.'
There was more to be said
about his life, more than she could or would ever say; what his days as an
assassin had done to him, how isolated he had become, why every smile he wore
was tempered by the quiet suffering behind his eyes. There was more, so much
more, and she could never speak of them, nor say that she didn't care, when
she did.
'I do care...'
'I said I didn't,
but...'
'It's part of him.
If I care at all for him, I have to acknowledge that...'
She had a lot of time to
think about such things, lying awake in her own bed, gazing at the ceiling and
fingering the place at her side where, on a double futon, he might lie beside
her one day. She often dreamed of it, the feel of his body close to hers, the
sound of his soft breathing - she had never, in all the times she had watched
him sleep, heard him snore - the sight of his smile first thing in the
morning. The dream of someday seeing his eyes glow with nothing but love when
he looked at her - without sadness, or regret, or guarded feelings he could
not share with a stranger.
There were other things she dreamed, but they only made her blush like a
little girl - certainly not becoming of a wife - so she did not think often on
such things.
When the
time came at last to share her room and bed with him - an adventure and a feat
to bring about, that was certain - she found she was not as shy as she
thought. There was no reason to be, really; shyness was spurred by fear, and
why should she fear a husband she welcomed, wanted, one who was so timid and
gentle with her? Kenshin was too kind a soul to harm her, and he would need
her guidance as much as she needed his.
'We'll learn
together, won't we? We'll share, Kenshin and I.'
'That's what this
is all about, isn't it...'
~*~
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