Chapter 3 Part Two: …of Unattainable Light

Kimiko waited, silently patient, as Kenshin rested against her and cried. She offered no words of comfort nor admonishment for his weakness. She had no advice to give to him. But more than that she was there, the warmth of her body speaking in place of any pale verbal assurance. Her delicate, sensitive hands stroked his hair as if he were a small child in her arms. The steady beat of her heart helped to calm him after a time, but the pain still rested in him heavily like fallen snow, searingly cold to the skin.

Kimiko didn't hesitate to take that pain, to hold it despite its weight and severity, to try to relieve it from him. Without a word she drew it from him, warming his frozen body with hers. It was a familiar feeling for him, bound this way. Somehow, the scent and feel of a woman always left him helpless.

At long last Kenshin recoiled, steadying himself with his hands still on her shoulders. She only watched, waiting to see that he had recovered. "I'm sorry," he told her softly. "I'm always taking advantage of you, Kimiko-san. I…didn't mean to give you my burdens. I don’t need you to feel sorry for me."

"I took them myself," she replied evenly. She reached up, unafraid, and cleared the remnants of tears from his eyes. "We're all weak at some time, Kenshin. We all have our battles to fight, if only under different circumstances. That's what life has taught me."

He swallowed hard, and nodded. "Yes…I believe you're right. But what about you, Kimiko-san? What battles do you fight?"

Kimiko's eyes danced away from his briefly. "Just one. And always against myself. It's loneliness." She diverted her eyes again, not because she was embarrassed at having shared that with him, but in fear of his reaction. "My sorrows can't compare to yours. But…will you listen? I feel like you're the only person that will understand."

"Yes. Of course." Kenshin tried to smile encouragingly, for her sake, but he realized that the gesture was unnecessary--she didn't need it, especially when he wasn’t strong enough to provide it. So he listened, hoping that she could feel the sympathy behind his lack of outward support, as he had hers.

"Ueda-san and I were married during the war," she began, still not facing him even as her body shifted closer. "Just after Aono died. My father wanted me to be married; in case something happened to him and Brother, the farm would need to be in capable hands. As it turned out, he was right. They both died during the first winter of the war, of illness of all things. Mother and I were distraught with grief, and that's when Ueda-san made his offer." Her voice held no bitterness, but a kind of hollow lamentation. "I had no choice, really. He said he cared for me a great deal, but I didn't believe him. I…."

"You don't love him." Kenshin instantly regretted speaking so openly, but he could see in her face that it was true.

"Yes." Kimiko licked her lips. "I…really wanted to love Aono, even if he infuriated me more than anyone. He seemed to understand me…like you." She met his eyes directly, causing his insides to quake. "Now, I feel like you know me better than anyone. That we're the same, somehow. I…I don't belong here, Kenshin." She wrapped him in her arms with a sudden fit of passion, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders. He was startled but didn't respond. "Sometimes I just can't stand it, living in a house of puppets. If Ueda-san really did care…but he doesn't, and I'm all alone in this awful house. I don't belong here at all."

"Kimiko-san." He tried to speak, then realized that he didn't know what to say to her. He understood--it startled him, but he knew that he did. The endless days of wandering, no matter how many people he surrounded himself with, only made the loneliness more acute. The hollow eyes of strangers picked him apart whenever they took in his scar--the very mark of his shame. And no matter where he went he felt as if space bent around him, separating him from the people he tried to help. He didn't belong with them--with this world. He wanted to be somewhere else, where he could be understood and, perhaps, even cared for.

Kimiko looked at him. "You do understand," she whispered. Her hand, with all the tender comfort she was capable of giving, reached out to him. It slid over his scar, down his neck to his chest. Her eyes squinted a bit, and gently she probed the flesh beneath his gi. "So many scars," she murmured.

He stared at her, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Your scars." She eased the shoulder of his garment off--he shifted awkwardly--and indicated a long, pale line of skin. It was a scar, doubtlessly from the war, barely visible in the dim light. "They're everywhere," she said quietly, running her fingertips over the invisible markings in his skin. "Every battle…like pieces of fabric, torn, and mended. But never complete."

"Kimiko-san, I…." Kenshin faltered when he looked into her eyes. Their deep brown shade was warm and inviting, as if threatening to embrace him more completely than her arms. For she was a startlingly beautiful woman, full of passion but also fear. Fear that she would spend her life suspended in a life that did not suit her, reflecting a light she would never hold for herself. That she would never find the dark beauty of a night sky from which to shine her love of life for the world.

But there was also something else inside her eyes--hope. It has been a long time since he'd seen that emotion, expressed so clearly and boldly. Kimiko's fingers trembled as they moved again to his face, brushing over his scar. In those simple movements she accepted and forgave the sin that had created it, as simply as if she'd said the words aloud. And before he realized what was happening she drew him closer. Her lips, warm and soft, tested a kiss against his. A chill ran through him at the brief, intimate contact. The reaction from his body surprised him--his heart began to race, pounding blood through his temples. Her breath poured sweetly over his skin and caused it to tingle.

She kissed him again, just as softly, not demanding but filled with restrained desperation. He drew in a shaking breath as if having suddenly emerged from deep, cold water. It had been years since he'd experienced this kind of sensation before--for his body, an inconceivable amount of time. Her smell, her warmth, and the faint taste on her lips seduced his loneliness. He would do anything to ease that ice within his heart, to grant himself peace. He needed her to understand how painful his years of isolation and searching had been. How long, and how lonely.

Kenshin kissed her back, hesitantly at first, then more deeply. She responded in kind, wrapping him again in her arms, holding him tightly. He could not resist.

My heart…it is this fragile after all….

Kimiko awoke slowly the next morning, from the most beautiful dream she'd ever had. For long after it had ended she imagined that it was real; her limbs were comfortably sore, and her heart free. It was only when she recognized the texture under her hands as human skin that she realized: it wasn't a dream.

Kimiko sat up, being careful not to wake the man sleeping beside her. She could barely breathe from joy--he was still there. She had not awoken from another dream, only to find cruel reality in its place. She touched him--his face, his arms, his hair, assuring herself. And in joy she nearly cried, thanking every god and spirit she knew that it was him beneath the covers of the futon. It was still her Kenshin.

He is so beautiful. Kenshin, if only you knew how long I'd…. She curled her fingers around his hair, and traced the lines of the scars on his chest. She did this for several minutes idly, enjoying the feel. Please, please don’t let me wake up. I'll do anything, if only--

"Kimiko? Dear, are you still in bed?"

Kimiko froze, her hand still poised over Kenshin's face. The voice was her mother's, approaching from the stairs. A quick glance told her that Kenshin was--thankfully--still sleeping. She breathed slowly to calm herself, and then changed briskly into her yukata. By then her mother was just outside, and she hurried to the panel, hoping to reach it before--

The panel slid open. Hiromi stood there, already dressed and seemingly impatient. When her eyes landed on Kenshin, however, her expression darkened. Kimiko stood frozen, breathless. When her mother spoke, the words were harsh and cold. "Come with me a moment, Dear."

Kenshin's attention was drawn immediately by the unmistakable sound of a hand striking skin. His eyelids flew open, searching the interior for some threat even as his senses were lazy from deep sleep; such sleep he hadn't experienced for a long time. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. And then he remembered.

Kimiko. I…was this what I wanted? His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of arguing.

"I don't care." It was Hiromi, just outside the room; he could barely see her shadow outlined in the panel. Another figure stood before her, slightly bent. "What were you thinking? Not only are you a married woman, but to take a vagabond--a murderer--into your bed! Are you trying to get yourself killed? Meiji hasn't come so far that you no longer have to respect your husband!"

Kenshin closed his eyes. No…not anther. His fingers curled around the blankets surrounding him, and bit his lip. It's my fault….

"You're a fool, Kimiko. Ueda-san has helped us infinitely--how can you selfishly throw all his gratitude and support away? For this man? This killer?"

"But Mother you don't understand--"

Another slap. Kenshin winced, drawing a shuddering breath. No, she didn't understand. No one could understand them. He'd found peace--dreams free of death, after so long, only to have it be taken by someone who didn’t understand--could never understand.

"What I understand is the way of the world. Your husband will be back in a matter of days. Will you present your filthy trophy to him, stained and violated as you are now? Think of your future for once, Kimiko; your real future. Without Ueda neither of us will survive. You belong to him now, and that won't be changed. If he found out he could very well kill you both. Is that what you want to happen to your precious killer? Do you understand? I said, do you understand me, Daughter?"

"…Yes, Mother."

"You're to get rid of him. Right away."

"…Yes. Mother."

"Good. I'll have the servants prepare a bath for you."

Kenshin laid back down, as if he'd never awoken, when Kimiko reentered the room. He gave the guise of sleep in hopes of not having to suffer whatever look may be on her face. The silence was greater torture. He could hear her pained breath, and the stumbling gait of her feet as she approached the futon they'd shared. She knelt beside him. He would not stir, however, no matter how much it pained him. He hardened his will against the sweet aroma of her breath, and the warmth of the fingers on his face. He would not--could not--be the source of another's pain.

Kimiko leaned over him, and offered a kiss to his closed eyelid. Her tears wet his cheeks. "Kenshin," she said in choked, despairing whisper. "I love you."

Kenshin dug his nails into his palms and remained silent.

Kimiko left the room without attempting to wake him. When he was sure that she had gone Kenshin also dressed, in the same clothes he'd worn yesterday, and journeyed hesitantly downstairs. Being very careful not to encounter any of the maids--and especially Hiromi--he moved quickly to his guest room. There he changed into the clothes he'd originally worn in coming to the Ueda house, leaving the extras in a neat pile near the folded futon. He slipped his sword into his belt, and fixed the tie of his hair. These actions were familiar to him, and the precise methodology gradually allowed his mind to slip into a calm. He'd stayed too long, and it was time to move on.

He did not belong here anymore.

Kenshin ate breakfast with the servants, not meeting any gazes. Only after he'd finished did Jinko approach, and she insisted that he take some of their food with him when he left. He hadn't mentioned leaving, but somehow they knew. Graciously he accepted, knowing that it would be foolish to travel into the winter snow without food.

He had just left the kitchen when he met Kimiko. She had come to eat her own breakfast--her skin was still moist with the bath water, having washed the traces of his fingerprints off her body. She had changed. Her eyes were now dark, weighted by the shadow which rested behind them. Without meeting his gaze she lowered her head, and said calmly, "Kenshin, I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave. My husband will be returning with the rest of the servants, and we won't have room for you anymore." Only he could tell that her voice was quivering with emotion. "Please, leave with our blessings and be well."

Kenshin nodded, slowly and vaguely. There was no need to speak anything more, as he already understood. Drawing this moment out would only harm them both further. They were already separated, surrounded by misleadingly pure snow. "Thank you, Kimiko-san, for allowing me to stay this long under your hospitality. I won't forget you."

She bit her lip until it bled, but he didn't act as if he noticed. It wouldn't do any good to acknowledge her pain now, when it was too late; even if she was saving them both. She had embraced reality, knowing full well the fate it would bring her. There was no other way.

"Good luck, Kenshin."

"And you too."

Kenshin turned and began to exit the room, the house, and her life. He heard her swift intake of breath, could almost feel her tears, but he willed himself not to turn or regret. We all have our battles. Not all of them can be won. With a deep breath to steel himself against the cold, he stepped out into the winter morning and walked on, a solitary figure against the snow.

*End

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