Chapter 3: In the Shadow…

As soon as Kenshin saw Kimiko that morning, he knew something was wrong. Her eyes danced about, refusing to meet his for even a moment, and her voice was awkward—she was listening to her own words, as if making sure that each was the one she intended. There were secrets in her mind. But strangely enough, he couldn’t figure out if apprehension or joy guided her features. Before he could question her mood, they were joined by an aging woman whom he vaguely recognized.

"Kenshin, this is my mother, Idaira Hiromi," Kimiko introduced. Over the course of his stay she’d begun to call him by his first name. He didn’t mind; it was a bit odd, however, as he wasn’t used to responding to it. "She just returned from the farm." Then, calmly, she related the cause of her present state of mind. "My husband is still there, as they have been somewhat trapped by the fall of snow. He’ll be unable to return here for several days, until the snow melts."

Kenshin bowed deeply to the elder woman. "A pleasure to meet you, Idaira-san. I hope your journey was pleasant."

The woman nodded, though she didn’t look as pleased as he. "It was. Thank you, Himura Kenshin."

"I told Mother about you when she arrived earlier this morning," Kimiko explained. "She was glad to hear that you have been fairing well." She forced herself into a more cheerful demeanor. "Well, shall we have breakfast? I’m sure it’s almost ready."

Later that day, Kenshin found Kimiko out in the orchard. She had gone ahead of him, which was outside their normal routine. He approached slowly. "Kimiko-san?" he asked softly, hoping to not intrude upon her private thoughts. He very well knew the value of such reprieves. "Are you all right?"

Kimiko glanced up at him, and he was treated to the same half-fearful, half-hopeful expression that had claimed her features all morning. As a swordsman he’d been a master at interpreting facial and body clues, but this one had him stumped. All he could tell was that he was the one causing it.

"Oh, I’m fine," Kimiko replied, motioning for him to sit beside her on the snowy bench. He did. "It’s just…when I got the letter from my husband, I began thinking."

"I hope he’s not ill…or hurt?"

"Oh no, of course not." She shook her head, still refusing to look him directly in the eye. "It’s just…I don’t know if I should be happy."

Kenshin frowned. Though he’d often suspected that love had little to do with her wedding Ueda in the first place, he’d received no indications that she disliked the man. "I don’t understand."

"Well, I’m a bit nervous." Kimiko’s hands curled around each other as she spoke. "I don’t know what he’ll think when he comes back and finds you here. I think…he might still remember what happened back in the village." She sighed. "But more than that, he doesn’t approve of people that have no living, if you’ll pardon my rudeness. He doesn’t even like his servants. He might ask you to leave. So…I’m glad that he’s not coming yet, but…when he does…. That’s what I’m worried about."

Kenshin nodded, mulling over the situation. "I don’t want to be a bother," he said truthfully. He didn’t want to leave—he enjoyed sharing Kimiko’s company, as she was easy to talk to and very kind. She had nothing but sympathy for his unwillingness to speak of his past, as well. But he also didn’t want to cause any problems for the delicate life she was leading. "As soon as the snow melts, I’ll leave."

She turned on him swiftly, her eyes carrying a bit of what might have been fear. "But…but where will you go?"

"To another inn, I guess," he answered. "You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve been living by myself since I was fourteen."

"Yes…but…." Kimiko chewed on her lip. Her hope had been replaced by desperation. "But I don’t want you to go. There’s so much we still have to talk about—still so much to do. I…I thought…." She glanced away as if in shame. "I don’t know what I really thought. I knew you’d have to go eventually, but…I just wanted this to last longer, I guess." She bit her lip, gathering her thoughts and courage. "For the first time in so long, I feel…like I’m not lonely. You’ve been more of a friend these past few days than any of the people in this house have been in years. And I don’t want to lose you."

Kenshin gulped. Her words and tone were making his nervous. There was something else hidden in her female heart, which was a territory he could not claim to know or understand. "I don’t want to stop being friends with you either, Kimiko-san," he said carefully, "but I don’t want to cause any problems. You have a good life here. I can’t take that."

Her hand took his. It surprised him, as she hadn’t attempted to do so since the first time he evaded her advance. At last she was able to meet his gaze directly, and the look of anxiety and pain there stole his breath away. "Please, don’t go," she begged. Her eyes were watering, and a tear liberated itself through a path down her cheek. "Please."

"I…." He didn’t know what to do. She was pleading with him, and he couldn’t honestly say that he would remain in this house for much longer. Already he and Kimiko had become amazing close—dangerously so. The more time they spent together, the more his fear grew. He didn’t want her to see the terrible things he’d done, and he didn’t know how to steal the sorrow from her gaze. He couldn’t let himself get any closer. He was tempting fate already.

Kimiko lowered her head and leaned it against his shoulder. He didn’t try to stop her; he hadn’t the strength to do so even if he’d desired it. Instead he wrapped his arm around her, welcoming her against him as she began to cry. Even if he didn’t understand the source of her pain, if could find some way to ease her despair he would welcome the chance. For despite all her strengths she was also frail, and lonely. Just as he often felt.

"I…know how it feels." Kenshin heard his voice before he realized that he was speaking. "To lose someone. To watch them go. It’s scary, isn’t it?"

"Yes." Kimiko clung to his thick winter coat, trying to wipe her tears away. "It hurts when you can’t do anything."

"If only…one thing were different. That’s what I always think." He swallowed with some difficulty, as his throat had begun to constrict with unwanted memories. "One change, and everything could work out, right? It always feels that way."

"Yes." She lifted her head and gazed into his deep violet eyes. Her lips turned in a faint smile. "I guess…we’re more alike than we thought. We’re both afraid of losing something."

Again Kenshin gulped. "I…guess so."

Kimiko’s smiled widened a bit, and she returned to leaning against shoulder with her arm hooked around his. "Let’s just stay like this for a while," she suggested, pulling her smaller body closer to his. She was warm, and she smelled of sweet perfume and spring. "Just a little bit longer."

"Alright."

That afternoon the snow began to fall anew. Kimiko was busy attending to household business, which left Kenshin to do the chores alone. He tried to keep to the house interior, so that he wouldn’t have the feel the steadily increasing cold. But he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering. For the first time in days he found himself remembering the war, recalling all those images that caused him so much pain. His fingers trembled around the dishes he washed. Fearful of his own frail heart he eventually abandoned the work and sought privacy in his room. It wasn’t until nearly dinner that he emerged, searching for some human company to ease his pains. Kimiko would take his anxieties away. She always did, even if her presence raised a different kind of apprehension in him.

When he reached the main room, however, he found Hiromi, and not Kimiko. She was praying over the small shrine that had most likely been constructed in honor of her dead family. Kenshin allowed her silence, hoping to move on before disturbing her. He had started to leave when she spoke. "Why are you still here?"

Kenshin stopped, turning back. "I am a wanderer, Idaira-san," he answered with the most polite tone he could muster. He didn’t want to antagonize his hostess. "I am merely seeking work to pay for my food."

"We don’t need any more servants," Hiromi told him tartly, climbing to her feet. "Especially not murderers."

He froze with her words, his heart pouring its blood all through him until his skin felt hot. He quickly forced himself to take another breath. "So," he said weakly, "you know."

"Yes. I’m quite aware of the rumors." She faced him, her expression not malicious but very calm and still. "And my daughter is as well. She knows very well who and what you are, Battousai. I think everyone in the house knows by now. What will you do?"

Kenshin gulped. He didn’t know what to do. If Kimiko knew…why hadn’t she said so? Why did she continue to feign ignorance, and speak to him so openly? She should have been afraid, the way everyone feared his name.

"You won’t find any peace here," the old woman went on. "She’s not for you. She’s married, with a good husband and a good life."

"She doesn’t love Ueda," he said boldly, as if any change of subject could draw the knowledge of his identity away from her brain. "She’s miserable here, Idaira-san."

Hiromi nodded faintly. "My daughter is a dreamer. She’s been waiting for you, I think, to come and take her away. But could you provide for her, shelter her the way Ueda has? Forgive me for speaking so freely, but you are not a man that can easily be made a husband, are you?"

I don’t want to be a husband. I…. Kenshin shook his head, as her words were plucking forth even more painful memories. "I…didn’t come here to take her away. I just want to stay—she is my friend. Can’t—"

"You can’t love her the way she wants you to."

This is too much. I…what does she think I am? Can’t I just…just stay here, where I’m wanted? I don’t want to leave—not back into the cold. I can’t live that life anymore, knowing that there’s a place where I can stay. It’s so lonely out there….

Hiromi turned her back on him and began to leave. She didn’t say anything, as if her point had already been made. He didn’t try to stop her. He stood there, frozen and distraught, for several long minutes. The memories were too much. They rose up in waves against him, beating back his sensitive heart. He wavered on weak legs, covered his mouth with his hand, trying to quell that awful storm inside him. But the cold attacked from all sides, numbing his fingers with its cruel pain, until he was on his knees, trembling.

Someone touched his shoulder. They were slender, delicate fingers but also strong, moving down his back in an attempt at comfort. They urged him closer and he did not refuse. A pair of warm arms welcomed him, and like a child he curled in that gentle embrace. He hid within the folds of delicate, scented fabric until his shaking lessened, and the agony subsided.

Kimiko did not speak for some time even after he had recovered from the brief relapse. She stroked his back like a loving parent, smoothed the hair from his eyes, and simply held him. He never wanted that moment to end, supported by her care.

"Come with me."

Kenshin lifted his head, carefully easing himself back even though he wanted nothing more than to stay, safe with her. Her eyes were bright and serious, and her voice quiet. "Come with me," she repeated, helping him to his feet once more. When he didn’t complain she took him by the hand, and led him through the empty halls to her room on the second story.

Kenshin entered hesitantly, unsure of what to think. The room was spacious but mostly empty, save a few painted scrolls and small cabinets for clothes and futons. Kimiko moved to a small stove in the corner only to find it already prepared. Then she indicated for Kenshin to sit.

"Kimiko-san…." He didn’t know what to say. He’d been rude to her, to push himself upon her like that selfishly.

"I have known." She retrieved a thick blanket from one of the short cabinets, and wrapped it about him. "Since I first met you in the town, I knew. You see, Saya came to us from Kyoto escaping the war, and she knew all about the stories. She told them to me." She sat in front of him. "I recognized the scar immediately. I’m sorry for not mentioning it, but I thought it best."

Kenshin lowered his head, unsure as to how he should respond. "I’m sorry," he said at last. "I…should have told you."

Kimiko nodded just barely, her eyes heavy on him. "I don’t blame you. I’ve…just been wondering how many of the legends are true."

"I…." Kenshin licked his chapped lips, struggling with himself. You can trust her, his heart seemed to cry. It’s been so long. Someone will understand.

"I should explain." As soon as he began to speak, she moved to sit beside him. Though at first the proximity made him nervous, he found that her hand over his helped him keep his courage. "I was Battousai during the war. But I never meant to cause so much pain," he quickly added. "I was doing it for the era. So that…the survivors…."

"Yes, I know." Kimiko waited patiently for him to go on.

"It was a terrible time. I…lost myself, in the bloodshed. But among it, I found…her." He swallowed hard. "Her name was Tomoe. I…loved her better than myself. And it’s my fault she’s dead."

Kenshin then went on to describe the circumstances under which he and his wife-to-be had met, in the darkened streets of a fated Kyoto night. He spoke of her beauty, her spirit, and her quiet, ice-like exterior that only he had seen the cracks in. The tale of their times together brought joy and nostalgia simultaneously to his voice, and sorrow and guilt tainted him in retelling her death. The entire tale spilled like tears from his lips, causing him to shake with the ancient memories.

Some time later, the story completed. He kept his head down, eyes closed and lips trembling as he waited in think silence for a response. Her voice never came. Instead, that same pair of arms pulled him close, cradling him against her warm and delicate body. "I am sorry, Kenshin," she whispered into his hair, shedding tears of sympathy. "You loved her terribly, didn’t you? You miss her."

Kenshin bit his lip, tentatively returning the comforting embrace. "I…I just don’t know what to do," he replied in a hoarse, ghostlike tone. "I don’t even know…if she hates me." In shame he hid his face in the fabric of her kimono. "What if…she wishes me dead? To be with her…or as punishment…. Could I go on? Could I…."

He stopped, startled, as a wetness formed in his eyes. Before he realized what was happening to him he was crying, each tear tearing more down his cheeks. He couldn’t stop them, couldn’t speak through the strength of his sobs. Desperate for some comfort he clutched Kimiko to him, crying into her shoulder, mourning his ancient loss.

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