Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Life the Saitoh Fujita Way ❯ Tales in Tonami - A Summer Surprise ( Chapter 16 )

30 Romances Theme: Disheveled; In the Rain; Thunder

 

After the Boshin War, during the exile in Tonami, both Saitou Hajime and Takagi Tokio lived with the Kurasawa family. In August 1871 they officially adopted Tokio as their daughter. This is just a fictional glimpse into the life of these two as they go about their normal daily tasks.

 

Tales in Tonami - A Summer Surprise

 

Mid-July 1871

 

I hear the rumbling in the distance, a sure sign that a summer storm is coming our way. Quickly, I finish splitting the last few small pieces of wood into kindling for the kitchen hearth. None too soon, either. As the last of my labor is gathered into my arms, the first big drops start to fall. At first they are few, but soon more follow.

 

Ducking into the kitchen I find Kurasawa-san tending to supper, “Where do you want this?” With a nod of her head she indicates the woodbin in the corner. It is a good thing that I stocked it with larger pieces earlier. There would be no sense in bringing wet wood into the kitchen to be used tonight. Carefully arranging the kindling to one side, I catch her question.

 

“Hajime-san, have you seen Tokio-chan?” she asks.

 

Tokio-san is much too old to be referred to in that manner. But I hear that the Kurasawas intend to officially adopt her one of these days. Older women often refer to their grown daughters using `chan'. My mother did that to Katsu, and it drove my sister crazy. I have to laugh at that memory. I often tried to needle my sister just for fun, so I relished the muttering that resulted almost every time Katsu heard our mother call her Katsu-chan.

 

“She went out to the garden earlier. She said she was going to dig some daikon for supper. Isn't she back yet?” I reply.

 

“No, she isn't, and from the sound of things we are in for quite a storm this afternoon.”

 

Kurasawa-san is right about that. Not only are the raindrops hitting the roof more forcefully now, than when I came in, but the wind has come up. “I will go out and see what is keeping her,” I offer.

 

“Thank you, Hajime-san. Maybe she needs some help digging the radishes. If they are large and deep, it is not an easy task. But tell her to just forget it for now. I don't want her soaked, or she might catch cold,” the elderly woman instructs.

 

Before I can move there is a flash of light, a cracking rumble, and the whole house shakes. It is a sure sign that lighting struck somewhere close by. With that, I grab my summer haori off the hook by the door and go out to the yard to brave the wind, and what is now a driving rainstorm, lightening and all. The garden is not far from the porch, but it is far enough away for one to get a good soaking during the time it takes to get back to the house, if it is raining hard.

 

My long strides quickly carry me across the yard and to the gate in the garden fence. At first I do not see Tokio-san. But what does catch my eye is a very large branch that obviously fell from the big tree near the edge of the garden, when Kurasawa-san and I saw the flash and heard the cracking noise, as we stood in the kitchen.

 

Scanning the scene, I finally see her. There on the ground in a heap, not far from the end of that large branch, is Tokio-san and her basket of rather big daikon, which are now scattered on the ground. Her hair is dripping wet and some strands have loosened from her bun, giving her a disheveled look, which is quite the opposite of her usually tidy self. If she didn't look so forlorn, I might have smirked.

 

“What happened to you?” I ask as reach her side and kneel, noticing her hand on her right ankle.

 

“Oh Hajime-san, I am so glad you are here!” she replies with a twinge of pain in her voice.

 

“Why didn't you come back to the house when it started to rain?” I question her. We can't stay out here for long. She is so wet already, that the light-weight fabric of her summer yukata is sticking to her skin in enough places on her upper body to leave little to the imagination.

 

“I tried, but I tripped as I ran out of the way of that falling branch. I think I twisted my ankle because when I try to get up and stand on it, I can't,” she explains to me.

 

Letting out a sigh, I realize that I am going to have to throw propriety to the wind. I could help her to stand, and support her by standing at her side as she slowly limped to the house, or I could scoop her up in my arms and carry her back there in a matter of seconds. If it were a warm and sunny day, I would opt for the first, but it is not.

 

“I need to get you back to the house, as soon as possible, before you get any wetter,” I tell her against the force of the wind. “And since you can't walk, there is only one way to do that, and you will have to forgive me, but there is no place for modesty or decorum during this storm.” Lightening can strike twice in the same place, and she needs to get away from this tree.

 

I nod to him in understanding, guessing what he has in mind. “Can you manage the radishes, too? Kurasawa-san needs them for dinner,” I reveal to him.

 

Women are often idiots. Here she is in the driving rain with an injured ankle; she barely escaped being hit by the end of that enormous branch, and her biggest concern is making sure we bring the radishes back with us? Kami. I will never understand women.

 

Trying not to sound too exasperated, I answer, “Yes, I think that I can manage both you and the radishes.” I don't even like radishes that much. I eat them, but it defies logic that I would go out of my way in a storm to retrieve them. But I will do it for her.

 

Returning to a standing position, I bend down and gather her daikon, placing them back in the basket, and handing it to her, “Here, you hang onto these.” I will fetch her digging tool later. Then I scoop her, along with her treasure, into my arms. I try to keep my eyes away from her body, but it is hard not to stare. The fabric of a summer yukata is so thin, and when it is wet, well, what can I say.

 

Strong arms lift me from the wet ground and securely hold me against a firm body as I clutch my basket of daikon. I cannot help the blush that I know must be causing my cheeks to turn a warm shade of pink, in spite of the cold rain that is hitting my face. If only he knew how I felt right now. I have made a place for him in my heart, but I would never let him know that.

 

This late afternoon storm is unyielding, but I get her back to the house in a hurry, once I have her in my grasp. Kurasawa-san is waiting for us on the covered porch with a blanket in hand, quickly draping it over the girl in my arms as soon as we reach shelter. She undoubtedly knows how immodest a wet summer yukata can become.

 

“She tripped and fell, twisting her ankle when she tried to avoid being hit by a branch that fell from that old sakura tree next to the garden. This was the quickest and safest way to get her back here,” I let out to explain my actions.

 

Kurasawa-san nods in agreement. She is sensible enough to know that safety is more important than propriety. Normally, only a father, brother or husband would dare carry a woman this way, and the father or brother would only do it if absolutely necessary for some solid reason, like what happened this afternoon.

 

The older woman leads the way and I follow to Tokio's room. The faint scent of sakura greets me as I enter. It is the first time that I have been in here, and I take a quick look around, before gently settling my charge down on a cushion that Kurasawa-san placed on the floor.

 

I let out a sigh of regret when he releases me. The accidental twisting of my ankle had a very pleasant and unexpected result. To be held in his arms, even under these circumstances, is something that I will not soon forget. During the months that we have lived together in this household, I have come to know him, and love him. He is an honorable, hardworking man, and possesses values that I believe in.

 

“I will need to wrap her ankle to keep it from swelling,” the elderly woman informs me. “You know where the bandages are. Can you please fetch them for me? I also need to help her change into dry things, so please slide the shoji shut when you leave and knock before you reenter,”

 

“Yes, Kurasawa-san,” I reply. Leaving the room, I think about what I saw in there, and how it felt to hold her in my arms. She was cold and wet when I first picked her up, but by the time I got her to her room, she had warmed from my body heat. What I wouldn't give to feel her warmth beside me in another situation. But that will never be, at least not in the near future.

 

Yaso's predicament is being discussed; tentative plans are being made. I just have to agree to be the one to solve her problem. I owe Kurasawa Hiejieumon my life, so I can hardly refuse, even if it means delaying the plans that I am carefully crafting for my own life.