Katsushiro stared out at the water, a million emotions swirling beneath his topknot.

The water. It reminded him of Lady Kirara, the water priestess. Kirara, his love. When he had kissed her in that dark alleyway of Firefly, she had tasted of pure, fresh spring water.

The one taste that no man could tire of.

He loved her. He hated her. Wanted to live with her. Wanted to die for her. He wanted to see her. He never wanted to lay eyes on her again.

Oh, but Kirara! Kirara should have done something other than stare at him in shock when their lips met.

A noise escaped from his lips, someplace between a roar of anger and a child's sob. No matter what he thought, no matter what lies Katsushiro told himself, he needed Kirara. He needed her more than the rice she gave so graciously or the water she mastered so nimbly.

Katsushiro needed Kirara more than he needed anything else.

He wanted to find her, wanted to scream at her until his voice was hoarse, wanted to collapse into her arms, the sobbing mess of a child that he was. Katsushiro wanted to hold her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss every inch of her until she sighed his name in a swirl of searching fingers and soft sheets.

What he really wanted was her, and Katsushiro had learned very early in life that you did not always get what you want.

-

She was still leaning against the wall, her heart pounding in her chest. Kirara should have known that Katsushiro loved her. She should have known, between her sister's constant teasing and the teal-haired boy's mooning glances.

His touches too had been shy and gentle. Like he had been.

Suddenly, Kirara wanted those shy, gentle hands on her, not seizing her wrist in a vice grip and pinning her against the wall. She wanted his tender gaze following her. She wanted his surprisingly sweet, sharp lips on hers.

She wanted her Katsu.

The water was hers. Kirara could feel him nearby, by the river, where the droplets clung to his boots.

She could feel his pulse, fast and panicked from the brashness of his actions. She could feel the heat of his lips as his fingers ghosted over them, still trying to recall her taste. But most of all, Kirara could feel the hot tears of shame unshed in his eyes. Katsushiro was trying to be strong, trying to be a samurai.

But she had shamed him, wounded him, broken the green-eyed young man into a million pieces.

Kirara ran to where the river told her Katsushiro stood. She saw him, his thin shoulders trembling with grief as he leaned against a cheap, brightly-painted railing made of wood that hung over the river. Immediately, her warm eyes filled with tears of compassion. She padded softly behind him, slipping her arms around him.

Kirara could only think of one thing to say to him as hot liquid leaked from her eyes. Her arms tightened around his torso as she pressed her tearstained face into his back, taking a deep breath of his scent as one phrase came from her lips: "Be with me."

Katsushiro couldn't breathe, and not just because of Lady Kirara's vice-like grip around his waist as she clung to him, no her words took his breath away. Echoing what he had begged of her in the alleyway.

As joy bubbled up inside the young warrior's chest, he decided rather fervently that he wanted to taste the water again.

Katsushiro spun in her arms, gathering her close as he gazed down at her. It reminded him of the first day they had met, in Kogakyo, her dark eyes wide with a kind of ambient wonder, and him, feeling as though he could take on the world, though simultaneously feeling very shy and uncertain.

A dull blush on his face contrasted sharply with his hair and eyes. Kirara leaned forward, closing the space between their lips. Katsushiro leaned against the wooden barrier, sighing softly against her lips as his arms tightened around her shoulders. Kirara leaned forward slightly, slanting her mouth open slightly to give the verdant youth further access. As he deepened the kiss, his fingers threading softly through her dark hair, Katsushiro wondered if the others were missing them or—

With a sound of splintering wood and a surprised shout from the lovers, the flimsy barrier between the river and the boardwalk gave way. Katsushiro immediately drew Kirara flush against him as he took the full impact of the water and the rocky riverbed with his back. Despite the pain shooting through the shoulder Kambei had bruised, all Katsushiro worried about was whether or not the fair skin of his beloved remained unbroken.

They floundered to the surface of the river, Katsushiro struggling with the weight of his water-logged clothing. The river was only waist deep, and Kastushiro was hypnotized by the moonlight gleaming across her water-slicked abdomen, the way the water made her shirt really cling to her, and the way her brown hair looked almost black.

"Are you unharmed?" he finally managed to ask. Kirara nodded, her dark eyes glinting in the moonlight. Katsushiro immediately locked his arms around her waist again as he pulled her close, smiling down at her, a huge grin that utterly juxtaposed his usually somber demeanor. Kirara smiled too and pecked him lightly on the tip of his nose. Katsushiro kissed her deeply, sincerely adoring the feeling of her nestled warmly in the tightness of his arms.

"We should get back to the hotel," she whispered against him after a moment. Katsushiro nodded, even though he disagreed. The river was beautiful. Lady Kirara was beautiful. He wanted to stay in this beautiful place with this beautiful person forever.

But the hour was hastening on and the river-water bit coldly through his clothes and into his skin. Kirara was probably even colder.

He led the way back to where the wooden railing had broken and carefully hoisted a dripping Kirara back onto the boardwalk before heaving himself up to join her.

Kirara twined his fingers with his and, their hearts singing, the couple walked back to the hotel, hand in hand.

-

"Does it hurt?" Kirara indicated the dark bruise on Katsushiro's shoulder where the hilt of Kambei's sword had come down so harshly.

"I've had worse," Katsushiro avoided her eyes. It hurt quite a bit, actually, but there was no way he was going to admit that to her.

"Come here," she told him kindly, patting the bed next to her. They were back at the hotel, and, after much teasing by Yukino and Kikuchiyo, they had finally been given dry clothes: a soft white robe for Kirara and a pair of Momotaro's old trousers for Katsushiro.

Somehow, they had ended up in Kirara's quarters, which were separate from the men's. Katsushiro felt jumpy and self-conscious, hoping his chest wasn't too terribly weedy or pale or anything.

"Water's a healing element," Kirara explained, hovering her hands over the bruise, which lessened in size and color.

"Thank you," Katsushiro paused for a moment. He shyly took her hand with utmost gentleness, and pressed the palm to his face, tenderly kissing her soft fingers.

They were both glad that Katsushiro had not decided to keep them in that river to savor the beauty of it all. He could stay in that beautiful place with his beautiful person in this beautiful moment as long as Kirara was with him.

-

He woke early in the morning, before the sun was even up. Katsushiro was a little unsure and disoriented, but the warm weight next to him brought reality rushing back to him.

"I need to go," he kissed Kirara's forehead softly. "They'll never let me hear the end of it if they find out."

"You don't have to go," she murmured, tightening her arms around his waist. "Please…"

"Kirara," Katsushiro whispered softly, his fingers catching tenderly on her hair.

"Be with me," her eyelashes fluttered softly as she whispered her words against the skin of his neck.

And Katsushiro couldn't leave her then.

-

Komachi knew something was going on. Something that only grown-ups could know about.

Yukino seemed extremely self-satisfied, Shirochoji was laughing his head off, Kambei was often stroking his brow in frustration, Heihachi seemed a bit more cheerful than usual, and Kikuchiyo… well, Kiku didn't seem to understand what was going on either.

Sister seemed happier and Katsushiro's moony glances seemed less subtle and more loving.

"You know," Komachi said to Kiku, "I don't think I understand grown-ups at all."

"Me neither, Sprout," Kiku told her. "I don't understand them at all."

"Love's not meant to be understood," Kambei told them sagely. "Not at all."

-

This couple needs some seirous love. Reviews are appreciated.