Blanketburied Tales

Part 1: The Doctor's Tale

When I first came up to Aizu three months earlier, I thought I was the luckiest doctor in Japan. Electric power was not a widely available commodity in the area at the time, but somehow the people who'd arranged the clinic had managed it. The light was brighter and steadier than gas lamps or candles, which was a major boon when I was stitching a wound or checking a patient's color. It wasn't entirely reliable this far north, however, and tended to go out in heavy storms.

I still couldn't imagine why Kensan and Kaoruchan had come up for a visit with Yahiko at this time of year. I was very glad to have them visiting, of course, but what possessed them to come to Aizu in the middle of winter was beyond me. The sudden snowstorms that sometimes sprang up were horrific, and I'd already told them in my letters about the joys of electricity – and the drawbacks.

Nonetheless, I was very glad to see my friends. Fortunately, there were no patients staying overnight at the time; otherwise it might have been very awkward.

The clouds had been threatening all day, and none of us thought anything of it. Kaoruchan had dragged Yahiko out to practice at one of the local dojo – and how she had found the thing so quickly was a little beyond me. Sometimes I think that girl is just a sweat magnet. No wonder Kensan hadn't yet made any serious moves towards her! Still, it was just a matter of time… But I didn't allow myself to think of it. It would happen all too soon, and as inevitable as I knew it was, that doesn't make it hurt any less.

Love is the one sickness no one can cure. But oh, how I wish I could!

I had been called away to help a woman giving birth, and Kensan had been kind enough to come with me. It was one of the reasons Kaoruchan had found her way to the dojo. I felt bad abandoning my guests, but they reminded me that they understood. I was never a very religious woman, but for a moment, I believed, just so I had someone to thank for friends like these. Kensan had proven himself invaluable once again, by keeping the patient's young children occupied as well as serving as my assistant. Her husband had invited us to stay there, but since it was only a twenty minute walk from the town, I thought we could make it. I also thought that perhaps he and his family would want to rest and spend time getting to know their new son and brother. The proud father had asked me to choose a name. I suggested Ryuusei.

Kensan, knowing I was honoring my father's memory, approved. That was more than I could say of his opinion of my choice of a route home.

Rather than take the winding but passable road, I believed we could save several minutes by cutting straight through the woods from the woodcutter's home directly to town. I should have known better. I knew how quickly the storms could pick up, and the going was already difficult from the snow already on the ground. Kensan was kind enough not to say anything at first, but it was already snowing when we left, and I did see the skeptical glance he gave the darkened heavens.

"It's not so far," I said for the eighth time in what must have been as many minutes. "We should be in sight of town by now." The only problem was that there was no visibility anymore.

My kimono was soaked, and my feet were already numb. I knew that Kensan couldn't be in much better shape. He was mostly recovered from his last confrontation with Yukishiro Enishi, but he had not yet regained all of the strength that he would. I ought to have yelled at him for it, coming so far north in midwinter when he wasn't yet well, but I was so grateful to have him and the others there that I couldn't bring myself to do it.

And now we were out in the woods, lost. It was dark, I was freezing, and I did not dare speak again because I didn't want him to know I was crying.

I was so angry with myself, thinking words I would never say aloud, that I didn't even notice the tiny storage shed until I almost walked into it.

"Kensan… a building! There's got to be a door," I stammered between chattering teeth.

He was the one to find it, and it turned out that the tiny building was a woodshed. It wasn't very secure or sturdy but it was out of the snow and the wind, although it was quite cold. There was plenty of wood and only one rather dirty oilcloth to keep the pile dry from whatever rain might leak in through the roof.

In the back of my mind, that little annoying voice was laughing its head off. One of my newfound "friends" had made the unfortunate mistake of getting me interested in these horrid novels from England, translated into Japanese, about romance. I had always understood that the English were a very proper and repressed sort of people. The novels seemed to indicate otherwise, because all too often I had read of similar situations wherein the heroine and her dashing (but usually irritating) intended were stranded alone somewhere with no option but to keep each other warm through shared body heat.

And of course, that was exactly what was happening with Kensan right now. Of course, in those novels, all too often the scene would climax, if you'll pardon the expression, when "their passions aroused beyond reason" and they "surrendered to the moment." I prayed he'd never read any of those novels.

For one thing, I was far too cold, tired, achy, and generally irritable to even consider tossing away whatever was left of my virtue after Kanryuu. Even with Kensan. And even had I not been so thoroughly miserable, I still doubted that I would be able to do such a thing to him.

Whether or not I might have wanted to was irrelevant.

"Kensan, my kimono is soaking wet. I'm sure your clothes can't be dry either. Staying in them will only make us freeze faster." I tried to keep my voice calm although I felt like screaming. "We can use the oilcloth as a blanket to keep warm."

"There's only one."

"Yes."

"You take the blanket."

Why must he always be so infuriatingly formal? We might freeze to death and here he was being noble and self-sacrificing and kind and – completely himself. Oh, Kensan, why couldn't you be a selfish jerk like Sanosuke? "We're sharing the blanket, Kensan."

"You need it more."

"We both need it. Who was it who taught me that death was not the answer?" I flipped my hair at him, although he probably couldn't see it very well.

"Megumidono…"

"We are sharing this filthy thing as it is the only possible barrier between us and death. Don't be an idiot. You know as well as I do that with wet clothes, we'll both freeze to death unless we share what warmth we can. And that means sharing the blanket. And besides, do you think Kaoruchan would forgive either one of us if you died? Especially in such a stupid manner?" It was so hard to keep my tone light and cool. I was so tired, and so embarrassed. "Take off your wet clothes and come under the blanket." I started to do just that, thankful for the near pitch blackness of the tiny cabin in the night. It wasn't that I was ashamed of my body, as I had nothing about which to be ashamed. It was the situation.

"True," he said. He sounded resigned, but I could hear him beginning to follow my instructions. I managed to untie my obi somehow, although it had stayed a little dryer under my michiyuki jacket. My kimono, however, was wet nearly to my waist from the fall I had taken, and so I removed it gingerly. The thin underkimono, too, was probably ruined from the wetness. I left my underthings on as they were the only things that weren't wet, by some miracle.

I crawled under the dirty, ragged cloth and huddled against the woodpile. Still, I heard him hesitate.

"Megumidono, what you said just now, about Kaorudono…"

"Kensan…" I sighed. "You stayed in Tokyo. You left for Kyoto but you only said goodbye to one person. Then you went back to Tokyo because of her and stayed ever since. Even before that, I knew..."

"Oro?"

"You may not have acted on it, but it was always clear to the rest of us that you two… Care for each other. I have never pretended to myself that you might care for me, or want to… to be with me. I certainly have no intention of hurting her, or you." I took a deep breath. "Or myself. And I know you feel the same in that respect." I took another deep breath. It hurt to say these things; the truth hurt. This time, however, it was hurting me more, although with his kind heart, he would probably always remember that and regret it. "Do everyone a favor then, and shut up and get under the stupid blanket before I have to dose you with something. I think I have some mushroom mix here…" I reached for my satchel.

"Megumidono…" He didn't sound so impressed this time. Nonetheless, I felt him sliding in next to me. Being Kensan, he came around from behind me and kept me between himself and the woodpile, knowing I'd be slightly warmer that way. I curled up tightly. "Forgive this one. It was never meant that you should be hurt."

"Kensan?"

"Yes?"

"Do be quiet." I said it in my archest tone. I felt his soft half-laugh more than heard it, but he did not say anything else.

I lay quietly for several minutes, listening to his breathing and the howling of the storm outside. His respiration rate was slowing and I could tell he was beginning to doze. It was definitely less cold, though I couldn't say with any honesty that I was truly warm or comfortable. Closing my eyes, I felt a slow grin spread across my face. No, I wasn't going to try anything, no matter what Kaoruchan might think, but how could I be this close to him and let the chance go by?

"Kensan?"

He made a small sound of inquiry.

"I do hope that's your sakabatou," I said softly, teasingly.

"Oro!" He sat up quickly, taking the oilcloth with him.

I couldn't help it. I laughed, enjoying the small wickedness I'd permitted myself. It helped me, too, much to my surprise. He lay back behind me, covering us again and muttering something under his breath that I was reasonably sure wasn't something entirely polite. There hadn't been anything poking me, sakabatou or otherwise, and yet I still enjoyed getting that sort of a rise out of him. I'd had to say something. Even if I couldn't believe that there would be so much as a grain of truth in it, I had to reassure him that I truly was all right, that I understood, and that the pain would go away. Eventually.

Besides, blushing helped us get warmer.

I closed my eyes again and this time drifted off to sleep. I think he was still awake.

It was light when I arose, and Kensan was already up and beating the ice crystals out of our clothing. He had already dressed and was attending to my jacket when I finally opened my eyes. Even though there was very little actual light to see by in the shed, the chinks in the wooden walls allowed us to see that it was a bit after sunrise and that the day was clear. Kensan managed to open the door once I was dressed and we looked outside.

And then Kensan gave me a wordless look. We were in a woodshed that was maybe twenty feet away from the woodcutter's house at which I'd delivered a baby the day before.

The expression I returned to him was equally silent and equally eloquent.

"As far as anyone knows, we stayed in the home of the woodcutter and his family," I said. Kensan did not argue. "And I did not get lost in the snow and wind up right back here," I continued.

"Agreed," he said. I could tell he didn't particularly like it, but I for one did not relish telling Kaoru that I'd spent the night almost naked in his arms, alone in the dark, less than twenty feet from our starting point. I suspected he was no more enthusiastic about the prospect than I was. I shook my head. "Even that stupid bird-brain Sanosuke wouldn't have gotten this ridiculously lost," I berated myself.

"Oh, this one isn't so sure about that," Kensan said, a little too cheerfully. Oddly, he looked a little embarrassed.

I chose to ignore him and knocked on the door of the cottage. When the woodsman answered, he looked surprised to see me standing there.

"Thank you for your hospitality last night," I said. "Please, if anyone should ever ask, we stayed in the house, not the woodshed."

He looked utterly confused. "Why did you stay in the woodshed?"

"We didn't. We stayed here."

"Uhh, sure," he said, looking bewildered. His newborn son's cry distracted him and we took our leave, this time taking the road into town.

Kaoru and Yahiko, as it turned out, had spent the night at the dojo after all and didn't seem particularly worried about what had happened to us, once they established we were all right, and they took our story at face value. But they never came to visit during the winter again.

And now you know why I was so glad you never asked about it.