A/N: I don't even know what I'm during, churning out these -crapfics- like this.

Uh. This is one is not my best. I wrote it on a whim, and...in the end, it kind of sucks. I'm sorry.

Criticism is welcome. Actually, I expect it.

She has never been called pretty before.

Back when she lived in Edo, Chizuru had rarely accessorized her hair, and her kimonos had been simple, her obi just the same. She was the complete opposite of most of the girls she had seen on the streets-women whose silk kimonos must have been as heavy as a large boulder, women with so many pins in their hair that she could barely count them all.

Chizuru knew how to bandage a cut; she knew how to cauterize a wound and could witness a bloody surgery without throwing up. Her cooking was excellent, and she was able to handle a kodachi well. Yet she had been able to feel the eyes on her as she purchased groceries, or delivered medicine to her father's clients. She had seen some of the wealthier, better-off girls her age point their fingers at her and whisper.

Plain. That was what they called her.

And she has seen the exclamations that other women had made when she walks with him-tall, foreboding, and (much to her embarrassment to say) extremely handsome. Chizuru is aware of it, how odd she looks next to him. Back in Kyoto, it had been no problem, as she had been disguised as a boy and looked simply like a friend, or a companion.

Now, in her kimono, she walks next to him as she truly is, and as a consequence faces the many stares and glances that the pair received. Chizuru catches the eye of an extremely beautiful woman in an elaborate kimono, who shoots a jealous look at her before haughtily turning around. A small wince escapes her mouth.

"Chizuru? What's wrong?"

Startled, she stutters a bit when she speaks. "A-ah! Nothing, nothing at all."

The corners of his mouth slid upward. "Really," he sighs. "Always daydreaming as always." He affectionately pats the top of her head. "You haven't changed at all."

Her cheeks turn pink, and her face warms. "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, really."

"Toshizou-san!" she complains, before falling silent after realizing how childish she sounds.

The two of them walk without speaking for a few minutes, until he suddenly stops as they pass a temple. She almost keeps walking until she notices. "Wha—Toshizou-san?"

"Look, Chizuru." He tilts his head up, his expression peaceful. "It's beautiful."

Pale pink cherry blossoms burst among hundreds of delicate, spindly branches and leaves. Falling petals flutter across their vision; it is as if a spring rain of flower petals was falling on the two of them. A few of them scatter into Chizuru's hair; she raises a hand but he is already there, threading his fingers through her black locks, pulling them out.

"They're beautiful," she whispers, breathing in the deep, flowery scent. "I love it."

"These cherry blossoms are like you." Hijikata removes his hand from her tresses. "Delicate, beautiful, and perfect."

Chizuru's face warms up again. "I'm not that pretty," she frantically denies, remembering the girls in the streets of Edo, and the ones today. "I don't wear anything fancy, and I'm always so pla—"

His mouth meets hers, pulling into an extremely gentle kiss that ends any further words. Surprised, she instinctively flinches a little, but eventually leans into him. For a while the moment is sweet, and then he carefully breaks it off.

"You're far from that," Hijikata contradicts, his voice slightly hoarse from the lack of breath. "Don't say you're plain or anything like that, Chizuru. You'll always be beautiful to me, even when we're old and aging."

"T-Toshizou-san…"

He draws her close, close enough that she hears the rapid thump-thump-thump of his beating heart. "You've always stayed with me, no matter how much blood I spilled or trouble I caused you. Even if you were hideous, I would have still fallen in love with you."

Tears fall down Chizuru's cheek; he wipes it away with his finger. "You're such a crybaby," he teases, although his voice is gentle and kind.

Through her tears, she still manages a smile. "Thank you, Toshizou-san," she whispers. "For giving me so much happiness."

He doesn't respond, but instead draws her into another kiss, pulling her tight into his embrace. Chizuru doesn't say anything more as well; she allows herself to become lost in his endless warmth and love.

Beauty, she decides, is worth nothing. She does not care about the glances of the others who might see her right now, nor her inner consciousness that tells her that she is plain and not pretty at all.

She is only a woman in love with a man who loves her back, and that is all that matters.

I told you it sucked.

Obi= a traditional sash used to keep a kimono closed.

Kimono=Traditional Japanese clothing. You've seen it all the time in Hakuouki.

Aack. This is so bad. But whatever.

...Please Review...