[He was the first of the two to return home; past midnight, Mitsuhide quietly returned home, the cruel grip of the curse having finally lifted. The young samurai's wounds, though healed by Kuromi earlier, had eventually opened again and caused him considerable pain. He had done his best to ignore it and help others out, but in the end he had still had to bear the pain and the memories that came with it for hours.]
[More than anything, right now, he wanted a bath.]
[Moving to the bathroom, he set the taps running and stripped himself in the meanwhile. The smell of blood hung all around him... quickly moving to place the clothes into a wash, he returnd to stop the water running and slip into the welcoming warm water.]
[A sigh, and his grey eyes closed. The day had been a cruel, cruel trial.]
[When Megumi arrived home sometime past midnight, she was exhausted. Blood stained her clothes, and its metallic scent was painted onto her skin. The hospital had been overrun with patients, and she had not worked herself to such tiredness in a long time. However, she had seen many such scenes--the sights of war--and she was trained--by her family, no less, and by her education and experience--to act during such times.]
[Thoughout the day, her thoughts constantly turned to her injured husband. Was he home? She hoped so . . . She was so worried about him, her heart aching and reaching out to him . . . his injuries, and their memories, must have hurt him so much . . .]
[He wasn't in the bedroom. Megumi bit her lip. Stepping into their walk-in closet to change and to put her clothes into the wash, she noticed that his clothing was there. Quickly, she placed her clothes with his and moved to their bathroom, relieved to find him in the tub.]
Mitsuhide, I'm home . . .
[She sat at the edge of the tub, reaching out to cup his face. Oh,
( ... )
[A sigh, and he leans into her embrace. Every scar on his body tells its own story, some of which she knows, many she does not. Every battle he has been recorded on his skin permanently, making sure he can never forget.]
I love you too.
[A pause.]
I had grown used to the scars, but to have them bleed again makes the memories so vivid and real...
[One he has responsibilities in... but he has responbilities here, too, and especially with his beloved wife. His heart feels torn for a moment, before he holds himself strong.]
Mmm. It does, Megumi. But thank you. Your presence is enough to ease and soothe them.
[He closes his eyes, suddenly tipping his head forward and resting his cheek against hers.]
[She repeats his words, her heart aching. It is her world too. They say that her era after his is one of peace, but . . . the Bakumatsu before the Meiji, in which she lost her family . . . Shishio's kunitori, and everything else that had transpired before she came to the City . . .]
[A world of war . . .]
[Still, there is peace to be found, as long as there are people like her beloved husband Mitsuhide, and her good friend Ken-san . . . her friends, her family . . .]
[There is hope, and they must have faith. Even if the memories come to haunt them.]
[She sighs softly, feeling him close to her, his cheek upon hers, and she tightens her embrace, needing him as much as he needs her, loving him so much.]
I am glad, my love . . . I want to help you, however I can . . . I made a promise, and I love you. I will do whatever I can in my power to continue to heal, and to soothe that which I can. Everything that I can.
[He holds her close for a moment, before sighing, stroking her hair a little and sitting back. Gently splashing his face with water to hide the few tears there had been there, he shakes his head a little and gives her the best smile he can manage right now.]
I love you too. Thank you. I know that you shall.
[He begins to run fingers through his hair. War... will he ever escape it?]
[She follows suit, also quickly scrubbing away the traces of the day until she once again smells of magnolia and the gentle, pleasing scent that is her own. She, too, thinks of the things she had seen during the day, but refuses to think of them any longer for now. What's important is that Mitsuhide is safe, everyone is safe, and he is home. She has missed him so much.]
[She takes his hand and gives him a small, grateful smile, also fetching a towel to dry herself.]
[As soon as that is done, she takes his hand, heading to bed and turning down the covers.]
[Climbing onto the middle of the bed, she nods to him, stretching out onto the sheets and beckoning him into her waiting arms.]
[More than anything, right now, he wanted a bath.]
[Moving to the bathroom, he set the taps running and stripped himself in the meanwhile. The smell of blood hung all around him... quickly moving to place the clothes into a wash, he returnd to stop the water running and slip into the welcoming warm water.]
[A sigh, and his grey eyes closed. The day had been a cruel, cruel trial.]
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[Thoughout the day, her thoughts constantly turned to her injured husband. Was he home? She hoped so . . . She was so worried about him, her heart aching and reaching out to him . . . his injuries, and their memories, must have hurt him so much . . .]
[He wasn't in the bedroom. Megumi bit her lip. Stepping into their walk-in closet to change and to put her clothes into the wash, she noticed that his clothing was there. Quickly, she placed her clothes with his and moved to their bathroom, relieved to find him in the tub.]
Mitsuhide, I'm home . . .
[She sat at the edge of the tub, reaching out to cup his face. Oh, ( ... )
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In what way? Physically, I am well healed. I cannot say the same for my mind.
[Mitsuhide does not tell her about the thoughts that plague him, though. Those must remain hidden...]
Some scars are invisible, I guess, Megumi.
[A humourless chuckle.]
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Anata . . .
[She knows what he speaks of--she knows how some scars do not necessarily speak of wounds that were inflicted upon the body.]
[Wordlessly, she slipped into the water with him, holding him close.]
I promised to heal what I could, my love . . . if you will let me . . .
[She strokes his hair.]
I love you . . .
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I love you too.
[A pause.]
I had grown used to the scars, but to have them bleed again makes the memories so vivid and real...
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[She continues to hold him, her embrace both gentle, but tight. Giving him warmth, and love, and her acceptance and understanding.]
I know how memories can hurt . . . and to have their existing physical counterparts once again makes it twice as painful . . .
[She strokes his hair tenderly, looking into his gray eyes.]
But I am here for you, my love. I will help you bear them. Always the one who loves you, always the one at your side. I promise.
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[One he has responsibilities in... but he has responbilities here, too, and especially with his beloved wife. His heart feels torn for a moment, before he holds himself strong.]
Mmm. It does, Megumi. But thank you. Your presence is enough to ease and soothe them.
[He closes his eyes, suddenly tipping his head forward and resting his cheek against hers.]
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[She repeats his words, her heart aching. It is her world too. They say that her era after his is one of peace, but . . . the Bakumatsu before the Meiji, in which she lost her family . . . Shishio's kunitori, and everything else that had transpired before she came to the City . . .]
[A world of war . . .]
[Still, there is peace to be found, as long as there are people like her beloved husband Mitsuhide, and her good friend Ken-san . . . her friends, her family . . .]
[There is hope, and they must have faith. Even if the memories come to haunt them.]
[She sighs softly, feeling him close to her, his cheek upon hers, and she tightens her embrace, needing him as much as he needs her, loving him so much.]
I am glad, my love . . . I want to help you, however I can . . . I made a promise, and I love you. I will do whatever I can in my power to continue to heal, and to soothe that which I can. Everything that I can.
I love you, Mitsuhide. So much.
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I love you too. Thank you. I know that you shall.
[He begins to run fingers through his hair. War... will he ever escape it?]
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My love . . .
[A soft sigh. His eyes are haunted . . . and she can see that he is tired . . .]
[A gentle kiss to his brow.]
As soon as you are done, come . . . let us go to bed . . . we need to rest, love. We can talk there.
[She brushes his hair back tenderly.]
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I... guess we do, hmm?
[He takes a towel and carefully dries himself off, trying hard to dwell any further. To be consumed by thoughts is not healthy, sometimes...]
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[She takes his hand and gives him a small, grateful smile, also fetching a towel to dry herself.]
[As soon as that is done, she takes his hand, heading to bed and turning down the covers.]
[Climbing onto the middle of the bed, she nods to him, stretching out onto the sheets and beckoning him into her waiting arms.]
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