Chapter Text
Kenshin sat on the tatami mat in the dojo with Kaoru and Mr Yamada, the contractor. He could hear the man’s son clattering about on the roof above, measuring things and taking stock of the damage from last week’s summer storm. He did not envy the boy; since the rain had passed the thick blanket of humidity that preceded it had given way to a punishing dry heat.
“Obviously, the cost of the repairs and the timeframe will be determined by the extent of the damage,” Mr Yamada was telling him, “so we’ll have an accurate idea once Mori is done up there.”
Kenshin fidgeted with his cup and attempted to look interested. He had never needed to care about joinery and roofing materials before, and with any luck, he would never need to care again. Even now, he was only meant to be male presence in the room that would protect Kaoru from being short changed or intimidated on account of her gender, but Mr Yamada had directed every exchange towards him.
Kaoru was tapping a pencil on the mat next to her, and the frequency and force of the taps was steadily increasing. It did not bode well for a peaceful dinner.
Her agitation made the stale air in the room feel hotter and heavier.
“Yamada-san,” Kenshin attempted, “Kaoru-dono is the owner of this dojo, that she is. This one is only a lodger.”
Mr Yamada glanced between them.
“You’re not married?” he asked.
Kenshin held up his hands, palms forward, and began to emphatically shake his head.
“Oh no,” Kaoru corrected with a sharp glare in Kenshin’s direction and a sickly sweet smile at Mr Yamada, “I am the homeowner. Kenshin and Yahiko are leeches.
“Yes. It is as she says,” Kenshin confirmed.
He ran his fingers over the rough surface of the tatami. He had so little to offer to his home.
“Hmm,” Mr Yamada mused, “if you’re sure that’s proper.”
Kaoru’s cheeks turned dark and hot, and her lips thin.
Kenshin’s fingers stilled. His boredom had evaporated.
“It is,” Kaoru replied tightly.
Kenshin cast about for something to say or do that might ease her discomfort. He wished to reach for her, touch her shoulder in a gesture of support, but instead he busied his fingers counting the stitches in the hem of his sleeve. It would not do to strengthen the man’s impression.
During the flurry of social missteps, Mr Yamada’s son had climbed down from the roof and slipped quietly into the dojo. He swiftly stepped into the pregnant silence that had descended, and filled it.
“Here, Kamiya-san,” he said, brandishing paper at Kaoru, “I’ve written up a quote. It should take me about three days to complete the work, I think. Weather permitting of course.”
Kenshin had the strong impression that Mr Yamada’s son had overheard from the brief apologetic wince that crossed his broad handsome face as he passed the papers to Kaoru.
Mr Yamada stood and bowed slightly.
“Mori will start on the repairs tomorrow,” he told them, “It was nice to meet you.”
He strode out of the dojo without looking back.
Mr Yamada’s son tidied his tools unhurriedly and watched his father leave. He was a tall young man with a kind, open face and an easy bearing.
“I am sorry for my father’s words before,” he said, once Mr Yamada was out of earshot. “If it eases your mind at all, you should know that he is a pot calling the kettle black. You should hear all the ways he is not proper once he’s been in his cups.”
Kaoru’s shoulders relaxed fractionally.
“Thank you,” she told him.
He shrugged, smiled, and bowed to her.
“Pleased to meet you both. I’ll be back first thing tomorrow to start on the roof.”
“Nice to meet you!” Kenshin and Kaoru called in chorus after him.
The smile melted off Kaoru’s face as she turned towards Kenshin. She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at him.
“Fat lot of help you were!” she accused.
Seeing the glint in her eye and how she rolled up her sleeves and formed her hands into fists, Kenshin chose a tactic popular with small prey animals; he went still and quiet beside her.
“How can you,” she jabbed him in the chest with enough force that he toppled over, “just sit there silently and let him besmirch the honour of a beautiful young girl like myself? I feed you all, I shelter you, and this is what I get in return? And you call yourself an honourable samurai.”
She threw up her hands, climbed to her feet and marched out of the dojo, still muttering to herself.
“Oro~,” said Kenshin from his sprawl on the tatami floor.