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Stars glowed outside the panoramic window, refracting over the metal walls, vanishing into a darkness broken only by faintly colored safety lights. It was more than enough for Matako’s eyes; she had grown used to the dark.
Silence, instead, was absolute. Shinsuke-sama’s private room was the only one within their ship to be completely soundproof; not a single vibration would have reached it, even with engines at full capacity.
Tight in her arms, his body was thinner that it appeared. Under her cheek, Matako felt the looming shape of his ribcage expanding at the rhythm of his breath. Slowly and deeply.
She closed her eyes, completely abandoned against his chest, letting her breath synchronize with that of Shinsuke-sama.
With the tip of her index she traced the scar marking his abdomen horizontally. A trail of goosebumps formed on the spots she just touched, followed by a slight wince. She held her breath, waiting for him to wake up and look at her with his upset look, but nothing happened.
Absently, she continued drawing invisible arabesques.
"No one needs to know.”
This thought caught herself off guard, as she stared entranced at the shadow casted by one of the warning lights.
Takasugi, Commander of Kiheitai, belonged to all those who followed him.
But this Shinsuke-sama, the one she only was allowed to see, belonged to her and her alone. Because she was the only allowed to see his face writhed in pleasure, and the feverish light in his glance. Only she knew the feel of his hands on her body while he destroyed and remodeled her at his liking, slow and implacable.
The care he reserved her, enfolding her trembling naked body in the futon, was just for her. And hers was how he, during sleep, always searched her warmth and brought her near.
She did not want anyone to know. Nobody needed to know, either.
All that belonged to her, only her. It was a selfish thought, but Matako did not care. She loved him. She loved everything about him, and it had never been a secret to anyone. She would protect what had born between them with nails and teeth, whatever it was.
Suddenly she discovered herself jealous and worried.
She felt a bit ashamed.
Matako slipped an arm from under his back and passed both around his neck. She buried her nose into Shinsuke-sama’s thin hair and recognized the pungent smell of the tobacco variety he smoked. That smell never left him, soaking his pillow and all of his kimonos. By now, maybe a bit of her too.
Her fingers combed back some of his strands still wet with sweat. She pressed her lips on his cheekbone, touching the lid of his good eye.
She had been careful on caressing his face, trying not to wake him -the impulse she had before was a risk, and she knew it- when her fingers felt the empty eye orbit hidden under the bandage. She wondered if one day he would tell her something about him, about the war, about Shiroyasha, and of the sensei he only once had mentioned; or if, as it was for her, if those were things he preferred to guard alone.
Maybe she didn’t need to know. Nonetheless, she preferred to think that it simply wasn’t the right moment.
She hold him tight and Shinsuke-sama put his arm around her shoulders in response, sinking his fingers into her blond hair. Matako bit her lip but couldn’t suppress a smile as her heart pounded fast again.