Twelve Lies I Told Shingen Takeda

Chapter Forty-Seven - Shingen's POV - A Promise For Tomorrow

Shingen sat outside the noodle stand until the wind turned cold. Spending time in cold damp air would no longer bring on another illness – but it wasn't a terribly pleasant way to spend the evening either. Or, rather it wasn't a pleasant way to spend the solitary evenings that were his status quo these days. In the summer, Sasuke had dragged him out to explore Kyoto's nightlife, and while he found the people and places fascinating to observe, but he never felt like he was part of things. He didn't fit. There was a lot about modern Japan to admire and enjoy, but this was not his time.

Tomorrow, when Sasuke returned from the observatory, they would have to sit down and come up with another strategy to locate Katsuko. He had lost patience with inactivity.

After tossing his food containers in the recycling bins – throw-away containers... another strange modern concept he'd had to get used to, he hiked back to the parking lot where he'd left the motorcycle. The seat and the helmets were soaked – apparently it had rained harder than he'd thought while buying his noodle snack. He checked out the storage compartment under the seat and found a semi-clean rag to dry everything off.

No use stalling any longer. He climbed aboard then joined the few vehicles in line to exit the parking area as everyone grimly prepared to leave their outings and return to whatever daily grind their lives served up.

On impulse he glanced back at the mountain path for one last look at a place he knew was special to her. At dusk, it was difficult see much, but walking toward the parking lot was a figure wearing a kimono, rather than the jeans and puffer jackets most of the hikers wore.

Was she a product of his own wishful thinking; or, had the greasy rag he'd used to wipe off the helmet distorted his view?

It was almost as if she'd stepped out of his memories – she was as bedraggled as she had been the day they'd met, with that same defiant set to her shoulders that said, 'the world can keep throwing things at me, and I'll throw right back.' Just like that day, there was an intent look on her face as she likely was formulating a strategy for how to survive whatever situation she'd found herself in.

There you are, Devil. There you are.

He turned the bike around and circled to the bus stop, where she had stopped to read the schedule. A hundred poetic greetings clashed for supremacy in his head, but his mouth settled on the short and to the point, "Need a ride?" It was the first time in memory that he'd failed to access any of the smooth flirtatious openings he had stockpiled.

She turned around, defensive, fists clenched.

Helmet.

He removed his helmet, and watched as that defensiveness evaporated, replaced by joy. Again, nothing glib was coming to mind, just a semi-plaintive, "It's about time you got here, Devil."

She formed his name on her lips, too quiet to be heard, then she was in his arms. Finally. Again.

There you are.

Here you are.

You are here.

She was in his arms. There was her face... her cheeks...her hair... he wanted to touch her everywhere, brand the valleys and plains of her features into his hand. Then the need to fit her to him, cocoon her in his arms, took over. He welcomed her back with a kiss, the voice inside that always cautioned him to be gentle was overwhelmed from the start with the intense craving for her. It had been more than a year. Gentle was not possible. If they hadn't been surrounded by tourists and hikers, he would have carried her into the trees and taken her on the soft blanket of fallen leaves.

Surrounded by tourists and hikers. Right. Surrounded by tourists and hikers.

"I missed the taste of you. Not even this century's chocolate can compare to one moment on your lips." He held her again, that initial rush of intense unwavering desire merged with the simple longing to hold her, to breath her in. He let his chin rest on the top of her head. There was time now. The desire, the want could wait. A little while, at least.