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September 13, 1627
He loves her when she’s kneeling at his feet, presenting him with his cloak before his place at the throne. It is a deep navy, darker than night and twice as luxurious. He takes it from her without a word, but the look in his eye tells her to come to his room later that evening. They are from two different worlds, never meant to cross paths aside from rare moments of servitude— but something draws him to her. Eisuke thinks of this as he prepares for the hunt, sheathing his sword and securing his dagger to his hip. Giving her a slight nod, he heads out of the throne room and towards the stables outside. He slides the heavy fabric around his shoulders, shrugging them slightly before disappearing down the hall.
She returns to him that night, reaching up and undoing the fastenings of his shirt. His bones are weary and spent from the long day on horseback, but her touch seems to melt the knots in his muscles away. Always the dutiful servant, she barely spares him a glance as she tends to her duties as his personal consultant. Her fingertips brush the bare skin of his chest and they feel incredibly warm. The action stirs something inside of him, and he reaches out and grasps her hand between his.
“Your hands shouldn’t be doing such menial tasks” he murmurs, bringing the palm of her hand to his lips and kissing the skin there. Her skin smells like flour and leather, but if he focuses enough he can pick up on the scent of lavender she had brought to his room that morning. After a moment, she finally looks up at him, eyes shining in the low light of the bedside candle.
“What should they be doing, milord?” she asks, voice steady and warm and she presents him with an easy smile. He presses her free hand to his chest, ghosting just above his heart. It beats for her tonight, just like it always will.
“Touch me” he whispers, and she obliges. Her hands brush over his skin, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and letting it pool around his waist from where he sits on the edge of the bed. He leans back just enough to give her room, and she kneels between him on the mattress. Her hands slide up, resting on either side of his neck and playing with the hair at his nape.
“You remind me of a painting, milord” she whispers, cradling his head as if he were made of glass. “You are so stunning, looking at you is like looking at art.” He wants to scoff, to laugh in her face, for it is her that is art. She is sculpted marble and gold foil and the most stunning mixture of watercolors. She is beauty in motion, leaving him searching for his words at the mere sight of her. He doesn’t know how else to express this, so he pulls her down in his embrace as he kisses her slow, hoping his lips speak enough for his heart.
February 13, 1842
He loves her when he’s twenty and he sees her bundled up and staring into a store window. Even from a distance, he can see the way the light shines against the high points of her cheeks. The paper tucked into his breast pocket, he strides forward until his shoulder is leaning against the same glass she’s peering into. She tilts her head to the side and smiles at the trinkets in the window before she looks at him.
“There’s my soldier” she says, cheeks the color of roses and her lips the shape of petals. It takes everything in him not to lean down and kiss them. Instead, he fishes the envelope from his pocket and presents it to her. Her eyes light up as her gloved hand traces the ornate design. It is a simple gift, but the only one he can afford on a measly military salary. He can only hope it’s enough.
“These are popular nowadays, you know?” he muses, watching how she takes in the design on the off-white parchment. She turns it in her hand, eyes shining as she takes in her name expertly scripted on the other side. Her breath catches in her throat, and a smile breaks out across her delicate features.
“Saint Valentine” she says, looking up at him finally. Her eyes hold a dozen confessions, a thousand words on the tip of her tongue. It is all he needs to calm his nerves and request the one thing he wants most from her.
“Kiss me” he says, his breath curling out in front of him in the wintery night. She cups his jaw with her hand, cream silk fabric brushing against his skin where her gloves meet his face. She leans in, pressing a kiss with rose-petal lips to the corner of his mouth.
“You’ll get the real thing when you come back home to me” she whispers, lips pulled away just enough so the words dance across his skin. It is a subtle promise, one that pushes him to be the best he can be for her. Eisuke imagines coming home to her one day, when war is nothing more than a page in history and they can finally begin their life together. He reaches out, grasping her two hands between his own.
“You’ll wait for me?” he asks, letting hope seep into his words. He’s hesitant, almost fearful of her answer. Those fears are banished when she smiles at him, squeezing his hands tightly.
“Always” she whispers, eyes wide and smile even wider.
He decides in that moment that no matter how many wars he had to fight, he’ll always come back to her.
April 15, 1953
He loves her when he’s seven and she’s sitting on the steps to his house, tears in the corners of her eyes. He had seen her around the neighborhood before, even played with her amongst the other children, but this was the first time he had seen the little girl with the braids by herself. Eisuke kneels in front of her and asks her what’s wrong, noting the way she knots the hem of her dress in her hands. In the distance, he can hear something with a jazzy beat filtering out of a neighbor’s window. There isn’t a lot to know when you’re under the age of ten, but he knows that his mother dances to this same record alone in her room when she thinks he’s gone to sleep.
The little girl looks up at him with impossibly round eyes, and the world seems to stop for a moment. It’s a moment he knows he’ll remember for the rest of his life, as the day when things changed in his childish little heart. It is a gentle fondness, one normally so foreign to him. When she shows off a skinned knee, he nods in understanding and disappears inside his house, returning with a bandage that he presses into her tender skin.
“My mom says if you think a good thought when you’re putting on the bandaid, you’ll feel better” he says, and the seriousness of his words makes her hears stop. When he looks up at her, she’s smiling from ear to ear.
“Thank you” she whimpers through tears, using the back of her hand to wipe away her tears. He reaches out and pats the top of her head, trying to remember the way his own mother comforts him in his moments of skinned knees and heartbreak. He stays with her until the tears subside, and she reaches behind her and presents a stuffed rabbit, soft and yellow and as bright as her smile.
“Will you play with me?” she asks, hopeful smile spreading across her face. He nods, standing up and reaching out to help the little girl up as well. Even at seven years old, he notices how small and fragile her little hand looks in his own.
He decides in that moment he would always protect her.
September 27, 1991
He loves her when they're standing outside a club, tapping their feet to the music filtering through the front door. It's their first night out together, Eisuke working up the courage to ask her out after months of shared glances across campus grounds. She’s looking towards the club entrance and humming to the music, but she suddenly turns to him.
“You excited?” she asks, reaching out and grabbing both of his hands. She swings them between their bodies, the playful action making the strap of her dress slip off her shoulder. He tilts his head down and laughs at her words.
“Yeah, I’m excited” he says, looking at her under the neon lights. They filter pink and green, tinting her hair and the skin of her neck the same hues as they change. He wants to lean down and kiss her there, where her neck meets her shoulder, but he resists and instead ushers her forward as they move closer to the front door.
By the time they hit the dance floor the bass is loud enough to feel its vibrations through the floor. His hands find her waist as they begin to sway to the music. Eisuke's nerves melt away as they dance, watching her face light up at each song she recognizes. They sing and dance along to all their favorites, until a particular slow song when she looks up into his eyes. Her hair is clinging to her face and her eyes are shining, and he reaches down to smooth her chestnut locks away from her cheek. "Are you having fun?" she asks, raising her voice over the music. Even when talking to him, she still sways to the beat beneath his hand. He laughs, tightening his grip on her waist.
"Yeah" he replies easily, pulling her closer. She responds by wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing their foreheads together. He can smell her perfume, sweet and dainty and undeniably her. He wonders what it would be like to wake up and have her scent in his hair, across his skin like a reminder that she really does exist. He can’t resist, and he leans down to lock their lips together. When he pulls away, she flashes him a dizzying smile and Eisuke can see the promise of a future in her gaze. The lights around them seem to brighten, the music and the crowd fades away in his mind, until there is nothing but her standing in front of him.
Her smile is achingly wide and her breath is ragged from all the dancing, but Eisuke thinks she's perfect. She always is.
December 16, 2018
Eisuke never really understood the concept of keeping photos around. They seemed pointless, little snapshots of a mundane life he never really cared to remember. That was, until she entered his life and tinted even the most tedious aspects of his life with something vibrant. Now they sit in the armchair on his office, her half in his lap as they thumb through the box of photos. Shared memories from years past, all captured on film and stored away in a velvet box tucked away in his office. He has it all, more money than he knows what to do with, fame beyond what he could ever imagine, and all the power he could want—but they’re nothing compared to the woman at his side.
She reaches out and pulls out a familiar photo, one of their engagement photos. Her finger traces across their intertwined hands in the photo, the ring sitting on that hand shining in the light of the suite. Something about it makes him smirk, but her words take all the cockiness out of his mind.
"Do you ever wonder if we knew each other in previous lives?" she asks dreamily, her eyes tearing away from the photo to look down at his handsome face. She leans in, pressing her forehead to his and looking into his dark eyes. Normally such a question would make him scoff, but something makes him tug her closer.
"I think we did" he replies softly, genuine smile tugging at his lips. "I think we were always meant to be just like this." When they press their lips together, it's all the confirmation Eisuke needs that yes, they were always meant to be.