Shinomori Aoshi's blue gray eyes opened slowly.
The warmth of the room engulfed him. He was in an empty square room save for the small fire boiling water in a teakettle at the center of the room. Looking down at himself, he could see that he was dressed in his usual yukata, seated comfortably on a soft futon. Beyond the crackling fire in front of him, through the open shoji doors, the dark blue color of the winter weather sharply contrasted against the warm colors of the room. To his right, the walls of the shoji were slid open to reveal steaming waters of an onsen, inviting him to its warm waters despite the snowy landscape surrounding it.
Before he had the opportunity to contemplate why he was at such a location, a slightly paler blue shadow approached from the opening in front of him. The shadow became sharper; the cloak of the blue shadow slowly revealing a kimono clad Misao. In her hands, she carefully carried a tea tray.
For a moment, he thought it was just a regular day, during the winter, where Misao would always join him for tea at the temple. But Aoshi was at a loss as to why there would be an onsen at a temple and why the normal plain paper walls of the temple would be decorated with birds set against warm orange, yellow, and red colors of what seemed to be either a setting or rising sun. However, these thoughts registered dimly in the back of his mind as he watched her enter the room.
She paused at the door, slipping off her sandals before entering the room on silent bare feet. Small flecks of snow that decorated her dark loosely braided hair and the simple dark blue kimono with white trim disappeared as soon as she stepped into the room. The melted snow created a dewy glowing look on her, infusing her cheeks with a light rose blush and leaving her skin moist. As she walked towards him, the front of her kimono occasionally slipped open to reveal long slender legs and the probability that she was only wearing the kimono, mystifying the confused and bewildered Aoshi more.
The Misao he knew never wore such revealing and seductive clothing. Granted, she wore kimonos from time to time but only on certain occasions and never in such a fashion. He tried to ignore the creeping image of Misao in her revealing day clothes and onmitsu uniform, reminding himself that she wore such things for practicality.
Misao stopped in front and to the side of him, setting down the tea tray with a slight click, as the fire slowly boiled water to her right. She greeted him with her slow soft smile and a soft "Konnichawa, Aoshi-sama."
He watched her prepare his tea, wondering when her movements had become so graceful.
Instead of handing him his cup, she settled close to him until she was a hair's breadth away from touching his thigh.
"Here's your tea, Aoshi-sama," she said, holding up the teacup to his lips.
He leaned away from the cup, surprised at her gesture.
Something must have shown on his typically expressionless face because she giggled and held the cup closer to his lips.
A slender eyebrow rose a millimeter. As far as Aoshi knew, Misao never giggled or at least in such a girlish fashion.
The kimono slipped from her shoulder as she brought the teacup up to his lips again, revealing a slender pale cream shoulder. "Ne, Aoshi-sama," she said lightly, "relax, I won't bite."
Aoshi managed to see a small glimpse of impish mischievousness, something of which he'd seen before, in her sparkling green eyes before he suddenly found himself holding a fragrant lapful of a warm blue bundle. Her free hand cupped his cheek and she leaned her face close to his.
"Aoshi-sama," she pouted sternly, her bottom lip slightly jutting out. "Behave or else I'll spill the tea all over you, then there won't be any left." And with that, she pulled away and brought the cup to his lips again. "Now, drink it like a good little boy."
To his surprise, Aoshi obeyed, letting her hold the cup as he drank the warm green tea. He watched her entranced expression, her eyes concentrated on his lips. Confused thoughts whirled in his head. Since when did she become so forward? Usually, when she brought him tea and snacks, she would serve him his tea and/or join him with the snacks at a safe distance and never this close.
She glanced at him, gave him - what seemed to him - a sly seductive smile, and pulled the cup away. Still seated comfortably on his lap, she turned to the tea tray, rummaging around with small clinks before turning to him with a bowl of rice and fish and a pair of chopsticks in hand.
He opened his mouth to protest but Misao slipped a mouthful of food in, preventing him from speaking.
"There you go," she murmured. "Now eat up and become a strong boy."
The slender eyebrow joined his companion as they formed a slight frown on his face. He resented her treating him like a young child and as he chewed, he glared at her trying to show her his resentment.
She ignored him and continued feeding him. She set the bowl and chopsticks aside to serve him tea. He drank obediently after an unsuccessful attempt at gaining control of the teacup. A bit of tea escaped from the corner of his lips and slowly trickled down his chin.
Misao pulled away. "Ne, Aoshi-sama, you spilt some tea."
Aoshi brought up a hand to wipe away the tea when Misao leaned over and slowly licked it off, her tongue, warm and wet, lingering against his skin. He stilled at the feel of her small tongue, at the sudden closeness of her warm flower fragrant body, as his trusty stoic conscience declared mutiny and demanded that he take advantage of the situation. Differing thoughts of pulling away with an excuse disappeared as her tongue traveled slowly over his bottom lip, soon to be replaced by her mouth settling over his in a slow kiss. What . . . he thought startled. It was his last thought as he fell into a warm and sensuous kiss created by Misao.
The woman on his lap gave a delightful moan as she deepened the kiss and he responded to the kiss by placing a hand to her waist to pull her closer. Then he found himself pulling her down to the futon with him.
~*~
Aoshi woke up with a start. The darkened ceiling of his room greeted him and told him that he had been dreaming. He brought a hand to his face to rub away the sweat that had gathered on his forehead and sighed.
It wasn't the first dream he had of Misao. Most of them were innocent, relating to the peaceful times before he left her as a child. Yet, lately, those dreams were turning into something he wanted to avoid. A part of him said that it wasn't right, that he would be the least likely person to be suitable for her. She deserved someone who didn't live life so dangerously.
An immediate thought appeared, mocking his previous thoughts. And who else would be suitable for her? Not the silk merchant, whom he knew kept a string of heartbroken females through his trade routes, and certainly not the butcher's son who had not an intelligent thought in his head. Of course, Aoshi kept an eye on them, those who dared to court her; one could never be too sure what they would do if they were left alone with Misao. The mocking voice inside him sneered at his so-called spying, 'you know you want her as much as those dimwits. You're just checking out the competition.' For some reason that mocking voice sounded like a combination of the Battousai's insistent reasoning, Saito's sarcasm at its best, and Sagara's crassness at its worse.
He sat up, brushing back long strands of midnight black hair, trying to rub away not only the creases on his forehead but the conflicting thoughts that formed them. Since he was awake and remnants of the dream prevented him from going back to sleep, he might as well make some tea for himself, he thought sighing.
Pushing back the covers and straightening his yukata, he left his room and headed downstairs. Quietly, he made his way to the kitchen. A movement at the corner of his eye and a whisper of a sigh from the courtyard reached his senses and he paused, turning towards the sound. There standing in the dim light of the moon was Misao, staring absentmindedly at the flower in her hand.
Thoughts of making tea disappeared and his mind went blank at the sight of the softly illuminated young woman, surrounded by flowers. As if drawn to her, he crept nearer and stopped at the opening of the building. He leaned against the doorway, studying the fleeting expressions play across her face. Then her expressions became one as she suddenly frowned and unaware, her hand tightened around the stem of the blossom she held.
Fearing for the safety of the flower and wondering what was on her mind he called out to her.
~*~
Makimachi Misao walked out onto the Aoiya's courtyard, unable to sleep. The cool summer night air fluttered around her, gently caressing skin not covered by her yukata. She sighed and played with the loose strands of hair that hung about her shoulders. She should stop worrying about Aoshi by now; he could take care of himself, that she knew, but there was that small fear in the depths of her heart that kept saying that he'll leave again for his pursuit to be the strongest and never return.
Thinking that it was the most ridiculous thought, she mentally chided herself. For the past five years since his return back to the Oniwabanshu, he had not shown any indication that he would leave. In fact, he slowly involved himself into the affairs of the Aoiya, taking care of the financial matters of the restaurant. Of course, he still meditated at the temple, for whatever reasons unknown to Misao, but he spent less time there than he did during the first year he returned.
Misao paused by a bushel of flowers, idly reaching out and gently fingering a soft petal. She smiled softly to herself, her thoughts turning towards the upcoming festivities.
In a few days, the summer festival would begin but instead of celebrating it in Kyoto, as she had intended, the Himuras had invited the Oniwanbashu to Tokyo. Happily, she had agreed but the other members declined their offer, wanting to celebrate it in their hometown. The Aoiya was going to be closed for the festival, allowing the members to enjoy the festivities. Okon and Omasu wanted to stay in Kyoto in hopes of seeing Hiko Seijuro, but that was highly doubtful, Misao thought to herself, a slight smirk appearing at the corner of her mobile mouth. If they couldn't find the tall, muscular, egotistical man, then there'll be plenty of men there to sooth their bruised hearts. Kuro and Shiro were also eager to have the time off and had already listed favorite sites of the festival according to importance. Though, Misao suspected Shiro seemed a bit too eager. She had a sneaking suspicion that his eagerness had something to do with the pretty daikon seller down the street. She snickered softly to herself; pleased at the thought of having him do some favors for her in order to keep the information secret from certain people.
Misao's smile disappeared and a small frown appeared along with a slightly visible tic between her eyebrows. She was worried about Okina. He was staying behind, saying that he was too weary to move his old bones to travel. She knew otherwise. He was using up all that old man energy to ogle and chase young girls. She hoped he didn't go too far with his lecherousness, her hand clenching into a shaking fist, or by Kami-sama, he was going to be in some deep trouble by the time she returned.
Her thoughts returned to the initial reason why she was out this late at night in the Aoiya's courtyard. Her frown deepened. Usually, whenever she visited the Himuras, she had to convince him to come with her or Okina would suggest something about how the roads were dangerous and that it was unsuitable for a young girl to be wondering alone without a proper escort. Misao huffed silently at the outrageous exaggerations he made; she didn't need an escort or a baby sitter to make her way to Tokyo and besides she had been traveling alone with little or no problems in the past.
This time, however, Aoshi had stated that he would accompany her to Tokyo before Okina or she had thought to ask him to. What she couldn't figure out was the reason why, why would Aoshi come with her when he had the opportunity to be alone? It wasn't that she didn't mind his company, but she didn't expect him to accept the Himuras' invitation as soon as she announced that she was going. Before she could contemplate the reasons, a low familiar voice broke through her thoughts and the still air of the Aoiya.
"Misao. It is late."
She looked over to the entrance of the building to see him standing there in his usual pose, leaning at the door with his arms crossed. Bestowing him a huge grin and casting her troubled thoughts aside, she replied, "I know. I couldn't sleep so I thought if I stayed out here long enough, I'll eventually get tired and go to sleep."
He watched her with unfathomable blue-gray eyes as she made her way to him, his long dark hair loose around his yukata clad shoulders. Her heart couldn't help but pound heavily at the sight of him. Even after all these years, she was still in love with him. She couldn't help but wonder if he knew at all or even cared.
"Aoshi," she had dropped the 'sama' long ago, "what are you doing up so late?"
He just stared at her, his eyes flickering with something akin to kindled fire. Then, closing his eyes, he turned away.
"It is best we turn in for the night. We leave early in the morning."
Misao watched him go, confused at his actions and tone. Usually, he would respond to her questions with short and distinct sentences but never in a curt tone. She couldn't shake that uneasy feeling that something was wrong, that same feeling she'd felt during the Shishio affair.
~*~
AN: Well, this is my first fic. I will develop the story a bit further so it'll take a while for the next chapter to be up. You know the drill, read, review, and comment. And thank you for reading.