Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin belongs to Watsuki. Standard disclaimers apply.
A/N: Holy hell in heaven, I come bearing multi-chapter fic!
Heh, I've been gone for a while. You can blame my whacked-out writer's block.
If you're looking for a corny romance with fluffy pink clouds scattered here and there, turn around right this second. Not that this is some sort of angst-fest, but yeah. Not an overly-happy story, I'll tell you that much.
Beta-ed by my wonderful Kay-san. Who is infinitely patient. And intelligent. And sparkly on so many levels.
Enjoy, and remember to review.
Forsaken, I
When Saitou Hajime strode through the front door of the Aoiya flanked on either sides by burly officers, he received no less than five stares of disbelief.
Five heads swiveled around to watch him as he made his way to the counter.
"We have reason to believe that Shinomori Aoshi is still alive," fell from his lips, and four teacups fell to the floor.
Makimachi Misao continued sipping her drink, teal eyes surveying the officer from over the rim of her china cup.
She noted vaguely that Okon, Omasu, Shiro, and Kuro had similar expressions of shock painted on their faces, and sighed, letting a puff of steam drift up towards her face.
"Fetch Okina," she said finally, setting her drink down. "And invite Saitou into the meeting room. The guards stay here."
She rose, and Saitou raised his eyebrows. She's grown, he mused inwardly.
And so she had.
Not just her height, either, though Misao was extremely proud of the fact that she no longer reached his waist. She had cast away her Oniwabanshu uniform, instead opting for a blue male's gi and hakama that hung comfortably on her slender frame. She had filled out, but not much. Her signature braid was no more; a loose ponytail replaced it.
"Saitou," she suddenly mumbled, smoothing out the wrinkles in her white hakama. "What are you staring at?"
Saitou raised an eyebrow. "Show some respect… weasel."
"Bastard," she muttered, smirking.
"Aren't we all?"
Misao laughed lightly and headed inside, waving a hand in his direction. "Come."
"Saitou," began Okina, taking a deep breath. "What is this I hear about Aoshi's return?"
"Yes, Saitou-san, what happened to Aoshi-sama?"
"He's all right, isn't he?"
"Has he found a place to stay at?"
"Is he in Kyoto?"
Saitou cleared his throat loudly and glared. "I didn't come here to tell you about his whereabouts. There's a mission from a man in-"
"How's he been getting along?"
"Is he dying? Is that why he's back?"
"Has he gotten married?"
A heavy stomp interrupted the flurry questions, and all was still.
"Be quiet," Misao said sternly, piercing them all with a look worthy of Saitou's approval. "Or have you all forgotten that our duty is to the public?"
"But Misao-chan…"
"Come, Saitou," she sighed. "We'll go to my quarters. The rest of you, behave."
She turned on her heel and stalked out, Saitou at her heels.
"Is what you say true?"
He sighed, leaning loosely against the bookshelf beside the closed door.
"Like I said, fool," he muttered. "The man's alive. Well, we think so, anyway. But that's beside the point. I didn't come here to tell you that."
"What is your business, then?"
Saitou blew out a puff of breath and lifted a crumpled piece of parchment from his breast pocket.
"Mission," he said simply. "For you."
Misao smirked. "For me?"
"Yeah."
"Hnn. Who's it from this time?"
"A fellow in Tokyo; he goes by the name of Takashi."
Misao took the parchment from him fingered it absentmindedly.
"Why did you bring the subject of Aoshi-sama up?"
"I think," he drawled. "That the more important question is: What the fuck kind of reaction was that? I was expecting tears, hugs, celebratory spasms. The usual."
She eyed him coldly. "Like I said, my duty is to the citizens. And you still haven't answered my question. Why did you bring the subject of Aoshi-sama up?"
"Che," he muttered. "Details are in that letter. I'm leaving."
"Wait a minute. Does this mission have to do with him?"
"Like I said, weasel, I'm leaving."
"Damn it, Saitou, does it or doesn't it?"
"I'll see you when you get back."
Saitou turned and made his way to the front of the Aoiya once more.
"Hey, wait! Look at me when I'm talking to you!"
He disappeared out the front door.
"Saitou, you ass, I'll make you regret this!"
And just like that, Misao was left standing at the entranceway, yelling at someone who wasn't there.
Clutching at the only shred of evidence she had come across in four years that led to her ex-okashira's existence.
A/N: I may continue this. Maybe. Review.