Chapter 1: Misao's Decision
Song: Evanesence
You don't remember me but I remember you.
Misao could hear the whisper of cloth pass her doorway. He was leaving for the temple once again, avoiding the traditional breakfast bustle. She had adapted to his habits over the last two years, waking before first glimmer of morning just to hear his footsteps and assuring her that he was still present at the Aoiya. She would listen for the silent leader to pass, then sleep for another hour before rising to help start the kitchen fires. Aoshi no longer took his meals with the group. The only food she knew he ate was what she brought him at midday.
I lie awake and try so hard not to think of you.
She had been under pressure lately to find a husband. Her excuse to stave off the attentions of suitors and the encouragement of the other females under the roof was that she was the Okashira. It would not last for much longer, now that she was nineteen and the last Makamachi. Their pushiness irritated her. She had only one interest, and everyone knew her choice, even he.
The days were bland. When she rose, she helped in the kitchen. After the morning rush, she trained in the dojo. After the lunch rush, she took Aoshi his daily tray at the temple and then worked on the reports neatly stacked on Okina's desk. The evening was filled with more work in the restaurant and a couple final hours of training.
Day after day, month after month, she did not question the results of her routine. She never thought about the repetitiveness until yesterday when that letter came from Kaoru presenting the news of her engagement to Himura.
But who can decide what they dream?
Misao rolled over in her bed and pulled the letter out from under her mattress and read over the neat handwriting of a bubbling Kaoru. She felt a stab of something twist in her chest. At first she thought it was jealousy and changed her usual routine by spending the next three hours in the dojo throwing her kuni at rice-straw targets. When one finally buried itself so deeply that she cut her finger pulling it out, she realized that the emotion so foreign to her naturally cheery nature was desolation.
Why was she doing this? Her mind asked. The answer was immediate - For Aoshi. Misao stuck the cut finger in her mouth while searching for a bandage. But was that really her reason? Wasn't she really only trying to prove she was good enough - for the Oniwaban, for Aoshi, and for herself?
Her heart gave a leap. After binding her cut, she turned on the ball of one foot, closed her eyes and took five steps away from the targets. Using only her memory, she whirled and let five kuni slice the air. Each struck an individual bale with solid thunks. She was good enough. But there was no way to prove that here. Endless training would never prove her real potential. She had to show the world. Like Himura had done in the Bakumatsu.
She would show him.
And dream I do...
She knew fully well that if she left, the others would come after her. An impulsive idea made her smile sharply. Perhaps she could say that a report needed her personal attention. Even better, perhaps she could see if Hajime Saito needed a hand in his pursuit of slaying evil.
I believe in you
But she could leave. She had been taught by the masters of Kempo. She was no longer the naive and hotheaded youngster chasing a legend of her own making.
Kaoru's wedding was in three weeks. If she planned it right, she could pretend to be setting off early to help with the preparations. She may have to beg forgiveness later, but it was the only sure opportunity and would give her enough time to vanish so completely that even the renown skills of the Oniwaban would be able find her.
A voice nagged in the back of her mind. You're running away. She ignored it. Plastering a smile on her face, she left the dojo and returned to her room to gather her bath things. The water would be cold, but it wouldn't do to show up at lunch smelling like the workout she had just put herself through.
I'll give up everything just to find you
This was for her. This was for the man she knew had locked himself away from the world. Now she would find a way to understand what had happened to his way of living, and his rejection of it. He had gone insane for a while, but she would not cross that line. For him, she would walk along the razor.
I have to be with you to live to breathe
Misao took her bath just in time to take Aoshi's tray to him. Sliding back the rice paper door, she almost dropped the tea and bowl of udon in surprise. Aoshi calmly lowered the single kodachi in his right hand from the middle of his kata. Wearing only his pants, he turned to pick up the white gi Misao had always washed and pressed. She noted with a prickle of pain that the number of scars had doubled from when she had seen his back over ten years ago. Aoshi pulled on the gi and turned to her, kodachi still in hand.
"I did not hear you enter the temple."
Misao blinked. "I didn't know you practiced here."
"Usually I do so in the dojo, but you seemed restless."
She shrugged, the letter from Kaoru burning a hole in her sleeve. Setting the tray down on the low table next to the door, she began her tradition of preparing the tea and arranging the dishes. She intended on starting her conspiracy with him, but the sight of him training in a holy place had thrown her concentration.
"Is something wrong, Misao?"
She quickly smiled. "No, Aoshi-sama, I am just thinking."
"Usually you are helping in the kitchen at the time I found you in the dojo."
Pulling the letter from it's hiding place, she held it out. "Yesterday I received this invitation from Kaoru and Himura. They're getting married at the end of the month."
Aoshi took the letter and quickly scanned it. "Are you not happy for them?"
She frowned in confusion, "Of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?"
His calculating eyes fixed on her, "You seemed almost angry."
Misao tried to laugh and pushed on with her plan. "Oh, I was just trying to decide if I wanted to leave early and help Kaoru."
His gaze didn't waver and she turned back to her lunch preparations.
"Are you?"
She didn't look up. "I think I will. I've been here for so long, I think a trip might be just the thing."
You're taking over me
For a moment she thought he wasn't going to sit. When he did, she could still feel his eyes as he lifted the cup of tea to his lips.
"I'll go with you."
For the second time in the space of an hour he caught her off guard. "What?"
"You should not travel alone."
Her old anger rose. "I'm not a little girl anymore, Aoshi-sama. I've traveled by myself plenty of times."
They both understood the unspoken statement hidden in her words. Silence took it's toll until Misao continued, "I want to get away from here for a while."
Have you forgotten all I know
"I'm sure Okina and the others would object as well."
Misao's eyes snapped to his. "I'm perfectly able to take care of myself. I can travel as a boy if I need to, but I'm going alone."
His hand paused in reaching for a piece of radish pickle. "A boy? I doubt that. Can you defend yourself if a man decided to treat you like a man?"
Misao felt her face flush, but she stuck to her argument. "Yes I can."
He set his chopsticks down slowly. "Then meet me in the dojo tomorrow morning."
And all we had?
Misao felt her heart skip a beat. Proudly raising her chin, she met his cold gaze with her own.
"I've learned a lot since you went away. The first time, and now."
He looked away first. "We shall see."
Returning to the Aoiya, Misao's mind was tumbling over and over itself. Of all the reactions to her plan, Aoshi had chosen the one unexpected. Of course, that itself could have been predicted. She could just leave in the middle of the night but he would probably be on alert.
See, you're running away. Misao growled to herself and set the tray down on the kitchen table with more force than necessary. Okon simply gave her a warning glance before turning to fill the cups of miso soup.
Chewing her bottom lip, she pulled her apron off its peg and began helping.
"Misao, you forgot your kimono again."
She glanced down at her attire and realized she was wearing her spare training uniform. "Gomen, I've been thinking about Kaoru's wedding."
Okon giggled. "Yes, it's wonderful that they are finally becoming official. How about you stay in here and tend to stove. I'll take your place out there."
Misao smiled gratefully. "Domo!"
You saw me mourning my love for you
Two hours later the first of the dinner rush had slowed. Misao wiped her forehead with the back of one hand. The steam from the miso, udon, dumplings, and the general heat of the place was draining. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye at the back door and turned.
Aoshi stood on the threshold, protected by the evening shadows, arms crossed with the sheath of his kodachi slightly visible behind his leg. They stood silently for a moment, until he finally spoke,
"I am not challenging your right as Okashira."
She frowned with an echo of anger. "You never really said I was the Okashira. I claimed it for myself. You have every right to take it back."
"That is not the reason I wish to test you."
"Honestly, I'm not concerned with the title. I am insulted that you think I am not able to defend myself. You doubt so much about the past, but I thought your teachings were the one thing you had confidence in."
And touched my hand
Aoshi finally stepped into the warm kitchen. Misao noted absently that the light took away the mysteriousness, but not the coldness he constantly carried. He reached out and caught the hand she had cut earlier that morning.
"I am confident in your training. But you are still a woman."
She jerked away. "Yes, that is something I am being reminded with growing frequency lately."
"What do you mean?"
The sudden sharpness in his voice drew her eyes up to his face. Something had changed for an instant in his gaze, but she only caught a splinter of it. Raising an eyebrow, she walked across the kitchen to the basin of warm soapy water.
"Gramps, the girls, the boys out there who have been coming on a disturbingly regular basis."
He did not answer.
I knew you loved me then
Ignoring him, she plunged her hands into the stacks of dirty dishes. She felt his presence fade behind her. Her diligence faded along with it and she stared at the white foam covering her hands. Why did he have to become concerned now? He had practically forgotten about her for two years - and when she decides to take matters into her own hands, he had the nerve to question her.
Why now? A bowl slipped from her fingers and smashed on the ground. Okon wouldn't be happy about that. She gathered the larger peices and took them out to the rubbish heap.
I believe in you
Misao woke the next morning to the same whispering footsteps, only this time they paused outside her door. She controlled her breathing pattern, waiting, but he moved on. Instead of rolling over and going back to sleep, she began gathering her personal belongings and packing them in an old canvas bag. She wouldn't even wait to say goodbye to the others once she finished this 'trial' of Aoshi's - she would simply leave.
As she packed, she came across an old ragged yellow ribbon. The corner of her mouth rose as she fingered the piece of silk. Hannya had given it to her when she was three. She had worn it till it had disintegrated to the remaining four inches of material.
I'll give up everything just to find you.
Aoshi and the Oniwaban had left so long ago to make a new name for themselves. They had wandered to find a new place in the world. They had found only death, but in that death they still clung to their faith in their leader, Aoshi Shinomori.
Why couldn't she do the same? She was just as dedicated as those fallen heroes. She loved the same man with just as much passion. He had accepted it from them, and yet he was trying to hold her back.
Misao tore the fragment of yellow ribbon in half, then knotted the pieces together. Taking her usual clasp off the end of her braid, she replaced it with the material.
I have to be with you to live to breathe.
Himura had brought him back, just as he promised. But as spectacular as that small man could be, he could not return the passion and drive which once fueled the strength of the ninja. But it was still there. Misao had felt it when carried home from her encounter with Shougo Amakusa. His hands were tense with anger when he had held her, and though he sought out Himura's help to take action, she had felt his spirit rise to the threat.
She would show him that she had the same spirit. She whispered to herself in the pre-morning darkness, "I will be the best Oniwaban Okashira."
You're taking over me
Aoshi was waiting in the dojo. She paused, taking in his old ninja uniform of dark blue and black. She wore her own uniform of dark blue cotton. Without a word, she began her usual warm-up routines. His eyes did not waver from her, but she did not meet his gaze until she finished.
"Ready then?" He had clearly done his own preparations before she arrived.
Misao took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Ready."
Aoshi charged, hands in the perfect position to strike or block. His fists darted towards her head and stomach like any common street fighter. Misao dodged and blocked each attack. He moved on to footwork, which she nimbly slipped past. With a quick nod of approval, he made a direct pass to grab her throat. Misao took the reaching hand and twisted it. Reaching past his longer arm, she pushed it up and away, and drove her palm directly into the center of his chest. He grunted and pulled back, but before she could relish her victory, he took her bodily by the shoulders and picked her up. The plaster wall knocked the air from her lungs, but she drew her knee up and caught him in the ribs. He dropped her and she rolled to her feet.
He watched her calculatingly with no sign of stress except for his slightly elevated rhythm of breathing. Blue eyes clashed with sea-green.
"I am better than you let me be." Misao hissed.
Aoshi shook his head once, the coldness unchanging. "You only have determination. That cannot save you in a situation."
Misao raised an eyebrow. "Can't it?" She feinted with her left foot and then struck with her right fist.
I look in the mirror and see your face
In one sweeping movement, Aoshi caught her punch by the wrist and twisted it behind her. She bent forward, preventing him from locking her arm and rendering her helpless, twisted to the side and shot her leg out. Instead of connecting with his side, Aoshi caught the blow with his free hand, stepped forwards, and threw her center of balance. She fell, but took him with her.
They rolled, ultimately with Aoshi ending on top. Growling, Misao struggled to free her arms which were pinned beneath his knees. Aoshi's hand pressed firmly down on her neck.
"Now you are at a man's mercy."
If I look deep enough
Misao twisted violently to the right, gaining enough space and leverage to sling her leg up and around. He grunted as her heel caught him in the chest and shoved him back, freeing her arms. Bracing her hands on his knees, she heaved with all her strength, sending her sliding away on the hardwood floor, and knocking him ungracefully onto his backside. Leaping to her feet, Misao took a step towards her former leader.
"I would run now, but you've made me too angry."
In the blink of an eye, Aoshi had kicked her legs out from under her and driven his open hand into her stomach as she fell. The palm completely winded her, and she knew if he had used his fist it would have knocked her unconscious. Unable to catch herself, she hit the dojo floor.
"You should have run."
So many things inside that are just like you
Standing slowly, Misao fought to regain her breath. Dropping her arms from where they shielded her aching stomach to her sides, she turned to face Aoshi.
"I don't care what you prove. This is for me. I'm going, and you won't stop me."
His eyes narrowed as she turned on her heel to leave. Her hand was on the screen when she was abruptly pulled backwards. Shocked, Misao turned to see the end of her long braid wrapped around Aoshi's fist. Indignant, she shrieked, "Let me go!"
Aoshi only tugged again, wrapping another loop of braid around his hand and pulling her from the door.
With white hot anger, she pulled out a kuni and raised it to slice the tether from his grasp. He grabbed the descending arm and plucked the blade from her hand.
"Don't." His voice was toneless.
To her embarrassment, frustrated tears were gathering in her eyes as she stared up into the stone-like face of the one she wanted to reach. Her entire braid was now caught in his hand. She pulled at it with her free hand while struggling to break the other from his iron grip. He was unmoving.
"Aoshi, let me go!"
With a jerk he pulled her against his body, pulling her captured hand around behind him and leaving her face to face with her tormenter. Wide-eyed she couldn't move as he slowly feathered his lips over her forehead, nose, and lips. He pulled back a centimeter and glared.
"I know what you are thinking, Misao. You aren't planning on going to that wedding. Or if you are, you do not plan on returning after."
She swallowed hard. "What makes you think that's my plan?"
His eyebrow quirked. "Because that is what I would do. And I wouldn't blame you. But I cannot let you go alone."
"Aoshi-sama, I am a grown woman, independent, and completely capable of handling myself."
"Like you are handling your present condition?"
Misao felt her face flame, but did not try to pull away. "You are doing this to me for some reason, and I will not let you try and talk me out of going."
Aoshi's eyes narrowed and slipped down to her mouth. She tensed as he slowly and deliberately kissed her, using the pressure of his lips to gradually part her own. Even if she had wanted to, she could not turn away, due to his hand still firmly twisted in her long braid.
His mouth melted her determination to leave. She didn't register the small fact that he had released her hand and that she was now clutching at his shoulders, or that his arm was pulling her even tighter against his body so that only her toes were touching the floor. All she felt was his unvoiced hunger.
This was what she needed. This was what she had planned to seek out - and hadn't even taken one step out the door.
Are taking over