Title: Sweet Dreams
Author: Hiko Mokushi
Prompt: #021. Stream
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin.
Muse drawn from the picture called "Dreaming Japanese", by hakanphotography on deviantart.
Summary: "I'm not drunk." Though the words were soft, he recognized Misao's normal tone. "Then why –" He was cut off as she pushed on his chest. "You won't go away."

And it makes me feel bad
When I find that you're not here
And it makes me so scared
When I find that I'm alone
"Nightmare" by Vanilla Sky

"Where did she go?" He could tell that there had been something wrong the moment she'd rushed past him – barely even noticing him at all. He stepped into her room, Okina giving him a sidelong glance.

He'd come back to the Aoiya early from the temple to see where Misao had been, and where his tea was.

She was normally jumping in place to see him. It had become a daily requirement in his life, her bringing him his tea. He got up, bathed, and then he went to the temple. Misao would then prepare his tea and she'd sit there with him and drink some, trying to strike up a conversation. She'd leave and then shortly after that, he'd come home and eat a supper, served to him by Misao. He'd go to sleep with a full belly and the image of her smiling face fresh in his mind.

He'd missed out on so much those six long years. His little Misao-chan had turned into just Misao, a grown up, a beautiful young lady. He spent the better part of three years attempting to heal the wounds that leaving her, as well as the many other things he'd done, had caused on his gentle girl.

"I'm not quite sure." Okon pressed a wet rag against Omasu's bleeding nose, and then let go as the younger woman grabbed it. She turned to look at Aoshi and Okina. "We'd come up to check on her because she hadn't gotten out to get your tea, and we knew that you'd be waiting. Demo, she didn't look in pain, but she was moaning and turning from side to side. Omasu leaned down to awake her up and she just threw her arms up like she thought she was being attacked. Hit her right in the nose and then shot out the door."

Okina blinked, his gaze furrowed. "Did you notice where she took off to?"

Okon shook her head. "Omasu fell backwards – I was too busy trying to make sure she was all right."

Omasu was titled her head backwards, attempting to stem the flow of blood. "She was saying "no", I think," she mumbled, her voice nasally. "Either that or "oh".

Aoshi frowned. Okon followed Omasu's gaze and stared at him.

"Shall I go fetch her?" he asked quietly, even though he currently could only think of a few places where she'd go. It had been easier when she was younger – he could catch up with her pretty easy then and she had a limited amount of knowledge of places to hide.

Okina shook his head. "Let's see what happens," the old man murmured, still staring at Misao's unfolding futon. "It seems as though she was only having a nightmare; I don't believe she intentionally struck out. Most likely, when Omasu tried to wake her, the action morphed into part of the dream and she leashed out. Let's leave her to her thoughts. She will come home when she is ready."

He nodded his head to the girls, and then to Aoshi, excusing himself rather swiftly from the room. "Don't dally too long, the restaurant is still open," he reminded, before exiting down the hallway.

Aoshi nodded, his mind elsewhere. He glanced at Omasu, whose nose appeared to have finally stopped bleeding. Omasu waited until Okina was fully out of sight before turning back to Aoshi. "Aoshi-sama, you must go to her!"

He was taken back, and narrowed his eyes anxiously. "Demo, Okina -"

Omasu shook her head as she got to her feet. "I did not say what else Misao said. She was also calling out your name. She hasn't had nightmares like these since she was a child. I'm worried about her."

"She never had nightmares as a child," said Aoshi, looking down at her before sitting down on the floor.

Omasu and Okan exchanged a brief look. "Begging your pardon, Aoshi-sama," Okon said, looking away. "She had no nightmares while you were here, but she had them quite often after you left the Aoiya."

It was like a knife to his gut. Of course she had still been a child when he had left. Only 8 years old when he'd relinquished the post of her guardian fully to Okina; he'd known that it had affected her, but he'd never asked how. Misao always pretended that he had never left, but he could always tell deep down that things would never be the same between them. It did not help the matter that he had old sentimental Battousai telling him how she was an adult, or Okina murmuring softly to him about the way she looked and moved when she wasn't lose enough to hear.

Aoshi had been with women before. But the stories Okina whispered under his breath were enough to make any man blush.

When before the ex-Okashira had glanced at her bare legs and imagined terrible scenarios about her injuring herself, he now had fantasy about those legs wrapped around him in ways and positions he'd never even tried; let alone imagined his little Misao performing.

Not only were those thoughts embarrassing – Okina would never let him hear the end of it if he knew – but as much as they pleased the growing lust in his gut, they disgusted him.

Misao was his ward.

His mouth on her body was not acceptable.

H reached over and played with the hem of her comforter on her unfolded futon. "I'll go find her," he said, nodding to Omasu and Okon, both of whom sighed in relief. "I'll put this up." He motioned to the futon beside him and the women nodded, finally exiting the room. Aoshi turned his eyes to the bed, shaking his head.

He busied his hands instead with removing the blanket from the bed, folding it in front of his face as he took several deep, calming breaths.

A familiar gold clasp fell into his lap.

For a moment he paused, picking up the object and turning it in his hand before setting it on the ground next to him. He kneeled, folding the futon and then placing the blanket on top of it. He picked the clasp from the ground and placed it on the bed. He stood, before taking the clasp in his hand as an afterthought. He left the room, trying to dislodge the visions his mind played of him pressing Misao down onto the futon below him.

xxxxx

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Misao kicked at the water before her, her toes barely skimming the top. Her long raven-black hair flew out wildly behind her. She pulled at the strands, hating how strange it felt when her hair blew in the breeze. She normally kept it in a braid, but she'd rushed so quickly from her room that morning that she'd not grabbed anything to tie it back with.

I should go back, she thought to herself, almost angry for leaving – certainly angry for smacking Omasu. She bit her lip, angry with herself and she could swear that she tasted blood. I need to apologize.

It wasn't like her to run off, and she felt worse about that. First she dreams, then she wakes and smacks somebody that she's known since she was a child, and then she runs away. "I'm such an idiot," she hissed to herself, pulling the thin yukata tighter around her. She'd never been one to tolerate the cold, but then again, she'd been stupid about everything today and hadn't even bothered to grab socks.

She'd run to the first place she could think of – the bridge that hung low over a small creek bed. She used to come here when she was upset. The water was like ice on her toes.

She pulled her right leg up against her chest, wrapping her arms around her knee. "I'm such an idiot."

"You shouldn't speak so." Large hands gently pulled at her hair, and she stiffened when his knuckles brushed her shoulder. His knees pressed lightly against the small of her back as he sat behind her.

Misao almost smiled. "How's Omasu? I didn't mean to smack her?"

She tried to turn her head to look at him, but he pushed her head back around. Slowly, Aoshi's hands deftly braided her long hair, tapered fingers graceful and knowing. This was something far more familiar than anything he'd been dealing with lately. He'd spent nearly half an hour every morning of his childhood braiding Misao's hair before she'd learned how to do it herself. He almost smirked behind her. He took pride in the fact that he still remembered how.

"A bit of a bloody nose," he murmured, and Misao could practically feel her heart sink with guilt.

"I should apologize."

"That would be wise."

Misao eased her leg down so that both dangled over the water. Aoshi finished the braid by snapping the golden clasp he'd taken from her room at the end. His hands slipped into his lap. "You should have told me you were having nightmares," he said quietly, his voice a whisper whether he wanted it that way or not.

She twisted in front of him, grabbing onto his knees in an attempt to keep her back from spinning her back around. "Mou? Whoever said that I was having nightmares?" she asked accusingly, her teal eyes flashing angrily. Aoshi blinked, surprised at the vehemence in her voice. "I'm not having nightmares. And even if I was, I'm not a child Aoshi-sama."

Aoshi's hands jumped from his lap to the bridge.

"Demo. . ." he almost stuttered, leaning back slightly on his hands. He shook his head to clear his mind, her hands burning on his knees. "I never said you were. Omasu said that you were moaning in your sleep. She seemed to think that you were having a nightmare."

"I-I-" She stumbled, her mouth going dry, blinking up at him like a kitten who'd gotten into the milk. A pink blush tinged her cheeks and she shook her head. "I wasn't having a nightmare. I had a dream. . . that, ah, Yahiko was calling me a weasel!" She tried to look frustrated without looking completely guilty. "And, and, I was running after him. And I couldn't catch him. That was probably why I was moaning."

"Aa."

Aoshi stared at her, compelling himself to ignore her hands that were still placed on his legs. Her story was a good ploy, but it did not match up with the other information Omasu had told him.

"Well, then, I'll leave you."

"Wait!"

He paused in pulling away from her. Misao blinked up at him and gave him a sideways smile. "Arigatou, Aoshi-sama, for coming to find me. It means a lot."

He nodded, getting to his feet, and glancing down at her. "Okina wished I left you to your thoughts, but Omasu insisted." She could feel the pit of her stomach twist at the meaning his words gave, but she forced a smile. Even though his words spoke that Omasu had insisted he come, she remembered a time when Megumi had said that Aoshi didn't do anything asked of him unless he wanted to.

"Well, I still appreciate it."

She winced, and then tried to stretch out.

"Uh, Aoshi-sama?"

"Aa?"

"Could you help me up?" She was holding onto the bridge, trying to hold her up in the same position, and he realized that she had been holding onto his knees to keep herself from falling off the bridge.

He nodded and she lifted one of her hands up to him. Instead of grabbing it, he leaned down and seized her by her biceps. She grunted slightly, but he lifted her easily, setting her down and removing his hands, returning them to their place at his side. "Okaaaay, thank you." She blinked up at him oddly, meeting his eyes. His eyes were enough to make her insides melt.

"Misao-chan!"

She turned her head away from him and glanced up the way towards the road. A tall, slim girl with long black hair was waving at her. "Nami-chan!" Misao waved wildly back to the girl, almost striking Aoshi in the head if he hadn't moved slightly. She giggled.

Aoshi blinked, watching the girl walk away, and Misao turn back to him with a smile on her face. "You know that girl?" She didn't look much older than Misao, but he could tell from the bump under her kimono that she was pregnant.

She turned to him and smiled. "Yes, her older brother used to have tutoring lessons with Okina. She used to come over and play with me." She blinked at his blank expression. "Her full name is Natsume, but we call her Nami for short. You must remember her; she's only a year older than I am."

"You mean," he murmured, glancing off in the direction where the girl had been, "that is the same girl that used to come over and tease you because of your braid?"

Misao paused, and then broke out laughing, her whole face lighting up. "Yes, I guess she did do that. But we were also only six then. We're all grown up now, and get along. She's got a husband and a young son too. She works at the kimono shop in town – her older sister runs it."

Aoshi sighed quietly. "I've missed a lot," he nearly whispered.

Misao nodded; her blue eyes large. "But you're back. And that's all that matters."

Aoshi lifted a hand and scratched the back of his head. "I'm not so sure."

Misao glanced sidelong at him, biting her lip. "Uh, I should be getting back. I promised Okon that I'd help out at the restaurant today. Jiya's supposed to be having some old friends over that came back to Kyoto." She smiled again, and gave a small wave. "Arigatou. For, eh, coming out to check if I was okay."

He nodded, glancing away from her. As awkward as their normal times, it was even more awkward now. Misao reached out and placed her hand on his arm; he almost flinched, but she rubbed her thumb lightly against his skin, almost in a comforting manner, and he felt somewhat soothed. "You feel bad."

"I do."

"Why?"

He sighed, crumpling slightly, and almost pulled away. "Because I was gone. I left, and I've missed so much. In your life; in everybody's." His voice was small, soft. Misao had to lean forward slightly in order to hear him.

"But you're back." She lifted her eyes to meet his.

"Doesn't matter."

Misao sighed and rocked back on her heels. "I had nightmares after you left," she muttered, using her other hand to rub at the bridge of her nose. "I had nightmares about you forgetting me, you moving and never coming back, you dying. . ." She shook her head, but never tore from his gaze. "But I got on. That's not to say I moved on, I still missed you, every day in fact. But I dealt with my life. I prayed for you to come back. And now you're back. I'm not having nightmares, I don't blame you, I don't hate you. You're Aoshi-sama."

She took her hand from his arm and stepped away. "Come for dinner, Aoshi-sama. Don't shut yourself up in your room." She moved to walk away.

Aoshi sighed again, and walked past her. "Dreaming about Yahiko, hm?" He glanced at her face over his shoulder. "Next time I ask you a question, Misao, please don't lie to me."

Misao stopped in her tracks, staring at him.

He kept walking.

xxxxx

Misao pranced about the Aoiya, her hair held on top of her head with a clip, and a slim purplish-blue flower-patterned kimono donning her soft curves. She wasn't as graceful with the serving tray as Omasu was, and she couldn't cook like Okon, but nobody could deny that she had a flare all her own. Dancing about from one customer to another, flirting and mingling while she got her work done. Even though she'd refused to let Okon and Omasu put any makeup on her face, her cheeks flushed pink with the heat and her eyes sparkled happily.

Aoshi watched the girl dash around after Omasu; cracking jokes and laughing like a maniac.

It was hard to sit there, watch her, and not go to her. His body compelled him, ached practically. He longed to hold her.

He hated the way that she flirted with the other men; egging them on to buy more drinks or ensuring them with a quirky smile that they'd picked something good. He'd almost leapt from his seat when a drunk had tried to feel the young girl – woman – up. Misao, however, had reacted with far more maturity that he would have, dancing out of the man's reach while laughing.

Halfway through the night, those 'friends' of Jiya had brought out a small lute, a couple mini-tambourines and an old-fashioned shamisen and begun to play. Omasu and Okon slid the tambourines they'd accepted around their wrists and shook them as they served.

The effect was contagious.

Once or twice, Aoshi found the corners of his lips quirking upwards in a small smile at Misao's turned back, or even when he heard her tinkling laughter.

Once, he raised his eyes to see Misao walking towards the back corner of the Aoiya where he sat, bringing him more tea. The look in her eyes was different than that of the nervous, secret-keeping girl he'd left staring on the bridge earlier. Her smile was different from the girlish grins she gave him daily. It sent shivers down his spine.

"Enjoying yourself, Aoshi-sama?" she asked, that smile on her face.

A soft "Aa" was all he could manage in reply before she dashed off again. He had to hold himself back from reaching out and grabbing her.

Okina sidled out of the shadows, reaching out an arm to place on Aoshi's shoulder. The ex-Okashira glanced at his old mentor out of the corner of his eye as he sipped his tea. "She's certainly the life of the party. When did they break out the instruments?"

Aoshi noiselessly placed his cup on the table. "About a half-hour ago."

The old man nodded and walked closer to Aoshi, pretending to sway drunkenly, but his eyes glittered intently. "Misao should dress like an adult more often. She looks so beautiful, don't your think, Aoshi?" Okina's eyes seamlessly slipped between the large man and the tiny girl across the room.

"Aa," was all Aoshi would allow himself to say, closing his eyes. He clutched his tea cup tighter. Misao arms were wrapped around Okon in a hug. Shiro grabbed Omasu's hands and twirled her in a dance. Misao giggled and laughed with Okon.

Okina held out his arms. "Come, let's dance, Misao!" he called to her. She extracted herself from Okon, but instead of running to Okina, she glanced at him and held her hand out in front of Aoshi.

"Dance with me, Aoshi-sama!"

"Excuse me," Aoshi said finally, after a few minutes pause, getting up. Okina glanced at him, disappointed. Misao stared up at him and pushed a flyaway strand of hair behind her ears.

Aoshi left, instantly heading to his bedroom. He shut the rice-paper door behind him as he lowered himself onto the ground. He unfolded his bed before slipped beneath the covers. He needed sleep. Once he got some sleep in his system he'd be a lot better off.

It took him a while, but finally, he slipped into a restless slumber.

He was awoken, however, what seemed like only seconds later, by a chilled hand on his bare shoulder.

"You wouldn't dance with me."

The voice was soft, and his eyes flashed open. She crouched beside his futon, sitting on her calves. Misao's eyes were large, dangerously visible in the dark and beautifully sad. She nibbled on her lip, tugging at a hastily-made braid with a trembling hand. She clutched at his shoulder with the other. The fire that swelled in his gut woke him quicker than if she'd doused him with a bucket of cold water. Rivers danced down her face.

"M-Misao!" he coughed, hoarse from sleep. As he looked at her face, he could trace every tear falling down her cheeks if he wanted to.

"Why wouldn't you dance with me, Aoshi-sama?" Her voice was childlike, and it caused him to flinch away from thoughts of what he could do to her. She hiccupped softly, the yukata slipping from her shoulder at the motion. She didn't move to fix it.

Only stared at him with those sad eyes.

He sat up, pushing the blanket out of his lap. The top of his yukata had slipped during sleep and pooled around his elbows and stomach. "Misao, did somebody give you sake?" He was reminded of an incident that he'd made her swear to never repeat. She glared angrily at him.

"I'm not drunk." Though the words were soft, he recognized Misao's normal tone.

"Then why –" He was cut off as she pushed on his chest.

"You won't go away."

He balked. "Nani?"

Misao's fingertips traced lines of fire on his chest. "You're in my head and you won't go away," she sobbed, half-choking on her tears. "You're always so close, but never enough – never nearly close enough. You haunt my waking hours and now you haunt my sleep!" She was talking in riddles, but the emotions he understand all too well. "Onegai, onegai. . ."

Aoshi stared at her, his mouth almost hanging open. "The nightmare. . ."

"No nightmare, I told you –"

"Omasu said you said my name when she went to wake you up."

Misao blushed and recoiled, embarrassment flooding her features as her secret was realized. "My dreams only consist of you."

The idea of Misao, his innocent little girl, his ward, having naughty dreams about him plagued his mind. The looks she'd given him earlier flashed across his mind, and he had to blink to clear them from his vision. He desperately tried to focus his thoughts, lead them anywhere from those thoughts of Misao. "Your dream. . ." It didn't make sense in his head.

"Onegai," she whispered, closing her eyes as they burned hotly. Twin teardrops blazed almost symmetrical paths down her cheeks. She couldn't read his eyes in the almost pitch-blackness.

"Teiryuu," he whispered harshly, leaning and reaching a hand forward, toward her face, dragging his thumb down the wet streak on her right cheek. "Stop. Before I do something that, you and I, will regret."

Misao didn't open her eyes, but reached her own hand up and slid her fingers along the top of his hand. "Regret?" she whisperingly questioned; her voice was almost imperceptible, even in the hush of his room. His flesh was warm against her cheek and she turned her head in silence. She kissed his finger, and his breath hitched in his throat. She opened her eyes, staring sadly at him. "I regret nothing."

She grasped his hand and pulled it away from her face, arching her back up and pressing her lips to his.

He froze.

And then he melted.

The hand that she'd grasped slipped quickly from her fingers and slipped along her hand, sliding his fingers between hers and folding them, palms kissing. He squeezed her hand once before slipping it out of her limp grasp to slide back along her hip, pressing her towards him, almost into his lap.

He turned his head, slanting his mouth against hers. She made a little sound in the back of her throat like a surprised cat, and his free hand slipped up her bared shoulder and slid along her neck before it tangled itself in her loose hair. One hand clutched at the flimsy yukata and the other spread, hot and cold, against his chest, near to his neck. Her mouth opened, and he slid his tongue between her lips, tasting her, and she sighed, leaning against him.

When he pulled back, he stared at her as she pressed her forehead against his chest, her breath coming in short gasps that he could feel blowing against his skin. His hand threaded in and out of her hair, his other fingering her own yukata as he held her against him.

"Let me stay, Aoshi-sama," she whispered, her breath causing him to shiver. "Onegai, just let me stay."

Aoshi couldn't deny her: his throat was tight and constricted; his mouth dry and his tongue cotton. He couldn't have formed a reply if he wanted to. He didn't want to. He just wanted to hold her.

He slid himself backwards on the futon, pulling her with him. She made soft gasping noises as he drew her to the ground. Her legs curled out from underneath her and tangled with his as he pressed a hand against the small of her back, and as he lay down, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Just holding onto him. One of his hands pulled the blanket up to cover them, but Misao didn't notice.

She pressed her face into the nape of his neck, breath hot on his skin, murmuring as he wrapped his own arms around her, just savoring her next to him. Pressing a kiss to his neck that caused him to shiver, she whispered, "Sweet dreams," before quietly.

His lips were soft on her forehead as they slipped off to sleep.

finis.

Meh. I feel like the end was rushed. But overall, I'm pretty happy with it. Obviously not my very best, but still good.

- Hiko Mokushi