Pretty In Pink
by
Chibijem
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters within and am making no financial gain from this effort.
A/N: In answer to the February challenge...
Misao was cleaning out Aoshi's large chest holding his clothes, checking to see if he needed anything new when she came across a box in the back. She pulled it out and when she opened it, was shocked. "Why on earth did he save this?" She wondered, running her hand over the item.
"It always makes me smile." Came the answer, whispered against her ear, followed by his soft, warm lips in a teasing caress. Aoshi reached over her shoulder and ran his hand over it too.
"I wonder what all the commotion is about, Aoshi-kun?" Makimachi-sama asked as they entered the Aoiya. The yelling seemed to be coming from the back and Aoshi followed his Okashira and the voices. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of tiny feet on the second floor landing before they slipped away.
"What is going on?" Misao's grandfather asked, the commotion silencing immediately.
"Would you look at this?...What was she thinking?...What are we to do?..." The voices started all at once and the Okashira held up a hand. He turned to Aoshi and with a nod, watched as the young man left the room.
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Aoshi made his way to his rooms and felt the ki of his most eager and fervent follower. He slid the shoji shut and put his things away before turning to the screen in the corner, "Misao-chan?" When there was no answer, he tried again. He noticed her small shadow shift silently. He sighed and moved to sit at his low desk. He waited, knowing she would come out in time. He began reading reports, all the while keeping an eye on the corner.
Almost twenty minutes passed before Misao peeked around the screen. She watched as Aoshi extended his hand to her without stopping his reading. She went over, sat next to him and waited while he finished. When he turned to her she ducked her head. "Gomen nasai, Aoshi-sama." She softly said.
"Why did you do it?" He asked, placing a lean finger under her chin to raise her face to his.
"I just wanted to help. Everyone's so busy and I thought if I could find something I could do to help..." Misao replied, trying to hold back her tears. "I didn't know..."
Aoshi smiled and wrapped Misao in an arm and pulled her close, "It's alright, Misao-chan. No one was hurt and things can be replaced." Aoshi told her, wiping a tear away.
"But everyone is so angry. I was only trying to help out. They're all mad at me, Aoshi-sama." Misao cried.
"Yes, they are; right now they are. But later they will all laugh about it." He told her and smiled when she looked at him with wide blue eyes, incredulity in them. "I promise."
"Honto ne?"
"Aa," he said taking her into his lap and pulling some paper across the desk, started making her a paper crane.
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Later that evening, Misao was helping with dinner and setting out the dishes when several of the Oniwabanshu members stopped talking. She looked up from her serving and turned her head to see what everyone was looking at. There at the entrance was Aoshi. She watched as he stepped into the room with his usual grace and sat, his seat next to hers.
When Misao handed him a bowl of rice, he smiled at her, "Arigato, Misao-chan." Everyone around the table knew he was thanking her for more than the bowl of rice. When one of the younger and newer members started to snicker, Aoshi pinned him with his piercing emerald gaze. "Problem?" He asked softly, too softly.
"Iie, gomen Shinomori-sama." The young man apologized and gave Misao an apologetic smile.
News of what had happened had spread like wildfire through the ranks and Aoshi would fight to the death anyone who would cause Misao to feel badly. He had even taken to task everyone who had yelled at Misao; he explained that maybe it would have been better to let her help and not to treat her like she was capable of nothing. He had ordered them, with the Okashira's approval, that in the future Misao would have things taught to her if she asked.
They were all awaiting the Okashira and Misao was beaming with pride. Her Aoshi-sama had defended her and was not at all angry with her. Everything came to a standstill again when the Okashira appeared. He stood before the assembled group dressed exactly as Aoshi was: in a pink yukata.
"Dinner that night was something." Aoshi mused, taking the garment out of the box. It was still pink, although a bit faded. "I don't know how your ojiisan kept a straight face all night."
"You both made me feel so important, that what I had done was a good thing." Misao answered and reaching back into the box, pulled out the child-sized kimono in a faded pink. "You kept this too?"
"I couldn't part with it," Aoshi confessed. Reaching out to finger the delicate silk. "They're both part of a wonderful, cherished memory, koi." He finished by placing both pieces onto a pulled out drawer and answering the call for lunch, pulled Misao out of the room.
"I always hated pink." Misao told him. Aoshi's laughter rang out.
END