A/N: I'll be exploring a very interesting concept which, I think, might startle some A/M fans when it is finally revealed later in the story. Since this is AU, please pardon the possible OOCness of Aoshi and Misao's attitudes towards each other in this first chapter as well as Aoshi's resemblance to his Shishio days. I'll have to start their relationship from scratch, you see.
Chapter One
The captain of the ship rested on his seat, placing his boots on the control system and leaning back. He steepled his fingers and stared at the vast emptiness that was separated from him by panes of glass.
Aoshi Shinomori loved space.
Space was black, deathly, had always been there and always will be. It had seen all births and deaths. It encompassed all. It was all.
Pat pat pat.
But more importantly, space reminded him of himself. It was, compared to all its vast territory, empty, harboring only a few insignificant planets, stars and other stellar bodies. Aoshi Shinomori was empty, devoid of emotion, harboring only a few insignificant fragments of his life.
Pat pat pat.
Of that he prided himself.
His eyes flashed. He grabbed his blaster from the holster on his hip and whirled around in one smooth, fluid motion.
A short man stood in front of him, swathed in a navy-blue suit. A blaster rested on his hip and a belt of knives rung around his waist. His mask covered his face, and on his forehead rested the mouth of Aoshi's gun. His arms were up in a sign of surprise and resignation.
Aoshi's blue eyes of steel glinted as he inquired frostily, "Your name, your vector and quadrant number, and I'll send your body to your family with my condolences."
The man answered, his voice unclear due to his mask, "I don't think they'd appreciate seeing me mangled."
"Makes it easier for me then." Aoshi cocked his weapon's energizer to full power. The energion particles glowed and the gun hummed with increasing pitch.
"Wait." After a moment of consideration, the intruder pulled off his mask, revealing the pale face of a girl. Black hair tumbled out in a braid. "Would you shoot a young lady before your eyes?"
The expression on Aoshi's face did not change. In fact, there was no expression at all.
"I have shot dozens of women and children and watched them as their brains exploded," answered Aoshi collectively. "Another one will be no different."
"Then when will there be a difference?"
Aoshi's finger was about to squeeze the trigger. "There never will be."
"Aoshi-taichou!" Something beeped in Aoshi's ear.
Aoshi looked a trifle bit peeved in being interrupted. Still keeping the gun on the intruder's forehead, he mildly answered the communicator in his ear, "What is it, Hanya?"
"Do you remember the shipment of human slaves we have to cargo over Sotaheme a few hours from now?"
"Yes, what of it?"
"The shipment called for fifty slaves, and one of them just killed himself by messing with his restraining bolt and frying himself as a result. We'll have to stop by a planet and get one more."
There was a pause as Aoshi assessed the situation by looking at his prisoner from head to toe. Bounty hunter, from the way she was dressed. His eye roved to her belt of knives. A knife thrower. Very promising. He looked into her face and her green eyes. Human, no mistake. Strong and agile too, judging from the way she stanced herself. Not a bad package. He could get a good price for her.
"Hanya."
"Yes, captain?"
Aoshi's eyes never left the girl's as he said, "Guess what just walked in with two feet."
Aoshi Shinomori, homo homo sapiens, was a native of Nihon, Planet Terra, part of the Intersteller Confederacy. He was the executive head of Shinomori Energion Mining System, a network of mining plants spread all over Terra that excavated precious energions, energy crystals used as primary power sources of the planet. The system was a monopoly, and he was one of the richest men in the commercially-thriving Terra. He lived in his mansion in NeoTokyo as a distinguished figure of society, feared by all. He was a gentleman at the top of the upper classes.
But while he was not attending press conferences, business visits, or meetings with his advisers, he worked secretly as a ruthless smuggler, one of the most powerful of the Underground Trade League. Aboard his smuggling ships, he took charge of Eastasian goods and specialized in ammunition, slave labor, and illegal macrochips for starships.
Deals between smugglers were always done in clandestine. Legend of the Underground has it that anyone caught peeping or eavesdropping on him as a smuggler always ended with a laser bolt slicing cleanly through his head. Formers dealers who showed suspicious symptoms of leaking to the government of Executive Head Aoshi's other job never saw another day. Aoshi killed with precision and without hesitation, his face a mask and his trigger finger a sign of doom.
The bounty hunter was thrown into a dank cargo bay at the base of the ship, her weaponry and clothes confiscated and was given a brown, straw robe to wear.
She looked around and was faced with forty-nine more people, emaciated and staring at her gloomily. They were all dressed in the same brown, straw robes, the garb of the slaves. There was a musty smell of human sweat that pervaded the room. A small light flickered on the ceiling and somewhere in the corner of the room was a dripping sound.
"What are you going to do with me?" she boldly asked the incredibly tall and white-masked Hanya as he unlocked the cupboard tacked on one of the walls and began rummaging.
"You're to be sold as a slave in Sotaheme," he answered comfortably, turning around to face her, his voice muffled. In his hands was a small, cylindrical bolt and a bolt driver.
"And what are those?" she asked a little fearfully, pointing at them.
"Restraining bolt. We put them on you during the journey and take them off when you're sold. No refunds." Hanya flicked the bolt and sparks of blue light jumped out. "It's pretty self-explanatory, I think."
It was only then that the girl noticed that everyone in the room except her and Hanya had a small, gray bolt sticking out of their necks. The other slaves' eyes bore holes on her, as if they were pitying her.
She couldn't help but shudder. "And you're going to stick that into my neck?"
"Oh no, not me. The captain infuses the bolts personally into all of his slave cargo. Here he comes now."
Aoshi was walking down the stairs leading the slave cargo bay, his heavy boots making no sound on the metal floor. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his hands dripping with disinfectant. He took the tools from Hanya. The girl suddenly had an urge to vomit.
"Number TXR-28," he called to her.
"I have a name, you know," the girl said defiantly. "It's Misao Makimachi."
Aoshi ignored her as Hanya pushed her towards him and held her still. Misao wriggled vainly as Aoshi placed the bolt on her neck with cold fingers. She finally gave up and shut her eyes, waiting for the evil bolt to sear her skin.
It never came.
When she opened her eyes, Aoshi had returned the tools back at a surprised Hanya. The other slaves were buzzing and nudging each other, pointing at Misao.
"I don't think she'll cause us any trouble," said Aoshi coldly, rolling down his sleeves. Then to Hanya, he said, "Shoot her if she does. We can always pick up another slave."
"Yes, captain."
Aoshi hurried back to the cockpit deck, his boots loudly clanking on the floor. He sat on the pilot's seat and stared back at black space.
When he had bared the white neck with his fingers, the sight of it had stopped him from driving the bolt through. His hands couldn't move and he had been sweating badly. Again and again he had told himself that every slave always had to have a bolt inserted or else they could escape, but no, his fingers couldn't obey his brain. He stood there, uncertain of what to do, until he finally handed the bolt and the driver back to Hanya and made his escape.
He wiped his brow with his sleeve and emptied his cup of Terran tea. What had just happened to him there?
"This is TXR-27," said Aoshi, gesturing at the middle-aged man in front of Misao. "He used to work as a mechanic."
The fat Ceruloid stared at the man then said, "I'll take him for a hundred and forty credits."
"Sold," said Aoshi as the Ceruloid handed him the bills. He pushed TXR-27 towards Hanya to have his restraining bolt taken out. Misao saw a flash of blue light and heard a yelp of agony, then TXR-27 came back, sobbing, with a painful-looking, crimson mark on his neck. Hanya dropped the used bolt along with the other bolts into the container.
"And this," said Aoshi, grabbing Misao forward by the arm, "is TXR-28."
"Misao Makimachi!"
"Be quiet." Then to the Ceruloid, "She used to be a bounty hunter and -"
"Hey, what busines was it of you to know that I was a bounty hunter?"
Aoshi glared at her in irritation and continued "- and she has a good arm with knives that-"
"How the heck did you-"
"Shut up!" barked the otherwise ice-king Aoshi Shinomori. Hanya looked at his captain with curiosity. The Ceruloid looked amused.
"-that," continued Aoshi after composing himself, "can aid you in hunting ranock lizards. I hear they're in season by this time of the year."
The Ceruloid's green tongue ran over his chops. "I'll take her for one-forty."
"No."
The Ceruloid blinked its vacuously white eyes. "What?"
"She's worth more than that." Aoshi tightened his grip on Misao. She winced.
"What do you suggest then?" The Ceruloid shifted his position and his great bulk wobbled.
"Two hundred fifty credits."
The Ceruloid snorted derisively. "Come now, Shinomori, two-fifty for a skinny brat like her? I thought you were a better businessman than that. Take the one-forty."
"Two hundred fifty, and not a credit less."
Misao piped in, "Hey, don't I have a say on this?"
"No," the two men told her immediately.
Shinomori put on his best card. "And she has a big mouth that could keep your wife busy at all times."
Misao reddened into the shade of Terra's sun. "What the crud-!"
Aoshi clamped his hand on her mouth and continued smoothly, "You won't have to keep dealing with your wife when she's bored."
The Ceruloid looked defeated. Then he slapped the blue credits on Aoshi with his jelly-fat hand.
"I have never been so humiliated in my entire life!" shouted Misao as four servants of the Ceruloid struggled to drag her away. "I am worth so much more than two-fifty!" Then she aimed her voice at Aoshi, saying, "Aoshi Shinomori, this isn't the last you've seen of me! Bounty hunter's word!"
With deadly certainty, Aoshi replied, "The most you can do is try to survive." He stared at her for a moment. Then he turned his heels and walked away, not looking back.
NeoTokyo, Terra. Dusk had arrived. Terra's moon was slowly rising up on the gray sky. A year had passed since we last saw Aoshi Shinomori.
As Hanya made the last few inspections on their ship in the private docking bay, Aoshi made his way towards a great mansion of glass and steel that he called his home. It towered above any other residential structure in NeoTokyo and over-looked the busy metropolis. Behind it was his huge docking bay, a harbor for all the commercial and smuggling ships he owned. Holograms of vegetation were lighted around the place.
Aoshi keyed in his password on the comlock of the door. The green characters glowed then dimmed, beeping its response. The door slid open without a sound and a tinny, melodic voice of the housecom sang out from the comlock. "Good evening, Master Shinomori. Shall I ask Shikijou to send you a drink?"
"No."
"Very well, sir. You have a visitor today."
Aoshi walked in towards the glass table, pulling off his gloves and throwing them on it. "I wasn't expecting one today." His tone was noncommital.
"No, sir. She said she did not ask for an appointment."
"She?" He pulled out his blaster and placed it on the table along with his gloves.
"Yes, sir. She claims to be Misao Makimachi and is currently in the waiting room."
Aoshi's eyes widened. That name...
He grabbed a small de-atomizer from his pocket and ran across his ivory hallways and up to the room. The steel door swung open and he could see both Beshimi and Shikijou standing at two corners of the immaculately-clean room. But what drew his eyes was the one sitting on the sofa, a figure of a lady in blue, with knives on her waist and blaster on her holster. It was indeed Misao Makimachi, a slave no more and once again a bounty hunter, yet she was scarcely the girl he remembered.
She had grown. She was taller, and her face held the treasure of two, alluring, green eyes. He could see the beginnings of a voluptuousness that could only come from a woman. But what bothered Aoshi most was the fact that she was sitting in the middle of the room...
...alive.
chapter one, end