by glaube
Summary: 1930-ish, New York and Japan. Since it's AU I'm sort of ignoring the war...and the depression...T_T; ignore the historical facts and just read the fic I swear it'll make sense eventually. Anyway.. Makimachi Misao, successful American Reporter, gets dragged into the realm of Japanese crime. Shinomori Aoshi, a figure from her past, is at the heart of the battle to restore justice in Japan --will Misao find him? Or are they both in over their heads? (the title will make sense eventually. Promise.)
Chapter 1: When You Think About Me
And your eyes look so lonely
But it's only when you think about me
The dining hall was full of guests for some sort of party, noted Makimachi Misao as she stepped inside, dusting the travel-dust off of her khaki slacks. Okon would certainly be frustrated by the young woman's lack of feminine dress, but what could be expected? Misao was a successful reporter and had just gotten back from a big trip to the West. Arriving back in London was the end result of a long trip -- she didn't see the need in dressing up when travel was so uncomfortable to begin with anyway. She hoped to sneak out of the restaurant and up to her room in her grandfather's house, but Okon caught her first.
"Misao!" Cheered the woman sweetly, catching up to the travel-worn journalist. "You're a little underdressed for your Grandfather's party, aren't you? Better get upstairs and change! Okina will want to see you!"
Well; that was that. Misao refrained from rolling her eyes and headed out of the Aoiya, stepping out to her Grandfather's large mansion and quietly retreating to her room for a few moments of peace while she changed before one of the girls would come to get her.
At 25, Makimachi Misao had long surpassed her potential for beauty and developed into an outstandingly handsome young woman; despite the fact that she wore no makeup and wore her hair pulled back into the same braid she'd worn since a child. Still as spirited as ever, Misao had a quick intellect, sharpened by training in college, with fast instincts that made her a superb reporter. As such, it was easy for anyone to understand why successful Okina had installed her as a "right-hand woman" into almost all of his undertakings: first, the Aoiya, then his newspaper. Misao possessed a small, but lithe frame, and was often underestimated whenever she did go after leads. Most people learned quickly, however, that the little woman, as a descendant of the ancient Oniwabanshuu clan, was quick, lethal, and not to be messed with. She was, although she rarely tried to be, charming in a spirited, boyish sort of way, and many New Yorkers wondered why nobody had married the granddaughter of prominent Okina.
It wasn't because there weren't suitors. Anyone could tell you that Misao simply wasn't interested. And she hadn't been, since one Shinomori Aoshi left, right after she turned 20 and entered her second year of college.
A picture of him still sat on her dresser in her room, and Misao wondered if she was a fool for keeping it. Nobody'd heard from Shinomori Aoshi in five years -- like a true ninja, the man had simply disappeared. Thoughts of him tended to make her quiet, reserved; and she knew Okina would expect a cheerful, beaming, successful young lady, so she did her best to push Aoshi from her mind, changing out of her pants and into a long, floor-length blue dress. She let her hair out of it's braid, leaving it in the soft curls that were natural after its constraint in the tight line, falling in waves to slender hips, and then calmly headed back to the Aoiya. Okon and Omasu, she was sure, would do everything in their power to introduce her to all of society's gentlemen -- maybe she could stay mostly with Okina. He could be just as bad sometimes, but she knew he wouldn't bother her today.
Today. The five year anniversary of Aoshi's disappearance. Misao wondered if she'd made any progress since he'd left.
***
Across the globe, the subject of the young reporter's thoughts stood at the peak of a mountain, swiftly moving through the techniques of his Nitou-Ryu like the master he was. Aoshi Shinomori; Okashira.
At 27, Aoshi hadn't changed much in his five year absence, still the logical, calm man he had always been. Five years, and it seemed like eternity, in his life away from New York, living in a hidden temple deep in the mountains of Japan with the other members of the Oniwabanshuu.
Oh yes. The Ninja Clan still existed, despite Imperialist reforms, a powerful and silent group watching over Japan in secrecy, fighting for justice. Makimachi Misao's father had been the last Okashira, but at a young age both she and Aoshi had been sent to live with her grandfather, ex-Okashira Okina, to study and refine their skills.
Misao was an excellent fighter but it was Aoshi who held true talent, mastering the style at age fifteen. From that point on he worked closely with Misao to develop her skill with kunai; and it seemed that the young girl was the only one who could ever be close to the icy teen. Being two years older, Aoshi had graduated high school two years before Misao and entered college; followed by her two years later. Campus rumors suggested they were an icon, perhaps because pretty Misao was the only girl icy Aoshi ever talked too -- even if the conversation was rather one-sided. Aoshi, of course, always denied such gossip. Perhaps the only person who knew was Himura Kenshin, a close, and overly-perceptive friend two years older than Aoshi. Kenshin always urged Aoshi to follow his heart and ask Misao out, but Aoshi always refused for reasons he never did explain.
What Aoshi knew, and what Misao and Kenshin didn't, was that Misao's father was in Japan acting as Okashira, and that, should anything happen to him, Shinomori, as a kodachi prodigy, whould probably have to take over as leader of the Oniwabanshuu. Knowing that a return to Japan was eminent, Aoshi refused to act on his emotions.
Misao's father died right after the start of Aoshi's senior year of college. They told everyone he'd been hit in a car accident; thus leaving the coffin closed for viewing before creamation, but Aoshi knew better: the Okashira had been shot. Something bad was going down in Japan, and he and the rest of the Oniwabanshuu would have to stop it. So he did his best to shove his feelings away into a secluded corner of his heart, becoming an excellent leader who earned the trust and love of his men through good decisions and wise action.
Misao was safe in New York, he told himself. And it was best that she move on and never get involved with the Oniwabanshuu, anyway.
It was better this way.
He stopped his practice as his ki-sensing abilities alerted him to Hannya's approach, turning to the masked man.
"Yes, Hannya?"
"Okashira." Greeted Hannya, with a bow of respect. Aoshi had much respect for Hannya, his right-hand man, a calm, solemn, and highly skilled illusionist whose face was so burned that he chose to wear a mask to hide the scars. "Kanryuu's men are on the move."
"Have we figured out what in the world it is they're after, Hannya?" Aoshi asked quietly.
"No, sir. Unfortunately, we haven't."
Aoshi sighed, dismissing Hannya as he headed back to the temple to prepare for the evening's mission. It looked like it would be a long night.
Kanryuu, a dirty and twisted meglomaniac who wished to blend the lines between East and West so much that they simply ceased to exist; the man was wealthy and prominent but most likely into every sort of crime. He'd made his money in the opium trade between the US and Japan, that much was sure, with a secret formula that made the development much easier. Of course, nobody could pin the sly trickster of his crimes, and his wealth had allowed him to buy his way up into a prominent position in the Japanese government -- a diplomat to America. He was after something that would increase his power tenfold, of that, Aoshi was certain.
But what it was, only Kanryuu and his thugs knew for sure.
***
Misao sipped calmly at her lemonade, listening to Okina chat with several of his close friends and fending off more than a few of her suitors by ignoring their attempts for conversation as she pretended to be a lively participant in Okina's discussion of recent media trends.
"And this new diplomat, Kanryuu. We keep trying to pin something on him but the guy's squeaky clean. They say he has ties to Opium, the arms trade, and the syndicate, but nobody can pin anything on him, and get this -- the Mayor likes the guy."
"Do you think he's using his money to buy his way in?" Misao asked.
"I've considered it, my lovely Misao, but I've known the Mayor for a long time. Besides, Saitou would be all over any corruption in the system if he could find it."
"Oh yes. Saitou." Muttered Misao, with an expression of distaste. She hated the police chief with a passion, ever since he'd given her the nickname 'weasel girl.'
"What were you saying, Weasel?" Sneered that irritatingly calm voice behind her and Misao twitched.
"Saitou. How nice of you to join us!" Misao said simply, with a cheerfulness she didn't feel. Years ago, she would have jumped all over him, yelled in his face, threatened to beat him up, despite the fact that 'The Wolf' was clearly a better swordsman. Today, however, she just wasn't in the mood. Saitou raised an eyebrow and helped himself to a seat with a smirk, elbowing aside one of Misao's lesser suitors. "Try not to crash the party," she added with a grin, "although I know it'll be hard on your anti-social nature."
"I'd like to talk to Okina in private, Weasel." Saitou said calmly. "I have no intention of staying at this dumb social gathering."
Misao wanted to strangle him, but Okina merely looked amused. "Surely, Saitou-san, you haven't fallen as far as to be checking the newspaper for leads. Usually we have to get them from you!" Teased the older man.
"I am here for the paper." Saitou admitted. "Among other things."
"Then you'll have to talk to both of us." Misao said simply, much to Saitou's irritation. "I'm Okina's lead journalist now that he doesn't travel. If you want anything done at all, I'll be the one who has to do it."
"Sorry, Weasel, but this is over your head." Saitou sneered, blinking when he found five Kunai embedded into the wall in a perfect circle around his head.
"Suggest that it's over my head again," murmured Misao calmly, like nothing had happened, "and you will lose yours."
"You missed." Saitou said simply, to which Misao returned a sweet smile, winking at the Wolf.
"Did I?"
"I didn't know you could fit daggers into that dress, Weasel." Replied Saitou finally.
"Well, then. If you two are done, let's go to my office." Okina said, breaking the silence as the young girl glared daggers at the stoic police-officer. If he didn't break them up, Misao would surely cause a scene. She retrieved her kunai and followed the two of them to Okina's office.
***
"I know, as a media expert, Okina, that you're familiar with Kanryuu as a new player on the New York Scene. And surely you're aware of the rumors." Explained Saitou, addressing Okina.
"Yeah, yeah. The guy's a drug lord and an arms dealer. What else is new?" Asked Misao, then suddenly she blinked and shot a big grin at the police officer. "Aww, what's the matter? Big tough police officer can't pin Kanryuu with his crimes? Poor baby."
"Kanryuu complained to the mayor that having our police investigate him was an inconvienence and poor hosting on the part of New York City. We're not allowed to shadow him anymore." Saitou replied, shooting Misao an icy glare as he lit up a cigarette. "The mayor is concerned that if Kanryuu is upset, he'll use his popularity against him in the next election. So our investigation has been closed."
"And you need a private party to investigate." Interrupted Okina. "Look, Saitou, I'd do it, but I'm not a young man anymore. I can't just go to Japan to hunt this guy down."
A thoughtful silence settled on the room.
"I'll do it." Misao said quietly.
"What?" Okina asked, sitting up in alarm. "No, Misao. You just got back from your trip."
"Look. Nobody else you have is good enough, fast enough, or trained enough if this guy is as dangerous as you say. If Ao--....the bottom line is, you don't have anyone else who can handle it. And neither does he." Misao said quickly, regretting even mentioning Aoshi's name. Saitou stared at her for a moment before acknowledging her offer with a sneer.
"Fine, Weasel. But if you get yourself killed it's not my problem."
"Get out of here, Saitou, before I make good on my threat."
Lyrics featured in this chapter are "Think About Me" by the Goo Goo Dolls. Yeaah...*shrug* -glaube