Author's Note: Please be aware that there is violence and blood in the beginning - if you are squeamish about this, please do not read. Oh and I think I'm going to gag by the complete sweetness that is the ending. I think I've lost my mind. Oh and remember this is a one shot.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Rurouni Kenshin, as they belong to their respective owners. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Yesterday's Memories

(One Shot)

Misao/Aoshi

There was a relentless about him, a cruelness about him that promised complete death. No half way of pity and sympathy, no forgiveness. His eyes were cold, blanked to the vision of life and to only see the fulfillment of death.

He moved lightly, smoothly and silently - speed was of the essence. He was a warrior, a man of honor and integrity and bound to his fate by the strings that tied it.

The leaves rustled gently with the wind, drifting, floating to the cold, mud driven ground. He had promised by his honor to his fallen comrades that he would pay them in full with the blood of the man that had been their downfall with the cursed Gattling-gun - a coward's way without integrity, without dignity and most importantly without honor.

It was easy, far too easy, to slip into this prison compound, the screams of the tortured echoing eerily against the cold cement walls. It soothed his soul, seeped into his blood and calmed the rage that burned it. He could smell the fear, the terror that lingered and the complete and utter hopelessness that danced in the air.

His silent and shadowed being walked past cells of skeleton figures whose sunken features had death written all over it. He could hear their silent pleas, the desperation and broken looks that reminded him so much of himself. A morbid thought he knew but the truth nevertheless, for he had been without honor, without integrity and without pride. He was here to assuage that, to do what he should have done in the beginning, to complete the circle that had been opened.

His feet knew the path as if he had guidance by the spirits that haunted his soul. He stopped at a cell, his eyes were burning, alight with a fire and determination and he knew his path now, the enlightenment had taken hold of him and had shown him his way.

This was what he must do, what he must accomplish to achieve the eternal peace that he knew awaited him.

This cell was different, it had light, moon light beaming down through the barred windows. A cool breeze taking the stench of rot and human waste, it was clean and tidy without the aura of death and pain. An illusion he knew, an illusion that he had encouraged and nourished, to give the man in the cell false hope, the belief that he would escape with the bribery of his wealth.

An illusion that would shatter, along with that man's hope and he would enjoy it, yes he would enjoy it.

He entered the cell like an oozing shadow, past the bars as if they were nothing and into the man's prison. Yes, today Takeda Kanryu would die and the circle would be completed.

The man is asleep, sleeping the sleep of a child without worries and the confidence of their safety.

He reached out swiftly and grabbed the man by the hair dragging him up out of his futon and onto the icy cement floor.

The man shrieked, squealing, his eyes wide with fear and terror. Pleas and words were given. He begged, cried, sobbing that he didn't want to die. That he was sorry, sorry for killing his men.

But he knew that such words were not enough to pay for the lives that were taken. The man's words were meaningless, they had little effect on him. He could see the man's desperation, his terror, the complete and utter realization that he was about to die and felt only obligation and duty.

He held Takeda's head by the hair in a steady hand, ignoring his futile struggle, his grappling hands seeking purchase, to stop the inevitable.

He raised his kodachi, its silver blade gleaming in the moonlight before it flickered and with a swiftness descended towards the pale white throat barred before his eyes. It sank easily into the flesh, past the jugular and through bone until it exited into a crescendo of blood. The deep red liquid slashed onto the cement floor into a river of blackness.

He straightened, Takeda's head held in his hand, his blanked and lifeless eyes staring at him in frozen horror, mouth wide opened in a soundless scream and with a calculation and deftness defaced him. A head without a face, a man without honor, a coward who deserved a death filled without honor and respect.

The smell of a cigarette reached him and he froze, the blood from the defaced head dripping to the ground and he turned slightly, waiting for the man behind him to make his move.

A soft chuckle bounced off the cold walls. "You've finally come to your senses Shinomori? And here I thought you were nothing but a cold icicle. You've fulfilled your obligation as you should have at the beginning but like a moron you decided to play hero. Let their spirits rest Shinomori."

Aoshi turned away and stared coldly at the headless body, "I know Saitoh,"

"Good, then you should get the hell out of my prison and don't come back. Your honor has been assuaged. Now get lost."

Aoshi turned and left the same way he came, the faceless head swaying slightly by the hair held in his hand leaving a trail of blood behind him. He came to a cliff overlooking the turbulent ocean as its waves crashed against the rocks below and almost casually threw the head over, watching as it tumbled against the rocks, the loud squish and smack of liquid and flesh against a hard surface before vanishing into the waves and disappearing forever.

He awoke. A dream of the past he thought.

There was no anger, no burning rage that used to pump in his blood. There was only calmness and peace and to his amusement a hand over his face which was probably what had woken him up.

He carefully reached out and held the feminine hand away from his face as he had the funny feeling that the fingers were just about to go up his nose. He turned slightly and watched as Misao slept. She had always been a careless sleeper. Her limps flown about everywhere as she hogged the blankets, it was always a fight to get his share but he didn't mind, he found it more amusing that he would spend more time with his wife fighting over his share of the blankets then he did sitting and meditating in the temple.

She grumbled and a snore left her lips as she turned abruptly almost hitting him in the eye. His reflexes kicked in and he dodged, eyeing her in amazement. It was amazing that he made it through the nights without getting killed.

She settled down and if it was possible fell into a deeper sleep. Misao had always been a heavy sleeper when she had deemed her surrounding safe and it was extremely difficult to wake her (not unless he threw icy cold water over her of course).

He leaned over her, watching her deep breathing and content expression. He touched her soft skin, so smooth and silky and pressed his lips to her cheeks. She smelt like her and like no other. He could wax poetry like a lovesick fool and say that she smelt of life, vivid and real but he could not describe it. It was real, this human scent of her, of her clean, clear cut smell, fresh and without the perfumed water that most women these days threw over themselves.

A strong and powerful emotion clenched his gut and his eyes lightened with tenderness as he ran his hand lightly over her chin down her neck and stopping at her pulse point. They had been married for six years and everyday he gave thanks to Misao for her cunning plan in tricking him into marrying her (not that he saw it that way at the time) that involved Misao stripping naked, Okina walking in on them and him sitting flummoxed, his eyes staring at her crotch whilst his meditation was shot to hell. (There was also dogs barking at him, Okina beating him over the head with a broom and Buddhist monks eyeing him with disapproval as they drove him out of the temple)

He nuzzled her, breathing in her scent deeply and ran his tongue over the vein that pulsed with her blood. He carefully settled on top of her and proceeded to wake her up. He personally knew how ticklish she was and lightly ran his fingers up her arm, over her ribcage and to that small very spot. She shot up shrieking and he drew back quickly before she head butted him. He sat up and tilted his head at her, quirking an eyebrow.

"I was sleeping!" she growled at him, her hair in a disarray and sticking up at various places. Her face was slightly puffy and she had a pillow imprint on her right cheek with drooling at the edge of her lips.

"You're drooling," he informed her.

A snarl escaped her lips and she attacked him, dragging him down until she was on top of him. "Take that back!" She demanded. "I was not drooling!"

He remained silent and looked pointedly at her chin.

She flushed and quickly wiped her mouth and pouted. "So I drool so what!"

He chuckled at her indignant expression and held her hips down until she could feel how she was affecting him. Her mouth dropped opened and then a smirk grew on her features.

She shifted slightly and he let out a sigh.

He immediately took her mouth for his own, slipping his tongue into her mouth and rolling her onto her back.

A loud child shriek slammed past the shoji doors causing them both to jerk away.

"Okasan! Onisan took my doll! Make him give it back!" The child screamed banging against the shoji screen as she immediately burst into great sobs.

They both grimaced, the mood ruined entirely and he groaned slumping over her.

Misao giggled before breaking away from him and getting dressed. "Don't worry Aoshi, there's always tonight!" she informed him cheerfully and winked before leaving their room.

He let out another groan and chuckled. Yes, he had found his peace and he had his honor but most of all… he had found her.

End