For three weeks there is no sign of Misao. Aoshi crumples the latest scroll in his fist, turning a sharp glare on Okina.
"No sign, or are our own agents unwilling to reveal her?" Aoshi's voice is cool, simmering anger just under the surface.
"Misao has gone to great lengths to protect the city and I would not be surprised if the city embraces her… even against the wishes of the Okashira." Okina's face stills into a neutral mask, a hint of amusement just around the eyes.
"It goes beyond that. Misao has made her own networks enmeshing our agents with the new government and police." Aoshi states flatly.
"How unfortunate that the oniwabanshu won't fade quite as quickly as you hoped." Okina replies dryly.
…
Outside the city, Misao slowly approaches an isolated cottage, smoke rising softly from the kiln in the back. She moves silently to approach the large man, hunched over a collection of unfired bowels.
"So what kind of trouble has my idiot apprentice gotten into this time?" Hiko turns toward her, rubbing clay from his hands on an frayed piece of cloth.
"Uh… none that I know of." Misao's throat feels tight, all the things she thought she would say, rehearsed in her mind, fly from her.
"Ah." Hiko stands, walking past her an into the small cottage.
Approaching the door, Misao watches him pull out a jug of sake and and cup. He pours a cup, sitting slowly at the rough hewn table. She scans him top to toe, looking to find herself in those features. Surely it isn't possible, even seated he is so very large.
"So it's true. You're Mishi's child then." Hiko drains his cup, pouring another. A bead of sake hovers and tips over the edge of the jug, running down the side and soaking into the wood of the table.
"Am I yours?" Misao asks softly.
Hiko's lips crack into a half smile."Likely."
He drains his cup, pouring another. Misao feels the tears burning in the back of her eyes.
"You knew?" She swallows hard, biting her cheek to hold back the tears.
"A child, yes. You, I suspected, when we first met in Kyoto." He sips from his cup.
"You didn't say anything." Misao accuses. She feels her muscles tense and tremble.
"You had your family there. I would not interfere."
"But…why? When my mother died… you never came."Misao sits heavily at the table, the warm, stifling air covering her neck. She lowers her head, unable to look at Hiko.
"They would not have given you to me Misao. You, and your mother, would only come at a price."
"And we weren't worth anything to you." Rage surges through her. Her hand shoots to the kunai at her sleeve, but a large hand clamps her wrist to the table before she can release it. Large hands lift her from her chair, pinning her wrists in the air. She kicks out, but his arm is already there. Hiko's face flushes; his teeth grit together.
"You would have me kill my own son to have you?" He drops Misao back into her chair. He scans her pale face, her eyes so large, so like her mother's. The same.
"Mishi came to me pretending to need protection from the violence in the city. I'll be damned, I was so lonely that I let her, loved her even. When she was with child it became clear what the price of her love would be." Hiko pours another cup of sake. Liquid sloshes over the sides of the cup.
"Kill the Battousai or never see her or my child again." The table creaks under the strength of his grip. Misao's breath leaves leaves her in a soft wheeze.
"It was an impossible choice and I'll be damned, I considered it." Hiko's shoulders sag, and suddenly he seems somehow smaller than before. He pours another cup of sake. "So, whatever they sent you here to ask me to do, I refuse." Spilled sake soaks into the table, turning splashes of the wood dark.
"They don't know that I'm here." Misao whispers.
"Then what do you want?"
"I… I'm not sure." Misao stutters. Hiko's eyes narrow. "For now, I would like to stay here a while."
Hiko freezes. The exact words she used, a chill snakes up his spine. He turns to the door of the cottage. "Fine. I'll be damned." He says over his shoulder as storms out the door.
…