Author's Note: Erm, in chapter one I meant to say Aoshi was like shura, not Shuura. He's not a pirate! Arg!

:shakes head and makes 100 ughs:

I can feel the imminent stress a coming. This might end up being a long-term summer project...I think I may have to rethink quitting smoking on this.

Hmmm..

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Chapter 2: Fate

it's my destiny to run deep through
the frozen conifers,
vainly pulling my wish close to my heart,
to the eddy of the flaming storm

Dusk was settling in. The sky burned orange and red as the crickets began their song and the busy murmur of the streets became more of a faded hush. It was drafty, cool outside. The scent of oolong tea filled the room as the steam billowed around the kneeling form of Kashiwazaki Nenji, commonly known as Okina.

Aoshi sat two feet across from him, his clothed knees resting against the hard wooden floor as he stared into the pale green glazed cup, the amber liquid dimly reflecting his blank expression.

Okina, a man normally always with a grin of sorts, now had an almost grim expression on his deeply lined features.

"Aoshi...what are your intentions with my little Misao?" he asked finally, his voice calm.

Aoshi looked up, and took a sip of his tea and then set his cup down.

"I intend to fulfil the stipulations of the contract I made with the previous Okashira, the very same one you bore witness to."

Okina sighed.

So long ago, in the days when Misao was more his friend's grand-daughter. Before he had adopted her.

He had too cared for her best interest, and had agreed with Makimachi that Aoshi was the perfect choice for Misao's future husband. He was an intelligent boy, brave and honorable, and always kept an eye on the little girl.

But time, like a flood, had its way of eradicating even the strongest of things. Time had gone by, changed Aoshi. He was now more stranger than the boy Okina had watched grow into a man.

And his plans for Misao were unknown. It unsettled and upset Okina to even have suspicions of Aoshi, having once thought the boy like a child of his own. He knew, about the Kanryuu incident, the mysterious deaths in the mountains, the Battousai...

Could he really trust the man before him with his precious Misao?

"Aoshi, I must express my concern. I know you've been through a great ordeal, and you are no longer the same man I once knew. I know there is nothing I can do to stop you from claiming Misao as your wife. I can only hope you honor her and respect her."

"She will be taken care of." Aoshi murmured.

Okina took up his cup, drank.

"Her becoming Okashira...she truly had the best intentions, Aoshi. Do not be angry at her or seek to punish her in some way for her actions. Sometimes her heart is so big, she does not see everything in magnitude."

Aoshi made no reply, stood up and bowed his head slightly as he left Okina's quarters and made his way to his room to collect a sleeping yukata and made his way downstairs and outside, walking to the bath house.

The sky grew dark, navy colored velvet dusted with diamond-like stars. Crickets still sang, and the air was still cool. Aoshi re-emerged from the bathhouse, beige yukata slightly agape to reveal his scarred chest. Everyone appeared to be in their sleeping quarters.

He walked slowly, the wooden porch dimly lit with the blue paper lanterns Okina had always loved hanging up everywhere. He was passing the small garden in the back when he saw her, standing there barefoot on the lawn. She wore a pale yellow yukata and she was looking up at the sky, the wind gently causing her braid to shift.

She didn't sense him, or if she did she made no move to face him.

He couldn't explain the invisible tug he felt, but his feet began taking their own path towards her quiet form. The sakura tree she stood next to looked almost black in the night. She was like a pale beacon of light in the darkness.

He was close now, a foot away, and still voiced nothing.

"I think there is more than some old promise driving you where I am concerned. I can't help but feel you have one if not several ulterior motives. Tell me Aoshi-sama, what will marrying me truly gain you?"

The surprising tone of her voice, soft and mature. Womanly. He couldn't deny the shivers it sent down his spine. Her words were clear, the depth in them beyond the realm of words a child would speak.

She really was an adult now, wasn't she?

Yes. She was. No child would make him feel this. Violent. Crazed. Frustrated. He knew it the moment he set eyes on her again after all the years past, he was reacted to her as a man would a woman.

It starlted him, a man so used to keeping calm. It unnerved him. He did not want Misao to become a continuing weakness gnawing at him. That was why...

"I gain you, Misao. I gain back my title."

"I see, I am a pawn then."

"Perhaps, but you placed yourself there by your own actions."

She turned then, her eyes ablaze as they looked up at him.

"I did what was best for this clan! Where were you? Whoring the name of Oniwabanshuu to the highest buyer!"

She regretted the words the moment they flew out of her mouth, the darkening of his expression as he moved closer and pinned her back to the tree.

"You know nothing of what you speak. You stealing my title was akin to a child playing dress up. Never make a remark like that again."

His voice was low and taut, and for the first time since his return she actually feared him. Was this the face those he had slain saw before death gripped them at the ends of his kodachi?

This beautiful dark face.

Her breath came out shaky, and she attempted to push him away.

"I apologize, Aoshi-sama, I shall retire."

She bowed and was going to leave. He did not let her.

"You cannot fight destiny, Misao. You were always meant to marry me. There is nothing you can do to escape your fate."

He saw her shoulders tense, then droop.

"Indeed, I am a woman in a man's world, no matter how much power I like to think I wield, but know this Aoshi-sama: I will never be a passive, docile wife. You will know my disdain, I will not comply will all your wishes, I will not be silenced."

Aoshi closed his eyes, an almost mocking smirk gracing his lips, making Misao wonder what a true smile would look like on his face.

"You never were silent to begin with. The way you describe marriage to you sounds...interesting."

Her eyes widened, and then she turned around and made her way back inside. He had startled her, good.

Let her know she was not escaping marriage to him.

He had thought in a lingering manner about that old promise on his way back to Kyoto, but it wasn't until he saw her...wasn't until he heard about her actions...

They had triggered a particularly dark combination of frustration and anger. Feelings that made the idea more and more desirable.

The biggest factor in his decision had nothing to do with honor or duty, it was that he did not trust the slip of a girl to run the Oniwabanshuu. She could not understand the severity of the position, she had not the proper training...she had not the cold-blooded ruthlessness some situations required...

Soon, he decided, they would marry as soon as possible. No sense in putting it off, for it just gave Misao more time to stew over it and try to think of irrational ways to elude it.

He would arrange for a priest, inform Okina and the others, notify Misao.

A week. Yes, that would be perfect. In a week Misao would be his wife, he would be Okashira again, he would keep his eye on her and keep her away from Okashira business. He knew she would not like it, probably try to fight it.

Too bad she couldn't stop it. He almost felt sorry, but was there any guilt in her heart when she decided to steal his title?

It was karma really. She grew up learning to be a bride, wether she knew it was more than a game or not. He was bound by clan honor, and no matter how much of his honor he tore away and burnt over revenge...he would not defy the wishes of the Makimachi, his mentor, his guardian, the first parental figure he knew.

And the sooner he married her, the sooner he could take stock of what she had done with the Oniwabanshuu and sort it all out, restore order, and slowly extract her from anything that would pose a danger to both her and the clan.

Sliding his shoji open and shut, he moved to sit at his desk and took out his writing utensils and began penning a short, precise note to the man once known at Hitokiri Battousai. He had heard an off-handed comment once from the Battousai's friend Sagara Sanosuke that a "weasel girl" supposedly affiliated with the Oniwabanshuu had once visited Tokyo and made friends with one Kamiya Kaoru- Himura Battousai's female acquaintance. It was rather simple logic to deduce the former gangster was referring to Misao.

It was odd how in a round about way they were all connected. He figured the company of the Kamiya woman would in a way ease Misao's discomfort and lesson some tension. Though Aoshi politely made a subtle point that the Takani woman need not make the journey.

The memories were still too raw, and the woman who really was innocent was unfortunately a stabbing reminder of the worst period of his life. In honesty his life would be better if he never gazed upon Takani Megumi again.

The candlelight burned in his silent room as finally twenty minutes later he set his brush down and let the letter dry, blowing out the candle. He moved to lay down on his futon, but he knew he would not sleep so easily. Sleep never came easily, if it came at all. Every time he closed his eyes...gun smoke...blood...screams...

Always there, always haunting him, never letting him have a moment's peace. He slept for at most four hours if he was lucky. The pale moonlight filtering into his room and he sighed, wondering when there would be a day when he wasn't so haunted.

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Sharp amber eyes scanned over the sheet of paper before him and a thin, silver stream of smoke rose towards the ceiling of the dark office. White gloved hands undid one button of the navy uniform the tall seated figure wore and a bemused smirk slowly made its way to the man's face.

"So the former Okashira returns. Interesting." his deep voice murmured in amusement.

The door slid open letting in pale light as a tall woman with long brown hair entered the room, a black yukata adoring her lithe figure.

"Hajime, what news have you that makes you smirk so?"

Saitoh Hajime looked up at his wife, taking a drag of his cigarette.

"Just an interesting former demon has returned, meaning I have something to do."

Tokio smirked, walking to his side and resting her hands on his shoulders.

"And I suppose your dear wife is boring you in all your free time?"

Saitoh sighed, and put a hand on hers.

"You are far from boring, pet. However, a wolf such as myself does get restless."

Tokio clucked her tongue, her hands flying to the air.

"Once a wolf, always a wolf. And to think I once thought your tenacity charming. Why is it I agreed to marry you again, dear?"

Saitoh looked up, setting the report down.

"Because you very much enjoy me fucking you, dear."

Tokio rolled her eyes, well used to her husband's blunt statements. At least he was honest and treated her as something more than a servant. For all his skills, for all his deadliness, he really was helpless when it came to her.

"Tokio, what are you smiling at?"

Shaking out of her thoughts she made a sweeping motion with her hands.

"Oh nothing. I'll leave you be and retire for the evening. Don't be too long, dear. I may need a reminder as to why I stay with you."

"I won't be long." he replied.

He watched her leave and smirked once more. He knew she thought she had his wrapped around her finger...and he let her think that. Because as much as he loved her, at the end of the day...it was he who pulled the strings.

A Mibu wolf was never a leashed dog, and Saitoh merely pretended to be leashed.

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