Chapter 2: Decorum

AN: Sorry for the delay... disclaimers are the usual and nothing has changed; this is not mine.

Misao knew she was dreaming again. She recognized the recurring images and feelings she was experiencing as permission to relax and enjoy the dream as it unraveled. This was the third—or perhaps even fourth—time she had dreamt this scenario. Like before, she was kneeling by the porch, leaning down to pour some tea for her companion when the complicated knot that held her updo together fell out, unraveling her hair so that it spilled over her shoulders. She held her breath, awaiting her companion's answer, because it was what he said that would trigger the rest of the dream.

"Misao, when did your hair grow so long?"

Just like the other times, the incredulity of the male voice, familiar yet hoarse, cut through her in dull surprise, and she looked down disbelievingly at herself. Hair that should just now be growing past her shoulder blades streamed over her arms, into the tea set, over the delicate rice cakes, and onto the floor. It poured over the porch and onto the steps; it seemed like it would never stop growing. She stared at the hair growing lush and thick with a sense of trickling anticipation. Then, she looked at her companion, her mouth open in question and—

She suddenly woke up. This had happened the last few times as well. She never knew what would cause the interruption—if it was some disturbance in the world outside her dream, or if there were something in her that would knowingly keep her from uncovering the identity of her companion. At first, she would assume that it was Aoshi-sama, and while the low timbre of his voice would match that of the unidentified man, the hoarse quality certainly didn't. Aoshi-sama sounded cold, reserved, and sometimes even harsh, but never hoarse. She had yet to see him lose control enough to not rein in the even tone of his voice. In fact, she was beginning to think that her companion in the dream was…

A sharp rap drummed once, twice against her bedroom door. Then, silence. Misao blinked blurrily, and then called out in a gravelly voice, "Yes, Jiya? Is that you?"

A few seconds passed, long enough where Misao contemplated getting up and answering the door herself when she heard Aoshi's voice: "Misao, it is a bit early still, but I wish to see you before the morning shift begins."

Bemused, Misao responded quietly, sleep still lingering in her voice, "That would be fine, Aoshi-sama."

Misao rustled out of her covers and got up to begin her morning ablutions when she realized that she didn't hear Aoshi-sama's steps move away from her door. She hesitated, and then called out, "Aoshi-sama?"

The sound of wood creaking, then a voice even quieter, lower than hers, "Do not worry about bringing me tea. This should not take too long."

Misao licked her lips, and then nodded. "Alright," she said, her voice quavering a bit, "I'll be down shortly."

This time, the sound of his silent steps retreating met her ears, but Misao went through the motions of dressing and fixing her hair absentmindedly. Still in the hazy state between dreaming and reality, she mulled over a few nagging questions. What did Aoshi-sama wish to speak to her about? How long had he been standing there? Had she said anything aloud in her sleep?

Most importantly, in these wan early morning hours, she realized that the voice she had heard in her dreams was not his. If her companion in the dream was not Aoshi-sama, then who was it?

It was with these puzzling thoughts that she entered Aoshi's study. Realizing that he wasn't there at the moment, Misao shrugged and sat down in the seat before the desk. The lamp was burning strongly and the ink on his opened journal was still wet, so he must have stepped away for a moment. Using this moment of solitude, Misao took in the familiar view of the Okashira's office with a rueful sense of irony. She too had once called this office hers. Almost out of habit, Misao then reached out for the tea set and noticed as poured tea for two that the tea appeared to be the right temperature and color. It must have been steeping for a while. She would be sure to thank Okon or Omasu for the thankless task of bringing tea up so early in the morning. She felt the air behind her stir and stood automatically out of respect. Despite the fact that she had carelessly entered the office and poured the tea first in his absence, deference to the Okashira was as much a part of her as was her oftentimes-contrary behavior. Aoshi made no comment about the discrepancy of her acts; he had grown accustomed to them by now. Sitting down behind his desk, Misao mimicked his movements and also reclaimed her seat. As she passed the tea to him, Aoshi spoke, "I met with your friends Inoue Haruto and Chieko."

Misao nodded, her two hands cupping the tea mug as she blew over the hot beverage. Aoshi leveled his eyes at her, and she resisted the urge to squirm again. "It came to my attention that I have not inquired how long you have been taking lessons with them."
Misao resisted the desire to huff aloud. This again! Instead of throwing her hands up in protest, she put down the cup carefully and clenched them in her lap. "Is this a matter of concern?"

Aoshi continued to peer down at her, his hair brushing over his eyes and his mouth firm and inscrutable, "I met both of them yesterday; they expressed their regret that you were unable to join them."

Misao remained stubbornly quiet. If there were a point to this discussion, Aoshi-sama sure as hell would have to raise the issue himself.

A minute or two stretched between them sipping tea quietly together before Aoshi put his cup down. "Their family owns a clean business, appear to do fruitful and honest trade, and their two children appear to be fully formed adults." A few more moments passed before Aoshi spoke again, "Inoue Chieko had all the manners and appearances of a very fine lady. You will do well by her."

Misao pretended to fiddle with the end of her haphazard braid, resisting the urge to look up at her okashira. There was something in Aoshi-sama's voice when he had mentioned Chieko-san, some sort of inflection in the voice that evoked more than just the usual enunciation of daily matters and issues. Surprisingly, she felt unwilling to rise to the bait; however unintentional Aoshi-sama may have meant those words. There was nothing to gain at the possibility of intrigue. More than anything, she wanted to know why Haruto-san failed to pass with the same recommendation his younger sister had received. When she voiced this discrepancy, noting that all of this would not be possible should she have failed to meet him first, she looked up to see that Aoshi had already moved his focus to the journals before him, a signal that the meeting was drawing to a close.

"Inoue Chieko is your etiquette tutor, is she not? I do not see how Inoue Haruto would require my recommendation to be your companion in your comings and goings."

Misao felt no thrill at these admissions. In fact, she had felt disappointed with herself. Feeling defensive at the recent onslaught of Aoshi-sama's questions, she had resorted to an old tactic of challenging Aoshi's judgment with the hopes that he would reveal his hand. It made her feel juvenile, needy, and petty. She lowered her eyes and then waited to be dismissed. She could feel Aoshi's eyes settling on her face again, but instead of meeting them, she gathered the tea things on the tray. When he spoke his dismissal, Misao gave a curt bow and then left the room silently. Putting the tray aside in the kitchen, only to hear grumblings from Okon about dishwork first thing in the morning, Misao felt conflicting emotions bubble up in her throat to the point where she had to leave. She threw herself upstairs, her hair tossing wildly before she threw herself down in front of the mirror and tore the clasp off her low ponytail. She never wore her braid anymore. Omasu and Okon had insisted that she adopt a more refined presence to serve at the restaurant, and so along with the kimono and the etiquette lessons, Misao had begun to gather her hair into a simple yet elegant bun. She breathed through her nose to calm herself. She wanted nothing to do with Aoshi-sama for the rest of the day.

As the sun crept in the sky towards the midway point, a carrier bird landed by the office window. Aoshi retrieved the letter, and then mulled over the numbers in his most recent report. Things were progressing much faster than he had anticipated when he started planning last year. Should his investments go according to plan, he could count on having a definite answer for Okina in the coming spring. Recalling his tense and unsuccessful attempt to have Misao open up to him, he hated to consider taking such a long trek, especially as the weather grew colder. There was no arguing with it; however, since he needed to get the most of the development work done before winter. Still, he would talk to Misao today before leaving and wish her farewell. There was something in her demeanor that appeared to escape him. In light of her recent character change, he had begun to question her motives. She was gradually distancing herself, not only from him but from all the others as well. While none but Okina found this out of the norm, Aoshi found it troubling that Misao seemed to have deflated a bit. He could see that she still gave her work at the Aoiya her all, but her heart wasn't in it. She had also given up training altogether, another startling development in Aoshi's books. He hoped that new company and the opportunity to bond with another woman would kindle some of the familiar light in Misao's eyes.

The bustle in the Aoiya for lunch started several hours in advance, and since they were short-staffed, Misao found herself in the back of the kitchen chopping onions with the rest of the crew. She sniffed quietly, willing herself to keep the tears at bay. Damn these onions! She had never reacted so forcibly to them before. Wiping her eyes with her apron skirt, she looked up and started. Aoshi was looking down at her, his brow furrowed only slightly to reveal his consternation. Misao put the knife down and wiped her hands on her apron skirt. "Is there anything you need, Aoshi-sama?"

He looked at her face attentively, enough to make Misao embarrassed. "Mou," she growled, stomping her feet, "I know I'm tearing up and my nose is red, but I assure you I am not crying out of sentiment!"

The look in Aoshi's eyes alleviated, his eyes lighter, greyer as he nodded, "Misao, I will be away for a few days—five, maybe even a week. Tell Okina of my departure."

Misao nodded, her eyes deliberately focused on a spot past his shoulder. She did not want to engage in more dialogue with him, lest he drive her mad! Apparently, he was having none of that. Aoshi shifted forward a bit, forcing her to meet his eyes, "Misao, there was no ill intent in the questions I asked you earlier."

Misao looked at her feet next. Aoshi took up so much of her range of sight, he left her little recourse. "I know," she whispered, "I'm sorry I lost my temper at you—it was not very respectful."

A huff of air fanned across her cheeks. Her head shot up, eyes wide. Was he—?

"Misao," Aoshi said without betraying any sign of humor, "I never doubt that you respect me."

She was still squinting up at him with blurry eyes—just now, did he really…

"Goodbye, Misao," he intoned simply. Shouldering his briefcase before turning towards the back entrance, he turned his head slightly to add, "Enjoy your lessons."

Misao barely caught the tail end of his words. She was busily attempting to glean whether Aoshi-sama had given in to a moment of… good humor. If so, she was convinced that the world conspired against her. If she was the butt of Aoshi's jokes on top of everyone else's, she could consider herself hopeless.

The days passed by in a blur. Between the shifts at the Aoiya, and the etiquette lessons she passed in gaiety with Chieko and Haruto things were so busy that Aoshi's absence had slipped Misao's mind quite easily. At the moment, her bright eyes were alight with excitement—she was about to perform her very first British tea ceremony.

"Now, Misao—no, just one hand!" Chieko chided gently, as she guided Misao through the process. Haruto sprawled over the ottomon, laughed as he waved his cigar, "Chieko, you may as well throw in the towel. That one's a lost cause."

A scone flew over and narrowly missed his head. Looking up in mock indignation, Haruto was greeted with an arch and mischievous Misao who stuck her tongue out at him and retorted, "I'd like to see you try and successfully pull this off on your first attempt—in a corset, heels, and hairpins digging into your skull."

Haruto chewed on his cigar, completing the image of debonair rakishness, impeccable in his woolen suit and top hat, "As they say, beauty is pain, and to see you in pain is beautiful."

Chieko's hands paused, and Misao blushed deeply. This was not the first of such moments; Haruto sometimes would say such things. She didn't know what he meant exactly, but it would make the air stop, and Chieko would always react with such stiffness…

Misao coughed lightly, and then grabbed the teapot out of Chieko's hands, "Now, let me…"

As she poured the tea, Misao opted to focus at the task at hand, her head bent and her cheeks still flushed. Meanwhile, the siblings exchanged a meaningful glance, one look coy, and the other carrying a warning.

Aoshi had been away from home for five days. They seemed to grow longer the more he stayed away, but at last, he was on the road home. He had overseen the development of the project he had invested in for the past year, and had added a couple more structural changes that he was satisfied with. As the acting okashira, he found a part of the challenge was to find supplementary yet utterly necessary businesses that would provide a front for the Oniwabanshuu. He was by no means an idealist—the age of the ninja was coming to a close. He knew; however, from conversations with well-traveled partners from all over the globe—Macau, Britain, Spain—that information grew to mean more and that the surveillance network was experiencing a higher volume of requests the more the world seemed to connect. The need for discrete interlopers and sophisticated spies would never go out of business completely, but Aoshi knew that an ancillary enterprise would also provide a credible cover and a shroud of legitimacy to all of the organization's endeavors. As such, this new project would require that he spend more and more time away from Kyoto, which was a prospect that gave him little pleasure. Regardless of his demeanor, Aoshi had always considered Kyoto home. The others knew him so well by now that they knew too that his loyalty was fixed with them, and any project that would take him away for significant lengths of time would entail a very calculated risk. The only request he had made of Okina once he had consulted the older man and received his approval was to keep Misao in the dark, at least for the moment. He still wasn't certain if this was the best course of action; after five days, she was bound to be full of questions. He did consider; however, that it was the best course of action, because he found lately that he was unable to read her as easily as he had before. Before, her affections lay decidedly with him. Now, that joy that would light up her eyes was gone. Instead, he found that while her mannerisms and demeanor towards him remained the same, that she was alternately testy and hesitant around him. From past experience, he had decided to ride out this stage in Misao's life, certain that she would more or less transition out of whatever it was that was bothering her. The one thing that gave him encouragement was her sudden interest in etiquette: that she was self-aware enough to consider how she presented herself to the world signaled a depth of maturity that she had until this point forgone with glib ease. From what he had gleaned from the Inoue family, Misao had found a safe space to experiment with the new protocol, but in the midst of friends so that such a transition would allow her to assimilate these new skills with the most natural of manners possible.

Chieko secretly found Misao's manners horrible; that girl had her work cut out for her. She knew that the younger woman was Haruto's pet of the moment, but found surprising pleasure in hearing that she came from a good family. While an orphan, everyone in Kyoto had known the Makimachi family; they were practically petty lords, although always shrouded in mystery and the slightest hint of danger. Their father used to speak of the Makimachi patriarch, who was wont to patron the shop from time to time for fine ink, with the highest degree of respect. When Haruto mentioned casually that he had run into the only child of the late Makimachi Isao, their father was quick to encourage that they both be proactive in soliciting her company. Haruto, in his roundabout way, managed to attract the young lady's attention soon enough, and then introductions were in order. That the best guise he could find would be that she would offer etiquette lessons was solid enough; she had been known in Edo for her pretty manners, before the last promise had fallen through…

As for their first meeting, Chieko had found her serviceable, but nothing about stood out immensely: she was pretty enough, in that fresh, uncalculating way. She knew not of the advantages of makeup, or decoration. Her hair was simply adorned, and she opted for a plain yukata, albeit in the best of navy silk. She wore it as if she knew not of its quality, her actions uninhibited and her face easy to read. In fact, Chieko was certain that she would bore of this young, inexperienced chit soon enough, but Haruto remained pleasant in his demeanor, obliging, even. She had been ready to throw the towel and leave him to fend for himself when a tall, dark man had come a few days ago to deliver her apologies in her stead. Now there was a handsome, complex man. After introducing himself to the two siblings, Chieko had put one and one together, realizing that this was indeed the Aoshi-sama that Misao had constantly referred to. She and her brother were convinced that the Aoshi-sama she had mentioned was an old man, but this one… this one appeared to be sculpted out of pure rock. After he had introduced himself, Shinomori-san had looked at each of them contemplatively, and Chieko felt a brief frisson take over when those grey eyes landed on her. Behind those two lay a story, indeed. A story she was certain to get around. She gathered her fans, closing them with a decisive snap. Today, she had promised to show Misao different examples of Western dance. Ironically, Japanese fans were de rigeur in the West right now, so for her to demonstrate a Spanish dance with Japanese fans did not put her much outside of genteel fashion… Biting her lips wistfully, Chieko allowed herself a rare moment of longing for times past—the glittering, uproarious past. Shaking her head of such fanciful thoughts, she gathered her fine things and left for the courtyard, where she was certain to see her brother flirt shamelessly with the young Misao-chan.

Misao found it hard to believe what she saw, just as hard as she found it to ignore Haruto's touch. The dance Chieko-san had obligingly started was, in a word—novel, if not a bit provocative. The tight, form-fitting black lace dress, with its outrageous stiff skirt, dipped and curved suggestively, with the two fans in the elder Inoue's hands looking distinctly out of place in her hands as she danced sinuously to the music. The Inoue household was relatively progressive in that they were of a few to own a gramophone, the new Western invention that had taken Japan by storm. As dramatic, stormy music warbled out of the contraption, Chieko-san danced and danced. The longer she danced, the closer Haruto seemed to be until she found that he had taken hold of her arm and was gently stroking the inside of her wrist. Misao felt something close to agony—when would this wretched performance end? Haruto, mistaking her fretful behavior for a fit of nerves, smiled at her in a manner that would normally make her grin right back at him, but at this moment, Misao was certain that this was not the proper reaction that he would be anticipating. In fact, Misao wasn't certain at all where things were going with Haruto, and felt the vague stirrings of suspicion surrounding her circumstances, but with a force of will, she forced such thoughts down and forced herself to stomach the dance for the rest of its duration. Oh, what had she been thinking when she suggested this demonstration?

Aoshi shod his dusty shoes and shrugged off his Western topcoat with no discernible relief, but Okina could tell from the young man's shoulders that he was in need of some rest. "Welcome home, Aoshi," he intoned with a brief nod as befitting their respective statuses, "I hope your travels have led you to some promising signs of progress."

Aoshi folded the topcoat gently over his arm, before nodding: "There is no reason to believe of any great delay in the construction of this new property. I will need to go back shortly before the weather worsens to ensure that the construction will keep throughout the winter."

Okina nodded somewhat absentmindedly, and Aoshi turned to pick up his briefcase and head for the office when something occurred to him to ask the older man, "And Misao? Her behavior has been rather odd lately, and I have heard from her myself that she is keeping company with a young man and his sister…"

Okina stroked his beard rather slowly, his words hesitant: "The Inoues, yes. She has been spending time with them for the last few months, in fact. Omasu and Okon claim that she met the lad first, and then got introduced to the older sister in hopes that Misao would take etiquette lessons from her."

A moment of silence hung between the men, and Aoshi could feel a decided air of disapproval from the older man before he continued, "From what I know, Misao has been coming home later and later the longer she has been running in the same circle."

"Has she been lax at performing her duties?"

"No, nothing of the sort. It's more that she seems to disappear once immediate need for her here at the Aoiya has been answered. She has even dropped training, which was something that she would be hardpressed to do a year ago."

Aoshi nodded, his head inclined as he considered Okina's reaction. Then he got up to drop his things off at the office. "Okina," he intoned, "Do not worry about sending Kuro or Shiro to fetch Misao. I will go there myself."

Okina hid a smile. Young folk never ceased to entertain.

Aoshi made his way down to the shop, noticing that while a sign graced its front, signaling that the shop was closed, the front door had been overlooked and was open slightly ajar. He frowned slightly at such carelessness and walked into the shop, careful to lock the door behind him. He then noticed that light appeared to be streaming through the cracks of the back door, and opened it to find a courtyard, sumptuously lit up with lanterns. And in the midst of the courtyard, bathed in golden lights, a young lady in black lace was dancing. She moved sinuously, suggestive in Western dance, and Aoshi found his brow furrowing. Where was Misao? Surely that was not her—

The dancer's eyes were warm and sharp, and they caught his in a moment of coy complicity and a bit of humor. While Misao was wont to be sly and humorous herself, she never slanted her face at such an angle, offering the best of her features, nor did she ever paint her lips so. Also, the eyes that gazed brazenly back at him were a deep brown color, while Misao's were blue. No, this was Inoue Chieko, putting on a performance. He noticed that her eyes were slanting towards a direction slightly to his left, and when he followed it, he saw the darker, huddled backs of what appeared to be Inoue Haruto and Misao. It was a bit dark, but it appeared that Haruto was leaning into her, whereas Misao sat with a straight back, her posture perfect without fault. Chieko's eyes crinkled in amusement as her dance closed to a halt. Then, she gave a ceremonious, dramatic bow. Aoshi saw that Haruto reluctantly sat back in his seat at the end of his sister's dance, which made visible the fact that his hand was wrapped around Misao's. Misao, uncertain of what to do next, made to stand up and clap, gingerly sliding her wrist out of his grip. Haruto also stood, his hold on her tightening as he leaned over with a smile and whispered a few words into her ears. Misao shook her head vehemently, her stance a familiar one: she was ready to express her indignation. Chieko, noticing the initial signs of a disagreement, intervened smoothly, "There appears to be a guest who had come in for the last half of this flamenco demonstration." The Haruto boy and Misao veered around, and Misao, unaware that he had released his hold of her arm, raised her hand up to her mouth in such artless bewilderment that for a moment, Aoshi wished to take her with him without giving his leave. He reeled in his reactions by bowing crisply, "The dance was well performed—my commendations to you, Inoue-san."

Haruto laughed, "My sister, the performer!"

Aoshi was quick to notice the slight ripple over the elder sister's mouth, a slight turn to the brow. Misao, ignorant of the slight yet all too sensitive to the tension permeating the air, murmured, "Chieko-san, it was beautiful. Thank you so much for showing me this dance. At another time—"

Aoshi intervened smoothly, "Another time, perhaps. Misao has to return to the Aoiya. Okina has matters he wishes to discuss with her."

Now it was Misao's turn to furrow her brow, and she did so more emphatically, with none of the artfulness the other lady displayed. Her respect towards him was well engrained; however, so she did not appear to object greatly. Bowing and saying her goodbyes prettily, she took her leave. The two siblings also gave her graceful goodbyes, but Misao could see a growing strain between them, and adding to the foreign feelings this evening had awakened in her, Misao was quite eager to return to the Aoiya, even if it was with Aoshi-sama. She looked up at him in consternation: she had received no news that he would return today. His gaze was not upon her; however, but instead appeared to be contemplating Chieko-san with a deliberate and steady perusal. Misao blushed and hung her head. This day could not end soon enough.

Aoshi also made his farewells, and the two left the shop. Walking side by side, Misao held her breath. She had no idea what was going through Aoshi-sama's mind, and she held her tongue with hopes that this moment would go without a hiccup.

"This Inoue Chieko… has she taught you this dance?"

Misao blinked. Not quite the question she had been anticipating. "No," she replied slowly, "This was the first time I had ever seen her dance."

Aoshi said nothing in response. They had almost reached the Aoiya when he observed, "She is well practiced in more than Japanese culture. Has she ever mentioned training or living abroad?"

Misao shrugged inelegantly, "Nothing more than trips here or there. Haruto speaks more about his travels—it is his responsibility to inherit the family business."

Aoshi nodded, and then replied, "Okina has expressed concern—"

Misao threw her hands up suddenly, "Mou! If Okina has concerns, he knows where to find me!"

Aoshi was not to be had.

She suddenly felt very tired, almost fatigued. Tears threatened to escape her eyes, and she turned her back to the older man and said in an unsteady voice, "I am sorry, Aoshi-sama. I have had a long day, and would like to be alone right now."

With silence at her back, Misao bounded up the stairs, wishing for nothing more than the comfort of her bed and blissful oblivion of sleep.

A few hours later, Misao lay awake in her dark room, unable to sleep. Some homecoming she gave Aoshi-sama. Her campaign for self-improvement seemed to be off to a rocky start—as soon as she had determined to stay out of the picture whenever Aoshi was concerned, he seemed to act in manners contrary to what she had expected. After a good cry she was no longer angry with him or herself. She knew that old habits were hard to break, and she knew that, when push came to shove, that Aoshi-sama was as incapable of seeing her romantically as she was of seeing Kuro and Shiro romantically. They were all too bound by family, too scarred by past experiences yet too loyal to ever loosen such bonds. She gathered that Aoshi-sama would sooner find Chieko-san attractive in comparison. Misao sighed. A few years ago—oh, who was she kidding—even a year ago, she would have been so torn up over the idea of Aoshi finding any other woman attractive, but now Misao only felt dull stirrings. She found that perhaps there was the promise of something else. Someone who would find her attractive and appreciate her for who she was, not who she could never be. And she found that she could see this happen all the more as time passed, indeed, it seemed more unlikely that Aoshi-sama would ever see her differently. She hoped she was coming closer to the point where she would happily take another who would be willing to love her in his stead.