Chapter Four

To The Void and Back Again

In the early evening on that same day, Aoshi found himself dreaming.

Sleep welcomed him with its oblivious embrace. An endless ocean flowed over him, and he knew that it was the course of time. There passed his childhood, and his days as leader. Misao's face floated by. She was young and laughing as he tried to wring the rain from his clothes after she had locked him in the courtyard. Now Okina fighting him, Shishio's mad eyes, and sadness is his friend's faces as they bowed to the belief that Kaoru had passed from the earth.

Finally there arose Raku's face as the Russian slid the little gold knife beneath his ribs.

It was nearly enough to wake him. Gossamer curtains spread, admitting light, before a frigid wind slapped them closed again. A familiar feeling of sinking was all that was left. He was glad for it.

A hazy light grew at the edges of the emptiness. Silvery and glimmering, the luminescence itself was peppered with dew like tears. He reached out with one hand to feel the wetness, and found each drop cold and smooth as glass. They shattered soundlessly under his touch, filling the air with shimmering fragments.

But he was back in the courtyard with Okina. He watched his waking self as though peering into a shadow box. The sun was warm as it had been in real life, beating down on the red roses that still grew everywhere. The cherry tree in the corner was jostled by a sweetly scented breeze. It looked as though it was topped by a piece of pink cotton fluff. Even as the blossoms moved back and forth, it was silent.

"Misao made herself sick with worry you know." Okina's voice was deep, filled with an emotion he could not identify.

"So Omasu told me. She also said that Misao found a husband."

"Indeed, a handsome fellow. A bit of a tomfool, but nothing any worse than her. Locking doors so certain people will get caught in the rain and such." A small smile tugged at the corner of the old man's mouth. Aoshi saw frailty in that smile. He felt worry filling his heart.

"Perhaps that is not all he does."

Okina's brow furrowed "Haru wouldn't want hurt a fly, let alone be capable of it. You do know that's his name? I'm sure that Omasu told you."

"Yes." He decided not to push the matter any further. Okina obviously had enough on his mind. Three weeks. There was three weeks until the wedding. He could find the right words before then.

"Anyway, I see wherever you were did not treat you well. You look like a wraith! Missing Omasu's cooking, I suppose. Misao can cook very well now too of course. She had a good teacher. Perhaps she can make you dinner tonight. You need it." He saw the look passing over Aoshi's face "Don't you argue with me Aoshi Shinomori! You may have beaten me once, but this old man has had some practice recently!"

Okina made a move as if to hit his arm. There was an ominous creak and snap, followed by a chuckle.

"Hah! So maybe I'm a little out of shape, but I'm not senile!"

Aoshi had to try hard not to smile. "Come now Okina, she will not want to cook for me."

"Oh honestly, her anger fizzled out a while ago. She's lost some of her spitfire, but I'm sure what's left won't be directed at you. She'll probably cry and make you something expensive."

"That is not the Misao I know."

Okina's eyes clouded with sadness "You have been gone a long time Aoshi."

"I don't deny it."

"You are still her dear, whether or not she intends to marry another. Those feelings may dull a little with time, but they will never disappear."

He started to speak, but let the thought die on his tongue.

"That's enough of your sulking, boy. Get up."

Aoshi let his eyes move to Okina, up from where they had been resting in the distance.

"I don't want that look either. To an old man like me, you're a boy. I've been around a lot longer than you have! Ha! Now go clean up and get some rest. You're going to need it."

The images faded to the blanket of fog from before. For a long while, things sunk into darkness. He was forgotten somewhere in the void and it felt good not to exist. There was nothing: no fear, no worry and no pain. It could not last, as nothing ever can. Before very long, the moon's gauzy brilliance poured over a familiar place.

"You look beautiful." There was a breathy feeling deep in his chest. He wrestled with it, managing only to just suppress it. Such a feeling was not deserved.

"Do you think so?" Misao's voice was scarcely above a whisper. She ate his words like stolen gifts, gobbling them up and stowing them away for another day. The umbrella she held rested gently against her shoulder. Fan-tailed peacocks strutted around it in blue, green, and black ink.

"I do." His voice nearly broke.

"Come now Misao-chan! You'll make us la – OUCH!" Ochika's voice echoed from somewhere in the darkness "Omasu! What was that fo – Oh."

Misao smiled a little, and he almost went to take her hand. That smile made him quiet inside. Nothing else seemed to matter. "I should be going."

"By all means. Don't let me keep you here."

She stood a moment, twisting one foot back and forth under her, glancing down at her heavily embroidered kimono as though trying to assess if he was telling the truth about her appearance. "Is there anything else?"

Aoshi thought he should choose his words with care, but instead blurted "Should there be?"

It was a mistake. He knew it, and the knowledge of it made him cringe. Something inside of his stomach shriveled. Misao was injured.

"I-I suppose not. We'll be home later, then. Good bye!" She lingered for a few seconds more before turning and stepping off the porch. Aoshi shifted and leaned against a bamboo post as she started away. One hand was clutching her umbrella as though for dear life, and the other was down at her side clenching and unclenching.

As she disappeared around the corner, he cursed softly.

Darkness was good. He liked it. Here everything was safe. It glided back to its place, swelling in the Kyoto night and overtaking it. He was no longer at the Aoiya. It was back to the void, that wondrous place where rest was complete. 'I hope and pray', the thought drifted through his mind, "the afterlife is like this.'

Sleep had one more thing in store to break his peace however, and it was this last scene that was partially responsible for vaulting him back into the real world.

"Don't lea – Oh please, don't l-leave me please."

"But he's getting away!"

"Just – "Raku choked on his own blood and slid to the ground. Aoshi caught him. "Just, do not leave me."

"Raku! Come now, it's not so bad! Do you remember before, when we fought – "

"Please! No, please!" Aoshi had to grab his friend's frantic hands to keep him from digging the wound that was oozing crimson like poison. A thin red river slid from the corner of his mouth.

"Hush, don't speak."

"But…I have…I need to…"

Aoshi looked away. What was this wetness here? Tears? Had he ever cried before? Cradling his friend against him, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Be calm, Raku. tell me, and I will listen."

"I – I'm sorry." The pain was nearly too much. Raku made a noise deep in his throat then managed "I took you from her."

One little knife wound! It had been nothing! Raku had experienced worse. How now was this to be his demise? Here in this barren landscape, in a sea of snow?

Those pure crystals at Aoshi's feet were not the color they should be. They were red and copper tinged. Time was hastening away in his confusion.

Suddenly, Raku drew in a harsh and rattling breath. A small spot of realization split all the questions hazing his thoughts.

"It's your lung my friend. Don't speak. We'll get help." Aoshi's voice was soft, much like it had been when speaking to Misao as a child.

"You're not listening to me, damn it!" Blood flew from his comrade's mouth like bittersweet rain. Aoshi did not flinch as the warm wet of it hit his face. "I said I'm sorry." Raku coughed. "I took you from her, all those years and it was for nothing."

Aoshi looked into his friends eyes. They were filling with a frightening emptiness.

"Forgive me! Oh please forgive me Aoshi, I cannot have p-p-p-p." Raku fought to get the final word out.

"Hush now. I forgive you. I truly do."

Raku tried to say something again, but the nothingness seeped fully into his eyes. The grip he had had on Aoshi's coat slackened. Around him, the world withered and died. He felt it somewhere deep in his heart. Things would never be the same. Death had knocked at the door, and though they had barricaded it, the monster had slipped in the window.

There was silence. Aoshi laid his friend gently in the snow. Raku's body sunk into it and it surrounded him as an icy sepulcher. Aoshi. A vicious nausea filled his stomach and bile rose in his throat. He had to turn away.

All there was then was whiteness, and his own grief as he clawed his way back to reality.

…o…..

Misao was shrieking when he sat up. Her shadow jerked and bobbed on the other side of the paper screens.

"Of all times for something like this to happen! It couldn't wait until after the wedding could it? Dead, hmm? So, Aoshi Shinomori is dead. Then tell me why the hell he's in his old room right now sleeping, as though he hasn't been gone a day. Tell me Omasu, because I'm dying to know."

Omasu was taller and more imposing. She stood across from Misao, her silhouette tense and agitated. Her hands were on her hips. "Don't you speak to me that way, Misao. I deserve a little more respect than that at least. It's not like I planned this."

The argument had been going on for a while. Aoshi could tell by the way Omasu stood, weight resting on one foot. It was the posture of a woman tired after bowing to the wind for so long. Misao was hoarse, her voice breaking again and again. Something told him that she had been weeping too.

"And what do I tell Haru when he asks of this new face here at Aoiya."

"Tell him whatever you like, just do not yell at me."

"Damn it!"

"That's not very lady-like Misao."

"I don't care if it's lady-like! Since when have I cared about that?"

"Oh! You're stubborn. No wonder he left. Even I can't take it, and I wouldn't be the one who would have to sleep with you. Good luck to Haru is all I can say."

A wounded stillness lay heavy like a blanket for a moment. "That was uncalled for."

"So was your yelling at me."

Misao's voice came in a small whisper. "You should have told me then. I had a right to know! I'm no longer a child Omasu."

"Then stop acting like one!"

The eye of the storm had come. Seconds ticked by, and the two women stared at each other. It was Misao who caved. Balling her hands into fists, she growled, "I'm going in there."

"Fine. Be my guest."

The door was already open a crack, and Misao's fingers curled over its edge before she slid it open.

The air was ringing and solid. A heady feeling made everything seem distant. She was wearing a long pale green kimono with small embroidered hibiscus flowers. He had noticed it earlier in Shirabeko, but not the sheer delicacy of it. It hugged her frame perfectly and brought out the soft teal tones in her eyes. For a moment, those eyes were wide with shock and something a little like horror.

"Misao." His own voice was strange.

Her face split with a vixen grin and she glided across the floor. Her hair floated on the air, like silk. Aoshi's breath caught just the same as it had on that night all those years ago. Stopping beside him, she slowly kneeled and reached out for him.

When the slap came hard, fast, and painful, he drew back in shock.

"You bastard." Her eyes glistened, but her words were clipped and matter-of-fact.

Before he could regain himself, she was up and running. Omasu slid through the door as she blew past. When Misao was safely out of sight, she spoke.

"I'm proud of you. That's twice in one day. From two different women."

Pride smarting more than his cheek, he brought one hand to his chin and sighed "I suppose I should consider myself lucky."

"The luckiest man alive. I thought she was going to kill you."

Aoshi nodded, wondering if he could keep on without smiling for much longer. "Me too," he muttered, "me too."