Disclaimer: RK belongs to Nobuhiro Watsuki.
Chapter 8 - Part 2: So Let's Cross It
He was addicted to her. Every movement she made enthralled him. Everywhere she went, he followed. Soon, he was trailing her through the market and accompanying her on walks. His trips to the temple lessened until he stopped going altogether. Was he cured of his self-imposed madness?
...or had he jumped into a different type of madness altogether?
—
"Good morning," came her light and even happy greeting as she slipped into the back seat of my brother's car this morning. I was surprised. Where was the shy and uncertain lady that had hung around all week?
"Good morning, Misao-san," my brother answered easily next to me. I stared. He even had a small smile on his face. "You're in a good mood today," he ventured.
My brother was even being chatty?
"Oh, Shinomori-san," she said, leaning forward before she could fasten her seatbelt. "I meant to tell you this yesterday but I got carried away."
"What is it?"
"Just call me Misao," she chirped, and leaned back to buckle up. She was all smiles today. It was eerie to see, and yet it felt like the sun had finally come out after days of being hidden behind dark clouds.
I looked towards my brother to see him smiling too. "All right, Misao," he said. "Just call me Hannya."
"Hannya-san?" she asked.
"Hannya." he insisted.
"Hannya," she repeated with a grin. Her gaze finally settled on me, and she faltered. There was something disturbing in how she seemed to lose a bit of her cheer when she looked at me, and my guilt over causing her accident worsened. I would have thought she would ignore me altogether, but instead she gave me a small smile and said, "You can call me Misao, too, Shinomori-senpai."
"Ah," I murmured, mystified by her smile, "call me Aoshi."
"Oh, I can't," she replied, her eyes widening slightly. "Okon insists that I should call you 'senpai.'"
Beside me, my brother chuckled and asked, "And do you always do as you're told?"
"Nope," she said with a little unrepentant smile. "But I do this for my own safety. Did you know Senpai has some fans on campus? They can be mean when they want to."
"Is that why you've been rushing from the car all week?" I asked amid more of my brother's amused chuckles. I was reminded of what Honjou had told me a week ago. Was it possible that Honjou really had been telling the truth? It was still hard to believe. But Misao said so.
She shrugged, looking a bit sheepish, "Yeah, kinda." I nodded and turned my head back ahead of me. It was only part of the reason, of course. Majority of her avoidance, whether or not she was aware of it, was because of what I did to her.
"But...you know," she said thoughtfully. My attention flew to the side view mirror where I could see her gazing outside her window. She leaned against the car door. "I think I'll stop running today," she said. "Thumb my nose at them and stuff. It'll be the perfect gift to myself."
"Gift?" my brother echoed. I was half-thankful that he was trying to keep her talking, half-terrified that he was trying to keep her talking. What was he trying to accomplish? My gaze wouldn't move from her image in the mirror.
"Yep," Misao nodded, "today's my birthday."
"Happy birthday," we both greeted in surprise. "You should have told us earlier," my brother added. "We could have gotten you something."
"Nah," she shook her head. "I don't want anything."
"But what about your phone..?" I asked, finally turning around to the back seat as I remembered how her cellphone had lain in pieces on the street. I repressed a shudder at the memory and willed myself to stop thinking about the rest of what had lain on the asphalt.
"Oh, Jiya took care of that," she said cheerfully and reached into her bag. She pulled out a thin, silver flip phone and showed it to me. It looked brand new. "See? Now the old man can keep bugging me all day again."
The phone in her hand immediately rang loudly with the old man's unmistakable voice doing an off-key rendition of You Are So Beautiful, startling the both of us and further amusing my brother.
"Geez, Jiya!" she said as she answered it. Her face took on a bright red hue. "You even customized your own ring tone?"
I glanced at my brother as I looked back to the street ahead.
"You're pretty happy today, Aniki," I said quietly. In fact, since yesterday, he had been...chipper. The word wasn't something I'd usually associate with my own brother. Until now, I had never really seen him happy; amused, yes, but not happy.
"This is treason," Misao went on. "I'm canceling your favorite swimsuit magazine subscription. What?"
"It's a pretty good morning so far," he agreed with me. "Don't you think so too?"
It was obvious we were both trying to give her as much privacy as possible, but it was hard to mind one's own business in an enclosed space. Misao wasn't even trying to lower her voice anyway, and I found that I didn't mind. The quiet Misao unnerved me.
"Eh, hang on. I'll ask them," she muttered, then gasped. "No, Jiya! Wait, I said I'd"—she cursed at her phone before shutting it. "Stupid, crazy, impulsive, rude old man!"
I almost sympathized with her, but I was more curious about the feeling of having grandparents than commiserating over their nosiness.
"Jiya would like to invite you both to dinner tonight at the Aoiya," her sullen voice drifted from the back seat, accompanied by a quieter grumble. "More like an expectation than an invitation. Cantankerous old geezer."
"I'm free tonight," my brother said amiably. There was an odd twitch at the corner of his mouth that tipped me off to him having heard her grumbling too. "What about you, Otouto?"
"What time?" I asked, and added as an afterthought, "My classes end at seven tonight."
"Jiya will just have to adjust the reservation, since he did expect you to be there," she quipped. "How about eight? Eight thirty? Would that be enough time for you to go home and freshen up? My cousin will be picking me up today, so you don't need to worry about me."
"That's fine," Aniki said with a nod and asked, "Are you partial to anything, Misao?"
"What do you mean?" came her puzzled reply.
"What do you like?" my brother tried again.
"You're not fishing for gift ideas," she admonished. "But if you insist, I love chocolate."
"Which kind?" I asked.
"Senpai, not you too?" she asked in dismay. "I really mean it when I said I don't want anything."
"But you love chocolate."
"Well, yeah..."
"So which kind?" I asked again, fighting the urge to smile at her mutinous expression. I didn't know when I moved to look at her again, but I was glad for it. "You may as well tell us, or else you may get chocolates that you don't really like."
"That's impossible," her eyes widened, as if the idea of not liking any kind of chocolate was inconceivable to anyone. "I like them all!"
"It's very possible," my brother chose to make his presence remembered. "Aoshi doesn't like fruit in his chocolate."—my face grew hot at the revelation—"He's very picky when it comes to chocolate."
"Chocolate isn't chocolate when it has things in it," I said stiffly, leaning back against my seat and facing forward once more. Otherwise, it would be things with chocolate; not chocolate at all, I reasoned silently to myself.
"Are you the kind of person who thinks white chocolate isn't chocolate? My friend has a term for people like those...chocolate prude?"
My brother chuckled. "That's exactly what Aoshi is: a prude."
I wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and lock myself in the glove compartment out of embarrassment. Misao and my brother were being chummy. Something had happened yesterday to cause it. Despite being embarrassed, I felt left out. I wanted to get past the awkwardness with her too.
Again, I was unnerved by my desire to further my involvement with the lady. One would think that after meeting the lady who haunted one's dreams, one would wisely stay away. That clearly was not the case with me, and beyond the petty feeling of envy, I couldn't fathom why. It was peculiar, because as far as I knew about myself—and I should know, I lived with myself for twenty-two years—if I touched a flame and knew it could burn, I wouldn't touch it again.
...and it hit me with startling clarity that I paused mid-stride out of the car, causing my brother some concern and prompting me to move and absently bid him goodbye.
"I'll call when I'm on my way, and we can get her gift together later."
"Aa."
I hadn't touched the flame yet. The curiosity still needed to be sated because I didn't know this Misao. Apart from the similarities in looks and name, both the Misao in my dream and the actual Misao were a mystery to me. The temptation was there. I wanted to know her.
Yes. It still made me uneasy to think that I was more than willing to act on my curiosity, but I was more assuaged in the fact that I was not doing anything unnatural. I could overlook my sudden enthusiasm.
"What time is your first class, Senpai?" came a voice next to me.
It was fortuitous that the object of my thoughts was walking alongside me. She was incredibly short; she only came up to my shoulder. Her eyes were the most inquisitive I had ever seen; wide and clear and so...
"In half an hour," I remembered to answer, and only then did the oddity of the scenario strike me. She was walking so naturally next to me that she belonged there. I felt almost pleased. "How goes thumbing your nose at the masses?"
"Eh. I wouldn't know until my friend starts sharing the gossip with me," she made a face as if gossiping was beneath her. "My class doesn't start til an hour later, so I can walk you to yours." She flashed me a grin that I was sorely tempted to return with one of my own.
"How about I drop you off to wherever you usually stay at until your class starts?" I suggested instead. It felt odd to have her walk me to class.
"Ugh. If you must," she groaned. "I was hoping to prolong my freedom."
"You sound like you're walking to an execution."
She laughed. "Execution," she tested the word on her lips, looking thoughtful. "Yes, that's exactly what's going to happen. They'll pick me apart 'til I bleed out and die."
A graphic vision of her body bled out and dead flashed before my mind's eye, and I had just enough of my wits about me to suppress a shudder.
"Sorry," she said sheepishly, sensing my discomfort despite my best efforts to hide it. "Too gory, huh?"
I wordlessly nodded as I held open a door for her and followed her inside. We effortlessly weaved through the human traffic, cutting through the Battlefield with surprising ease. The Battlefield was never this easy to navigate through on Fridays. Luck was on our side.
"I wouldn't trade them for the world though," she continued thoughtfully. "They're unique. Just like you, Senpai."
I looked at her dubiously. She nodded at my unspoken question. "I met each of my friends through unusual circumstances. I hit one with a ball, spat at another with juice, and you ran me over."
The way she said the last part was without malice or bitterness, but instead of easing my conscience, her words only seemed to pitch it into a deep decline. The shame I felt seemed to want to swallow me whole and drown me. "Misao..."
"Hey, hey, hey," she said sharply. She grabbed my arm and urged me to face her. Her expression was...determined. Her ocean-colored eyes had taken on a sharper hue, framed so between long dark lashes. It was a stark contrast, and I couldn't help but look into them. "There was nothing you could do, okay? And look," she waved her arms and jumped, not caring at all that she was flailing around and causing people to jump back to avoid her. "I can still move freely, and better yet, I'm alive. No harm done, Senpai. Okay?"
I could only nod mutely at her, amazed beside myself that she went through such lengths to put my worry to rest. She almost seemed like she was indestructible. I almost wished that was so.
"Besides," she said a few moments after we started walking again, "if you hadn't run me over, our paths would never have crossed and we would never have been friends."
"We're friends?" I asked, looking at her. The last time I had seen her, she was desperate to leave my company, to not be seen around with her.
Her expression was concentrated as she seemed to be gathering her thoughts. After a while she nodded and said, "You've got a point. Wanna be friends?" Her gaze was unwavering and open. Her eyes were so expressive. I could tell that she was nervous about my response just by looking at her eyes. Did she expect me to say no?
"All right." Of course I would agree. This was what I wanted after all: to get to know her better. Friendship covered that objective, never mind the fact that she had a juvenile way of going about it.
Misao seemed almost relieved as she stopped and grinned widely, offering me her hand. "Makimachi Misao," she said. "I'll promise to cheer you up no matter what."
Her hand was so small covered in my grasp; so small and so soft. So fragile. How could she seem so strong? My second objective came to me then, almost like an epiphany. "Shinomori Aoshi. I won't let anyone hurt you."
A puzzled look came over her face for a split second. Then, like clouds parting from the sun, she smiled. "What," she laughed, "that's such an odd thing to say, Senpai."
Because I wanted to protect that smile, because I wanted to never let her turn into the haunted Misao in my dreams, I merely quirked my lips. "Someone has to make sure you won't get hurt while making more friends."
"Oh, ha ha," she said dryly, though the smile remained on her lips. She pulled back her hand, and it was only then that I noticed how bare mine felt without it. "I have a bodyguard now. Well, it's a good thing you know how to make a joke."
"Is that so?" I asked, following her as she started around the corner.
"Yes. I may be able to tolerate you yet," she grinned and stopped with her hand on the glass door to the Little Courtyard. "Well, here's my stop. Thank you for walking me here."
I nodded, stopping just a foot or two away from her. I was finally starting to feel glad I could be of some use to her. "Have a good day," I greeted before walking ahead towards the stairwells for my class on the third floor.
The day went by in a blur as Fridays usually did for me with one class melting into another. By the time my brother came to pick me up, I was wishing for a nap. But the thought of seeing Misao again during dinner at the Aoiya was enough to endure a few more hours of wakefulness. After stopping by a popular chocolate shop and a quick stop by the apartment for a world record shower and change of clothing, we made it to the Aoiya at about the same time as—
"Honjou," I said with surprise at the man by the entrance waving at us. He was in a bright red dress that barely reached mid-thigh. Thankfully that much leg was covered by black leggings.
"Good evening, Aoshi-san," he greeted once we were close enough. "Our birthday weasel told us you would be coming by so I volunteered to look out for you." As I introduced them to each other, his gaze moved from me to my brother, to whom he held out his hand, "Aoshi-san's brother! Handsomeness must run in the family."
"You look lovely as well," my brother returned, taking his hand and releasing it. "It's good to know my brother doesn't keep to himself in school."
"Oh, you and I both have the same worries, Oniisan," he simpered. "Every day I wish for Aoshi-san to make lots of friends..."
I let their disturbing pleasantries drift as I followed them inside the establishment. The Aoiya was an upscale hotel fitted with the classic Western European design and all the modern amenities. By the looks of the people, the hotel catered mostly to wealthy foreigners and businessmen. So this was the Makimachi's business.
An elevator trip took the three of us to the second floor. The ornate doors slid open to reveal a stunning view of the balcony overlooking the lounge area below. A short walk down carpeted halls led us to closed double doors. A gilded sign propped up by the side said, 'Princess Misao's Birthday Party.'
My brother chuckled, apparently having seen the sign also.
"Okina loves his granddaughter," Honjou commented with a smirk. So the Makimachi called himself Okina. The thought passed absently by as I watched Honjou open the doors and lead the way in. Immediately upon opening, the din from inside wrapped around us as we followed him. "I'm back," he was saying with a flourish, "and I've brought these two delicious guests!"
A hush seemed to fall over the large round table surrounded by people. Everyone turned toward the entrance. I recognized a few people I had seen once or twice around campus; the rest I assumed were relatives. It was unsettling to be stared at by so many people.
"Oh shut it, Kamatari," a long-haired lady piped up amid the now-silent table. "You brought them for yourself."
"Don't mind Okon, she's drunk," Honjou said in a stage whisper.
"What!" Okon squawked, red-faced; and just like that, the noise started up again. Everyone returned to their food and chatter as the elder Makimachi stood and walked towards us with a handshake and a sake jug. He looked dangerously red-faced.
"Welcome," he greeted jovially and promptly handed us each a sake cup, pouring in a healthy amount. "So glad you could make it! Eat! Drink! There's lots!"
It was a stark difference from the menacing aura he emitted during the brief meeting at their residence.
I unwittingly gulped down the liquor, the first of the many mistakes I would commit that evening, though at the time I was blissfully unaware of it. As it were, the cup in my hand was immediately refilled, and this time I chose to savor the unusual taste of the wine. I would admit that I never tasted liquor before, and the taste intrigued me. I ignored the gleeful look the older man was sending my way, as well as the cautious side glance my own brother granted me.
"May I ask where the birthday girl is?" my brother inquired next to me as we were seated next to each other. The seat next to me was empty, although its plate was filled with food.
I set down the cup as I looked around the table. Sure enough, there was no such lady with bright eyes and swinging ponytail flitting around the table. Why did I expect her to do such a thing? It seemed natural to assume her in such a manner. I fondly recalled her limb-flailing in the corridor earlier in the day.
"She'll be back to greet you two, not to worry," the old man was saying. He stood behind me and refilled my cup 'til it was near overflowing. "Drink! Drink!"
I didn't know why I didn't just politely refuse. The only thought in my mind was that it would be rude to refuse the host's offer; and it was obvious the Makimachi was the host of the evening. He was pouring everyone a drink, except for the large man next to a slight woman with a resemblance to Misao. That man had his own jug.
I lifted the cup once more to my lips and drained it just as the door opened again. This time, a lady stepped through. She was dressed in a midnight blue dress that hugged her thighs. In fact, the dress seemed to wrap intimately around her body. It was a very nice body. Her hair was around her shoulders in light waves, but it was her eyes that caught my rapt attention.
"Who'd have thought the weasel could clean up, right?" came Honjou's remark from where he was seated next to my brother.
I could only stare even as my brother rose to greet her and give her his gift. Obviously it was chocolate; the nutty kind that smelled really good.
"I told you I didn't want anything," she was saying to my brother, who only smiled indulgently and said, "You won't be saying that later. Aoshi got something for you too."
At the mention of my name, I jerked to my feet, reaching into the breast pocket of my shirt to pull out the small wrapped box nestled there. I intended to get her chocolates as well, since she loved them, but chocolate was perishable. I wanted to get her something that would last a bit longer.
Her expression was uncertain as I handed her the box. "Happy birthday," I said.
"Really, Senpai, you didn't have to..."
"I think you would like it," I replied, and turned to sit back down. A full cup of sake was waiting for me, and I reached for it with the finesse of one who had been drinking all his life. It was amazing how so much deception lied in movement.
Misao sat next to me a moment later, and I belatedly realized that I had been seated right next to her, that the empty seat next to mine was hers. She beamed at me, tucked her hair behind her ear and turned to talk to the person on her other side.
Plunk.
I looked to my right to see my brother heap some food on my plate, but my reprimand died on my lips when I noticed Honjou was eagerly piling serving upon serving of food on my brother's excessively full plate. Our eyes met for the briefest of seconds, and I quietly let him transfer some of his food off. I was glad I wasn't seated next to Honjou.
"Aoshi!" Okina popped up once more behind me, reaching over to refill my cup. "How do you like the house wine, eh? We make our own here at the Aoiya."
"It's good," I answered, obligingly taking a sip from my full cup. I was careful not to slosh the contents all over myself when the old man thumped my back with a laugh. "Good!" he cackled, "It's manna from heaven!"
"Jiya, stop throwing your jug down his throat," Misao finally turned from her companion to scold the old man and shooed him away. A scowl was on her pretty face, which I thought made her look prettier though I preferred her smile over it.
Before I could weigh the merits of prettiness between a smile and a scowl, Misao took a smaller serving container of the sake and set it down between our plates. "Here, Senpai," she said, "but before you take another sip you must eat."
"Of course," I murmured, setting down the half-full cup and reaching for my cutlery. My plate was now decently full, thanks to Honjou's and my brother's efforts.
"Senpai?" I heard Misao's companion say next to her. "You go to the same university?"
"Yes, it's where we met," Misao answered.
"He's cute, Misao-chan," her companion whispered conspiratorially. The woman was a terrible whisperer, and I was forced to keep a straight face as I nearly choked on my food. "Congratulations."
"Omasu! It's not like that!"
"Aoshi, are you all right?" my brother asked beside me. "Your face is red."
"I'm fine," I mumbled, reaching for my sake cup to wash down the discomfort in my throat.
"Here, Senpai," Misao volunteered, refilling my cup. "Is the food all right?"
"Yes, it's delicious," I said honestly. My brother and I had never cooked proper meals a day in our lives. Our daily fare consisted of instant meals and takeout. Compared to those, the food on my plate was a welcome respite. It was well-made with the freshest ingredients, there was nothing reconstituted about any of the bits I tasted.
"I'm glad to hear that," she smiled. I was dazzled.
Perhaps then I could blame my next action on said bedazzlement, because I added, "You look beautiful tonight, by the way," to which she blushed prettily and mumbled that her cousin had forced her into the get up.
It was after everyone had finished eating and started on other festivities like karaoke that I learned that the woman seated next to her was her cousin, and that the man by her cousin's side was the cousin's husband. Upon introduction, he narrowed his eyes at me, said how I couldn't hold my liquor, and took a swig directly from the sake jug in his hand.
But then the cousin, Omasu, asked what I thought of Misao. From that point on, the night simply just unraveled before me. Horror upon embarrassing horror slipped from my lips to everyone's entertainment.
"She's beautiful," I said with a smile. "Very beautiful."
"You think she'd get a boyfriend with this outfit, Aoshi-san?" Honjou piped in.
"Oh yes, I think so. It's working at least."
"Do you like my cousin?" came the horrified voice of the cousin's husband.
"Yes," I said.
That was my first true undoing.
—
To Be Continued
"I hit one with a ball, spat at another with juice, and you ran me over." Misao speaks of how she met Okon, Kuro and Aoshi respectively in this story's history(?). As for Shiro, she kicked him between the legs (unintentionally) when she was reaching over the counter to mop up the mess she made on Kuro. You're already aware that Kamatari flashed his junk at her. She does have a lot of odd first impressions, yes?
Aoshi assumes too much in this chapter. Everything is eerie and unsettling to him. I want to hate him and make things difficult for him. But his personality thwarts my efforts at every turn, except for when it comes to Misao who ruins the mood of this story though so...
Do not you worry your pretty little head about the lack of angst. It will return.
Chapter 2 has been rewritten now; and filled with the usual college inanity only college peoples could manage. Is it not too far from high school? I thought so too; or at least there was little change in my experience.
Is it not unusual for Misao to not suffer any residual aches and pains from her accident? That's one thing I overlooked in writing after chapter 3. But it isn't that important. Really. I'll just mention it in passing.
I did lie about this chapter coming out fairly soon. I was caught up in reading trashy romance novels. I assure you, this was for researching on the writing style employed by such authors: heaving bosoms, quivering aches at the apexes of thighs, throbbing manhoods? OhyeshahaquiteunusualIdie. This is for another project of course.
But the inevitable question: Will this story have a sex scene? No.
I hope you enjoyed Aoshi the honest drunk. (02.16.11)