AN: I debated posting this up because it's a little unusual. Then decided I might as well since it's been sitting around for a few years. This story was originally written as one piece but it got too long so I had to split it up into 5 chapters. But since it's completely done, updates should be very regular.

Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin. No copyright infringement intended.

Warnings: Au Meiji Japan. Blood and a brief mention of adult type activities.

Chapter One: Balancing a Marriage and Career

Misao didn't quite know how, but she managed to slip inside her house, undetected by the servants. Dizzy, slightly nauseous, and most likely dripping blood on the floor, she scaled in through an open upper room window and landed heavily on her feet without her usual aplomb. Grimacing as the impact traveled through her feet, the vibrations rattled up her wounded right arm followed by an extra burst of pain. "Careless," Misao muttered to herself, inspecting the mess. The wound wasn't deep but every time her muscles contracted, more blood seeped out; it was possible she needed stitches. But the closest doctor who knew her unique situation was in Tokyo so she would have to patch it up herself as best she could and wait for the next opportunity to catch Megumi.

Looking behind her, Misao sighed at the trail of blood that followed her in from the window. She needed to clean everything up after fixing her arm before any of the servants discovered it. Fortunately for her, her husband had left for a business trip several days ago and it would probably be another day or two before he returned. She had that long to rest her arm and make up a story about how she injured herself; it wouldn't heal within such a short span of time and she had to explain away the bandage somehow.

Peeling the sticky, crimson-stained haori from the cut, Misao grimaced as some of the dried blood pulled on the open wound. She slowly stripped off the outer garment, taking care not to drop more blood on the floor or flex her muscles anymore than she had to. "Bandages," she muttered. "Where does Omasu-san keep the bandages?"

"Misao."

The sound of her name spoken by a familiar, deep voice had her gasping as she swung her head to the shouji that had apparently opened while she was preoccupied. Her heart sank as she realized who it was. "Aoshi-sama," she whispered, sure her eyes were as wide as Jiya's teacup.

Piercing green eyes surveyed her critically and Misao cringed, moving to hide her arm in what she knew was a futile gesture. She couldn't tell him how she got wounded, nor could she give details why she wasn't dressed in her usual kimono.

"Explain yourself," he said in a voice that wasn't a request.

Misao wished he would be more concerned about her bleeding arm than a reason for all this. "Um," she said lamely. Then a thought occurred to her and she blurted out, "Weren't you supposed to come back tomorrow?"

Aoshi finally entered the room and – thankfully – shut the shouji behind him for privacy. "My meeting ended early and there was no reason for me to stay away any longer." He tilted his head. "Or am I not welcome in my own home?"

"Of course you are," Misao murmured, casting her eyes downward. She cursed silently, wishing Hoji had attempted to kill her some other time. Today was just not her day.

He knelt down beside her and grasped her lower arm, lifting it for a closer inspection. "You were hit with a sharp edged weapon. Why?" He raised her chin up with two fingers, the normally modulated voice carrying an undercurrent of steel. It was a voice demanding obedience. "And do not lie to me. What is going on?"

Misao had known her husband was not the kind of man to show much emotion. From the moment they met at their engagement, he had struck her as one who didn't tolerate much silliness, much to her relief. She had been afraid that Aoshi would consider her not feminine enough because she didn't fit the conventional mold of women men seemed to desire these days. But the subsequent times they met, albeit briefly, before their wedding, Aoshi appeared indulgent and even accepting of her uncommon antics and views, if somewhat reserved. Misao could live with aloofness but not scorn.

So meeting his sharp green eyes but unable to tell him the truth hurt Misao more than she thought it would. She wanted to have an honest marriage with a man who treated her well, if a little distant. Jiya had told her Aoshi was orphaned at a young age, just like her, but didn't have the benefit of a loving grandfather to raise him. Still, Shinomori Aoshi had managed to start a successful shipping company that now operated in every major port city within the Kansai region, and was expanding. The remoteness was simply expected, given Aoshi had probably sacrificed much and didn't have much experience in loving someone and being loved in return.

With that in mind, Misao refused to lie to her husband, but she couldn't tell him the truth, either. Trapped, she stared at him helplessly, wishing a brilliant answer would come to her that would get her out of this mess.

No answer came. Instead, Aoshi finally withdrew his hand and stood. "I will get Omasu to bandage your wound," he said at last, apparently fully aware she wouldn't explain herself.

Misao's eyes darted up, her frozen mouth finally working again. "No!" she blurted out. When he raised an eyebrow at her, she felt two inches tall from both guilt and his height advantage. "Please don't," she murmured, lowering her gaze again. "She doesn't know about…this, either." She gestured lamely to her bloody arm.

Aoshi remained silent for what seemed like hours before nodding. "As you wish," he said stiffly and exited the room with quiet steps.

His departure left Misao feeling oddly bereft. Didn't he even care about her bleeding arm? Perhaps her unwillingness to tell him anything made Aoshi decide not to help her. Taking a deep breath, Misao fought back any possibility of tears and concentrated instead on figuring out what to do with her injury. The pain was beginning to travel down the entire length of her appendage and blood still kept dripping freely from the jagged wound. Pressing her stained haori against the wound to staunch the bleeding, she forced herself to think about her cut and not her husband.

First, she would have to find a way to bind up her wound. She opened the door an inch checked for any servants roaming the upstairs hall. Finding herself alone, Misao snuck into the bedroom and shut the door behind her with an exhaled breath of relief. She noticed someone – it had to be Aoshi-sama – had left bandages and clean cloth for her. Something loosened in the region of her chest at the thoughtful gesture. Misao took the remaining water in the basin from the morning and used it to clean her cut. Once most of the blood cleared away, she used her mouth to hold one end of the bandage and wound the strip tightly around her arm before finally knotting the ends together with her left arm and teeth. Misao examined her handiwork and decided it would have to be good enough. Her arm only sent twinges of pain when she moved it but at least it finally stopped bleeding.

Misao discarded the ruined outfit and slipped into her most comfortable kimono, wrapping the obi in a loose knot. She then snuck back to the room with the stained clothes and cleaned up the puddle of blood as best she could. With the loss of her right arm, it was more difficult to wipe all traces of her wound away, but she finally managed to wipe everything up so it looked like she had never dripped blood in the room – which she suddenly realized was right above Aoshi's study. No wonder he had found her; with her heavy landing inside, he had come upstairs to investigate the noise.

Going back to the bedroom where her desk was, Misao stuffed the bloody clothing deep in her closet to dispose of another day. She then dashed off a note to Megumi and headed downstairs to ask Omasu, their housekeeper, to send it to Tokyo. After the older woman took it, unsurprised since Misao often wrote to her friends there, Misao hesitated before asking in a quiet voice, "Where is Aoshi-sama?"

At his name, Omasu gave her an appraising look. "In his study. He seemed a little…miffed about something, too. Would you happen to know what caused it?'

Trying not to squirm under the housekeeper's hawkish gaze, Misao mumbled something about a disagreement. Omasu didn't bother trying to decipher her words but merely cast her an exasperated smile. "Misao-sama, let me give you some advice about men. Above all, they need to feel respected and loved by their wives. It's very easy to please them, so long as you obey them and keep your temper to yourself."

"I don't have a temper," Misao denied hotly.

"Oh? Then why did Aoshi-sama stomp into his study and slam the shouji shut as if he was denied something that is his right?"

Misao blushed under Omasu's meaningful look. "I didn't deny him anything," she said awkwardly, well aware of what the housekeeper was implying. "And anyway, he doesn't stomp or slam things so you're obviously exaggerating."

"I'm only telling you this so you'll know to give him what he wants next time. Believe me, it'll make all our jobs easier. Sae-san swears she's not going to give him his afternoon tea, and, in his current mood, neither am I."

"Fine, I'll do it," Misao grumbled. "But I have to go see Jiya first. I'll be back in an hour."

"All right. Let me tie your obi into something decent. And don't forget your parasol and geta."

Grimacing at the latest fashion trends that required her to use and wear such useless items, Misao did as she was instructed and set off at a fast pace to her grandfather's house, only a fifteen minute walk. She made it in ten and slipped off her wooden sandals, calling hello to Kuro who was chopping wood in the back garden where Okina was sure to be.

She was right. He sat on the engawa, enjoying the spring day with a bottle of sake. As Misao sank on the empty tatami, she noticed an extra cup there.

"None for you, my dear. What if you're pregnant?" Okina said serenely around his pipe. The familiar scent of sweet and smoky herbs wafted in her direction.

Scowling, Misao retorted, "Then why the extra cup?" Without waiting for a response, she soldiered on. "Jiya, I'm in a bind. I was out on patrol early this morning and ran into Hoji who tried to kill me. Naturally, he ran away after we fought but I got hurt and went back home but Aoshi-sama found me bleeding and wanted to know what was going on but of course I couldn't tell him and now he's mad at me and Omasu-san thinks it's because I refused him and now I don't know what to do!"

Okina waited until his granddaughter ran out of breath before taking the pipe out of his mouth. "So you were careless enough to get hurt, and then careless enough to get caught, hmm?" he mused.

Misao gritted her teeth, knowing everything he said was true and she couldn't deny it. "That is not the point," she snapped. "I'm trying to tell you that Aoshi-sama is suspicious about me!"

"So what did you say to him?"

"Nothing. What could I say? 'Yes, husband, I am actually a shinobi trying to make sure criminals don't have the opportunity to carry out their nefarious plans in our fair city'?"

"Now, that would be a bit too blunt, don't you think?" Okina gently chided. "I think you would have to explain your whole family history first, my dear."

"But I can't! You know I can't!"

"You can't? Well, I suppose if you say so…" The doubtful look Okina gave her made Misao feel like he was questioning her state of mind. His gaze drifted past her and settled on the grove of flowering sakura trees at the far edge of his garden. "But now that he suspects something, will he talk or will we have to eliminate him?"

Misao gasped. "You mean kill him? Of course not! Jiya, we can't go around just killing him like he's of no consequence! He's my husband!"

Okina's grin turned into a definite leer as he shifted his attention back to his granddaughter. "Ah, so you've fallen in love with him, have you now, Misao-mine?" He cackled. "I knew you would."

"Who said anything about love?" Misao protested. "I'm just saying you can't kill him. We haven't been married a year yet!"

"There have been far younger widows," Okina said ominously. When he saw the mulish tilt of her mouth, he relented with, "Oh, very well, no killing Aoshi then. I suppose that's best, considering how much I like him and how hard it was for me to marry you off the first time. Do you know how many men want someone who's sweet and demure and obedient?"

"I can be sweet, demure, and obedient," Misao said, slightly offended. She knew she wasn't the ideal wife, but she tried her best. That counted for something, didn't it? "But, more to the point, now what?"

Okina took another thoughtful puff of his pipe, looking around his garden idly as if lost in thought. When he suddenly smiled, Misao barely refrained herself from pointing out this was not an amusing matter. This was important and the one time she needed her grandfather's guidance, he was snickering to himself?

As if sensing her fidgeting, Okina turned his attention back to her. "Well, do you trust him to keep quiet about this?"

Misao frowned, still not liking his train of thought, but nodded. "Yes," she answered firmly.

He shrugged. "Then there's nothing that can be done for the moment, unless you decide to explain the entire matter to him. Though I would suggest that you take care of Hoji once and for all. And Misao-mine, don't forget that you should have given up your position as Okashira the moment you were married. It's only your stubbornness that is keeping you from having a happy, harmonious, truthful relationship with your husband. And if you get pregnant, that is most certainly grounds for termination as Okashira."

"I can't give it up, Jiya," she protested. "It's who I am."

Okina's expression softened at her sudden lost expression. "I know, Misao, I know. I just wish…" He stopped and sighed deeply. "I just wish you'd open your eyes a little wider."

"What?"

"Never mind, my dear. Now, you'd better get home and serve Aoshi his tea. But before you go, you may want to check on your bandage. It looks like you're bleeding again."

Alarmed, Misao held her arm out and saw a blob of red seeping through the sleeve of her kimono. "Oh, no," she groaned. "And this is my favorite outfit, too."

"Kuro is in the kitchen. Go ask him to bandage you up and then leave by the back entrance to avoid Okon fussing over you. In the meantime, I'll think more about your current situation."

"Thanks, Jiya," she said gratefully, suddenly cheered. If anyone could come up with a solution, it would be her grandfather. "I asked Megumi to stop by and visit because the cut's a little deep, but maybe Kuro can knot the bandage so I stop bleeding every time I move."

"Once you get home, go soak the kimono in some cold water and scrub gently," Okina advised. "Maybe some of the bloodstain will come out. Tell your nosy housekeeper it's katsu sauce if she asks."

Misao didn't think Omasu would buy that excuse but at least it was an idea. She rose to her knees, kissed her grandfather on the cheek, and dashed away to do as he suggested.

Okain watched her leave with a small smile curving his lips upward through the smoking pipe. He then looked up at his next guest and gestured him over from his observation spot at the sakura tree. "Come, come, and have a drink, my grandson. I imagine you may have some questions to ask me."

By the time Misao arrived home, her arm was rewrapped and well-fussed over by Okon, who happened to walk in on the bandaging process. It was well past the hour Aoshi normally took his tea. Avoiding Omasu's disapproving gaze, she assembled the tea tray hastily, almost spilling the hot liquid in the process, and shuffled towards the study. Setting the tray down, Misao knocked on the wood panel and waited until the bid to enter came. Sliding the shouji open, she entered with the tray and set it down to shut the door.

Aoshi sat in front of his desk, a low table on the opposite side of the room, continuing writing his letters in controlled brush strokes. The window allowed a stream of sunlight to beam through, illuminating the desk for optimal light. Misao stared, mesmerized by his graceful movements that almost rivaled a dancer. In another lifetime, her husband might have been a great shinobi, she mused.

"Misao."

Startled at the low tone broke into her thoughts, she looked up at Aoshi whose gaze was perhaps a bit colder than normal. "Y-yes?" she asked, wincing at the slight quaver in her voice.

"I assume you know what time I prefer to take my tea?"

Another lecture. She felt like it was pick-on-Misao day. Suppressing an unladylike sigh, she maneuvered the tea tray next to his desk. "Yes, Aoshi-sama," she said quietly. "I'm sorry, I went to visit Jiya and I guess I lost track of time." Well, a half-truth was better than a total lie, she consoled herself.

As if sensing her unhappiness, his voice softened slightly. "You are a good granddaughter, Misao. Not many women would visit their elders as frequently as you do."

She lowered her eyes to hide a pang of guilt. Even though Aoshi obviously knew she was hiding something, he complimented her so easily to ease the sting of his disapproval. Perhaps she should just confess it all.

But would Aoshi believe her? And if he did, would he forbid her from continuing as Okashira? Being a shinobi was what she had trained to be for as long as she could remember. Yet as a married woman, her role was now wife and future mother. No husband in their right mind would allow her to remain part of the Oniwabanshu. Misao wasn't even sure being a leader and wife and mother was possible.

No, she couldn't tell him. Besides, she had taken an oath to uphold the laws of the Oniwabanshu and telling an outsider about the clan was explicitly forbidden. Absently, Misao wondered if she would have to behead herself if she broke such an important law.

So she only murmured, "Thank you, Aoshi-sama." She busied herself with pouring the hot drink and Aoshi finally put down his brush to join her.

As they sipped their tea quietly, Misao felt him watching her. She caught his gaze a few times and felt a shiver of unease by the intensity of his piercing green eyes studying her. Unnerved, she shifted slightly but when his attention didn't waver, she blurted out, "Is there something wrong, Aoshi-sama?"

He didn't even blink as he took another sip of his tea. "You seem to be moving your arm without pain," he remarked blandly.

Misao squirmed, wishing her husband would drop the subject entirely. As it was, she was grateful he didn't seem that upset anymore. But until she figured out what to do, she wanted to avoid the matter as much as possible. "Yes," Misao replied.

"I hope you didn't show that to your grandfather. It seemed quite a deep cut. Okina would be most distressed."

"No, Aoshi-sama," she said softly.

"Good." And then he suddenly set his down his cup, indicating he was done. "I don't wish to be disturbed until dinner time."

Caught off-balance by the sudden dismissal, Misao only nodded, set down her own vessel, and escaped the study with a grateful exhale of breath.

Returning the tray to Omasu, she gave orders for dinner tonight to be served at six and headed upstairs to her room. She needed time to think and send out correspondences to her fellow shinobi to be on the lookout for Hoji.

Two days later, Megumi arrived early in the morning, accompanied by Sano, her unofficial bodyguard and – Misao suspected – suitor. By the time Misao came downstairs, Aoshi was already seated at his usual place at the head of the table and Megumi was directing Sano and Omasu to dispatch her bags to the usual guest room. The doctor joined them at the table once she was sure Sano would take care of her heavier travel bags.

"You're here early," Misao remarked with some surprise, watching her friend sink down with her usual grace. Seeing the familiar, welcome face made her sag with relief from the tension she didn't realize she carried on her shoulders.

Megumi waved her hand dismissively. "I've been thinking about stopping by Kyoto and making sure my apprentices aren't ruining my good name here anyway. Your 'I-miss-you' telegram just made it happen faster. Good morning, Shinomori-san."

Aoshi nodded. "Takani-sensei," he said by way of greeting.

"As always, a man of few words." Megumi flashed him a smile and Misao tried not to scowl. When the doctor and Aoshi met for the first time at their engagement ceremony, Misao was struck by their similarities. Both were tall, slender, dark-haired, and possessed striking eyes that enhanced their physical looks. They looked good together, as if they were two halves that had been torn apart. Something like jealousy clawed at the pit of Misao's stomach at the memory. They were beautiful separately, but together, they seemed to fit just right.

Megumi seemed to notice her expression and smirked at the younger woman. When Misao had shared her fears with the doctor right before the wedding, Megumi, like the good friend she was, made it a point to tease her about it ever since.

But then Sano appeared and plopped down right next to Megumi, dispelling the jealous illusion. "Whew! I don't know what you carry in there, Megitsune, but I swear it weighs more than an ox. Oh, hey Itachi-chan, Shinomori-san."

Misao scowled at Sano for her hated nickname. Having taken the role of affectionate big brother, Sano seemed to assume it allowed him to tease her to his heart's content and he relished it. But because Aoshi was still relatively a stranger, Sano at least behaved himself. It was a wonder her husband put up with her eccentric friends at all.

Omasu, flushed from carrying Megumi's many bags, arrived at the table and served the rice hastily so they could eat. As Sano plowed through the food as if he hadn't eaten in days, Aoshi surprised everyone by speaking. "You must have traveled all day and night to get here so quickly," he remarked.

Megumi hid her amazement well and merely smiled. "No, not really. We took the train and it cut our traveling time by more than half. That Western invention is amazingly fast. And I had already packed with the intention of coming here in a day or two." She glanced at Sano who asked for another bowl of rice and sighed. "Though, yes, I suppose some would find it a miracle I can get anywhere at all with the baggage I carry."

"Huh? Are you talking about me?" Sano asked around a mouthful of food.

Ignoring him and the rice that stuck to his chin, Megumi continued, "In any case, I hope I'm not intruding. I should have sent word but I figured I'd get here at the same time the message did."

"You are always welcome, Takani-sensei," Aoshi assured her.

Misao glanced at her husband, feeling grateful he was so welcoming of her friends, but strangely hollow that he would say such a thing to her beautiful friend.

After finishing his meal, Aoshi excused himself and headed towards his study. As soon as he was gone, Megumi leaned closer to Misao and hissed, "What's going on? He's actually trying to make conversation with us!"

Misao sighed and put down her barely used chopsticks. "I'll explain later," she mumbled. "When we're out of the house."

An hour later, the two women headed out to the busy streets of Kyoto. Sano opted to stay in and take a nap, allowing them to talk privately. As they walked, Misao quickly told Megumi what had happened and what Okina said. As she finished, she concluded with a wail, "I don't know what to do!"

"There, there, Misao, don't get all worked up," Megumi said soothingly. "First, I want to stop by one of my student's clinic and take a look at your arm. Then we'll consider the options."

It was such a relief to have her level-headed friend take charge for a moment. "Thanks, Megumi. I'm so glad you're here." Misao sighed. "I guess I was just being naïve when I thought I could keep this from Aoshi-sama forever. But he's always gone for days at a time so I figured it would be easier to hide. At least, that's what I thought Jiya was thinking when he told me I was getting married."

Megumi cast her eyes upward in exasperation. "Misao, I think he married you off to make sure someone would take good care of you when he's gone."

"Yes, but Jiya wouldn't just think of that," the younger woman insisted. "He knows how important the Oniwabanshu is to me."

"All right. Look, here's the clinic. Let's go inside and see how deep that cut is. But next time you go up against Hoji, you'll be more careful, right?"

In a private room, the doctor clucked her tongue as she peeled off the bandage to poke at the wound. She then started mixing some dried herbs together, eventually creating a green, foul-smelling paste that she slathered on Misao's arm. She then bound it tightly with a clean bandage. "That will help heal the cut faster and make sure no infection sets in. While I'm here, I'll help apply the poultice every day until the wound is healed."

Misao sniffed her bound arm and wrinkled her nose. "It smells like Sano's dirty feet."

"Better Sano's dirty feet than me having to amputate your arm," Megumi said acerbically as she put the herbs and equipment away. She then paused and added defensively, "And Sano's feet don't smell that bad."

At those words, Misao smirked, sensing an opportunity to return the teasing for once. "And how would you know that? Does Takani-sensei now have a crush on the rooster-head, hmm?"

Megumi's cheeks reddened slightly as she rinsed her hands clean in a bowl of water. "Shush, you, or I'm going to send a bill to your precious Aoshi-sama." Wiping her hands on a towel, the older woman headed towards the door. "Now, as punishment, you can accompany me on visiting my students to see how they're doing."

Misao groaned good-naturedly as she shrugged back into her kimono, grateful for the wide sleeves that hid the bandage. Megumi helped her retie the obi before she followed her friend out the door.

They spent the entire morning visiting Megumi's former students who opened up medical clinics in the city. At some point, Sano caught up with them and followed behind with lazy steps, chewing on a senbon. He proved to be a good deterrent from all the leers they received from foreigners. Misao had never seen so many Westerners flooding into Kyoto but lately it seemed there were more of them than there were Japanese citizens.

Even Megumi commented on the number of light-haired people they kept seeing on the road. "I expected this in Tokyo but not here, and not so soon."

"Yes. But change is coming, whether we are ready for it or not." Misao sighed and massaged the side of her head with her left hand. "I think this is why Hoji seems to be so active lately. From the intel I've been receiving, he's trying to take advantage of the gaijins and their ignorance. I'm even starting to wonder if he wants to start a war between us and the Westerners."

Just considering the seriousness of the problem made Misao's head hurt. Hoji had the contacts and the means to sell his arms to disgruntled citizens unhappy with the influx of strangers in their homeland. She had already heard of numerous skirmishes in the larger cities and the tension between the two races was never far from the surface. She could only imagine the disaster if those who wanted the Westerners out decided to do so by force.

She didn't even realize they had stopped walking until she noticed both Megumi and Sano staring at her. "What?" Misao asked self-consciously, putting a hand to her hair. Did something land on her head without her knowledge?

Sano simply wolf-whistled and put his hands behind his head in a casual pose. "I didn't know you had to worry about those things as Okashira, Itachi-chan," he remarked. "I'm just glad I'm not you."

"We're all going to have to worry about this if things get worse," Misao muttered. "I just happen to get information that you don't."

"Well, we'll pass along any word we hear, of course," Megumi said as they resumed walking. "Sano still has contacts with his thug friends, and my students will tell me if there are suspicious requests for medical supplies or help indicating preparation for something. You're not alone, Misao."

Misao threw her friend a grateful smile. "Thanks, Megumi. I knew I could count on you."

"What about me?" Sano protested between the senbon.

"I can count on you to eat my household out of food twice as fast," the kunoichi responded with an arch look. "I'm going to hear Omasu-san complain about how she has to go food shopping more often for the next two weeks."

"It's not like you and Shinomori-san can't afford it," the fighter groused. "I hear he finalized a trade agreement with the Mizushima family in the Chiba prefecture and Oshiro Takeshi in the Fukuoka prefecture." When both women stared at him blankly, he shook his head. "Of course you two wouldn't know who they are, except they are quite possibly the two most prosperous merchants in the entire country!"

"I leave all that business stuff up to Aoshi-sama," Misao said dismissively. "I have more important things to worry about, like Hoji encouraging flames of rebellion, possibly starting a war, and getting a lot of innocent people killed."

Sano waved a hand. "I'm just saying that your wonderful Aoshi-sama is staying away from doing business with Westerners, but I'm not sure how long that will last. I have a feeling the gaijins are here to stay."

When they arrived back at the house in time for lunch, they saw a flurry of activity as servants readied bags into a carriage for transport. "I wonder what's going on?" Misao said, before hurrying inside and calling out Omasu's name.

The housekeeper appeared a few moments later. "Oh, you're finally home. Aoshi-sama has to leave for Nagoya. I think something happened at the warehouse there."

"That's not good," Misao murmured. She headed towards the study, leaving Megumi and Sano behind. Just as she was about to knock, the shouji slid open. Aoshi looked down at her.

"I was hoping you would return before I had to leave."

"Omasu said there's a problem at one of the warehouses?" Misao asked. She didn't know or bother to understand all the details of the business that her husband ran, but she knew the goods he traded were normally stored in warehouses before being transported to their final destination. If anything happened to the warehouses, it could mean potential trouble for the business.

"Yes. I need to go there and assess the situation. I'm not sure how long it will take, but I will send word if it is longer than a week."

Misao nodded, trying to fight back an unexpected wave of sadness. While Aoshi traveled frequently, he would also stay home just as much. He was rarely gone for longer than a week, and even if they didn't spend that much time together when he was home, it was still comforting to know that he was nearby. Misao hadn't realized how much she had come to enjoy her husband's presence until now. Was this love, as Jiya had teased her about two days ago?

As if sensing her conflicted emotions, Aoshi unexpectedly cupped her cheek with his hand. "I will come home as soon as I am able to. In the meantime, Takani-sensei and Sagara-san are here so they can keep you company."

Slightly stunned by the rare gesture of intimacy out in the hallway where anyone in the house could see them, Misao managed to nod and say, "Of course. Please be careful traveling, Aoshi-sama."

He gazed at her and, after another moment, dropped his hand and strode off. Misao stood still and listened to his commanding voice put the furor of activity into order. A few minutes later, the carriage rolled away and left her alone.

Megumi found her a minute later still standing there with her own hand to the cheek Aoshi had caressed. "Misao? Omasu-san said lunch is going to be a little late because of Shinomori-san's departure, so - are you okay?"

"Wha-? Oh, yes!" Misao nodded vigorously, not wanting to share whatever just happened between them, at least not until she figured out what it meant. Or perhaps it didn't mean anything at all? Even after a year of being married, Misao still didn't know her husband at all. "Um, why don't we go have some tea? I can tell you what else is going on around here."

Megumi raised her brows and then smiled, as if she understood her embarrassment. "All right."