***The characters used in this work are the copyrighted property of their original creator. I do not seek profit from my writing. I would prefer that you did not copy my work, but I can't stop you.***
Angle brackets denote italics, which denote thoughts, narration, or emphasis according to context.
Back by popular demand! After I wrote the first part based on this idea, I got numerous replies. More hits on fanfiction.net than I've ever gotten for anything, and more than one plea for a sequel. So now, in the complete, consuming boredom of my third-period Webmastering class, I will comply. Please enjoy, and e-mail C&C to me at lechuza@herzeleid.net .
[PARODY] Role Reversal- Part 2 (Aoshi x Misao)
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Such a lovely spring morning at the Aoiya should have been peaceful. The leaves of the trees glowed bright, jewel-toned green in the warm sunlight, casting patterns of sleepy shadows on the soft grass below. The fragrance of early spring wildflowers filled the air; not as cloying as the persistent jasmine and rose of the summer that lurked around the corner.
With a sudden squawk and beating of heavy wings, a flock of ravens ascended from one of the trees, flying away in a mass of screaming displeasure. A lone figure outside in the beauty of nature had kicked the Chinese oak, shaking it considerably.
Damn it. I could have sworn she'd fallen for me as hard as I had for her!
The scowl on Aoshi's face would have been priceless to anyone there to see. Then again, he had been a lot more expressionate recently. Slamming doors, voicing his opinion, skipping down hallways when he was in a good mood: and always with a pert, toothy smile.
Misao, by contrast, had flown universes away from her former self. She was always silent now, rarely having an opinion on anything. If she did, she never stated it. And she spent most of her time at the nearby temple, meditating on Kami-sama knew what. Most disturbingly, she had donned a black leather trenchcoat the day after the odd behavior first began and refused to take it off.
It would be obvious to anyone who had ever known both Aoshi and Misao that this was a startling reversal of their behaviors. Aoshi was supposed to be the sullen one in the trenchcoat, and Misao the bubbly dreamer. The other members of the Oniwa Banshu were taking it in stride, to the best of their individual abilities. And this was all because of tea grown on land full of unearthed samurai graves.
Aoshi sighed, plopping down on the grass. In this little spot, the ground was nearly overgrown with tiny yellow and pink flowers, providing only a very gentle fragrance. Plucking a pink one, he curled its stem behind his ear, unaware of the ridiculous picture he presented at that very moment.
Misao, however, was aware.
She watched Aoshi from behind a nearby tree, more silent in her breathing and contemplations than she had been in her entire lifetime as a ninja. But then, she had never been quite the ninja Aoshi was.
Despite her determination to forget him after years of continuous shunning on his part, Misao found herself as haunted as ever. His new behavior was proof to her that it wasn't merely his icy, impossible-to-breach façade that made him so powerfully attractive. He wasn't only desirable because he was hard to get.
He was unforgettable.
It never occurred to Misao that she might finally be feeling the attraction he felt for her. Even surrounded by sunlight and delicate flowers, he was deliciously masculine. Utterly appealing to her physically. Although she had known desire for him before, her longing for him now hit in the form of a stab deep in her stomach. Guilt rose up through her like vapors of bile, making her blink.
Guilt? Why?
It didn't take any effort on Misao's part to hold back the tears that stung a deep trail from the back of her brain to her eyes. They simply wouldn't come. It was as though she was frozen in her existence, held suspended in time, her emotions shoved so far to the side that they had fallen off a cliff and could never be retrieved.
Including my love? Or could this be more than lust?
At that, she remembered something Sanosuke had once said to Aoshi:
Did they cut out your heart as well as your tongue?
The memory haunted Misao as she turned back to the Aoiya. She needed some tea to cool her nerves. Oddly, she'd been craving it more than ever the past few days, despite the odd bitter taste of this particular shipment.
Back outside, Aoshi finally sat up. The sunlight had warmed his thick hair and pale skin deliciously, sending a penetrating burning throughout him that made him wonder what he had been missing, spending so much time locked up in the temple. He did not for a moment miss his old dispassionateness, the coldness, the block of iron he had hidden his emotions behind. A block that was too heavy for him to move by the time he realized it was the harm it was doing.
Brushing grass off his cute bottom, he stretched sensuously. He craved sweets all of a sudden. Something about lounging in the sunshine made him hungry.
In the kitchen, he found Misao starting a pot of tea.
"Ne, Misao, why don't you sit down and let me make that for you? I'd like some too."
"Arigatou." The way she said the single word burned oddly familiar in his mind, causing him to frown for a moment. Misao withdrew into the dining area so silently that he found it disturbing.
In an eerie green typhoon, the bamboo whisk swirled through the matchka and hot water. He stopped to contemplate the mixture of darkness and foam for only a moment before putting the stoneware pot on a tray and taking it out into the dining room to Misao. On an afterthought, he added a few of the sweet potato cakes Misao had bought the last time she went shopping. He had craved them terribly recently.
Misao knelt, cloaked by the black trenchcoat and her own silence, as Aoshi poured her a cup of the steaming tea. At the sight of the confections she raised a single sleek eyebrow, but made no comment. Stifling her amusement, Misao watched as he scarfed down one in a single bite and then offered her one. She accepted with a slight nod, nibbling it with a very un-Misao-like dispassion.
Tilting her head back, Misao downed her tea. It singed her throat enough to make her eyes water, but the bitterness wasn't so prominent this time. When she put her cup down it was as though an emerald film was covering her vision. The odd color masked the strange look that had come over Aoshi's face after finishing his own tea.
Understanding.
Something there had never been before. Pure, simple, complete, and mutual.
Aoshi's indigo eyes narrowed into slits the color of the night sky. The old defenses were back in place. The sweet potato cake tasted like mush in his mouth. But he could see what he'd been blind to before: her love, her complete acceptance of his past and present, her breathless admiration of his beauty and skill.
And the same for Misao. Although they were no longer her own, she clearly felt his guilt and anger, longing and persistent sense of unworthiness. His desire.
The teacups rested on the table, empty except for a few grains of green tea grit in the bottom of each. But it was amazing how little emptiness it took to fill up the black spaces within kindred hearts.