Rurouni Kenshin Fanfic: These Changing Times
This fanfic series takes place two years after the Revenge Arc ends, in an alternate RuroKen universe. (Only because I started it well before the manga ended ^_^;;) Eighteen-year-old Makimachi Misao comes to Tokyo to stay with Kenshin and Kaoru... and to put her own troubles behind her. A newly attentive Sagara Sanosuke is more than willing to distract her. Then a certain Oniwabanshuu onmitsu turns up in Tokyo to help investigate a wave of vicious armed robberies sweeping the city...
Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated. But be warned: this fic meddles with what seem to be considered the tried-and-true romantic pairings in RuroKen (in case I didn't already make that clear). So if you read further, please be kind and keep an open mind! ^^;;
Note: for those who are new to the language, go to http://www2.netcom.com/~sakka/times/glossary.htm to get information on the Japanese terms and expressions used in this chapter.
SPOILER WARNING: This chapter contains some Kyoto Arc spoilers; if you've at least watched up through episode 42 of the anime (or read through Vol. 11 of the manga), you should be fine. If not, proceed at your own risk.
Chapter 11 -- One Chance
"That's it, Misao... let it all out... cry all you want. I'm not going anywhere..."
Misao took Sano at his word. She cried for what seemed like hours, determined to drain every last bit of sorrow, every last teardrop. A detached part of her was amazed by Sano's unusually patient attitude. He held her tightly, wordlessly, stroking her hair every now and then. A couple of times she thought she heard him sigh, but she was too miserable to care whether it was from exasperation.
Finally, her sobs faded to an occasional sniffle. Still, she remained in Sano's embrace, her face pressed against his chest, too embarrassed to look at him. He smells good... like wood-chips. She smiled, remembering how she'd sweet-talked him into cutting up enough wood for breakfast before they left the doujou that night.
Sanosuke was relieved that Misao appeared to be finished crying. Her sorrow tore at his heart, her tears affecting him in a way no other woman's ever had. What is it about her... why does she get to me like this? It had been hard to just stand there holding her when he wanted so badly to say or do something that would make things right for her.
Ore no baka-yarou... there's nothing I can do or say to change what happened... I should know that better than anybody. I can only help comfort her now... and hope that she finally moves past this.
"Misao?"
"Hai?" Her voice was muffled by his jacket.
"Are you ready to talk about what happened now?"
Startled, Misao looked up at him. "Eeto..." she faltered, rubbing her eyes with the back of one hand.
Sano offered her his sleeve. She blushed, shaking her head. "I think I've soaked your jacket enough for one night," she said ruefully, eliciting a brief chuckle from him.
"You didn't answer my question," he said, tipping her face upward so she couldn't avoid his eyes. "When are you going to tell me what happened between you and Shinomori?"
Misao gritted her teeth as she felt her eyes grow hot again. Chikusho... will I ever be able to hear his name again and not feel like I've been stabbed through the heart? I'm such a weakling!
"Misao... you can't keep holding this inside... it's eating you up." Sano's voice deepened with emotion . "It hurts me to see you suffer like this." He cradled Misao's face in his hands, brushing away the remnants of her tears with his thumbs. "You can trust me," he said. "I promise I won't judge or criticize you... I'll just listen. Please tell me."
The tenderness with which he was treating her made Misao feel warm and protected. "All right," she said. "But not here... let's go back to the doujou."
Sano nodded, offering his arm as support. She took it, and together they slowly made their way down the street.
...............
Misao grimaced as she lowered her swollen ankle into the bucket of water Sano had brought from the well. "Tsumetai," she said, shivering.
"It'll help the swelling," Sano said, plopping down next to her on the steps to the doujou training hall. "I'm ready when you are."
Misao took a deep breath. "I guess I should start by telling you where things stood between Aoshi-sama and me when we returned to Kyoto two years ago," she said.
"I've been curious about that," Sano said. "You seemed pretty cozy at the wedding... I remember thinking that you were starting to wear old frosty down."
Misao snickered, then covered her mouth. I actually laughed at that! Maybe there's hope for me after all... "I thought so, too," she said, her voice growing soft and reflective. "But things remained pretty much the same for the next year. I stopped trailing after him so much... thought maybe if I made less of a nuisance of myself he would seek me out more." Her eyes flashed bitterly. "Of course, he didn't. Not that he ignored me, either... he just went about his business as always and only included me when necessary.
"I guess things really started to change on my 18th birthday..."
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"Misao?" Okina paused in front of Misao's half-opened door. "Will you join me for tea?"
"Of course, Jiya!" Misao put down the beautiful kimono she was gazing at. Her Aoiya family had really outdone themselves for her birthday this year, she thought, glancing at the piles of clothes surrounding her. Most likely because I've outgrown everything else I own... guess they were sick of seeing me in Omasu's old pink kimono every day!
She joined Jiya in the common room, where he had already laid out the tea and snacks. As she knelt across from him, Misao noticed a long, thin, wrapped bundle lying next to him. She quirked an eyebrow. "Another present?" she said doubtfully. "Jiya, you've all done so much for me already... this is too much..."
"Iie, Misao. This present isn't from me," Okina said, his tone matching his intensely serious expression.
Misao's heart leapt. Could... could it be from...? Yappari! He didn't forget after all! Demo... why is he having Jiya give it to me?
"It's from your grandfather."
Misao face-faulted. "O- ojii-san?" she stammered. "Demo... dou?"
Okina sipped his tea, then put the cup down. "When your grandfather -- our okashira -- was on his deathbed all those years ago, I made him a promise... that, when you were of age, I would give you his greatest treasure. His legacy, I suppose you could call it." He gravely handed her the bundle.
With uncharacteristic solemnity, Misao carefully unwrapped the package... revealing a sheathed kodachi with an elegant gold-trimmed hilt. "Oh," she breathed, holding the weapon in both hands, examining it closely. "It's magnificent."
"Aa," Okina agreed, a slight smile lightening his severe expression. "It used to have a twin... I'm not exactly sure what happened to it. They were gifts from the emperor. Many times I had the privilege of watching Akihito-sama wield both in battle. While he lived, he was the sole master of Kodachi Nitou Ryuu... and I've yet to see anyone surpass him."
Misao's eyes widened. "Not even Aoshi-sama?" she whispered, awestruck.
Okina chuckled. "Well... Aoshi-sama is certainly his mentor's equal," he said, stroking his beard. "But better than Akihito-sama? It's hard for me to say."
His eyes grew serious again. "Misao... you know I never wanted you to join the Oniwabanshuu." Her face fell, and she opened her mouth to protest, but Okina held his hand up. "I know you think you've heard this all before... but humor an old man. When the battle at Toba Fushimi ended and Meiji was established, I rejoiced not only for Japan, but for you... because you would be able to live peacefully in a world free of the strife and chaos that had ended your parents' lives... and, indirectly, your grandfather's. To that end, I was happy when the Oniwabanshuu disbanded... after all, I felt there would be no need for such a group in the new era."
Misao watched Okina silently, biting her lip to keep from interrupting him. Oh, Jiya... I can see where this is going. How many times have we had this argument? Do you really think you'll ever change my mind?
Okina frowned as he continued, "I know now I was being overly optimistic... perhaps even foolish. One thing the events of the past two years have shown me is that there will always be a need for the Oniwabanshuu. It is as Himura says... the weak still need protection from those who would abuse them. And I think we have protected Kyoto well these past few years."
Misao grinned. "I agree," she said with her trademark cockiness.
Okina tried to resist smiling in return. He failed. "You have a right to be proud... you've become a fine onmitsu, despite my misgivings," he said. His smile faded. "Still, I often wonder if Akihito-sama were living today... if he would have wanted you to become Oniwabanshuu. I think he would have preferred for you to have a normal life... a husband, children... far away from the violence and darkness onmitsu often face."
Misao could no longer hold her tongue. "I know you worry about me, Jiya," she said. "But despite all your dreams and wishes for me... I am Oniwabanshuu. I can be nothing else."
Okina's eyes grew moist. "I know that now," he said. "And I know how serious you are about your training and your place among us. I've watched you these past few years... you've grown from a well-meaning but headstrong child playing fighting-games to a strong, skillful warrior who chooses her actions carefully." His eyes twinkled mischievously. "Well... most of the time, anyway. But what I mean to say is... I am very proud of you. And I accept how you've chosen to live your life."
Misao set aside her grandfather's kodachi and threw her arms around Okina. "Arigatou, Jiya," she said, smiling joyfully. "That's the best gift I've gotten yet."
Okina hugged her tightly. "My dear Misao," he said warmly. "Your grandfather would be every bit as proud of you as I am."
Misao beamed as she released Okina and picked up the kodachi, pulling it from its iron sheath and gingerly pressing her thumb to its edge. "Hmm... it's dull," she said. "I'll have to sharpen it later. Jiya, can you teach me use it?"
"I'm afraid not," Okina sighed. "I was never much good at swordplay. You'll have to find another teacher."
Misao's eyes gleamed. "I know just the person..." she said cheerfully, sheathing the kodachi and scrambling to her feet.
...............
"Absolutely not," Aoshi said firmly, rising from his seat on the porch.
Misao had expected him to refuse her request, so she was prepared to counter his objections. "Why not?" She jumped up after him, blocking his path. "Aoshi-sama, you're a Nitou Ryuu master! You're the only one who can show me how to properly use..."
"I said no." His voice matched his frosty blue eyes. "End of discussion."
Misao's cheeks burned with anger. Despite her vow to control herself and win Aoshi over with calm reason, she lost her temper. "I think you owe me more of an explanation than that," she snapped. "After all, I am okashira of the Oniwabanshuu --"
Aoshi's eyes glinted dangerously. "Oh really?" he said quietly. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that, Misao. Now may be a good time."
Misao trembled a little. In the year since Aoshi's return, they had never discussed her assumption of his title. And she certainly hadn't intended to bring such a sensitive topic up now, in such a childish, taunting way. So much for tact... now I've really upset him! And rightfully so, she thought, mentally smacking herself. She supposed her chances of getting him to train her had gone from slim to nonexistent.
Oh well... time for damage control. She would do well to get out of this conversation with her title of okashira intact... much less soothe Aoshi's bruised feelings.
She held her head high, doing her best to sound calm and confident. "All right," she said. "It is about time we dealt with this. Shall we call the others?"
"That won't be necessary," Aoshi said. "This is a matter between you and me. We should resolve it privately." He turned and walked toward the Oniwabanshuu living quarters, motioning for Misao to follow. She swallowed nervously, falling in silently behind him, her thoughts racing.
It could be worse... he could've challenged me to combat for the title. Or... maybe he is going to challenge me! Like I would ever have a prayer of defeating him... but I can't just give up! I am the granddaughter of Makimachi Akihito... one of the founding members of the Oniwabanshuu and one of its greatest warriors... to honor my family, I have to at least try to prove my worthiness as okashira!
Aoshi slid open the door to his room and waited for Misao to enter first. He had regained his cool composure, making it impossible for Misao to tell whether he was still angry with her. She walked through the doorway, her eyes downcast, her heart beating in her throat.
After Aoshi set out mats for both of them, they sat quietly for several minutes. Misao stared at her hands, which were clutched tightly in her lap. After awhile, she stole a glance at Aoshi, and saw he was sitting with eyes closed and a peaceful expression on his face.
So he's meditating... guess he was still upset, then. Should I start the conversation?
Aoshi opened his eyes as she finished that last thought. They were calm and clear, and for a moment Misao thought she saw something like tenderness in his expression. But it vanished the moment he began to speak.
"Misao," he said sternly, "tell me again how you became okashira of the Oniwabanshuu."
Her mouth went dry. "Where... where would you like me to start?" she said softly, unwilling to cause either of them further suffering by bringing up painful memories.
"From the beginning, of course," Aoshi said.
She groaned. "That doesn't help me," she said, gesturing in frustration. "Which beginning? The time when you and Hannya and everyone left me? The time when I went to look for you? The time when I first met Himura?"
Aoshi regarded her calmly. "Start with meeting Himura Battousai," he said.
Misao ground her teeth. "I wish you'd stop calling him that! He gave all that up, remember?"
Aoshi didn't reply. Misao sighed and began recounting her first meeting with Himura Kenshin. Once she had started her tale, she relaxed and began to enjoy describing her journey with Kenshin and all that had followed after they reached the Aoiya. She grew increasingly more animated... until she reached the part where Kaoru and Yahiko told her of her friends' deaths and Aoshi's vow to kill Kenshin. Her voice faltered, and she stopped speaking.
Aoshi's voice was cool and smooth as glass. "Go on, Misao," he said. "What happened then?"
She closed her eyes. "I can't," she murmured, trying to hold back the tears gathering behind her eyelids as she recalled her frantic race back to the Aoiya, then to the storage shed on the hill... and the brutal sight that awaited her there. Her beloved Jiya, cut to shreds... her beloved Aoshi standing over him, his kodachi dripping with Jiya's blood...
"Misao. Open your eyes."
She obeyed instantly, her tears evaporating as she met Aoshi's gaze. His normally blank eyes were filled with pain and regret. Even his voice was different... hoarse, less certain. "I just realized I never apologized for what I said to you that day... or for everything I did that hurt you during those weeks," he said. "I thought words of apology seemed weak and inadequate in the face of my actions... but..."
Misao shook her head. "Iie, Aoshi-sama... words were never necessary," she said. "We all knew how truly sorry you were... and that it was hard for you to say so. After you returned to us, your actions told us what was in your heart... as they always have."
Aoshi looked faintly surprised, and for a moment Misao thought she could see the hint of a smile hovering around his lips. It quickly disappeared as he resumed his calm countenance.
"Misao, all the events that caused you to take up the burden of leading the Oniwabanshuu... at the time, it was necessary and the right thing to do," he said in his usual impassive voice. "However, it's no longer necessary for you to bear the weight of such responsibility." His eyes flashed as she started to protest, intimidating her into silence. "Your abilities have grown, but you still have much to learn about strategy and leadership," Aoshi continued. "And you are still very young. Misao, you're capable of being a sensible girl... when you think about it, you have to admit that you're not ready yet."
Misao clenched her fists in her lap, bowing her head. "I know that," she said through clenched teeth, looking up anxiously. "I admit it. Datte, Aoshi-sama --"
Aoshi cut her off. "That is why I'm asking you to let me bear this burden for you," he said, "until the day you're truly ready to take your place as okashira."
Misao gaped at him. He's... asking... for my permission to resume his title? He can't be serious...
They stared at each other without speaking for awhile. Then it hit Misao --
Naruhodo! This is his way of apologizing to me! He's letting me step aside without losing face... yet acknowledging that my place within the Oniwabanshuu is secure... now and in the future.
"I accept your offer, Aoshi-sama," she said, bowing slightly. When she looked up she was rewarded with a rare sight.
Aoshi was smiling at her. By normal standards, it was no more than a slight upward quirking of his mouth's corners... but for Aoshi, it was as dramatic as a full-blown grin.
"Arigatou gozaimasu," he said, bowing in return. "I promise that this time I will serve the Oniwabanshuu faithfully and honorably."
Misao held up her hand. "I do have one condition, though." She nearly giggled as Aoshi's smile vanished. "If I'm ever to become okashira, I'll need to master all the onmitsu arts. Will you reconsider your refusal to teach me Kodachi Nitou Ryuu?"
Aoshi nodded. "Shikashi... first you have to become stronger at your other skills. Your kempo especially needs some work... we can begin there tomorrow," he said. "It's late... you should get to bed."
Misao could no longer suppress her own wide grin. "Yoshi," she said, smacking her fist into her palm and rising to leave. She paused at the door, turning to face him once more. "Ne, Aoshi-sama... how will I know when I'm ready to become okashira?"
Aoshi's eyes took on a decidedly devilish gleam. "It's very simple, Misao," he said evenly. "You'll be ready to become okashira... when you can defeat me in combat."
Misao wailed, "Defeat you? Mou! I'll be older than Jiya by that time!"
"Maybe so... but I'll be even older than that. That should give you the advantage."
Misao stared at Aoshi, dumbfounded and delighted. Unbelievable... first a smile... now he's actually teasing me! What's next -- pulling pranks and singing sake songs with Jiya?
"I think you should get some sleep, too... you're acting weird," she said with a wink. "Oyasumi, Aoshi-sama. I'll be ready for training when you return from the temple tomorrow morning."
"I'll be expecting you," he said. "Oyasumi, Misao."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"I don't get it," Sano burst in. "You're telling me Shinomori was finally taking you seriously as Oniwabanshuu... training you and everything?"
Misao nodded, feeling a bittersweet mix of pride and loss.
"So... what the hell happened?" Sano gestured in exasperation. "Did he get bored? Or did you annoy him one too many times?"
Misao whacked Sano over the head with the bucket she'd been soaking her ankle in. Water flew everywhere. "I'm trying to tell you what the hell happened, chicken-head!" she roared. "So shut up and let me finish my story!"
Sano shook the water out of his hair with a grin. "Please continue, itachi-sama," he said, secretly pleased that his rude comment had somewhat lightened the tense, heavy atmosphere.
Misao glared at Sano, sighed in exasperation and resumed her tale...
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Misao shifted restlessly on her futon for what must have been the thousandth time since she'd gone to bed. It was an unseasonably warm June evening, but that was only part of the reason she was having trouble sleeping. As always, her mind was filled with thoughts of her handsome okashira... but something about them had changed in recent months. What had once been the swooning reveries of a hero-worshipping teenager were now becoming the sober musings of a young woman deeply in love.
But what does it matter? No matter how much I love him... nothing has changed.
Misao winced, rolling on her back and throwing an arm across her eyes. She knew that wasn't exactly true. In the many months since she'd turned 18, she and Aoshi had trained together nearly every day. He was a tough, uncompromising teacher, always pushing her harder and farther than she wanted to go... but she rose to the challenge every time, grateful that he was finally taking her seriously. Being Aoshi, he wasn't exactly effusive in his comments about her performance, but he said enough for Misao to know she was doing well.
She knew her efforts had won her Aoshi's respect... even his admiration. And a few weeks ago, her patience was finally rewarded when Aoshi said she was ready to begin kodachi training in earnest. She doubled the amount of time she spent at practice, determined to excel in swordsmanship as she now did in the other onmitsu arts. The days continued to pass by much as they had before... except that Misao had started to feel a growing uneasiness... a dissatisfaction with the way things were in her life.
Training, meals, tea, shopping... helping at the Aoiya, sleeping... then up the next day for more of the same. It never bothered me before... why do I find it so empty now?
She closed her eyes... and the answer to that question appeared before her, gazing at her with calm blue eyes. She gritted her teeth, sitting straight up and shaking her head vigorously.
Chikusho! It's not just my life that's the same... Aoshi-sama hasn't changed a bit. He may finally respect me as onmitsu... and I know he cares for me... but it's the same way he's always cared for me, like a child he's fond of. Sometimes I wonder if he's even noticed I'm a full-grown woman now!
She gripped the covers tightly, her lips trembling as despair washed over her. When the hell am I gonna wake up and realize he'll never take my feelings for him seriously?
Still, that part of her heart that remained ever-hopeful whispered softly --
You thought that he would never take you seriously as a member of the Oniwabanshuu, and look at him now... surely, with a little more time... a little more patience...
She flung the covers back and stood up, a frustrated rebuttal echoing in her mind. How much more time could it possibly take? Except in training, he appears blind to the changes in me... I don't follow him around like an adoring puppy anymore... I try not to babble on in his presence... I make every effort to assist him in his paperwork, despite how dull I find it. She dropped her head into her hands. What the hell am I going to do about him?
She suddenly stripped off her sleeping robe and donned her ninja uniform. At this rate, sleep would be hours in coming... and she had found that practicing her kata relaxed her. The moon was full, the yard bright... she would run through the stances she'd learned so far until she felt peaceful enough to attempt slumber again. Grabbing her kodachi, she silently slipped out of her room and down the hall.
Once outside, she stood for a moment admiring the pale, silvery aura surrounding the trees and rocks in the moonlit yard. Breathing deeply, she stepped into the yard, wriggling her bare toes in the soft grass. By the time she began her first stance, she'd lost all awareness of her surroundings, completely at peace and present only in that moment.
She was so focused on her kata that she didn't notice Aoshi's presence until she was halfway through the last stance. He was standing on the porch, watching her intently. Usually, his sudden appearances rattled her, but this time she didn't even flinch as her sword traced the last graceful arc. She held the final stance for several seconds, then turned to face Aoshi, bowing slightly and sheathing her sword.
"Okaeri, Aoshi-sama," she said, keeping her voice low.
"Tadaima," he replied, jumping down from the porch and walking up to her. "Couldn't sleep?"
She shook her head. "How did the meeting go?" she asked. "Was Taro as intractable as he was last time?"
"Iya... he was surprisingly talkative tonight." His eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, suggesting amusement. "Apparently, he recently made friends with Omasu... he asked me to pass on his best wishes to her, as well as an invitation to visit him again soon."
Misao chuckled. "Leave it to Omasu... she's great at softening up those stonewalling types."
They stood silently for a moment, and Misao felt the usual nervousness Aoshi's presence inspired in her. But the exasperation she had felt earlier gnawed at her. I'm not running away now! It's so unusual for us to be completely alone like this... this may be a good opportunity to try to draw him out a bit more... if I can think of anything else to say to him, that is...
But before she could open her mouth, Aoshi said --
"I'm sorry if I disturbed you before. You looked so serene... I hated to interrupt."
Misao raised shocked eyes to her okashira, who wore his usual sedate expression. "D- did I?" she stammered, puzzled by his choice of words.
"Aa. I'm not used to seeing you that way." He gazed at her calmly until she began fidgeting with her braid. His mouth twitched. "Now that's more like the Misao I know," he said, sparking her temper.
"Ooh! You're teasing me again!" she fumed, stamping her foot. "And you didn't even say anything about my kata... some sensei you are!" She folded her arms and looked away from him, her nose in the air. She heard Aoshi utter a strange cough before answering --
"Your form was almost perfect."
Misao turned back to him, her whole face alight with joy. "Honto? Honto, Aoshi-sama?" A shadow fell over her delighted expression. "You said 'almost perfect.' What did I do wrong?"
"It's your grip... it's still not quite right," Aoshi said. "You still hold the kodachi too tightly... it makes your stance a little awkward and doesn't allow a full range of motion."
"I'm not sure if I know what you mean," Misao said, drawing her sword. "Can you show me?"
"Of course. Turn around and hold the sword as you normally do," Aoshi said. Misao complied, taking the initial stance from which she always began her kata... and nearly dropped her kodachi when she felt Aoshi fold his right hand around hers.
"See? Your hold is so tight your knuckles are going white," he said from his position directly behind her. "There's no need for such a death-grip... it's not like you're hanging from a rooftop. In this case, control is much more important than strength." He tightened his hand slightly, then withdrew it. "Misao, I want you to watch what I do, then copy it."
Misao tried to turn her head back to look at Aoshi, but he placed his hand atop her head and turned it back to center. "Eyes front," he said. Misao heard the hiss of a sword being drawn... then Aoshi's right hand came into her view, holding his own sword. He extended his arm right next to hers, imitating her position. "Now look at my fingers," he said. "Try to place yours exactly like mine to start... then we can make adjustments to suit your height and frame."
Misao followed his instructions, trying to ignore the buzzing in her ears and the butterflies in her belly. He's so close to me... all I would have to do is lean back a bit, and... aagh! Concentrate, I have to concentrate...
"Like this?" she queried, striving to keep her voice steady.
"Aa," Aoshi said. He sheathed his sword again and spent the next few minutes silently making tiny adjustments to the position of each finger and her thumb with both hands. Misao was glad he wasn't giving her instructions... it was all she could do to keep her composure, much less pay attention. When Aoshi had reached both arms around her, his body had briefly brushed hers... and the jolt she'd felt at the contact had taken her breath away. Even now, his position was much like an embrace... his strong arms around her... his body scant inches behind hers.
"There." Aoshi dropped his hands, but didn't move from his position. "Now, Misao... I want you to loosen your hold little by little, and don't stop until I tell you to."
Ignoring the flash of disappointment she felt, Misao dutifully obeyed her okashira. "Good... good... keep going... almost there... a bit more... stop."
Aoshi walked around until he was standing in front of Misao. "Now, run through your kata again," he said.
"Datte, Aoshi-sama! With a grip like this, one good hit will knock my sword loose!" Misao protested.
Aoshi ignored her objection. "Misao... I'm waiting," he said firmly.
Misao knew better than to argue with Aoshi when he used that tone. Sighing, she began her kata... and was amazed at how much easier and freer the motions felt. She completed the cycle without dropping her weapon or tightening her grip.
"Well done," Aoshi said, looking pleased. Then his eyes glinted as he swiftly drew one kodachi. "Defend yourself," he said sharply as he swung his sword at Misao.
She had no time to think. Reflexively, Misao's sword sliced the air, meeting Aoshi's with a loud clang.
"Again!" Clang.
"Again!" Clang.
Misao lowered her sword, panting. Aoshi flicked his wrist in a habitual gesture of cleansing and resheathed his weapon. "Now do you see?" he asked.
Misao sheathed her kodachi and raised her head, her eyes bright with excitement and understanding. "I do," she said. "I don't need to tighten my grip until just before our blades meet... and I don't even have to think about it. It just happens."
"Aa. It's a swordsman's instinct," Aoshi said. "Battle is like a dance... you need to be able to twist and bend and flow with the fight. If you think about it too hard... if you dwell on form and position and holding onto your sword... you'll freeze and become as useless as that stump over there." He walked up to her, laying a hand on her shoulder, his eyes warm with pride. "If you always approach swordplay the way you did when I first saw you tonight... and the way you did just now... you may become our greatest warrior."
Misao gaped at him. Are my ears deceiving me? "A- arigatou, Aoshi-sama!" she finally choked out, bowing her head. "I'm not worthy of such a compliment."
Aoshi smiled slightly. "Maybe not yet," he said. "You still have much to learn. Like how not to lock your wrist when your blade meets another's... if you don't keep it somewhat flexible, the impact could shatter the bones... especially if he's stronger than you."
Misao furrowed her brow. "I don't know what you mean," she said.
"I'll see if I can show you," Aoshi said, taking hold of her right wrist. In the motion, he inadvertantly stroked the sensitive skin on the underside of the joint. Misao drew in her breath sharply as the contact sent another warm, pleasant jolt through her.
"Daijoubu, Misao?" Aoshi drew closer, looking worried. "Did I hurt you?"
Misao could feel herself blushing. "Iie," she murmured, eyes lowered, too embarrassed to meet his.
Aoshi gently lifted her chin. "You're flushed," he said. "And your breathing's shallow. Sumanu... I didn't realize how tired you must be. We should call it a night."
Misao shook her head. "Iie, Aoshi-sama... I'm not tired at all," she said softly, looking him directly in the eyes. It's now or never... I'm not letting you ignore me as a woman anymore, Aoshi-sama...
Aoshi looked confused... until Misao glanced down at her wrist, which his hand still loosely clasped. His eyes widened as she slowly drew her hand up and threaded her fingers through his.
Neither spoke or moved for at least a minute. It felt like an eternity. Misao's heart was pounding harder than it had during their impromptu practice. What will you do, Aoshi-sama? What should I do?
Misao watched in wonder as Aoshi's impassive facade slowly crumbled, emotions dancing across his face like leaves in a windstorm. Denial... regret... anger... guilt... and...
His eyes flickering with some unidentifiable feeling, Aoshi took his left hand and raised it to Misao's face. She could barely breathe as he ran his callused fingertips lightly over her forehead... her eyes, which fluttered closed... her flushed cheeks... and finally, her slightly parted lips. The spasms of feeling that gripped her nearly made her moan aloud.
Gods... so this is what Okon and Omasu are always talking about. This is desire...
She felt Aoshi tighten his grip on her right hand, pulling her closer. His free hand cupped her chin, tilting it. She opened one eye halfway, her pulse quickening as she saw him lower his head toward hers. His eyes were a dark, turbulent gray, as if some struggle raged within him.
Oh, Aoshi-sama... Aoshi... I've waited so long for you... for this...
Then, as their lips hovered a few inches apart... he abruptly pulled away. "No," he said hoarsely. "No, Misao... we can't do this."
The shock to Misao was as great as if he'd slapped her across the face. "Doushite?" she said, reaching for his hand. He yanked it away and turned around, walking toward the Aoiya. Misao raced after him, grabbing the back of his shirt. "Aoshi-sama, don't! Don't back away now! Tell me why!" she said, allowing the desperation she felt free rein.
He stopped. "Let go of me, Misao," he said firmly without turning around.
"Dame! Not until you answer me!" She rested her forehead against his back. "Aoshi-sama, we... we almost..."
"I know," he said, his voice devoid of feeling. "Gomen nasai... it will never happen again."
In a sudden surge of fury, Misao pulled Aoshi around to face her. "What if I want it to happen again?" she shouted. "Dammit, Aoshi! I can't stand it anymore! Finally, after months... no, years... of waiting for you to see me for the woman I am... instead of the child you raised... you finally do. And you want to run away now?" Her voice cracked as a single tear traced a path down one cheek. "Aoshi... I love you so much... and I've wanted this for so long... can't you give us a chance? Just one chance?"
A warm breeze stirred the leaves in the trees and blew Aoshi's bangs away from his blank eyes. He looked away from Misao as he gave his answer --
"No."
Misao's whole body went numb, then weak, her legs refusing to support her. Aoshi turned away from her as she sank to her knees, tears streaming down her face. She feebly raised a hand to him in supplication. "Aoshi-sama..." she called brokenly. "Aoshi-sama... why? Why can't you at least try? I don't understand..."
Aoshi paused on the steps, turning to look at Misao one last time. She would never forget his beautiful, impassive face... his sky-blue, distant eyes... his silky black hair waving gently in the breeze as he carelessly tossed out the words that shattered her heart --
"I know, Misao... so I'll make it plain. There's nothing between us... and there never will be.
"Sayonara..."
Aoshi disappeared into the building... and Misao fell face down on the lawn, sobbing and tearing at the grass. "Baka..." she wailed, pounding the ground. "I'm so stupid... come back, Aoshi-sama... I take it all back... please don't leave... please..."
The only answer she received was the tinkling of the wind chimes on the porch as the wind picked up and rain began to fall.
-- End of Chapter 11 --