Awakenings
An Aoshi and Misao Story
Part 3
Misao sprawled gratefully onto her futon, almost giddy at the
thought that she would be allowed to sleep in the next morning.
The wedding party had departed and Harada-san had rewarded her
hard working staff with a day off. Exhausted though she was,
Misao had already planned out her day. Lunch at a small
restaurant in town, maybe a little shopping and she planned to
end her day watching the sun set by the river with a picnic
dinner. Perfect. She fell asleep with a smile.
Early the next afternoon, a freshly scrubbed Misao made her way
to the village, whistling a nameless tune and swinging her purse.
The day seemed to rejoice with her, the sun shone bright and
birds nestled in the trees echoed her song.
The trip to the village was a short one and she soon found
herself seated at the town's only restaurant in front of a
steaming cup of tea. "Green tea," she mused, "it
had to be green tea." Green tea and the musty smell of a
temple moldering around them; green tea and the spicy scent of
incense; green tea and the view of his back. For Misao, green tea
would always remind her of Aoshi. Tears pricked her eyes and she
hailed the waitress. "Could I have water, instead?" The
girl was puzzled, but complied, sweeping the offensive tea out of
Misao's sight.
"It's not great, but I never thought their green tea was
that bad, either." Akira plopped down across from her and
offered her a handkerchief.
"Akira-san? What are you doing here?" Misao asked,
completely surprised. She ignored the clean white cloth in his
outstretched hand and instead swiped at her tears with the back
of her hand.
"I always come here on Fridays." He replied, stuffing
his handkerchief back into his sleeve. As if to verify that
statement, the waitress reappeared with Misao's water. "Ah,
Harada-san. The usual?"
He nodded. The waitress turned to Misao and took her order and
then bustled off.
She sniffled and wiped at the remaining tears, a watery smile on
her face. "I don't like green tea." She said struggling
to be cheerful.
Akira cradled his face in his hands and looked at her with dark,
curious eyes. "Misao-santhis may seem presumptuous of
mebut you know so much about me and my family, and yet, I
don't know anything about you, save your name."
Misao fiddled with her water glass, her eyes tracking a bead of
water as it slid down the glass and onto the table. Very
carefully, she spoke. "What do you want to know?"
"Well, we can start with basics. Where are you from?"
She took a sip of water. "Kyoto."
"Okay. How old are you?"
She grinned and looked up at him. "It's rude to ask a lady
her age. Next question."
He smiled back. "I apologize. What about your family?"
Misao's smile vanished. "I have no family." She said,
quietly. She wasn't lying. She was the last of the Makimachi
family. Both her mother's family and her father's were gone, no
more to her than austere stone markers to be carefully tended to
every summer during the Bon festival.
"I'm sorry." This time, Akira's apology was soft and
sincere. His hands itched to hold hers, but he was afraid of
repeating the awkward incident from a few days earlier.
She was spared a response by the waitress, who thumped their food
down in front of them. For the next several minutes, they busied
themselves with their food, Misao slurping her noodles noisily
out of habit.
Akira fiddled with his chopsticks, finally putting them down and
moving to play with a thread on his sleeve. "Misao-san? I
don't suppose that buying you sweets would work twice, would
it?"
She slurped her last noodle and gave him a slight smile. It was
impossible to be mad at him for too long, not when he was looking
at her with those big puppy dog eyes. "Wellit might
work."
Aoshi lit the coil of sandalwood incense, pausing to take a deep
breath of the calming scent. The Himuras' son had only looked
innocent. The boy was a terror. They indulged him too much,
especially the Battousai. He practically let the boy get away
with murder. A corner of Aoshi's mouth curled into a smile. How
appropriate. Hmph.
He settled into his usual position and began mulling over what
Kenshin had told him. Somehow, he had to let go of his guilt and
fears. He still didn't feel very comfortable with the idea of
Misao as anything more than someone he once promised to take care
of, a hyperactive little child that would have given Himura Kenji
a run for his money.
"Aoshi-sammmmaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" A six-year-old Misao
jumped on him as he tried to meditate. He barely managed to catch
her and himself before they toppled over.
"Misao?" That's all he was able to get out before she
interrupted him with a stream of words.
"Aoshi-sama, Jiya and Shikiju were teasing me again! I'm not
a monkey, ne? Ne? Tell them I'm not!!!"
He struggled not to laugh and managed to give her a serious look.
"I'll speak to them later, okay?" She nodded vehemently
and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"Arigato Aoshi-sama!" And she was gone before he could
reply, the last glimpse he had of her was the tip of her braid
whipping around the corner.
"Aoshi-sama?" She was nineteen now and no longer prone
to jumping on him during a conversation.
He watched her face as he told her what he had decided, watched
it as it paled.
"Misao, I have heard what Okina has suggested and I agree
with him. This young man from Osaka is a good match. I have given
Okina my permission to begin marriage arrangements."
She was silent for a long while, her face almost as stoic as his
was wont. And then finally, she spoke. "How could you,
Aoshi-sama? How could you?" The look of total betrayal on
her face hurt him. He could actually feel his heart twisting
inside his chest. Before he could reply, she was gone, the last
glimpse he had of her was the tip of her braid whipping around
the corner.
He opened his eyes and looked into a dark corner of the temple.
It was difficult to reconcile those two Misaos. But her essence
was the same. The same wild, free spirit burned in those eyes.
"Misao." He whispered her name aloud and bowed his
head, almost as if he was praying to her. And perhaps he was.
"MisaoI'm sorry."
The sun took its time setting, it seemed content to burnish the clouds gold and hang lazily in the dusky blue sky. Misao watched it with her arms wrapped around her knees, settled comfortably on the banks of the river. Akira sat just as silently by her side, respecting her wish to remain silent. The more time he spent with her, the easier it was to read her moods. She was no longer as guarded around him as she used to be.
"You know, when I was little, I used to think the sun took so long to set because it liked looking at itself in the water too much." She laughed a little into her up drawn knees. Beside her, Akira chuckled and glanced sidelong at her profile, drinking it in.
"You were probably a terror as a child." He remarked, his hands playing in the grass.
"How did you know?" They both laughed, the sound of their laughter blending and fading together into the slowly darkening night sky.
He actually talks to me and laughs at my jokes! Misao marveled, stealing a look at Akira. He was looking at his hands in the grass and blushing slightly. It was strangely refreshing to be able to read his emotions. At dinner, she had told him several of her old jokes and he had laughed until he nearly couldn't breathe. Those same jokes hadn't even gotten as much as an eye twitch from Aoshi.
I could be happy with someone like Akira. The thought hit her hard and she nearly had to catch her breath. The mere idea would have been blasphemous not so long ago. But lately, she had been wondering, who had she been in love with? Was it Shinomori Aoshi, the living, breathing man? Or was she in love with a Shinomori Aoshi of her own creation, a man she had slowly raised to near God-like status over the years of his absence. How much of the man she had loved so much actually existed? Did he exist at all?
She looked at Akira again and this time, caught his eye. He smiled sweetly at her and hesitantly extended his hand, enveloping hers. And she let him.
End Part 3
Part 4