Awakenings
An Aoshi and Misao Story

Part 4

Aoshi couldn't sleep. He had lain in bed for hours and all he had to show for it was a brief, restless slumber that had ended in a nightmare. He sighed and turned onto his side, icy blue eyes fixed on the shadowy gloom that existed just beyond his futon. The dream was the same one he had every night. Misao had the annoying tendency to plague him both day and night. In his dream, she had returned, only with a husband and child. And she had been completely content in her life. Content in her life without him. He turned onto his back again, staring up at the ceiling. Not a moment went by when he wasn't thinking about her and his mind didn't seem to care if it was 2 o'clock in the afternoon or morning. Where was she? Was she safe? Was she happy? Was she thinking of him?


Misao threw back the covers and sat up, completely frustrated. She couldn't sleep. "Damn you, Aoshi! Can't you let me be happy?!" She moaned at the phantom that haunted her dreams. Her times with Akira had been marvelous. It was everything that she had ever wanted. But every time she began to feel content and happy, thoughts, unbidden, would assail her. For brief flashes, the hand that held hers was Aoshi's, the voice that laughed was Aoshi's and that smile that flashed at her was Aoshi's. Worst of all, when Akira had kissed her softly at the end of one evening, it was Aoshi's face she saw in front of hers, not Akira's.

She cursed softly, her hands kneading her pristine white linen. She was two years and hundreds of miles away from Kyoto, and yet she couldn't escape him. Perhaps she didn't want to. There was the possibility of a happy future with Akira, of love and marriage and children. But not contentment. Because every time he touched her, more than a small part of her wished it were Aoshi.

She sighed and flopped back down onto her futon, pulling her slightly wrinkled covers back over her. Her mind drifted and her last conscious thought before she fell asleep was "I wonder if he's thinking of me?"


Misao spent her days hovering between happiness and guilt. Happiness because she was having a wonderful time with Akira and guilt because she felt like she was cheating on Aoshi. Akira brought her flowers and held her hand, he always thought she looked beautiful, even when she was sweaty and tired from doing laundry out in the hot sun and her hair was a mess. And the way he looked at herit was enough to take her breath away.

He was everything she ever wanted. Sweet and kind, considerate, intelligent and funny, she would be insane not to love him. This was the mantra she repeated every night before she went to bed, hoping desperately that she would wake up the next morning and be completely in love with him. But she never was.

Misao was frustrated and angry. "Why," she wondered as she slapped a green gi against the wash tub's side, "can't I love someone who is so wonderful? Why am I so determined to hurt myself? Because Aoshi has never made you happy, and it's highly unlikely he ever willand you have happiness right in front of you" She scrubbed the gi hard, her face set in a frown, her mind miles away from her job.

Akira watched her silently as she angrily scrubbed the same gi over and over again. If she kept it up, there wouldn't be anything left of his brother's favorite green gi. She wasn't happy, he could tell that easily. Even when she laughed and hugged him, even when she assured him that everything was all right, he could tell she was lying. Her smile was always a little forced, her assurances hollow. He sighed and leaned against the doorframe. Idly, he wondered who she smiled for, what man was lucky enough to posses her heart. Because, even though it hurt him terribly, he knew it wasn't him.

"Akira, there you are!" Yuuki caught her brother-in-law's attention, her annoyed expression clear. "I've been looking for you everywhere! Your mother wants to see you, right now!" She happened to glance outside as she was scolding him and saw the reason for his presence in the doorway. Her expression softened. "Go on now." She said, her voice less irritated. She gave him a gentle push in the direction of the house's interior. With a sigh, he went, taking a final glance at Misao before he disappeared down the hallway. Yuuki smiled. She loved romances; it reminded her of her younger days when Hajime had courted her with sweet words and kisses. Her smile slipped slightly. Funny how marriage changed a man. Sighing loudly, she went back into the house to finish her chores.

Akira slipped open the door to his mother's room and bowed respectfully to her before taking a seat. "You wanted to see me, mother?"

"Akira, I'm not going to waste words with you. I've noticed your attentions to that servant girl, Misao, and I want to know, what are your intentions?" She gave him a severe and expectant look, her eyes narrowed slightly as she waited for his answer.

"I don't know, mother." He replied quietly, looking down at his hands.

"You don't know or you don't want to tell me?" She raised an eyebrow at her youngest son.

"I honestly don't know. I do havefeelings for her, but I'm not so sure she returns them."

His mother seemed to sit up straighter, her annoyed expression intensified. "And why is that? Why is MY son not good enough for her? You are a handsome boy from a good family Akira, I'm not sure I want you to have relations with such a stupid girl."

He smiled slightly. That was the closest to a compliment his mother would ever come.

"Stop smirking, boy. Now I want you to walk out of this room and talk to her. I think I know what your intentions are, but you need to find out hers."

He looked up sharply, a slight look of fear in his eyes. "MotherI can't do that"

His mother wouldn't take no for an answer. "Listen to me, Akira. Love is not patient. It can only wait for so long. You've been dancing around this for months, and I think it's high time you did something about it." She paused and gave him a dark look. "Besides, if you don't do it, I will."

He got to his feet quickly, fear propelling him towards the door. The mere thought of his mother approaching Misao was enough to make him do it. "I'll go do it right now." He said nervously.

She smiled and nodded. "That's a good boy. If that girl has any sense, she'll feel for you what you do for her."

"Thank you." He murmured and ducked out the door.

Misao hung the last kimono up to dry and wiped the sweat off her brow. She hated doing laundry. Her fingers were all pruny and she was a sweaty mess. She swiped stray strands of hair out of her face and headed towards the bathhouse, dreaming of a long bath.

"Misao-san?" Akira's nervous voice stopped her in her tracks. She turned and smiled at him.

"Hai, Akira-san?" Her smile slipped when she saw his face. He was bright red and visibly nervous, fidgeting with his sleeves as he stood in front of her. "Are you okay?"

"Misao-sanI uhthat is" He stuttered, stumbling over his words. He took a deep breath and spoke, his words coming out in a rush. "Misao-san, I love you"

"Akira-san, stop. Please." Misao held up her hand and shook her head. "Don't tell me that."

He stared at her crestfallen face, feeling strangely numb. "Why not? It's the truth. I love you. Do youlove me?"

Her lower lip wobbled and tears welled up in her eyes. "II don't know"

He took her face between his hands and leaned down, kissing her with the force of his passion.

For a moment, she let him, but then she pulled away. "Akira-sanI can't"

His hands dropped to his sides, his fists clenching. "What's his name?" He asked quietly.

Misao started. "What? Whose name?" She asked, knowing full well what he meant.

"The man you really love." He replied.

She hung her head, inky black bangs obscuring her eyes. "I don't know if I love him anymore." She replied sadly.

Akira looked up hopefully. "Then maybe" he began, but was silenced when Misao placed her hand gently on his mouth.

"If I was a smart girl, Akira-san, I would accept everything you offer. But I'm not. I can't love you like you want." She shook her head sadly. "You deserve so much more than thatyou deserve a woman who will worship the ground you walk on. I can't do that. I wish I could."

She dropped her hand and turned to walk away. Suddenly, she found herself spun around and wrapped into a tight embrace. "I wish you could love me, Misao-san." Akira whispered into her hair. "But at the very least, I wish for your happiness. Who is this man that has made you so miserable?"

She pulled away from him to look into his face. He was crying, and her fingers made quick work of his tears, wiping them off his face. "It's a long, silly story, Akira-san and I don't want to bore you with it."

He caught her hand and kissed it gently. "I want to know everything. Tell me everything about this stupid, stupid man."

She sighed. "Everything?"

He nodded. "Everything."

"Well, when I was five, my parents died"


Aoshi rubbed his neck and then rolled his shoulders, trying to work the tension out of his muscles. He was sore, every inch of him hurt, but he also felt strangely exhilarated. It had been a very long time since he had picked up his kodachi and the okashira was more than a little chagrined to discover that he was out of shape. Probably not out of shape for a normal man, but as far as he was concerned, he had let himself go. But he loved the exercise; he found some peace in the rhythmic movements that had long ago been committed to memory.

Sweat dripped into his eyes and stuck his shirt to his back, sliding cool and wet against him as he moved. His kodachi was a silvery blur in front of him, all of his concentration was centered on the razor sharp blade as it whirled in his hands. It was a welcome break from his normal routine of self-torture, one he had taken up a few weeks after the Battousai and his family had come and gone. When he came back to himself, he was more clear-headed and rational.

As the weeks passed, he had been able to come to some conclusions, all of them concerning Misao. The most difficult thing to come to terms with was the idea of her as a woman, and of him loving her as a woman. But once he had wrapped his mind around that concept, it had become easier to grasp. She was no longer a child, she was a woman, a smart, observant woman who told bawdy jokes and could be as deadly as she was beautiful. She wasn't a fragile child, innocent and needing to be protected and shielded from the world. She knew what he was and what he had done and blamed him for none of it. After he had realized all of that, the most difficult thing for him was the idea that he had been completely blind to all of it for so long.

He dropped the kodachi and mopped his forehead. He felt strangely light, disturbingly at ease. He feltready. The only thing that was missing was Misao. He sighed and headed towards the bathhouse, pausing to grab a towel that was hanging on the line to dry. It was still slightly damp, but he didn't really care. As he lowered himself into the steaming water, his mind wandered back to Misao, it always did. He wished she would come home. There was so much he had to tell her.

End Part 4


Part 5