Awakenings
An Aoshi and Misao Story


Part 5

"And that brings us to today." Misao finished her life story with a slight flourish. Beside her, Akira said nothing and she began to worry. "Akira?" She was suddenly aware of everything she had told him. To her, the life she had lived was average, boring even, but to an ordinary person...it might be a bit much to take.

"So what is the Battousai really like?" He finally asked. She released a breath she hadn't even been aware of holding and looked at him. He was giving her a frankly curious gaze.

"His name is Kenshin, Himura Kenshin and he's really nice," she said, suddenly eager to explain. "He makes the BEST miso soup ever! Not too salty, not too weak..."

"But...but I thought he was a crazy, cold blooded killer. I mean, when I was little, Hajime used to tell me that if I misbehaved, the Battousai would come and get me." Akira shook his head slightly.

"Oh no, no! He's really very gentle." Misao waved her hands in negation. "He doesn't even kill any more. He carries around a reverse sword and helps people, although he's sort of retired from that. His wife had a baby a few years ago, so he's mostly been doing laundry."

"A baby? Laundry? The most feared assassin of the Ishin?" Akira was dumbfounded.

Misao laughed and nodded. "You'd have to see it to believe it. Red hair, a cross scar on his cheek and fussing over grass stains!" She leaned back on her elbows and chuckled.

Seated next to her in the grass, Akira shook his head again, this time in amazement. "You know the strangest people."

She laughed again and nodded. "I know. Ex-assassins, ninjas, spies, cross-dressing henchmen, mummies, giants, samurai potters, gangsters..." She ticked them off one by one on her fingers.

"Misao-san..." Akira interrupted her, reaching out to capture her hand in his. His suddenly serious expression bothered her.

She stopped talking and looked at their hands. "Akira..."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to proclaim my undying love again." He said, shaking his head. Misao blushed and bit her lip.

"What I wanted to ask was this: Misao, when are you finally going to stop running and face Aoshi?" His eyes held hers with an intense gaze. Her breath caught and she tugged her hand away.

"I don't know..." She began, but he silenced her with an upraised hand.

"Hear me out. It's quite obvious that you still love him," his voice was faintly bitter, "but you're afraid to find out exactly what his feelings are..."

"I know what his feelings are! He tried to marry me off to some stranger! Don't you think that spoke volumes?" Misao angrily interjected.

"I'm not so sure, and you certainly never asked him. Sometimes people who are conflicted try not to deal with their problems. Perhaps, for him, the easiest way to deal with his emotions towards you was to send you away, to make you unavailable to him."

Misao shook her head, but Akira wasn't finished.

"If I thought of that, you certainly did. So, you really don't know how he feels and it eats at you. You've been running away from him for nearly three years and you really don't feel much better about things than you did when you left. You should go back home and face him. His answer may not be what you wanted to hear...but at least you'll know."

He reached towards her and held her face gently in his hands. "And if he is so stupid to reject you...I'll still be here, waiting for you."

For the second time that day, Misao began to cry, and when Akira took her into his arms, she didn't resist.


Harada-san was NOT happy. Not only had Misao rejected her son, but she had quit, as well. So now the harassed inkeeper was out a daughter-in-law AND a perfectly capable maid. She shook her head in irritation as she dusted the standing screen in the reception room. The young girl had left the day before, explaining that her family needed her, and Akira had been moping around the inn since then, annoying everyone in the building.

"What a stupid girl." She muttered as she switched her attention to the floor.

"No, she's not mother." Akira stood in the doorway, a book in his hand.

His mother turned on him in a fury. "YES she is! How could she turn you down?! She would have had a roof over her head, plenty to eat, a consiterate husband...what more could she want? Silks? Pearls?"

Akira shook his head and smiled sadly at his mother. "She wanted someone else, mother. What good are all those things if you're not with the one you love?" His mother geared up to give him a long lecture, but before she could begin, he left.

Akira made his way down the hall to his room. Misao had been right, of course, and he couldn't fault her for that. He wanted her to be happy. He just wished she could be happy with him. With the door shut firmly behind him, he settled near his folded up futon with his book. Misao had highly reccomened the 'Tale of Genji'. And of course, if she liked it, then it had to be good.


Kyoto, one month later
Misao fidgited with the tie on her obi. Her only kimono was slightly tattered around the edges, but she was determined to return to the Aoiya with something like dignity. She looked at her reflection in the rain barrel and detected a smudge of dirt on her cheek, which she hastily scrubbed off with her sleeve. Her hair was unbraided, hanging long and fine down her back. It was much shorter than it had been, but still ran past her waist. She ran her fingers through it again and looked into the water. She definitely looked older. Did she look any wiser? She made a face at herself. Did it really matter?

She was nervous and fearful and excited. Her fidgiting was only a cover, because when her hands were in motion, no one could tell they were shaking. She gave herself a final pep-talk and, taking a deep breath, she set off in the direction of the Aoiya.


Aoshi skipped meditating at the temple, and as was his habit of late, went directly to the small training hall that sat discreetly behind the main building at the Aoiya. He was feeling antsy and he didn't know why, so he was eager to start his daily training to work out some of his tension. He picked up the kodachi that leaned against the far wall and began his routine, performing moves to the steady count in his mind.

Misao left the temple, puzzled and a little worried. She had expected to find Aoshi there, but he wasn't. Even more confusing was the fact that the room where he meditated was dusty and not used, and the aging monk that looked after the place indicated that Aoshi had not been there in a few months. He offered no explanation for the okashira's absence; he merely shrugged and went back to raking the pristine white sand in the rock garden.

She headed off in the direction of the Aoiya, the dark scenarios running through her mind. Maybe he was sick? Or dead? Maybe he had gone off somewhere never to return, and she would spend the rest of her life chasing after his phantom. She wrung her hands and walked faster, needing an answer.

The Aoiya was quiet and empty, the lunch crowd having long departed. She hovered at the door for a while, looking around the spacious dining room and trying to get her bearings again. Her keen ears detected the sounds of voices and splashing coming from the kitchen. Omasu and Okon must be cleaning up after the lunch crowd, she mused, wondering if Shiro and Kuro were in there as well. She was tempted to go in there and see them, but she held back, she wanted to find Aoshi first.

She crept quietly up the stairs to Aoshi's room and slid open the door. He wasn't there. She sighed and turned to leave when something caught her eye. A stack of books by the window looked awfully familiar. She walked over to them and picked up the first one. 'The Art of War'. Upon flipping open the book, she was surprised to discover that it was her book, the one she had read and dissected when she had taken over the post of Okashira after Aoshi's betrayal. It was much more worn and dog-eared than it had been when she left. The other books were hers as well, raising both her curiosity and her hope. Why did he have these? She found herself hoping that he had these to remember her by, in which case, he did miss her. She placed the book back onto the stack and left the room as quietly as she had entered it.

By process of elimination, Misao soon found herself in front of the small training hall. And, when she looked through the half open door, her breath caught. He was there. Her eyes traced his movements with admiration. He was still gorgeous. She bit her lip and tried to think of how to approach him. Should she be coy? Angry? Indifferent? Coyly indifferent? Angrily coy? She felt like banging her head against the wall, but acting like a fool was not one of her options. So, she opted to lean against the door and watch him, responding to whatever he said or did.

Aoshi moved into a basic kenjitsu defensive stance, all of his focus on his imaginary enemy. Suddenly, he felt the hairs on his neck stand up. Someone was watching. He drew back and tried to think of his options. No one from the Aoiya would sneak up on him, whoever was standing at the door was a stranger. Slowly, he turned around, his hand tense on his kodachi, ready for anything, except what he saw. His breath caught. She was there.

She watched him tense and knew he sensed her there. Her fingers gouged into the doorframe behind her, she was so nervous. And oh so slowly, he turned and looked at her, his icy blue eyes widening slightly. Should she speak? Her tongue felt as though it were made of lead.

He stared at her, eyes looking her up and down, seeing what three years had wrought. It might be his imagination, but she seemed taller. He blushed slightly when his eyes discovered that she had filled out on top quite nicely. Banishing any perverted thoughts, he continued his exploration. She was tan, and lean, her hair was worn down, rather than in her usual braid. But it was her eyes that surprised him the most. Gone was the wide-eyed look of innocence and trust. Her eyes spoke of experience, of growing older and living a life that wasn't always easy or fun. A tinge of sadness darkened them, tinting them a dark sapphire.

While Aoshi studied her, Misao was busy trying to untangle her tongue. Finally, she managed to work free of her paralyzing nervousness and she spoke.

Aoshi was trying to think of something to say when she spoke. "You're slower than I remember." She said softly. His eyes widened.

Misao opened her mouth and instantly regretted it. A mantra of "BAKA!" ran through her mind. She blushed and looked down at her feet.

He cleared his throat. "I've been out of practice." He replied.

"Oh." Misao scuffed her foot against the floor.

An uncomfortable silence reigned. Aoshi cleared his throat again and Misao seemed unusually fascinated with her feet. Finally, Aoshi broke the stalemate.

"You look different," He offered, pausing thoughtfully before finishing the thought. "Older."

She looked up at him and smiled slightly. "Well, you look the same. A little thinner, maybe."

"Aa."

"This is agonizing", she thought. "I need to say something, do something! Misao no baka!"

She closed her eyes briefly and gathered her thoughts together. "I need to get this over with." She thought to herself. She opened her eyes and looked straight at him. Now or never.

"I'm sorry." She said softly. It wasn't much, but it was a beginning.

"You're sorry?" He seemed confused. "For what?"

"For running off like I did. It was immature and thoughtless. As usual, I just plowed forward without giving any thought to what I was doing, and I'm sorry."

He looked at her for a long moment. "Do you regret leaving?"

She smiled. "No. Not at all. It was something I needed to do. I had a lot of thinking to get done and I didn't want any distractions."

He nodded. "I understand. Now, I want to apologize to you. I'm sorry I tried to force you to marry. It waspurely selfish."

Now she seemed surprised. "Selfish?" She echoed.

He walked towards her and stopped a foot away, leveling her with an intense gaze. He had something to say and, despite his nervousness, he was going to say everything he had weighing on his mind.

"You had come into my notice and it bothered me. I wanted to protect you from what I thought were my inappropriate affections." He raked a hand through his hair and stumbled over the next thought. "I was afraid that I would hurt you, that if I made my feelings known, you would, in your naivete, respond, but I thought that I could only bring you misery."

Misao felt her knees wobble, only her hands clutching desperately at the doorjamb prevented her from falling. This was never what she expected. He was, in his own way, pouring his heart out to her. "So you would have ruined my life and yours because you were afraid you'd make me miserable?" Phrased in that way, his fears seemed ridiculous and he couldn't help a bitter laugh.

"I suppose it was rather stupid of me." He said ruefully.

"Yes, it was." Misao nodded effusively. She wasn't above a little torture. But she softened quickly. This resolution was too long in coming. She wanted to know just how much in his notice she was. "Socan I assume that you had feelings for me?" She asked carefully.

He looked at her for a very long time, his eyes boring into hers. But finally, he answered. "Yes, I had...have feelings for you. It took your leaving me to make me realize it." He stopped and stepped a little closer to her, until he was only a few inches away. He reached out a callused hand and ran a finger down her cheek, reveling in the small touch. "Misao, I love you."

She bit her lip to keep from sobbing out loud. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, Aoshi's rough fingers quickly wiping them away. She had waited so longso long just to hear those words. "You jerk," She sniffled. He stepped back, surprised.

"Misao?"

"Aoshi-no baka! Was that so hard? Four little words?"

He smiled slightly. "That was the most difficult challenge I have ever faced."

Misao was not about to be out done. "Well, I love you too, you idiot."

Aoshi raised an eyebrow. "This is hardly the romantic scene I had in mind." He said, a slight hint of sarcasm in his voice, hiding the hope that she would allow herself to be baited.

She took the bait. "Oh? What exactly did you have in mind?" She asked coyly. She released her death grip on the poor abused door frame and crossed her arms, in what she hoped was a seductive pose.

He smiled and stepped forward, until she was pinned between the wall and him. One arm looped around her waist, while his other hand was busy with her silky hair. "Something more along these lines." He murmured before lowering his head to kiss her.

She gasped, and he took advantage of her slightly opened mouth to taste her fully. Misao's eyes fluttered and closed, all her senses busy concentrating on Aoshi's lips and tongue.

When he finally released her, she had to clutch his arms to maintain her balance, since her legs no longer seemed inclined to support her. "That wasamazing." She managed, smiling up at him.

He smiled back and lightly stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Am I forgiven?" He asked.

Misao's smile twisted slightly and she shook her head. "Nope. You'll have to do more than that to make it up to me." She said lightly.

His eyes darkened. "I look forward to it." He said, his voice full of promise.

Misao flushed red and bit her lip. She liked this new and improved Aoshi. They still had a lot to talk about, many many issues needed to be worked through, but for the moment "You can start making it up to me right now."

The End

Omake