A product of insomnia
Standard Disclaimers Apply
Many great thanks to all who'd reviewed… Means a lot…
Visions Part 8 – Cold
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After that fateful incident, Misao had not spoken to him again. It was all too painfully obvious that she was avoiding him. And it wasn't because he didn't try, for he did.
Whenever he attempted to stalk her, she would excuse herself by saying that she was feeling unwell and would then proceed to contain herself in her solitary quarter the entire day. And whenever she learnt that he had turned up to join them for lunch or dinner, she would rather starve herself than be there.
It had been days since he had last heard her voice, weeks since he had last seen her truly smile and heard her laugh but already it felt like a grueling forever. Too harsh, too cruel.
Well, Aoshi is a patient man. But even patience can run thin.
No matter. Tonight, they would talk. Yes, they will talk. He will see to it that no amount of protesting and excuses would get her out of this one, this time.
Deciding against knocking to be let in, he pulled the paper screen in a single deft motion, startling the person confined within the chamber.
"Misao," he strode purposefully to the petite young female who had been gazing out the window. "We need to talk."
She turned around hurriedly at the mention of her name, or rather, upon hearing him call her name. Her eyes were comically wide, undecided as to whether she was more angry than surprised.
"W… What are you doing here?! I… I could've been changing or…"
"But you're not," he abruptly cut in. He stopped exactly a foot away before her, so that her eyes were now leveled with his cloth-clad torso. "Or you could've been out, or ill, or sleeping or entertaining a guest, for all that matter," he added, almost as an afterthought. Almost. "But you're not."
She shivered involuntarily at the coolness his voice held.
"No more excuses, Misao. Talk. Now."
"Fine," she attempted a retort, rebelliously stamping her foot into the floor. " Then talk. I haven't much time left anyway," she said as she looked up to meet his artic gaze, which she knew would be hidden behind his inky bangs.
As long as they remained concealed, as long as she didn't see them, she was safe.
But the cruel wind had decided to blow through the window at precisely that moment, and she was unfortunate enough to find herself drowning into his depthless blue.
It was a bad move – her looking up at him. Though she had gone through this very scene repetitiously over a hundred times in her head already, still all that practice never did prepare her enough for the real thing.
"And why is that, Misao?" he coolly questioned, breaking her out of her frozen stupor.
"Because…" she swallowed rather audibly, much to her disdain, "I'd be leaving," she replied shakily, all too conscious of how close he was standing to her.
"You're leaving?" he parroted easily, making that query sound more like a statement of his own.
"Yes," she answered breathlessly, prying her stubborn eyes away from his.
"When?" he quizzed her again.
"Soon," she replied softly, staring blankly at his chest, desperately wanting him to leave before she loses anymore semblance of control.
"Where would you go, Misao?" he implored evenly, bowing his head down a little lower so that he could discretely study her features a little better.
"Away… Somewhere far," was her whispered answer, but her mind went on a litany of its own, 'Far from here, far from this pain, far from you… Especially you.'
She had decided to leave early the next morning, without having to go through weepy farewells and particularly, without her having to go through another confrontation with him again.
The last time they did so was before she had left for the Himuras – before the incidence of her provisional memory loss.
That night, he had subtly rebuked her love, telling her that the whole idea of love was foolish. That it was merely created by hopeless drunken poets, with nothing better to do but with too much time to spare.
He had revealed to her that his concern for her was purely for her life, her safety; a sheer concern on his part - of him honoring a vow, which he had taken many years back… And he had told her that even if he tried, he could never love her as a woman.
…Never. …His words, not hers.
It was painful, those words. Something she would rather forget than having to remember at all once again. She had decided to hurt no more, even if it meant at the expense of hurting someone else.
But her traitorous resolve had deserted her the moment Aoshi first stepped into her room. And looking up to meet his undecipherable eyes had been a mistake on her part, for it set her heart a fluttering and sent her world a spinning.
And the all too familiar pain was back, playing as a permanent resident in her heart- threatening to tear her apart.
She shouldn't have let him in. Shouldn't have let him talked. Shouldn't have listened to a single word he uttered and, most certainly, shouldn't let her self be manipulated by him once more.
Instead, she should have stopped him. Should have been incessantly angry with him and his mindless querys. She should have screamed and yelled at him for making her feel so miserable all the time. Should have cursed and hated him for making her fall victim to a damned love when he, on the other hand felt not a single thing.
It was just not fair!
But she couldn't. She could not bring herself to hurt him. Well, she could hurt Okina, herself, and just about everyone else.
…But not him… She could never do that.
Confused, she felt the greatest urge to flee from him and his curious questionings, right then and there. In fact, she would have gladly bolted straight for the exit if not for the weak sensation in her knees.
"Why, Misao?" he calmly asked.
"I…You won't understand," she said, looking away. ' Not now, Misao, don't cry,' she reprimanded herself.
"Try me," he challenged her, though his voice remained relatively impassive still.
"I don't believe I owe you an explanation, Okashira," she snapped back defiantly, trying to steel herself, and at the same time, glad that her irrational anger had taken over, masking all uncertainties and nervousness inside.
They remained unmoving in the awkward silence for the next few moments, staring uselessly at their feet for inspiration that never came.
Then suddenly, Aoshi began, the sudden boom of his apathetic voice causing her to jump a little, "You've been avoiding me, Misao."
"You said talk. Not you giving me all the questions and I having to answer every one of them," she reasoned, eluding form answering.
"That was not a question, Misao," he composedly replied before the both of them lapsed into a deafening silence once more.
Slowly, he took a measured step back, letting his eyes drink in the sight of her being illuminated by the pale streak of moonlight, filtering through the wooden gaps that made the window frame. Clad in her cotton white sleeping attire, with a gray woolen blanket draping over her shoulders, beneath her long loosened hair, she was a picture to behold - though she wasn't the least bit aware of it.
He soundlessly inhaled a deep breath, his body was turned and he was heading for the door as he nonchalantly told her, "Fine… Then I'm coming with you."
"NO!" Aoshi immediately froze. He was in his third mid-stride when he heard her scream. She shrank away fearfully, horrified with his suggestion. "You're… You're not coming! …You can't come!" she wailed wildly.
"And why not?" he inquired, arching an eyebrow in silent amusement over her enthusiastic response, as he gracefully twirled around to face her once more.
"Because I don't want you to!" she retreated further still, half hoping he would stop pursuing the matter and leave her altogether; whilst the other half fervently wishing for the presence of an inopportune obstacle, to impede her withdrawal, so that he would catch her in his arms should she fall.
"You can't stop me," he retorted deadpanned, as he closed the distance between them once more. In fact, this time, he stood closer than before.
"B…but I can try," she blurted gauchely, feeling the warm flush already staining her cheeks, as incoherent thoughts flitted clumsily in precedence of seeking rationality.
"Damn it, Shinomori! Stop it! Kodomokara kujanai!!" she screeched rather childishly, much to his mirth. But his joy was short-lived. "As from now, Shinomori Aoshi," she awkwardly punched into his broad shoulders in a feeble attempt to push him away, distancing, "… you have nothing to do with me anymore. I am no longer your concern. You are NOTHING to me… You are free from your oath."
Aoshi stared at her mutely in disbelief, infuriated and disappointed, all balled together at the same time. 'She can't possibly mean what she said, can't she?' he thought, feeling dazed all of a sudden.
Hurt, but not showing signs of it, he silently stepped away from the individual.
"No, I meant it. Every word," she affirmed, confirming his suspicion that he had unwittingly spoken his words aloud.
Summoning all the remaining strength she could muster, she slowly edged her way to the door with more confidence than she actually felt, then sleekly pulled it back, showing her visitor the way out.
"Misao, matte yo…" he called out but hesitated, his aquamarine eyes desperately seeking her crystal blue orbs. He had never been good with words before. Not then, not now.
But she had cast her head down in a little bow and stoically told him in a quiet voice, "Mou ii… You have done enough already." He winced at her words. "Leave, please… We're done talking."
If only she had looked up to meet his eyes, she would have known the truth - How sorry he felt, how wrong he was and how much she meant to him. But she did not.
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It is cold today. The hills are deathly pale, the clouds dark. It was midnight. The sky was clear, dry and brilliant with stars. The land was frozen hard as iron, its streams gripped by ice. The waning moon cast a light so sullen that the land seemed to glow with a pale cold shimmer.
No snow had fallen that day, nor had there been any thaw – so all the world was white except for where the trees had been. The wind had blown them free of snow and they now stood black and intricate against the winter bleak land.
In the midst of it all, the peaceful world slept on, undisturbed – save for the soft crunching of fallen snow upon the careful treading of light, nimble feet.
Though clad in layers of warm earth-hued clothes and wrapped in a woolen navy cloak to boot, the dainty form couldn't help but shiver whenever the tinniest gale breezed by.
Her mind was in a mess. – Disoriented by the previous night's ordeal; The only clear thought she had left was to leave this place as far away as possible, as soon as she ever could. She did not know what to think; did not want to think anymore. And she no longer paid any heed to her thoughts because the more she thought, the more patronized she felt, the more confused she became.
Oddly, the soft moaning of the distant winds, which she could sometimes hear, produced a sound that she somehow found… soothing. And as they blew nearer, the snow would begin to rise and stir, dancing excitedly in fine sprays, swirling around and about her before reluctantly hitting the ground.
It had surprised her when she realized that she had stopped walking. She wasn't entirely certain when it took place. But that's what had happened. Already she had procrastinated for far too long – not having the courage to leave days ago as she had originally intended.
And tonight was too good a chance to let go to waste. The entire Oniwabanshuu household was out in town - seeing to business, the occasional supplement to the Aoiya, where their expert services were needed; which could be as straightforward as escorting visiting high ranking officials during their stay or as needless as gracing the opening of the latest winery or such with their presence.
The Oniwabanshuu had always been rather popular amongst the locals. And invitations to occasions such as the latter weren't all bad. In fact, they saw little, if any, reasons to decline such generous invitations.
Our fugitive of the night shuddered as she resumed walking, gathering her long heavy coat closer to her form, dreading the fact that she would have to make this trip in the biting cold. All alone.
Or was she?
"Misao." A lean figure that had been lurking in the dark addressed her, stopping her dead in her tracks.
She didn't have to look up to know who it was. She didn't want to – mustn't do.
She salvely closed her eyes and audibly heaved out a tired breath. An act. It is all an act. Truth is, she could practically hear the erratic thumping of her heart in her ears, and wondered worriedly if he could hear them as well.
Control, she told herself.
Even though he stood a respectable seven paces away from her, she dared not open her eyes for fear that all pretenses would crumble.
She could exactly imagine the soft flapping of his trenchcoat in the mild wind for she had memorized its dancing grace, whilst he stared at her endlessly, pokerfaced.
The both of them held their ground; neither moving, neither yielding. What passed by that was but a few minutes, seemed like a torturous eternity.
The solemn hoot of a straying snow owl, broke their spell of silence.
Her eyes flew open and she looked ahead.
"You're upset," he told her as he quietly stepped out of the shadows.
"Really?" she asked just as insipidly.
He didn't answer her. He could not. Not when it was him that was the source of it.
"That's no longer your concern," she reminded him dourly.
"Then what is, Misao?" he probed with practiced aloofness. He saw her flinched. For a nanosecond, her eyes registered hurt. He hadn't intended to say it that way.
"Not me," she retaliated, as her feet sought to edge.
The night sky above them blazed with diamond hard stars. The moon was below the horizon, only a faint pallor in the west betraying its presence.
"Don't make me tell you again." She passed him by without so much as stopping or risking a glance. "Don't ever show your face to me again, Aoshi-sama… Sayonara."
And the oblivious world slept on…------------
Thank you for reading.
Some Japanese Terms used:
'Mou ii…' -'That's enough…'
'…matte yo…' – '…wait..'
'Kodomokara kujanai!!' – 'Because I'm not a kid anymore!'