A Matter of We
By Anime no Miko
**********
....... from previous chapter ........
Out of the man's sight, the Tenken sprinted with his godlike speed towards a small o-chaya he spotted by the road. Away from the rice barrels and the rain.
As he approached the o-chaya, he could distinguish a petite figure wrapped in a purplish cloak entering the place. A familiar dark long braid exposed as the soaked cloak was removed.
.................................................
Chapter 2: Weasel and Tenken Share Noodles
She shivered instinctively, the cold wind battering against her petite form, her cloak not providing enough protection against the storm. She needed to find a refuge, fast. Not far from where she was, she spotted an o- chaya. 'Finally, a shelter.' she thought, and ran towards it, not minding its fragile architecture. That was better than nothing and besides, perhaps she could get something to eat there. Yes, she was hungry. She had not eaten since last night, and what she ate then wasn't exactly a feast.
"Dammit! My new cloak!" the girl cursed at the entrance of the o-chaya as she took off the wet piece of garment inspecting it. "Ruined!" she groaned throwing it onto a vacant chair. Her cloak was not only wet but muddy as well thanks to splashes from the many puddles she had had to walk in. She asked the proprietor for a towel to dry herself and they provided her with two, noticing just how soaked by rain she was.
Soujiro ran faster towards the o-chaya, following with his eyes the long braid fluttering in the wind to dissapear inside the o-chaya. It looked familiar to him, but from where? The Tenken pondered over it for a moment, yet he couldn't remember. What a better way to find out then, than catching a glimpse of the person? He reached the place virtually dried, his unmatched speed being faster than that of the falling rain. Surveying the small area, he found the familiar braid and its petite owner. A girl. Her back turned to him, impeding Soujiro to catch a glimpse at her face, she was making funny gestures, like a child having one of her tantrums. But what a colorful usage of words! He could hear her cursing, somewhat under her breath, yet cursing. He smiled amused by the vividness of her character.
The o-chaya was practically deserted; the proprietor, a bearded white- haired man and two men, were the only dwellers of the small o-chaya besides Soujiro and the girl. Soujiro sat silently two seats away from her, carefully putting down his bundle next to him.
"Now it is worse than the one Himura ruined---" he heard her mumble. Wait, did she just say Himura? She did. He heard her. So the girl knew Himura, and was probably friends with him. Soujiro thought of leaving the place discreetely before the girl noticed him, but he didn't have the right timing. As he was about to stand up, the proprieter approached him.
"Would you like a towel, sir?" the old man asked Soujiro thinking he would as well want to dry himself. He ceratinly hadn't noticed that Soujiro needed no towel since he wasn't wet.
"Iie. Arigatou." said Soujiro and stood up ready to leave, but the man insisted and Soujiro had to accede. He took the towel and his bundle, and turned his back on the girl. If she knew Himura, chances were that she could know him, the Tenken, member of the Jupongatana and Shishio's right hand. But now, what would one of Himura's friend, if she was one that is, be doing there, alone in an o-chaya in the middle of a road, miles away both from Tokyo and Kyoto? Battousai wasn't the only Himura after all, right? Partly convinced with his reasoning and partly persuaded by his hungry stomach, he resolved to stay and order something to eat while waiting for the rain to stop.
Her stomach growled. She finished drying herself as best as she could, and decided to order some noodles soup. Nothing better than having a hot bowl of soup during a rainy day.
"Bring me a bowl of noodles soup, please." both said in unison and looked at each other, or rather the girl looked at Soujiro who failed to avert his face in time.
Around two years had passed since Soujiro's revealing battle with Kenshin. He was now 20 (A/N: Forgive me if I'm mistaken with the age, but let's say Sou-chan's 20 for this fic, k? ^^) and he had grown taller and behind his clothes, also muscular, his hair was longer and he wore it in a loose ponytail at the nape of the neck. Aside from this, his physique had remained the same, boyish features and youth displayed in his face. Even his clothes were the same, the same blue-grayish hakama, light-blue gi and European styled shirt.
All this made the task for Misao easier. She was about to jump on her feet on impulse, take out her kunais, scream the hell on him, and finally to attack him with her feared Tansatsu Tobikunai, but so much unlike her old self, chose not to. On the contrary, she greeted him as one would to an old acquaintance. She had indeed grown up too. More mature, more reasonable, more self controlled ... before others that is. In physique she hadn't grow more than a few centimeters taller though, and continued to be as slender as she had always been. Her hair was longer too, yet not noticeable at first glimpse because she still carried it in a braid.
"Tenken no Soujiro, isn't it you?" she stated more than asked.
Now he recognized her. She was at the village with Himura when he broke the rurouni's reverse sword. The high spirted ninja who autoproclaimed herself Okashira of the Oniwabansu when he persuaded Shinomori to join the Jupongatana, Shinomori's protegee.
"H-Hai. And you must be?" he replied smiling, yet the slight threat in his voice betrayed his face.
"Makimachi Misao, Oniwabanshu's okashira." Misao presented herself solemnly, every trace of her earlier cloak tantrum dissapearing. Soujiro bowed and smiled, which annoyed Misao a little. "And a very skilled ninja, if we may add." she informed him, stressing the 'very skilled' part as if a cue.
Soujiro noted the stress she made when saying "very," and he caught her meaning. "It's a pleasure, Makimachi-san. Though, you should know I do not do what I used to do anymore." he replied stressing the 'not' part himself.
"A-Ahem..." the proprieter cleared his throat and both travelers turned their attention at him. "Gomen-nasai, but I've not much foo left. In fact, I only have enough for one bowl of noodles soup." he said apologetically.
"One?!" Soujiro and Misao exclaimed incredously. The old man nodded. "I couldn't go to town with this weather." he explained them.
Soujiro's stomach was grumbling, though not as loud as Misao's. They were both hungry. Soujiro thought they could share it in equal ratios, but probably Misao wouldn't agree. He looked at her; she seemed deep in thought, with her left hand supporting the right elbow, and rubbing her chin with her right hand. She studied him for some time, rubbed her chin some more, eyed him again. Suddenly she snapped out of it, emitting a sigh, and spoke.
"Alright. I've got an idea. Why don't we share? Isn't it the soundest way out?" she asked to a dumbfounded Soujiro who stood still.
"Well, you don't have to if you dont' want. I was just being kind enough to share MY soup with you, but better if you don't want---" Misao started off as she motioned the old man to prepare her the soup.
"Iie. I'ld like to, Makimachi-san. Arigatou for sharing." Soujiro said cheerily, coming back to his normal state. Misao looked up at him, and Soujiro noticed a dangerous glint in her eyes.
"No problem, but you pay, O.K?" Misao said, and Soujiro couldn't help but sweat dropping.
"Here's your soup, miss." the old man said as he placed the bowl of noodles soup and a pair of chopsticks on the counter before Misao. "Arigatou- gozaimasu." the ninja girl said beaming with delight at the delicious food, steam rising up from the hot soup. Her stomach grumbled again, louder this time, as if knowing of the noodles soup. "Aren't you coming?" Misao asked Soujiro, and he sat next to her, reluctantly. The bowl of soup was fairly big and it certainly looked appetitive. Misao asked the proprieter for an extra pair of chopsticks.
"This side is yours and this is mine. No stealing." Misao said drawing an invisible line on the surface of the noodles soup, deliberately choosing the part with more noodles for herself. Soujiro noticed but didn't protest. What could a Tenken do against this Weasel, anyways?
And so, Misao and Soujiro shared noodles under the rain ...
~ TBC ...
**********
About time for update, ne? A month has passed since the last update. Gomen- nasai! I've been busy with my other fics, specially the Mr. Rurouni Kenshin Contest one! ^__^
I don't think I'll be changing the title of this fic. "A Matter of We" isn't that bad, or is it?
Thanks for reading & reviewing! Promise better ideas developing for next chapter. Ja!
-- AnM ^-^
By Anime no Miko
**********
....... from previous chapter ........
Out of the man's sight, the Tenken sprinted with his godlike speed towards a small o-chaya he spotted by the road. Away from the rice barrels and the rain.
As he approached the o-chaya, he could distinguish a petite figure wrapped in a purplish cloak entering the place. A familiar dark long braid exposed as the soaked cloak was removed.
.................................................
Chapter 2: Weasel and Tenken Share Noodles
She shivered instinctively, the cold wind battering against her petite form, her cloak not providing enough protection against the storm. She needed to find a refuge, fast. Not far from where she was, she spotted an o- chaya. 'Finally, a shelter.' she thought, and ran towards it, not minding its fragile architecture. That was better than nothing and besides, perhaps she could get something to eat there. Yes, she was hungry. She had not eaten since last night, and what she ate then wasn't exactly a feast.
"Dammit! My new cloak!" the girl cursed at the entrance of the o-chaya as she took off the wet piece of garment inspecting it. "Ruined!" she groaned throwing it onto a vacant chair. Her cloak was not only wet but muddy as well thanks to splashes from the many puddles she had had to walk in. She asked the proprietor for a towel to dry herself and they provided her with two, noticing just how soaked by rain she was.
Soujiro ran faster towards the o-chaya, following with his eyes the long braid fluttering in the wind to dissapear inside the o-chaya. It looked familiar to him, but from where? The Tenken pondered over it for a moment, yet he couldn't remember. What a better way to find out then, than catching a glimpse of the person? He reached the place virtually dried, his unmatched speed being faster than that of the falling rain. Surveying the small area, he found the familiar braid and its petite owner. A girl. Her back turned to him, impeding Soujiro to catch a glimpse at her face, she was making funny gestures, like a child having one of her tantrums. But what a colorful usage of words! He could hear her cursing, somewhat under her breath, yet cursing. He smiled amused by the vividness of her character.
The o-chaya was practically deserted; the proprietor, a bearded white- haired man and two men, were the only dwellers of the small o-chaya besides Soujiro and the girl. Soujiro sat silently two seats away from her, carefully putting down his bundle next to him.
"Now it is worse than the one Himura ruined---" he heard her mumble. Wait, did she just say Himura? She did. He heard her. So the girl knew Himura, and was probably friends with him. Soujiro thought of leaving the place discreetely before the girl noticed him, but he didn't have the right timing. As he was about to stand up, the proprieter approached him.
"Would you like a towel, sir?" the old man asked Soujiro thinking he would as well want to dry himself. He ceratinly hadn't noticed that Soujiro needed no towel since he wasn't wet.
"Iie. Arigatou." said Soujiro and stood up ready to leave, but the man insisted and Soujiro had to accede. He took the towel and his bundle, and turned his back on the girl. If she knew Himura, chances were that she could know him, the Tenken, member of the Jupongatana and Shishio's right hand. But now, what would one of Himura's friend, if she was one that is, be doing there, alone in an o-chaya in the middle of a road, miles away both from Tokyo and Kyoto? Battousai wasn't the only Himura after all, right? Partly convinced with his reasoning and partly persuaded by his hungry stomach, he resolved to stay and order something to eat while waiting for the rain to stop.
Her stomach growled. She finished drying herself as best as she could, and decided to order some noodles soup. Nothing better than having a hot bowl of soup during a rainy day.
"Bring me a bowl of noodles soup, please." both said in unison and looked at each other, or rather the girl looked at Soujiro who failed to avert his face in time.
Around two years had passed since Soujiro's revealing battle with Kenshin. He was now 20 (A/N: Forgive me if I'm mistaken with the age, but let's say Sou-chan's 20 for this fic, k? ^^) and he had grown taller and behind his clothes, also muscular, his hair was longer and he wore it in a loose ponytail at the nape of the neck. Aside from this, his physique had remained the same, boyish features and youth displayed in his face. Even his clothes were the same, the same blue-grayish hakama, light-blue gi and European styled shirt.
All this made the task for Misao easier. She was about to jump on her feet on impulse, take out her kunais, scream the hell on him, and finally to attack him with her feared Tansatsu Tobikunai, but so much unlike her old self, chose not to. On the contrary, she greeted him as one would to an old acquaintance. She had indeed grown up too. More mature, more reasonable, more self controlled ... before others that is. In physique she hadn't grow more than a few centimeters taller though, and continued to be as slender as she had always been. Her hair was longer too, yet not noticeable at first glimpse because she still carried it in a braid.
"Tenken no Soujiro, isn't it you?" she stated more than asked.
Now he recognized her. She was at the village with Himura when he broke the rurouni's reverse sword. The high spirted ninja who autoproclaimed herself Okashira of the Oniwabansu when he persuaded Shinomori to join the Jupongatana, Shinomori's protegee.
"H-Hai. And you must be?" he replied smiling, yet the slight threat in his voice betrayed his face.
"Makimachi Misao, Oniwabanshu's okashira." Misao presented herself solemnly, every trace of her earlier cloak tantrum dissapearing. Soujiro bowed and smiled, which annoyed Misao a little. "And a very skilled ninja, if we may add." she informed him, stressing the 'very skilled' part as if a cue.
Soujiro noted the stress she made when saying "very," and he caught her meaning. "It's a pleasure, Makimachi-san. Though, you should know I do not do what I used to do anymore." he replied stressing the 'not' part himself.
"A-Ahem..." the proprieter cleared his throat and both travelers turned their attention at him. "Gomen-nasai, but I've not much foo left. In fact, I only have enough for one bowl of noodles soup." he said apologetically.
"One?!" Soujiro and Misao exclaimed incredously. The old man nodded. "I couldn't go to town with this weather." he explained them.
Soujiro's stomach was grumbling, though not as loud as Misao's. They were both hungry. Soujiro thought they could share it in equal ratios, but probably Misao wouldn't agree. He looked at her; she seemed deep in thought, with her left hand supporting the right elbow, and rubbing her chin with her right hand. She studied him for some time, rubbed her chin some more, eyed him again. Suddenly she snapped out of it, emitting a sigh, and spoke.
"Alright. I've got an idea. Why don't we share? Isn't it the soundest way out?" she asked to a dumbfounded Soujiro who stood still.
"Well, you don't have to if you dont' want. I was just being kind enough to share MY soup with you, but better if you don't want---" Misao started off as she motioned the old man to prepare her the soup.
"Iie. I'ld like to, Makimachi-san. Arigatou for sharing." Soujiro said cheerily, coming back to his normal state. Misao looked up at him, and Soujiro noticed a dangerous glint in her eyes.
"No problem, but you pay, O.K?" Misao said, and Soujiro couldn't help but sweat dropping.
"Here's your soup, miss." the old man said as he placed the bowl of noodles soup and a pair of chopsticks on the counter before Misao. "Arigatou- gozaimasu." the ninja girl said beaming with delight at the delicious food, steam rising up from the hot soup. Her stomach grumbled again, louder this time, as if knowing of the noodles soup. "Aren't you coming?" Misao asked Soujiro, and he sat next to her, reluctantly. The bowl of soup was fairly big and it certainly looked appetitive. Misao asked the proprieter for an extra pair of chopsticks.
"This side is yours and this is mine. No stealing." Misao said drawing an invisible line on the surface of the noodles soup, deliberately choosing the part with more noodles for herself. Soujiro noticed but didn't protest. What could a Tenken do against this Weasel, anyways?
And so, Misao and Soujiro shared noodles under the rain ...
~ TBC ...
**********
About time for update, ne? A month has passed since the last update. Gomen- nasai! I've been busy with my other fics, specially the Mr. Rurouni Kenshin Contest one! ^__^
I don't think I'll be changing the title of this fic. "A Matter of We" isn't that bad, or is it?
Thanks for reading & reviewing! Promise better ideas developing for next chapter. Ja!
-- AnM ^-^