Yay everyone !! Back with another chappie ^^ !!
Thanks to Noa, Jac'Kee, Nabi-chan, lebleuphenix, Sai, ShadowKat, SilverNimbus, Mica-chan and my Mysterious Reviewer (who told he/she calls sparticus but I can't believe that ^-~) for reviewing ! Your comments help me a lot !!
Hey hey.... I hope this story leaves you in suspense ^^ . Yay poor Misao, it is to be hard for her to cope with what will happen in this chapter. By the way, I hope that Yuki's story explained quite well her behavior. Poor Yuki, she had a sad life. Do you still hate her ? *^^* I don't. I just wanted to tell that no way how much I want Misao to end up with Aoshi, Yukiko deserves happiness as well and no one can hate her for loving Aoshi !
Now stop rambling, you stupid Kmye, and let's read ^^ !!
...................
...................
Chapter 8: Keep me alive
...................
Sweat rolling on her forehead and dread running through her mind, Misao jumped out of her bed.
Aoshi... Aoshi-sama... Please don't... don't die...
This could not happen. She had to prevent it from happening. No matter why, no matter how, she couldn't let this take place without trying something to avoid it. Her breath caught in her throat as she kicked the door open and ran along the corridor, tears burning her eyes. Misao hurtled down the stairs, stumbled and fell. Loudly, her small body crashed at the bottom of the steps and Misao shrieked, curling in a ball. Hot tears cascaded on her bruised cheek, but she managed to get up, as a sob escaped from her tightly closed lips.
Hoping she hadn't woken anyone despite the noise she had made, Misao edged her way out of the Shirobeko. The icy wind of a winter night rushed between the layers of her yukata but she was too panic-stricken to care, she didn't even notice the long, cold shivers running through her chilled skin. The world was spinning around her and the ghostly shadows of the sleeping town were spreading their darkness over her, but she went on running, tripping over the uneven ground, desperately hanging onto the hope that she wouldn't be too late. The gravel was hurting her bare feet as in her hurry she had forgotten to take her shoes, but she was not aware of it, not feeling it at all as she was concentrate on her aim.
The Aoiya would appear in a few minutes. In a few meters. Around the corner... In a few seconds she would be in sight of it...
"Come on, you bastards!" an unleashed female voice shouted, "You're looking for me, right?!"
Something tore in Misao's chest and a sob of relief came to her throat. She hadn't been too late... They still were alive, fighting for their lives but alive... Tears escaped her eyes as tension was releasing its grip around her heart, and she ran towards the Aoiya. Her eyes widened in stupefaction. The whole building was devastated, the front ripped open and burnt in places, as though someone had tried to set in on fire. And in the middle of the pools of blood shuddering the ground in the street were standing Aoshi and Yukiko, back against back, protecting each other.
Their moves fit so perfectly that it was obvious they were used to fighting together, that they knew by heart any strike the other could ever launch. They were fighting as though they were one, reading each other moves and knowing how to complement. Speed, fluidness, efficiency. Dead men fell on the ground, returning to the men fallen before them. And blood splashed their faces, leaving dark red patterns on their pale skins as the same evil gleam enlightened their eyes. This was the old but genuine side of the Oniwabanshuu, a side Misao had never seen yet. A ninja group, not meant for protecting but for killing. Bloodthirsty men of shadows, where fighting was their only reason of being. They were well-trained murderers, pitiless and yet willing to preserve the lives of their fellows. This was a fight of ninjas; one of these fights Misao had thought had died with the Edo era and the fall of the Bakumatsu.
Suddenly an icy hand clutched Misao's heart as she felt a sharp eye focusing on her. And she became aware of her precarious situation. There she was, standing in the middle of the battleground, shivering with fear and cold under her thin yukata and not having a single weapon to protect her life. Adrenaline flooded through her being. Too late for thinking. Fight, Misao, fight. Don't let them having you like this. You don't want to die here and now.
Swallowing hard, she saw four men turning at her, a mad grin distorting their faces. They had to think she would be an easier target than Aoshi-sama, for sure. She may not be as strong as he was, and surely she couldn't cope with four men, but she would show them. She was quick. She was strong. And she so much wanted to live.
And as the four men rushed at her, alarmed by the sudden change of move, Aoshi turned, and their gazes met. Incomprehension rolled through his wide eyes, as hers were holding so much fear. A lump came to Misao's throat. She had said she would stay in the Shirobeko, and she saw in his eyes his disbelief, just before a weapon came in her sight and hid Aoshi. The blow was so quick, and she felt so numb. She had to dodge, dammit! Dodge, Misao ! Dodge !!
Before she could understand what happened, Misao was hurled to the ground and she should have hit the gravels hard. But she didn't feel pain... Someone was holding her tightly, keeping her from falling. Strong arms. A soft masculine scent. Comforting presence. And something liquid and hot flooding on her chest.
"AOSHI!!"
Misao fell on her knees, not being able to support Aoshi's weight. He groaned in pain, leaning his forehead on her shoulder, and as she placed her hands on his back to help him getting up, her fingers were covered with sticky, hot blood. Her eyes widened in horror. He had not dodged the blow as she had thought at first. He had only been able to shelter her with his body, obtaining a gaping wound in his back.
But Aoshi seemed to recover his senses, and pushed her against a wall. Getting up and facing their opponents, he was fighting like an impassable barrier of liquid steel, his kodachi slicing the warm flesh. He wouldn't let them hurt her. He could let her go. His life didn't matter. Hers did. Did so much. Meant so much. Hope was in her being. And all he still had on this world was hope.
Yet inexorably, the circle was narrowing as the hired killers were always in larger number and Aoshi's strength leaking with his blood. He felt his own moves slowing, his muscles being tired and aching. In a last blow, he felt on his knees still trying to protect Misao, still flippant with his own life. There was only a man left, and Aoshi raised his kodachi, bracing himself to launch his final strike but as he was about to slice the man's throat, the latter's eyes turned dull as a strange death rattle escaped his already cold lips, and he fell on the ground, having let out his last breath.
"I told you to leave him be, you bastard..." a weak and scornful feminine voice let slip, as her foot kicked the dead body lying motionless.
And Yukiko collapsed on the ground, her face drained of colour, lying in a pool of her own blood.
"Yuki!!!", Aoshi shouted, and he gathered her frail body in his arms. She was so cold, and her soft, pearly skin was covered with cuts and wounds all over, staining with crimson prints up to her face. A hard feeling of guilt invaded his insides. He had totally forgotten about her... He had so much wanted to save Misao that he had forgotten her... All her strength was deserting her being, and she coughed, bringing her hands to her lips. Dark blood surged from the corners of her mouth and she moaned in pain, crawling into Aoshi's arms for comfort. His eyes filled with dread.
"Yuki!! Hold out!!"
But she merely raised her face to him and she smiled. Not really her usual smile, not this provocative and defiant smile she usually wore but a sad, pain filled, but nevertheless, happy smile. Her emerald eyes glistened as her lips stretched achingly, and a single, cold tear ran along her bloody cheek. And when she spoke, her voice was holding her tears and all her loneliness.
"I failed, Okashira... But I'm so glad I died to save you... I... I so much wanted you... to be proud of me... Aoshi..."
Aoshi gritted his teeth, hard, as he raised a trembling hand to her hair.
"I am, Yuki... So proud of you..."
She smiled again, this time in pure bliss. But another coughing fit ran through her, making her weak lungs wheeze, and her eyes clouded over.
"Good bye Aoshi..."
Helpless, Aoshi grabbed her shoulders and started shaking her slightly, trying to revive the fading life in her.
"No Yuki!! Hold fast! You must live!"
And then he realized Misao was just kneeling near them, staring at them without a word. He turned over and shouted.
"Misao!! Find a doctor, fast!!"
In a daze, Misao got up and, like Aoshi had said, ran towards the nearest clinic. But her thoughts were banging together in a terrible din. She had seen the panic in Aoshi's eyes when he had realized Yukiko was injured and about to die. She had heard him telling her to stand fast, and his voice betrayed his fear. His fear of loosing her. Yukiko, his Yukiko, his beloved for that matter. That bloody woman came from nowhere and stole her, her dear Aoshi-sama. Misao's heart smashed to smithereens; why was she running anyway? She could just wait and let this slut die. But no. Because Aoshi-sama would be heartbroken. All I want is his happiness...
Misao knocked over a couple of lovebirds walking down the street enjoying the night; the man turned over and began yelling at her. But he caught sight of the blood all over her yukata, and dreadfully grabbed her shoulder.
"Are you okay Miss?!", he asked.
"LET ME GO!! DON'T TOUCH ME!!", Misao shrieked, so deeply distressed that she couldn't even catch what he had said. All that mattered now was to reach the clinic. She was not far away. Her sight was blurred, blurred with Aoshi's blood and her own tears, and she had to force her weak limbs to carry her to the black door, a few meters away. Finally, she was standing in front of the clinic door, and, long tears streaming down her cheeks, she desperately pulled at the bell. Once, twice, but no one was answering. Misao began to bang at the door with her fists and called, as sobs formed in her throat.
"Help!! Please, please someone... they are hurt... please help me..."
And as she was about to give up, crying against the door when it opened, a wide-eyed and tousled doctor catching her just when she fell in exhaustion.
"Oh thanks... thanks the gods... There are two people ahead of the Aoiya... they're badly hurt, and... be prepared, it was a true slaughter..."
As the doctor froze and was about to question her, worried by the blood on her shirt, she shook her head.
"No, no I'm unharmed!! Please hurry!! They need your help!"
The doctor hesitated then nodded without a word and gathered his things before running out towards the Aoiya.
Left in the clinic hall, Misao laid against a wall, sighing in relief and tears blinding her. Her heart constricted in her heart, being tugged between her two feelings. Had she been right? She had chosen to give a chance to Yukiko... despite the fact that she would probably be left alone...
How stupid... If she pulls through it, they'll leave me behind... Poor fool that I am...
She didn't even notice when a nurse came in the corridor and shrieked when she saw her little, bloody form lying against the wall, nor when two other nurses, alarmed by the first one's cries, helped her to carry Misao in a room to sound her. Her whole body and mind was a mess, and her soul shattered in a million pieces. She didn't care. If she had lost Aoshi, she could as well be dead. Sinking into the deepest pits of her sorrow, Misao fell asleep, but her tears kept running on her pale cheeks.
...................
A bird... I can hear a bird chirping outside.
Misao opened her eyes and blinked. Around her, everything was so peaceful. A soft sunshine was edging its way between the panels of the window, casting a thin and warm trace all over her bed and blinding her lightly. She was in her room. Misao sighed slightly, wondering if she had been dreaming. There was no blood around her; her room was filled with a fresh and comforting darkness.
As she tried to get up, she felt the skin under her feet aching, and she took a quick glance; her soles were dressed with soft and white bandages. Hesitantly she stroked her feet, making sure she hadn't dreamt. She had definitely hurt herself by running barefoot in the street the night before. So she had not dreamt. All was true. If she opened the window she would find the same battleground than last night. She couldn't even remember how she managed to reach the clinic and go back to the Aoiya. Everything was black in her mind. Holding back a squeak, she curled in a ball underneath her blanket. She was sick of blood, sick of everything that had happened for a few days. And she was sick of seeing Aoshi with this girl. Enough. But what could she do?
She was about to get up when a low-voiced conversation reached her ears and caught her attention.
"Yes... Yes okay... Be sure I will..."
This was Aoshi's voice. Someone answered, a deep and professional voice that Misao didn't know. She couldn't catch what he said as he had to be farther from her door. But Aoshi mumbled a few things more and the other man seemed to take his leave. Fully awake now, Misao tensed and tried to remain as silent as possible to hear what was going on outside. Her throat dried as she felt that Aoshi was standing ahead of her door and didn't come in. He seemed to listen to see if she was awake or not, he braced himself to come into her room as well. I know him by heart, she thought with a painful smile. She could read in his mind when he was happy, sad, puzzled or distressed like now, even though they were not in the same room.
Without a noise the shoji slid in its groove and Aoshi appeared in the doorframe. Misao's eyes widened when she caught sight of his face, harrowed with concern and exhaustion. His dark eyebrows were set in a deep frown, crossing his forehead with a wrinkle that made him look ten years older. His lips were pale and clenched. And his eyes were holding a sharp, threatening glare. Misao swallowed.
Not even looking at her, Aoshi came in and sit on the floor in front of her. Tightening hold grip on her blanket to reassure herself, Misao felt her body shake with fear under his cold glare.
I'm afraid... of him?
And yes, she was. Straightening her back, she tried to remain still as long as he sized her up. Unable to look him in the face, she was staring hard at her clenched fists in her lap, withstanding his pitiless and unvoiced accusation.
"I told you to stay to the Shirobeko," he let out in a breath; this hurt her more than if he had yelled it.
She remained mute, having nothing to say to defend herself.
"Do you realize what you did?" he went on, his voice low yet sharper than any blade, "Because of your recklessness, you put our three lives in danger. Acting inconsiderately, not only did you threatened your own life, but two others as well."
He paused for a while, letting her think about what he had just said. Misao swallowed hard, a firm lump forming in her throat. Then he continued.
"The distinctive feature of a ninja is to protect his comrades and not to threaten his team's work and, even more, lives. I thought you at least understood this."
Misao bent her head as tears filled her eyes at what his last words implied. He was the Okashira again, no time for her futile games anymore. How pretentious and blind she has been. She had failed; she wasn't strong enough to cope with all of this.
"You disappointed me, Misao. I thought I had succeeded in teaching you the essence of the ninja, you proved me I was wrong."
Misao's hands began to shake in her lap, but she wouldn't cry. No matter how hard she would have to bit her lips to hold back the burning tears, she wouldn't let them slip out in front of him. Maybe she wasn't meant to be a ninja after all. Maybe all this was just the mere dream of a marvelled child. Her deepest grief was just that she couldn't tell him that he shouldn't blame himself for her faults. But if she opened her closed lips to speak, she knew that she couldn't help but cry. So she kept bearing his sad and disappointed look on her without a word, mute, unspoken remorse being concealed in her heart with her fears and love.
They remained motionless and silent for long minutes; then someone broke the tensed silence between them by knocking lightly at the door. The shoji slid open and Okon's face appeared in the slit. Her eyes saddened at the poor sight Misao made but she didn't breathe a word about it.
"Aoshi-san... Yukiko woke up a minute ago."
Aoshi nodded, and got up, not even granting Misao a single look. Instead of that, he addressed a quick sign to Okon in order to ask her to take care of the overwhelmed girl on the bed. Okon lowered her eyes and came into the room as Aoshi was getting out.
The older onmitsu bit her lip sadly when she understood how much Aoshi's lecture had wreaked havoc on Misao. Kindly, trying to comfort the young girl and help her not to loose her footing in all this mess of feelings, she sat near her and hugged her. Too dizzy to understand what had happened, Misao didn't even notice.
......................
Aoshi closed the door behind him, his fingers shaking slightly as they brushed against the paper panel. Gritting his teeth, he fisted his hand firmly and leaned against the wall in front of Misao's room, his burning forehead greeting its welcome freshness. Releasing the tension amassed through his nerves, he closed his eyes and sighed in defeat.
How could she understand? He didn't want to lecture her like this, didn't want her to feel humiliated or unwanted. But never could she understand the icy sensation that had crept into the very fiber of his being when he had seen her frail, motionless body being carried back to the Aoiya by the doctor. Never could she understand the growing dread that twisted his insides when he had feared the worse might have happened. How could she understand anyway? All he showed her was the impassive face of an impassive man, heartless and emotionless. All she could gather in her heart was images of the cold-hearted man he had so craved to be, how could she just picture the rush of emotions she was putting him into?
And, true, this night, the first in years, he had been frightened. Frightened as a leader, when he had thought of loosing one of his dearest fellows and when he had feared he had lost the most precious person to his heart, frightened as a... as a what? He didn't know himself, he thought while shrugging his shoulders in annoyance at himself and at his own incoherence. All his emotions were so unreadable to himself; thinking about it, he felt nonplussed and most of all, deeply miserable.
.......................
Time had lost its very consistency. The icy air was numbing her limbs and it was all for the best. Drowning in the white sensation of coldness, smothering the pain, emotionally and physically; it allowed her not to think. It's amazing, she thought, how you can't think of anything when you can't feel your body anymore. And for having stayed outside in the winter wind, crouched on the roof with the snow drenching her thin yukata, this was the state of apathy to which Misao was slowly slipping.
Aoshi had always known how to destroy every bit of strength in her; she was aware of it now. But loving her too much, he had never tried to use this power he knew he had over her. Because he had loved her. She felt it in his voice. There were some cruel, terrible weapons that you can never use if not against someone you loved once. And you know where they hit and hurt and destroy so deeply that the wound will never heal.
Beyond his words, Misao had felt the disgust, that kind of disgust that screamed at her that he was not so much disgusted by her but by himself for having loved her. It had cut through her flesh and her soul. But finally she had admitted that he didn't love her anymore. Oddly that fact had been very easy to accept. Her mind had not screamed against it, no inner battle to persuade herself that it wasn't true. It was such a self-evident conclusion, it was so clear that no sidestepping was of any help. And anyway she was tired, tired of sidestepping.
Would she be there tomorrow morning? Not sure, if she stayed outside like that, but she was too cold to move anyway. Too cold to think, and this was the peace she craved for. Had she given up, in spite of her promise to Omasu? Maybe. But she had tried, tried hard, yet Aoshi had killed the hope in her heart. Really? Was there no hope in her heart, no hope that he could ever love her again? She didn't want to think about it. It hurt too much, it tore the ropes of her emotions, deep down her chest. All she wanted was to forget. Whatever the price. Even though this price was her life.
Suddenly, breaking the white coat of the cold emptiness she was sinking into, a steaming cup of tea appeared in her field of vision. Misao stared at it, taken aback; then she raised her eyes to the one offering the cup to her. Instantaneously pulled out of her numb dream, she started and her teeth began to chatter so violently that she couldn't stop them.
"Sh-Shi-ro?", she breathed as a cloud of frosty mist leaved her purple lips.
Shiro smiled kindly, and without a word, he draped a thick, soft, warm blanket around her petite form. Misao stared at him, amazed, then smiled back. Shiro seemed happy but didn't let out a single word. He just kept holding the cup until she grabbed it between her shaking fingers and thanked him shyly with a move of her head. Misao brought the hot liquid to her lips and drank a long gulp; the tea burnt her throat, but it didn't matter. It was warm and perfumed, and it felt like life was flowing in her being again. She sighed slightly and looked at Shiro again. He was staring endlessly at the stars above them, just casually sitting near her and offering the comfort of his presence. After a while, he turned his head and glanced at her questioningly.
Misao's eyes were tracing the soft features of the man in front of her. And despite herself, she was puzzled: she had always thought of Shiro as a nice guy, always laughing and smiling and helping her when she get into trouble, but she had never noticed that he was so handsome. His eyes were really black, no one could distinguish the pupil in this turmoil of smooth black. As was his hair. It didn't shine with deep blue shades like Aoshi's, but it was a dark, raven black, maybe slightly purple under the moonlight. And he was smiling, which never happened with Aoshi.
Misao started and blushed, at being caught staring that way to Shiro. For sure, she had been staring with her mouth gapping open, she was sure of it! And was it so bad? No, it surely wasn't. No, she thought, gazing at Shiro's indulgent smile, it wasn't bad.
"Maybe you should let out what goes wrong in that little head of yours ", Shiro said softly. In one blow, the pain shot back in her heart, and Misao curled in a ball under the blanket, leaning her chin on her knees.
" ... Won't get rid of that bloody bastard who has no consideration for the others and what they may ever feel... " she mumbled.
Shiro smiled, but it was not annoying at all. It was even comforting. It helped her to stand back.
"He knows how I feel, and he doesn't care. Worse, he tries to hurt me, and he knows it. And I don't have a single clue about how he feels!"
Shiro kept gazing at her, kindly and comfortingly. Oddly, even though she would have found it awkward from anyone else, Misao found it rather pleasant. With a small sigh, Shiro patted her head. Misao went on with her reproves.
"And I can't stand it anymore, you see... Nor will I be able to support all his game with Yukiko any longer... I'd prefer things to be clear, even though it means that... that he'll never love me anymore..."
Misao conceded a bitter smile. Kami-sama, why had he wrapped his arm around her shoulders? It felt so nice, so sweet, and so honest. Shiro spoke, his voice light and soothing.
"You should go to bed, you know, Misao. It's already late."
Misao nodded. And suddenly, she breathed the request that burnt her lips.
"Please, Shiro... Stay with me tonight..."
......................
End of chapter 8
......................
Author's notes : Hey hey hey hey hey *grins evily* ...
I hope this chapter was rich in new developments... It was mainly focused on Misao ; almost nothing focusing on Aoshi and even less on Yukiko. (Un)fortunately, you'll see more of them in next chapter. I wanted to include a small part I had written quite a long time ago when I was writting tries for fanfics, but I don't know if it'll fit, mainly because of Misao's frame of mind. We'll see ^^ ...
Hey our little love triangle seems to turn into a... love square ?! As for me I think that Shiro is a really handsome guy and that he matches quite well with Misao... Aoshi'd better move his ass if he doesn't want his lovely Misao to slip between his fingers... hey hey hey... I'll leave you in suspens until next time !! Will Aoshi and Misao's love remain as strong after all these hurdles ? Especially after all these misunderstandings ? Just a word about these misunderstandings... As I'm not a really good writer maybe you think Misao's explanation of Aoshi's behavior is really far-fetched, but I think that Aoshi's ambiguous and that both explanations are justified.
Now please !!! Leave me a review to tell me what you think about all of this !!!! PLEASE ^^
Ja !!
