Catching Hold of You

Hey hey back with a new chapter  ^^ !! Sorry for taking so long !!!!

The ending is rather close now ; just a little bit angst more before everything sets right, because if I didn't the end of the story would be boring  ^_~ !!

Thanks you very much to Li Jung Sook, DarkFairy, Hoshiko, Sai, Yen, Mysterious Reviewer, Noa, draganess, DiaBlo, marie, Nicole, Kitty, SilverNimbus, Susy, me me me and only me, Karasu, Chibi-Nikoru, lebleuphenix, pratz, Cleao, ms. naoki, Argentum-Draco, Sarah, Celste, karla and gena for all your nice reviews  ^^ !!!! Thanks for the cookies and the chocolates !!!!  :D

DiaBlo : I'm sorry about the spelling errors. When I read my story again, I can't find them because anyway I know what I (should) have written already. And as I'm not a native English speaker, I'm always looking in my dictionnary... So sometimes I drop it and my sentences are full of mistakes  *^^o* !!

Nicole : Sorry for not uploading faster  ^^ ! I wish I could, but since I have alot of work with my studies, I can't write very often so chapters are rather long to come. I'll try my best !!

Let me explain a thing... Aoshi doesn't love Yukiko, but she is his first love so he still has a little something on her. That's all ! In his mind, Yuki represents a time when he was still surrounded by his friends and still happy.

*laughs evily*  Ah ah ah ah I love torturing Misao like that ! I am sooo evil and fiendish !!  *sighs*  No no... Sorry again for not making the last chapter happier. I hope you'll still read anyway but hey, this story is classified 'ANGST' after all !!!  ^^

Don't forget to review, minna  ^^

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Chapter 10: Only human

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Aoshi awoke with a terrible headache and the unpleasant feeling that he hadn't slept at all. His eyelids were heavy and he remained flat on his futon, his mind wandering. Again and again, the events of the previous night took place in his head, flashes of his argument with Shiro and scraps of his talk with Yukiko. He was reliving her tears, their fall, the way he had tried to protect her... their kiss... and the words she had spoken after.

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The night before...

Yukiko's lips parted slightly from Aoshi's, trembling, moist from the tears she had been crying. Aoshi's eyes were staring intensely into hers, calling the depths of her soul, and it felt so comforting. For the first time in her whole life, she was coiled between her beloved's arms, and here he was, looking at her like at someone precious and dear; not someone soiled and nasty.

But kindly Aoshi let go of her, releasing his grip around her waist, and he turned his eyes away, embarrassed. Had she not known him, she would have said he had blushed.

"Yuki, I'm sorry."

"That's okay," she assured softly, "I know you don't love me."

But there was no resentment in her voice. Only a deep sadness, and the bittersweet feeling of having missed something, somewhere.

Yukiko drew her knees to her chin, and lost her gaze in the stars. It was a peaceful night, and snow was falling again. Soon, the light flakes started tangling in her dark hair, and she brushed at them carelessly. Like tonight, it had snowed that night she had left the Aoiya ten years ago. The night when she had believed Aoshi didn't love her. Tonight, the snow still poured its cotton rain on them, but it was even sadder. Because Aoshi wouldn't love her anymore.

"I must pack my bag, if I want to be gone before the snow makes the road to Osaka impassable."

Aoshi eyed her weirdly.

"You're leaving? You can stay here, you know..."

Yukiko shook her head with a small smile.

"Hey, I'm on an assignment, remember? I only came here to ask for refuge... But now the Yakuzas are defeated, and I can travel without fear."

Aoshi nodded. He had truly believed that Yukiko had come back home for good, and he had nearly forgotten about her job as a spy.

"When are you leaving?" he asked.

"Tomorrow. I should already be in Osaka, my boss is going to have my head for that!" she chuckled.

Aoshi wanted to chuckle with her, but the laughter remained stuck in his throat. Maybe it was all for the best, after all. For the second time, he was losing this wonderful woman he regarded as a dear friend. But this time he was not really sad. Just a melancholy undertone and nostalgia of better, more careless times remained.

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And with that, he remembered helping Yukiko to get up, escorting her to her room and wishing her a good night. Aoshi sighed, trying to tear his head from the cushion, but blood was hammering in his temples. Grimacing, he managed to sit on his futon and he started rubbing his forehead lightly. What he needed the most right now was a big cup of green tea and a bath. And, he cursed himself, having a talk with Misao as soon as possible.

Aoshi left and closed the door of his room behind him, trying not to wake anyone. It was already quite late since the winter sun was casting its first rays between the lower clouds, but the whole inn seemed to tick over since it had been attacked. Indeed, without their activity as innkeepers, all the family of the Aoiya was idle and kind of depressed, and instead of hanging about they seemed to have decided to have a lie-in before getting up.

But when Aoshi reached the kitchen to have his breakfast, he found Okina, Okon and Kuro already sitting around the table. With a small nod he acknowledged their greetings and sat near Okina, silently pouring some tea in his cup. In front of him, Aoshi noticed absent-mindedly, Okon looked terrible. She was pale, dark rings surrounded her eyes and she was yawning with a gaping mouth. Guilty, Aoshi thought that he hadn't helped a single bit to clean the mess they had done with fighting in the Aoiya against the Yakuzas. Sure, both him and Yukiko had been injured quite badly, but he was well enough to give a hand and no wonder Okon was exhausted if she had been the one tidying everything after the fight.

Aoshi was about to ask if his help was needed when Okina spoke, looking worried, while stroking his beard.

"What's going on with Misao? She should already be up."

Aoshi's facade cracked the slightest bit, and he prayed every god listening that no one had noticed. Shrugging his shoulders, he lied.

"I don't know."

Okina frowned, puzzled.

"If you go upstairs to go back in your room, would you be kind enough to knock at her door and wake her up?"

Aoshi nodded. Inwardly, now that Okina had voiced his thoughts, he was worried too. In one long gulp, he finished his tea and stood up, ready to leave. More or less, he had what he had wanted now: the opportunity of talking with Misao, even though he somehow feared the confrontation. Would he find the right words to express his feelings? Or, like usual, would the sentences run away when he needed them the most? In his true heart, he hoped that Misao knew him well enough to read his feelings through his eyes and would find in her heart the words he was not able to voice.

Bracing his shoulders, and straightening his back, Aoshi found himself standing in front of Misao's door. Three times, he raised his hand to knock and three times; his hand fell back by his side. He sighed. There was nothing to be scared of, dammit! All he would find in this room was the peaceful angel he had left asleep the night before. Soundlessly, he would open the window and let the fresh wind blow the black strands hiding her eyes. She would frown in her sleep, and he would wake her up with a kiss. Her eyes would flutter and then widen in recognition of him. And she would smile.

Gathering his strength of mind, Aoshi resolutely hit the panel with his fist. Inside, no movement was to be heard, as nobody answered. Misao had to be in a deep slumber. He knocked for the second time, hoping she would catch the sound. But again, everything remained silent. A worried look crossed Aoshi's features, as he pushed softly the shoji open, glancing in the room... and froze.

The air was awfully cold inside the room and it sent deep shivers on his skin. Indeed, the window was gaping open, slightly shaken by the icy wind. Aoshi frantically looked for Misao around him; but the bed was undone and empty, and there was no place where Misao could hide. A long thrill of anguish ran along Aoshi's spine as he stared at the open window; Misao had run away. No, no, he tried to reason with himself: her things, clothes and bag were still there, and Misao wasn't foolish enough to travel without them. She couldn't be far, he thought but his mind filled with scary pictures, she went out and had been out for a long time, as he glanced at the thick layer of snow that had settled inside the window. The snow had stopped falling... during the night... And this meant...

No! She can't have spent the night outside... could she?

Without a second thought Aoshi spanned the frame of the window and jumped from the snowy roof to the ground. He landed gracefully and, every sense focused on the landscape, he started searching for any clues. The snowfalls of the night had erased every footprint, and there was no sign of Misao. Aoshi was beginning to fear something serious might have happened to Misao, and irrationally his mind was torturing him with images of Misao, lying dead on the white snow, or left beaten to death by louts in a dark corner... Irritated and distressed, he shook his head and started running, his eyes scanning the surroundings. She was nowhere to be seen... And Aoshi's mind just couldn't stop and think rationally about where she might have escaped.

Suddenly, something cracked under Aoshi's foot as he was treading upon the snow of the garden. Frowning, Aoshi bent down and dug, half dreading what he might find. His fingers met something hard... hard, cold and... sharp... His breath caught in his throat, Aoshi had discovered Misao's kunai, buried under a thick layer of snow... His heart began pounding loudly in his chest; Misao was somewhere in the wild, disarmed and helpless... Again, the pictures of her were whirling through his mind...

Aoshi stood up in a haze, and as he was about to go on looking for Misao, he realized where he was standing. A few paces away, the old pine tree where Yukiko had been hiding last night and where they had... OH NO!!! Aoshi was horrified, the realization of what had happened the night before slowly taking shape in his mind. Why? Why? Had Misao really seen them? Had she really let out her kunai at the sight they made?

How ironic and nasty fate could be. Just when he had come to terms with his feelings for her, Misao had to find him with another. And again, he had to break her heart, just when he had made the silent promise of never hurting her again. Was this a punishment for his selfishness? But then, why did Misao have to suffer because of him? Aoshi shook his head painfully and he cast his thoughts aside. He would explain her. Surely she would understand. She loved him, didn't she? Now only one thing mattered: finding her. And fast.

Again Aoshi started searching the garden; but Misao wasn't there. Dread rushing through his being, he ran to the training hall, to the bathroom, to the storeroom. She was nowhere to be found. Then Aoshi had to accept the obvious fact that Misao wasn't inside the walls of the Aoiya anymore. Cursing between his teeth, he left the inn and began to make his way in the street. Where could she be, damnit?! At a friend's home? But no, he thought, Misao had no friend beside the Oniwabanshuu and the Himuras... or had she? He didn't know.

Of course you don't know, you bloody bastard! You assume you know everything about her, but remember that you missed eight years of her life!

And it was true, painfully true. Except for the kind girl who brought him tea everyday, he didn't know much about Misao. And he hadn't tried to know more, selfishly thinking that he already knew everything. When she chatted happily while pouring his tea, she told him about her training or about the life on the Aoiya, the kind of things he knew even before she was born. But she had never really told much about her life. What she had achieved during the last ten years, the people she had met, the men she had loved, maybe... His heart wrenched painfully. And if Misao had only tried to tell him that nothing had changed? She surely had friends, but never mentioned them. As if to tell him: you are my only friend, like all those years ago, nothing changed between us and everything will be alright. And he still didn't know.

Lost in his sad musings, Aoshi hadn't truly paid attention to his surroundings for quite some time now. Worried, he glanced behind him; had he missed her while he wasn't looking? Should he go back, or continue? He had almost reached the temple now, and behind the temple there only were the woods... Could Miso have gone in the woods? Helpless, Aoshi was split between searching the forest and go back in the town when something black, standing out on the immaculate snow in the garden of the temple, caught his attention.

He started running, having a terrible foreboding, and cold sweatdrops were forming in his nape. Tripping over in the snow, he was only a few meters away from the little form when...

"MISAO!!!"

Huddled up between the dark roots of the cryptomeria, half-buried under the snow, Misao was lying, lifeless. Her raven, undone hair was shining, starry with frost, drawing dark patterns on the white snow. And her skin was pale, so pale, almost translucent, blue with hypothermia... drained of blood...

The snow was sewing her a huge, white shroud, sparkling around her, and she had never seemed so untouched.

Aoshi knelt by her side in a hurry, and gathered her frail body between his arms. She was cold, dreadfully cold... He had to find something to warm her up – anything... He could almost feel her weak life slipping between her purple lips... Thoughtlessly he took off his shirt and wrapped tightly Misao in it, then he brought her close to his chest, trying to transmit her his body heat. Misao was barely breathing, he had to take her back to the Aoiya: there she could be treated correctly; he was too distressed to even remember what to do in such a case. Rubbing her arms and her cheeks to speed up her blood circulation, he hugged her and lifted her up, pulling her to his heart as he started running to get her under cover.

Imperceptibly, Misao's ragged breath changed, and she coughed weakly. Aoshi's eyebrows creased worriedly, not knowing if this was a good or a bad sign. Holding her tighter, he tried to warm her up, and he muttered in her hair.

"Please, Misao, don't leave..."

Paralysed by the cold, Misao couldn't move, couldn't even breathe; all she felt was the terrible pain that burnt her lungs, tugging at her skin and seemed to take her away from this world. She couldn't understand a thing: all around her was uniformly, frighteningly white. But somehow, beyond the scary jail where her mind was trapped, she felt something comforting, something soft and strong that wanted to rip her out of this hell.

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Okina thanked the doctor for having come so fast and took him back to the main door. Deep in his thoughts, he closed the door slowly and headed back for Misao's room, his pace hesitant and tired. It was barely noon and yet it seemed to him that a whole day had already taken place. Sighing heavily, he paused in the stairs, his aching limbs reminding him that he was not growing younger.

When he had seen Aoshi running towards the Aoiya, his face haggard and oh-so-easily readable and a lifeless Misao wrapped in his arms, Okina had feared the worst. Now, hours later, his hands were still slightly shaking of the dread he had felt. Okon had been the first one to react and had immediately brought blankets and hot water to warm the freezing girl, while Shiro had run out to find a doctor. Fortunately, according to the wise man, Misao was pulling through with pneumonia; even though the illness wasn't mild and had to be treated carefully, Okina couldn't help but feel relieved.

The old man pushed the door open and came in Misao's room. Moaning with fever, the young girl was tucked up in her futon, in a broken slumber; she was delirious, babbling incoherent words and calling for Aoshi. Sometimes her eyebrows frowned and she seemed to have trouble in breathing as she struggled for air. Each time, Omasu, who was watching over her, stood up and tried to do anything to help; the suffocation and the spasms soon stopped and Misao was falling on her bed again.

Okina's glance fell on Misao's bandaged hands. When Aoshi had brought her back, her hands were scratched and injured and the edges of the wounds had turned purple with the cold. He quite didn't understand what had happened in fact, but he was sure that Misao was not the kind of person who inflicts such wounds on themselves. His intuition told him that Aoshi and Yukiko had something to do with it. Maybe he was a tired, old lion but he was not blind for all that.

Inviting Yukiko to the Aoiya had been a mistake, he was aware of it, but the Oniwabanshuu would really be dead if their former members had left one of them in trouble without helping.

Misao was still muttering her nonsense, shivering with temperature. Slowly, Omasu cooled her forehead with a wet piece of cloth; but it didn't stop the younger girl from tossing and turning. The woman by her side frowned worriedly.

"Don't worry, Omasu. That's normal, it's all about the fever," Okina said quietly. Omasu nodded.

Shaking his head thoughtfully, the old man left the room and headed for Aoshi's. There were things to settle right with him and, even though Okina didn't feel like interfere in Misao and Aoshi's relationship, he wouldn't let the young man hurt his protégé. There were limits that shouldn't be crossed, and Aoshi seemed not to be aware of them. Okina was going to remind him about, and he was determined to be plain and sharp.

A light knock was heard and immediately Aoshi's voice rose from inside the room.

"You can come in, Okina."

The elder man sighed and opened the door. His eyes were cold and accusing, not excusing the slightest bit the man in front of him for his behavior.

"Stop playing with her." Okina's own words resounded in his ears, hurting more than he had expected them to. Aoshi looked taken aback, and his mouth gaped slightly before he closed it stubbornly. He diverted his gaze and blurted out his reply.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Great," Okina fumed inwardly, as his icy words tried to cut deeper, now willingly mean, "Great, Aoshi, I was expecting more from someone like you. You were so heartless from the very beginning, but we all truly believed that she could make you change. Now look what you did! She nearly died because of you! The best thing you could ever do for her is to tell her the truth, but you won't because you're too proud. That's great, go on hiding your face. That's the best way to loose her forever."

Aoshi's blood was boiling inside his veins. Why didn't they understand? He wanted to tell her! He wanted her to know! But everyone seemed to think he still only was the cold-hearted bastard he once was, and that he was enjoying seeing her so helpless and desperate... How wrong they were... and how much he loved her, but he just didn't know how to explain her what he was feeling inside without hurting her more. For so long, he had tried to believe that her happiness laid away from him. But with Yukiko's arrival, he had understood something crucial. Yukiko loved him dearly, and he had tried to believe that she could find her way away from him; but she had been unhappy for her whole life. She had never forgotten about him, but now it was too late. Yet, he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. He was sure he loved Misao, and he wouldn't allow her life to be ruined.

But no one understood. First Shiro, and now Okina. They didn't understand. Was he turning mad? He loved her. He needed her. But everyone seemed to want them to be torn apart, after having craved so much for them to get together. They didn't understand. He had never meant to hurt her. He was just uncomfortable with words. But he would tell her as soon as she would wake up, and everything would be alright... They didn't understand... They don't understand...

Aoshi was about to let out a caustic answer when someone knocked at the door. Breathing in deeply to calm down, he turned and said coolly: "Come in."

The shoji slid open; and Yukiko appeared in the doorframe. Her thin body was concealed in her thick travel coat, and she was carrying her bag hanging to her sword sheath, just the way she did the day she arrived to the Aoiya. She was holding her straw hat in her hand, and she cast an alarmed glance, as she knew she was intruding in an argument. Her face was pale and tired, her eyes slightly red and she bit her lower lip. Fidgeting with her hat, she mumbled a word of apology and said in a soft but firm tone,

"I just wanted to thank everyone for having welcome me in here. I have to leave now."

Aoshi's anger fell down and his eyes saddened. So there was the time for good byes. Yukiko headed towards Okina and bowed formally in front of the old man.

"Thank you so much, Okina-san. I'll always be indebted to you for everything you did for me."

Okina looked like he was softening. Kindly, just like a grandfather would, he patted Yukiko's shoulder, asking her silently to straighten.

"It's okay, Yukiko. You don't owe me anything."

Aoshi would have sworn that Yukiko's jaw had clenched as she tried to hold back her tears. She nodded and asked quietly, "Could I speak to Aoshi alone?"

Okina hesitated then nodded, and left quickly. Yukiko stood in the middle of the room, unsure and uncomfortable; Aoshi didn't dare say a thing. Finally, the young woman gathered her courage and said casually.

"I guess it's time for us to say good bye, Aoshi."

"I know."

Again she smiled, wanting to look brave and yet unveiling her weaknesses.

"You'll find your future, Aoshi. Don't worry about me; I'm strong enough to bear the meanderings of life... I don't know how long it will take, but I'll come to see you when I'll have come to terms with all of this... And I hope I'll find a happy father with a lovely family, right?"

Her eyes widened and she seemed to remember of something, as she started rummaging in her bag to take out an item carefully wound in a piece of cloth.

"Oh, and could you give that to Misao when she'll awake?"

Aoshi was about to question her, but her eyes were staring at him pleadingly and he accepted reluctantly. Yukiko's smile brightened, looking relieved.

"I think she deserves it. She's strong. She would have been a good ninja."

Aoshi nodded. Behind the provocative façade was still hiding the kind and stubborn girl he had loved, defiant but clear-sighted. Even though she had grounds for hating Misao, she didn't anymore and she acknowledged her strength. Protectively, Aoshi hugged the young woman for the last time and said softly,

"Thank you."

Yukiko's eyes tinted with amusement, and she cocked her head slightly.

"You're welcome."

And with these last words, he gazed at her as she left. They hadn't voiced the words of apology that should have been said to soothe the excruciating pain still burning in their heart, but both of them knew that the past could be left behind for good this time. He wouldn't inflict her more suffering; he knew that for now on, she would be able to dress her wounds. Now had come the time for things to move on.

Aoshi's fingers brushed against the cloth wrapped around the small package Yukiko had given for Misao. Slowly, he began to undo the layer and he found a long piece of worn leather lying between his hands. He stared at it wide-eyed, recognizing the Oniwabanshuu belt that Yukiko had inherited from her father. The leather was crackled and damaged for having been worn so much, and the buckles had lost their metallic gleam, and yet... Why had she willingly left that belt, as it was so laden with memories that were so important to her? Did she want Misao to watch over him instead of herself?

But Misao deserved something else... He had never thought about it... Frantically, Aoshi started searching his own belongings.

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Slowly, her finger traced the silver print left by a raindrop running on the other side of the window. The coldness under her hand, at least, was honest. She had been standing in front of the window for an hour, just staring at the snow falling softly and melting as it met the pane. Omasu had left as she thought the younger girl was sleeping peacefully, having not noticed that she actually was awake. She didn't care about her fever or the oppressive feeling weighing on her chest, making her breath wheeze and muffle in a suffocating sound.

Everything in her mind was white and wild, as if whirling in the chaos. Screaming in the middle of it was his betrayal. Misao couldn't believe what she had seen, and yet the evidence was so obvious that she didn't even bother to look for excuses. She had always kept the hope, in the pit of her heart that everything would finally be fine, but the previous night had swept away every dream she had treasured. He didn't love her. He loved another. No mix-up again. After all the times she had thought he cared, he proved that she was wrong. Strongly, endlessly, maybe hopelessly, she had tried to search for the smallest sign of love in every glance they shared and, true, she had foolishly believed that she had found some. How stupid. The truth, in its naked simplicity, hurt even more.

Maybe his behavior had been ambiguous. Do you hold so dearly someone you don't love? Had he tried to fool her, to play with her? That musing was so painful, she couldn't stand it. Maybe. She didn't care now. It didn't matter. He wouldn't approach her anymore. She wouldn't allow him to get through the hurdles she would lay between them. Her being wouldn't have to suffer from him anymore. From now on, Aoshi Shinomori was a complete stranger to her.

That was the only way to avoid the inexorable destruction of her soul. Crushed under the weight of her unrequited love and deceived illusions. No betrayal anymore. With her mind inaccessibly far away from him if not her body, he wouldn't be able to hurt her.

Misao had made up her mind.

A knock on her door made her shudder, and she wildly faced the slim figure entering her room. Her eyes widened, half in fear and half in sorrow, but she didn't allow them to water. There she stood, tensed and defiant, yet not betraying the furious pain and anguish growing inside of her. For the first time in years, she found the strength of staring straight in his cold, blue-grey eyes without blinking. It hurt, and she read in those grey orbs that it hurt him too. Good.

Aoshi was standing in the doorframe, not really knowing what to do. He had expected her to be in her bed and asleep, and not fully awake, as though waiting for his explanations. Sighing slightly, he walked towards her and coughed before talking.

"Misao... Yukiko gave me this for you before she left."

Hesitant, he offered her the old, crackled piece of leather. Misao's eyes blurred in incomprehension, and she was about to say something when he cut her short.

"But I thought you deserved this even more."

Slowly, Aoshi held out a strange item Misao hadn't seen for such a long time...  It looked like Yukiko's belt, but it was made of three long pieces of leather, and was locked by three silver buckles. Misao didn't need a second glance to know what Aoshi was giving her. It was the symbol of the highest rank in the Oniwabanshuu. It was something that would have fulfilled her ambitions as a ninja a few years sooner. It was the distinctive belt of the Okashira.

And yet, just now, nothing could have disappointed her more. Frustration, anger, resentment rushed in her head and heart, burning and aching. So he thought that a title could make up for taking away her happiness. This was his answer to her sorrow. Aoshi, the man without heart she had loved with such fervor, thought that she would feel repaid because he abandoned his title to her. It was so unfair and disgusting that she felt soiled. She had endured feelings that nothing could ever repay, and surely not his condescension.

Misao's hands were shaking somehow hysterically, and she let out a mad laughter, ringing bitterly in her own ears. Softly, she grabbed the belt in a disillusioned move and suddenly, with lightening speed she opened the window and threw the belt as far as she only could. Her eyes harsh and expressionless, she stared at its flight in the hazy light, before it crashed in the snow and disappeared. Then, she fiercely turned around and faced Aoshi, her look fiery.

"Out of my sight, Shinomori."

Aoshi remained stunned, unable to understand what had just happened. His heart constricted in his chest, as he gazed helplessly at Misao's burning eyes, at the young, beautiful woman standing in front of him. Her features, her moves; everything about her was etched in his memory. He loved her, everything about her. And Kami knows how much she had tried to catch his attention, and how aware of it he had been. And how much he had wanted to preserve her from himself. But now, now that he had found what truly laid in his heart, now that he had come to tell her everything she meant to him, he faced someone so different... Still the same Misao, and yet such a different person.

And in those blue eyes piercing through his being, he could see the cold light of rejection. It hurt. How could she reject him?! Why?! He loved her! How could...

Misao blinked in fear when Aoshi took a step towards her, his eyes cold like ice and intensely focused on hers. Dreadfully, she felt her hand shaking, and she clenched it in a fist. As he took another step, she moved back. Threateningly, he kept walking slowly, and she kept backing up, anguish now fully readable on her face. Suddenly, Misao hit the wall, and she tensed, her jaw set, as she tried to flatten against it. Her eyes widened in panic as Aoshi kept moving towards her, his eyes unreadable and terrifying, gleaming evilly. He was not further than three steps now. Two. One...

Misao was about to call for help, wide-eyed and scared by the fervor radiating around him, when his right hand quickly pushed her back against the wall, and before she could make a single move to get free, his lips were on hers. Taken aback, Misao's scream kept stuck in her throat and she raised her fist instinctively, as she started to squirm. Harshly, his own left hand grabbed her fist and pinned it against the wall. Misao froze, and she felt his lips claiming hers eagerly, his tongue playing on her mouth and trying to slip in. His scent was intoxicating. Her limbs were so weak, and she felt like a bundle of nerves terribly aware of his body pressed against hers.

And beside herself, her resistance failed under his kisses, and she felt her own lips part slightly and answer. Once, twice, she responded almost shyly, earning a loud groan from those soft and demanding lips of his as their tongues brushed and twisted. Wildly, his right hand cupped her head and titled it backwards, trying to deepen the kiss, capturing her small gasps and stroking the soft, shivering skin of her nape.

But as his skilled fingers started tangling with her hair, Misao let out a small cry and violently pushed back. Puzzled and wild, Aoshi stepped back and starred at the tiny girl shaking in front of him. His mind was an uncontrolled turmoil, and he hardly managed to regain enough self-control to try and analyse the situation. What had got inside of him?! Why did he such thing... forcing a kiss from her... And he found himself totally helpless, as he would have expected her to be amazed, or at least angry. Yet instead of that, the young woman in front of him faced the ground intensely, trembling and miserable, her cheeks moist with hot tears she tried hard to hide as she covered her mouth with her hand, as though trying to erase the taste of his lips on hers.

"Get out, Aoshi..." she merely managed to whisper between her smothered sobs.

And having no choice of doing anything else without making everything worse, Aoshi walked slowly towards the door, his mouth dry and wordless. The only feeling remaining inside of him was the memory of her softness, her taste, her warmth, and the way it had made him feel.

As the shoji slipped close, Misao couldn't stand it anymore and fell on her knees, giving way to her pain and crying her heart out, somehow hoping the burning tears could soothe her soul and make the feeling of loss lessen. Never had she felt so lost and alone, and she just wanted to let out, not caring the slightest bit about the whole damn world and, even more, about the man placing her in such distress. Might she die, she didn't care. She just couldn't believe there was so much cruelty in him, and she just craved for amnesia.

___________

Author's notes : YAY !! DONE !!

I am not satisfied at all with this chapter. It was the hardest I ever wrote, I had a terrible inspiration breakdown. I hope it makes sense anyway and that you liked it. I'll try to rewrite it but I don't have much time and I can't afford spending time on rewriting chapters if I want the story to go on. Actually, the chapters in this story are quite long so I can't take as time as I would like to on each of them. I really would like to take time to write them, rewrite and reread and then, but hey, there would be months between two chapters  ^^ !!!

Anyway, this was the usual thousands-times-written forced-kiss scene  ^^ !! I hope you liked it !!! I'm not very good at writing kissing scenes, so go easy on me, onegai !!! And Yukiko got out of the way... I'm sorry, this chapter refered to a lot of things I had introduced in the first chapters and if you read them a long time ago, you might not remember of them. Anyway, Yukiko's departure doesn't seem to make the things easier either... Hey hey a bit of angst more in next chappie ^^ !!! As I said, anything else would be boring  ^^ !!!

Your reviews help me a lot !!!! Keep reviewing !!! Thank you so much again for reading  ^^