This chapter is a little backgrounder on this matchup. Majority of the
material here was taken from Nine Months. However, those of you who have
read "espionage" will find that some new things have been added.
This fic actually is here because a lot of people clamored to have more of Eni-chan; and a lot of people liked a concept I used, having no other idea how to finish up Misao's spy mission in Nine Months.
As you might already know or have noticed, I'm developing an alternate triangle. Again, Midori Natari Himura deserves first rights, and I'm just continuing a trend. ^^
................
---Remember what I said, Makimachi. I might see you again in Kyoto.---
Misao remembered, very well.
In her hand she held a small brooch. A golden weasel.
---Weasel of the Kyoto Oniwabanshuu!---
He had given the brooch to her, by post, after a most unusual luncheon with him. Once she could not quickly forget.
............
It happened roughly four months ago, back in Tokyo. Kaoru was still pregnant with Kenji, and she and Kenshin had gone shopping. She decided to tail them, into a clothing store. Unfortunately, she was not too careful.
As she hid behind a pile of fabric, someone pulled out the roll she was leaning on. Out she tumbled, followed by rolls upon rolls of fabric. Soon she was flat on the floor as a man stood in front of her.
"What is the meaning of this, weasel? Are you still spying on me?" the man demanded in a very irritated voice.
As she rubbed her sore bottom, Misao looked for her accuser---and stared in alarm at a tall man in white, wearing a brown hat to cover white hair. She quickly turned bright red.
"Y-y-you! Why are you still here in T-T-Tokyo? We thought you left! Ps-Ps- Psy----no-----Yukishiro-san!"
He replied in a suave yet gently fierce voice, "None of your concern why I am still here, weasel of the Kyoto Oniwabanshuu! Why are YOU still in Tokyo? Now get lost, little girl!"
"I am NOT a little girl, you white-haired-----aaaack, forget about it!" She rose up to leave. "And for your information, I was not spying on you." She tossed her proud head at him, and turned the corner.
Two hours later, Misao discovered that she had lost the Himuras yet again. She crawled out from under a table - and bumped her head directly into a tower of white.
"You again!" he addressed her. "Look, check the books back in Kyoto, we have nothing to hide! Now what do you want to know?" He looked at her with condescension. "Do you have anything to say for yourself, weasel?"
"Makimachi Misao desu yo!!" she finally and angrily answered. "I am NOT a weasel, I am NOT spying on you, I am NOT after you at all, you white-haired conceited baka!!"
She began to march off, but the white-haired conceited baka laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Explain yourself over lunch." He commanded without any small hint of a smile.
LUNCH?! She shook her head hard. Why should I even consider having lunch with that psycho?!
"If you do not come with me right now, I will take you personally to the precinct and have you arrested, for being a public nuisance!" The hand tightened on her shoulder, until she almost cried out in pain. She complied.
The man in the Chinese suit escorted her rather respectfully into the best restaurant in Tokyo. He still had his hand on her shoulder, as if he wanted to emphasize his superiority over her, in more ways than one. He was taller, he was richer, he was stronger, he was more powerful. Yet, for some strange reason, Misao felt no hostility in that hand. It was laid on her tight enough to prevent her from escaping, yet gentle enough not to be painful.
She tried to look into his mysterious turquoise eyes, but they looked straight ahead at the street, and were hidden by his dark colored glasses. She never understood why he had them. They were too small to be much use against harsh sunlight, and they were also too dark to be used for reading. If however, his intention was to prevent others from seeing his eyes directly, then the glasses were quite effective.
When they reached the restaurant, the other customers summarily looked at the odd couple. A man and a woman. White and black. Tall and short. Sullen and animated. Stylish and functional.
One snobby waiter discreetly pointed out Misao's skimpy outfit and dusty footwear to the white-haired young man. "Well, what of it, you fool?" he sneered. "She is my guest, and you will treat her as such...unless, of course, you want me to eat elsewhere..."
The waiter had no other recourse but to let them into a private booth.
The white-haired businessman quickly ordered two of the house specials.
Fifteen minutes of silence, as each took stock of the other. What was he planning to do? What did she think of this absurd scheme? What would happen immediately after this meeting? Would she squeal on him? Would he take her away someplace?
Generous servings of rice, salmon, tuna, roast beef, and vegetables were soon served. A lacquer box full of the restaurant's best sushi arrived a few minutes later. Misao merely glared at the grand spread, eyes defiant and challenging.
"Well, what are you staring at the food for, weasel?" he asked as he cocked his glasses. "It's not tainted, if that is what's stopping you."
"What do you want from me, Yukishiro-san?" she folded her arms and pointed her nose to the ceiling. "An Oniwabanshuu ninja does not give information easily!"
"Oh, is that so, weasel?"
"Makimachi Misao desu yo!!"
"Makimachi, then." He removed his dark spectacles and placed them on the table. "I do not want information about the Oniwabanshuu. I do not want information about Himura Battousai. I only want information about you."
"Whatever for?!" she asked in disbelief, as her eyes moved between his gray eyes and his grand tempting feast.
"You will find out, eventually."
He filled her with questions about herself, her life, her acquaintance with Battousai, her purpose for being in Tokyo. Under the spell of those penetrating eyes, Misao answered question upon question. Her answers came first with apprehension, then with doubt, then with slight misgivings, and finally without holding anything back. How she cajoled her Aoshi-sama into coming with her to Tokyo, presumably on a mission, in reality to learn about married life. How she had grown to admire Himura about as much as Aoshi-sama. She even told him about Okina and her other friends back in Kyoto. The delicious food in front of her only spurned her on. More questions only served to increase her appetite.
He gazed at her in amusement. There was such exuberant life in her whole self, and it showed in her eyes, her smile, her whole face. It was as if he was looking at an uncut, unpolished gem. She was such a girl yet, eating ravenously, wolfing down the fish and rice served before her. However, she had the makings of a beautiful diamond in her soul.
"I have one last question, Makimachi," he stated after a long silence. Misao was more keenly aware of his dark eyes.
"Is there a chance someone could pursue a relationship with you? I, for instance?" he ended with a smile that Misao felt to her bones.
"YOU?!" Her eyes almost fell out of their sockets.
"Well, why not?" he continued confidently. "Many people would think I would have liked Himura's woman, taken her as my own. Now I might have been obsessive, but I was not dense! I knew there was no other man for her except Himura. It was on that knowledge that my plans ALMOST worked. Besides, she did not suit me. True, her face reminded me of my nee-san, but she was her direct opposite. She couldn't cook, she was rather whiney. And she had this terrible damsel-in-distress aura about her!"
Misao almost broke her lacquered chopsticks. How DARE you say that about my friend, you fiend!
"You, on the other hand, Makimachi, you speak your mind, and I rather like that in a woman. Furthermore, you are not afraid of anyone, even when there is no one to back you up. Even your clothes tell me that you do not care if you stand out."
The man was gazing at her face. Not the eerie glares he used to give her and the others, but another kind of stare, one that gave a girl a warm sensation.
"For someone who always plans his moves, someone who always works with a strategy, it is wonderful to encounter someone who is spontaneous and open about her ideas and feelings. Someone you are not afraid of approaching, wondering what she could be thinking about you. Her thoughts show on her face, her ideas come out of her speech without reservation."
Confused feelings flew through her heart. Feelings of hate, disgust and fear, were somehow mixed with thoughts of appreciation, admiration....maybe more......
"And I think that you could actually be very attractive, if given the right clothes and accessories, taught a few graces..."
"So this is the agenda behind treating me to lunch?" Misao interrupted.
"Yes." He gave her a mysterious grin.
"Now, see here," Misao stood up, and stared down at the white-haired man. "If this is your idea of asking a girl out, then you could just forget it! Thank you truly for lunch, the food was spectacular, it was an unforgettable experience. Now, if you will excuse me, sir, I have to get back to Aoshi-sama. Aoshi-sama, you hear?!"
Misao opened the door of the booth and stomped out, a whole restaurant staring after her.
"Remember what I said, Makimachi," he warned through the booth. "I might still see you in Kyoto."
............
In one hand, Misao held the golden weasel. She had taken it out of its box only this once, and it was as beautiful as the day it was given to her.
In the other hand, Misao held an open letter. A short one. It simply read: "Dinner at the Shirobeko. 8 o'clock in the evening. Come as you are."
She had eaten at the Shirobeko countless times, but why was she shaking inside?
Because of the solitary character at the end of the note. As complicated, as sophisticated as the man it named.
She did not want to remember that afternoon. Enishi wanted her to consider knowing, maybe even loving, another man. It was impossible. Her heart belonged to Aoshi-sama, and no other. Absolutely no other man.
She was not afraid, with the former fear and hatred she had of this infamous maniac. Something inside of her said that the maniac was buried. A new purpose in life drove him now, a new fascination with humanity ran through his heart. But she was afraid of this new man, still changing, still learning, as she was. She did not know what was in his mind, in his thoughts, in his heart. She did not know what to expect out of him. And surely, she did not know what place in herself she should give him.
"Misao, the messenger is waiting for your answer." Omasu reminded her from the front porch, and brought her back to reality.
It had only been two days since that chance meeting in the market. They had soon parted after the handshake. Misao congenially gave him the address to the Aioya. He pointed in the direction of his mansion. Then she left it at that and forgot about it.
"Misao, well? What am I going to tell the messenger?" Omasu insisted.
But still, he made her remember.
"Tell him I'll be coming," Misao answered with hesitation.
This time, though, she wanted to know why.
............
Some of you already know why Eni-chan has money for fine dining and a mansion. I will be explaining his history again, in relation to this story, in the next chappie. I still don't understand myself why I keep calling him Eni-chan. In relation to my age, he should be Yukishiro-sempai. ^_^ As to NOT treating Yukishiro-sempai like a psycho, a handsome weirdo, or an obsessive lover: I want him to be seen otherwise! That's my and Midori's current mission in ff.net. Besides, I have enough weird actual three- dimensional human beings in my life to be imagining more weirdos.
I can't seem to really get under his skin yet, the way Midori does. Think like him and all. I can think like Misao better, that's why the material for the most part stays in Misao's point of view.
Keep reading, please!
This fic actually is here because a lot of people clamored to have more of Eni-chan; and a lot of people liked a concept I used, having no other idea how to finish up Misao's spy mission in Nine Months.
As you might already know or have noticed, I'm developing an alternate triangle. Again, Midori Natari Himura deserves first rights, and I'm just continuing a trend. ^^
................
---Remember what I said, Makimachi. I might see you again in Kyoto.---
Misao remembered, very well.
In her hand she held a small brooch. A golden weasel.
---Weasel of the Kyoto Oniwabanshuu!---
He had given the brooch to her, by post, after a most unusual luncheon with him. Once she could not quickly forget.
............
It happened roughly four months ago, back in Tokyo. Kaoru was still pregnant with Kenji, and she and Kenshin had gone shopping. She decided to tail them, into a clothing store. Unfortunately, she was not too careful.
As she hid behind a pile of fabric, someone pulled out the roll she was leaning on. Out she tumbled, followed by rolls upon rolls of fabric. Soon she was flat on the floor as a man stood in front of her.
"What is the meaning of this, weasel? Are you still spying on me?" the man demanded in a very irritated voice.
As she rubbed her sore bottom, Misao looked for her accuser---and stared in alarm at a tall man in white, wearing a brown hat to cover white hair. She quickly turned bright red.
"Y-y-you! Why are you still here in T-T-Tokyo? We thought you left! Ps-Ps- Psy----no-----Yukishiro-san!"
He replied in a suave yet gently fierce voice, "None of your concern why I am still here, weasel of the Kyoto Oniwabanshuu! Why are YOU still in Tokyo? Now get lost, little girl!"
"I am NOT a little girl, you white-haired-----aaaack, forget about it!" She rose up to leave. "And for your information, I was not spying on you." She tossed her proud head at him, and turned the corner.
Two hours later, Misao discovered that she had lost the Himuras yet again. She crawled out from under a table - and bumped her head directly into a tower of white.
"You again!" he addressed her. "Look, check the books back in Kyoto, we have nothing to hide! Now what do you want to know?" He looked at her with condescension. "Do you have anything to say for yourself, weasel?"
"Makimachi Misao desu yo!!" she finally and angrily answered. "I am NOT a weasel, I am NOT spying on you, I am NOT after you at all, you white-haired conceited baka!!"
She began to march off, but the white-haired conceited baka laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Explain yourself over lunch." He commanded without any small hint of a smile.
LUNCH?! She shook her head hard. Why should I even consider having lunch with that psycho?!
"If you do not come with me right now, I will take you personally to the precinct and have you arrested, for being a public nuisance!" The hand tightened on her shoulder, until she almost cried out in pain. She complied.
The man in the Chinese suit escorted her rather respectfully into the best restaurant in Tokyo. He still had his hand on her shoulder, as if he wanted to emphasize his superiority over her, in more ways than one. He was taller, he was richer, he was stronger, he was more powerful. Yet, for some strange reason, Misao felt no hostility in that hand. It was laid on her tight enough to prevent her from escaping, yet gentle enough not to be painful.
She tried to look into his mysterious turquoise eyes, but they looked straight ahead at the street, and were hidden by his dark colored glasses. She never understood why he had them. They were too small to be much use against harsh sunlight, and they were also too dark to be used for reading. If however, his intention was to prevent others from seeing his eyes directly, then the glasses were quite effective.
When they reached the restaurant, the other customers summarily looked at the odd couple. A man and a woman. White and black. Tall and short. Sullen and animated. Stylish and functional.
One snobby waiter discreetly pointed out Misao's skimpy outfit and dusty footwear to the white-haired young man. "Well, what of it, you fool?" he sneered. "She is my guest, and you will treat her as such...unless, of course, you want me to eat elsewhere..."
The waiter had no other recourse but to let them into a private booth.
The white-haired businessman quickly ordered two of the house specials.
Fifteen minutes of silence, as each took stock of the other. What was he planning to do? What did she think of this absurd scheme? What would happen immediately after this meeting? Would she squeal on him? Would he take her away someplace?
Generous servings of rice, salmon, tuna, roast beef, and vegetables were soon served. A lacquer box full of the restaurant's best sushi arrived a few minutes later. Misao merely glared at the grand spread, eyes defiant and challenging.
"Well, what are you staring at the food for, weasel?" he asked as he cocked his glasses. "It's not tainted, if that is what's stopping you."
"What do you want from me, Yukishiro-san?" she folded her arms and pointed her nose to the ceiling. "An Oniwabanshuu ninja does not give information easily!"
"Oh, is that so, weasel?"
"Makimachi Misao desu yo!!"
"Makimachi, then." He removed his dark spectacles and placed them on the table. "I do not want information about the Oniwabanshuu. I do not want information about Himura Battousai. I only want information about you."
"Whatever for?!" she asked in disbelief, as her eyes moved between his gray eyes and his grand tempting feast.
"You will find out, eventually."
He filled her with questions about herself, her life, her acquaintance with Battousai, her purpose for being in Tokyo. Under the spell of those penetrating eyes, Misao answered question upon question. Her answers came first with apprehension, then with doubt, then with slight misgivings, and finally without holding anything back. How she cajoled her Aoshi-sama into coming with her to Tokyo, presumably on a mission, in reality to learn about married life. How she had grown to admire Himura about as much as Aoshi-sama. She even told him about Okina and her other friends back in Kyoto. The delicious food in front of her only spurned her on. More questions only served to increase her appetite.
He gazed at her in amusement. There was such exuberant life in her whole self, and it showed in her eyes, her smile, her whole face. It was as if he was looking at an uncut, unpolished gem. She was such a girl yet, eating ravenously, wolfing down the fish and rice served before her. However, she had the makings of a beautiful diamond in her soul.
"I have one last question, Makimachi," he stated after a long silence. Misao was more keenly aware of his dark eyes.
"Is there a chance someone could pursue a relationship with you? I, for instance?" he ended with a smile that Misao felt to her bones.
"YOU?!" Her eyes almost fell out of their sockets.
"Well, why not?" he continued confidently. "Many people would think I would have liked Himura's woman, taken her as my own. Now I might have been obsessive, but I was not dense! I knew there was no other man for her except Himura. It was on that knowledge that my plans ALMOST worked. Besides, she did not suit me. True, her face reminded me of my nee-san, but she was her direct opposite. She couldn't cook, she was rather whiney. And she had this terrible damsel-in-distress aura about her!"
Misao almost broke her lacquered chopsticks. How DARE you say that about my friend, you fiend!
"You, on the other hand, Makimachi, you speak your mind, and I rather like that in a woman. Furthermore, you are not afraid of anyone, even when there is no one to back you up. Even your clothes tell me that you do not care if you stand out."
The man was gazing at her face. Not the eerie glares he used to give her and the others, but another kind of stare, one that gave a girl a warm sensation.
"For someone who always plans his moves, someone who always works with a strategy, it is wonderful to encounter someone who is spontaneous and open about her ideas and feelings. Someone you are not afraid of approaching, wondering what she could be thinking about you. Her thoughts show on her face, her ideas come out of her speech without reservation."
Confused feelings flew through her heart. Feelings of hate, disgust and fear, were somehow mixed with thoughts of appreciation, admiration....maybe more......
"And I think that you could actually be very attractive, if given the right clothes and accessories, taught a few graces..."
"So this is the agenda behind treating me to lunch?" Misao interrupted.
"Yes." He gave her a mysterious grin.
"Now, see here," Misao stood up, and stared down at the white-haired man. "If this is your idea of asking a girl out, then you could just forget it! Thank you truly for lunch, the food was spectacular, it was an unforgettable experience. Now, if you will excuse me, sir, I have to get back to Aoshi-sama. Aoshi-sama, you hear?!"
Misao opened the door of the booth and stomped out, a whole restaurant staring after her.
"Remember what I said, Makimachi," he warned through the booth. "I might still see you in Kyoto."
............
In one hand, Misao held the golden weasel. She had taken it out of its box only this once, and it was as beautiful as the day it was given to her.
In the other hand, Misao held an open letter. A short one. It simply read: "Dinner at the Shirobeko. 8 o'clock in the evening. Come as you are."
She had eaten at the Shirobeko countless times, but why was she shaking inside?
Because of the solitary character at the end of the note. As complicated, as sophisticated as the man it named.
She did not want to remember that afternoon. Enishi wanted her to consider knowing, maybe even loving, another man. It was impossible. Her heart belonged to Aoshi-sama, and no other. Absolutely no other man.
She was not afraid, with the former fear and hatred she had of this infamous maniac. Something inside of her said that the maniac was buried. A new purpose in life drove him now, a new fascination with humanity ran through his heart. But she was afraid of this new man, still changing, still learning, as she was. She did not know what was in his mind, in his thoughts, in his heart. She did not know what to expect out of him. And surely, she did not know what place in herself she should give him.
"Misao, the messenger is waiting for your answer." Omasu reminded her from the front porch, and brought her back to reality.
It had only been two days since that chance meeting in the market. They had soon parted after the handshake. Misao congenially gave him the address to the Aioya. He pointed in the direction of his mansion. Then she left it at that and forgot about it.
"Misao, well? What am I going to tell the messenger?" Omasu insisted.
But still, he made her remember.
"Tell him I'll be coming," Misao answered with hesitation.
This time, though, she wanted to know why.
............
Some of you already know why Eni-chan has money for fine dining and a mansion. I will be explaining his history again, in relation to this story, in the next chappie. I still don't understand myself why I keep calling him Eni-chan. In relation to my age, he should be Yukishiro-sempai. ^_^ As to NOT treating Yukishiro-sempai like a psycho, a handsome weirdo, or an obsessive lover: I want him to be seen otherwise! That's my and Midori's current mission in ff.net. Besides, I have enough weird actual three- dimensional human beings in my life to be imagining more weirdos.
I can't seem to really get under his skin yet, the way Midori does. Think like him and all. I can think like Misao better, that's why the material for the most part stays in Misao's point of view.
Keep reading, please!