OH! Sorry on the haziness on the last chapter's "kiss". If I may point out, it wasn't really an actual kiss, if I may quote myself: "Tilting her face upwards as she silently asked him for a kiss, Aoshi complied readily, his nose bumping against hers as he leaned forward to capture her lips." Aoshi was in the action of trying to kiss her and they were interrupted before intimate contact, so the only kiss given in the last chapter was the peck Misao gave him afterwards (Hence the "…just so you won't be disappointed" part from Misao). Why, you may ask, are you clarifying it when it doesn't seem to matter much to the plot? Well, to me, I find that Aoshi and Misao should not have mouth-to-mouth contact yet—neither of them is comfortable enough for it, which in my eyes brings inconsistency to my portrayal of the characters and the pace of their relationship. The real kiss? It comes soon in a much, much better (steamier 0_0) scene. Ohohoho!
But no lemons! Sorry… can't write 'em.
Chapter 4: Twirling Skirts and Treaded Feet
4a.
Misao touched her lips timidly—did she just have the audacity to kiss Aoshi? Shaking her head to dismiss all the nonsense that was cluttering her mind, the slender kunoichi pulled at her braid irritably. A fine job she was doing, letting her emotions run amuck like some silly, love-struck girl. Strumming her fingers lightly on the windowsill, Misao let a glowing smile creep over her features. She knew that once they would get this mission over with, things could not go back to the way they were at the Aoiya, no matter how much Aoshi would wish for them to. Once she had shared a bed with him, she couldn't bring herself to refer to him as "Aoshi-sama" any longer—after watching him sleep, her outlook on their relationship changed permanently. The way his mouth opened slightly as he let out barely audible snores, his face serene and his body lax of all the rigidity and coldness he portrayed by day was infinitely endearing to her. That night had shattered Misao's image of him as an unattainable man: he was human, and although there were aspects in which he was clearly superior, wasn't it likewise with her? All in all, she was determined to have Aoshi, but wasn't quite sure how she would obtain her goal, inexperienced with the art of courting as she was.
The next day came soon enough. The couple, awkward with their new progress, yet eager to move towards deepening intimacies, was unsure of how to regard each other without ruining the finely kept balance between them. Aoshi had soon left in the morning in the attempt to bring himself even closer to the source of the case. He had left looking as polished as usual, while Misao decided to leave in her Western finery and meet the associate Saitou had sent to aid them with the objective of clarifying several of the fine points of the mission. The associate, who turned out to be someone totally unexpected, had first caught the young lady completely by surprise, but once she had settled "their" differences, a fairly ruffled Misao managed to make some advancement by securing a good ally for the case. Her curiosity at his current life situation and his mild countenance had soon convinced her that Seta Soujirou was no longer the Tenken, and was clever enough not to be an impediment in their affairs. By the time the sun settled towards the treetops, Misao and Soujirou were already poring over paperwork and documents, their heads bent closely together as they conferred over the possibilities and facts that could lead to the downfall of the Hanabusas' captors.
"Misao-san? I think I found evidence of a certain Britton's discontent with the Meiji government."
"Here, lemme see. Ah, Bretton Spice and Herb industries." Taking the article up into the fading light, Misao read aloud, "Owner of a rapidly growing business of exporting rarities for Western medicine, Dr. Bretton contradicted the new laws commanding limited shipping and heightened security processes, claiming that the greater demand for such products in England and the fragile state of his imports did not bode well with the new requirements." Quirking an eyebrow when she met the young man's calm brown eyes, Misao muttered, "I'll bet—he's just trying to ship in weapons without anyone noticing. He's done a pretty good job so far."
Soujirou gave Misao an approving smile, "That's because he's murdered anyone who saw any sign of his weapons, and he holds an iron grip on all his men."
Misao gave a great yawn and glanced at the clock—six o'clock. Patting the former Tenken roughly on the back, Misao pulled herself up and said cheerily, "Well, I think that's enough for today. I can't keep 'Ayo' waiting for too long, ne?" She leaned over to give Soujirou a pinch on the cheek and smiled, "Nice workin' with you, Soujirou-kun!"
Soujirou's smile never left his face the entire time, "I can say likewise with you, Misao-san."
"Keep it short: Misao's fine."
"Okay, then… Misao."
"Ja ne!"
Waving pleasantly, Soujirou waited until the young woman had left the office to nurse his inflamed cheek with a wince. Misao hummed a tune as she left the police station with her eyes alight—Saitou had chosen his men well, indeed.
Aoshi's eyes flickered over the room where the men talked with a veneer of polished ease. His eyes settled on Dr. Bretton once, twice—out of all the men in the city, Bretton was possibly the most dangerous. The distinguished doctor caught his idle gaze, smirked pleasantly and rose from his seat. He sauntered over to Aoshi, a glass of tawny champagne in his hand as he mused aloud, "I hope your wife does not find life in Nagoya tedious."
Aoshi answered smoothly, his eyes not breaking the other man's gaze as he lifted his glass in acknowledgment to the other man and took a sip of sparkling water, "Quite on the contrary, she seems to be glad to spend time with me." Half smiling at the slightly arched eyebrows and knowing smiles, Aoshi merely said in explanation, "We haven't been able to spend much… quality time with each other, before."
The tall doctor smirked again before he replied, "I see. Well, I am eager to meet your wife, Hanabusa-san. Will you take an invitation for two that I have for a gala at my place? It will be set three days from now, in fact. I am most desirous of having you both gracing my halls."
Aoshi bowed gallantly—this was the opportunity Aoshi had been waiting for: "Most certainly, Dr. Bretton. My wife would be most pleased."
"Mou, Chieko! How am I going to get this dance straight if I keep stepping and tripping on my skirts? The westerners are certainly the most absurd."
Aoshi's eyes lit up in amusement—his young ward's voice resonated through the halls over the sound of clicking heels and the rustle of satin and lace.
"But Meiko-san, you must be elegant and poised for the dance tomorrow. Hanabusa-san and you are expected to lead one dance, at least."
Aoshi smiled minutely when he heard Misao moan dramatically, "Ah, woe is me. Whoever made me marry such a man? All I do is get whisked around like some life-sized doll." The women in the room gave into her easy humor and let out soft giggles.
Aoshi's first step resounded sharply in the dance room, making all the girls cease their merriment and look up in surprise. Aoshi gave them a slight bow before murmuring, "So, I assume that Fujitaka told you about the party, already."
Misao's fleeting, albeit affectionate smile washed over her features in regard to the old butler, who she had taken to almost immediately after their arrival to Nagoya, as she nodded, "Hai, Fujitaka-san was most terribly pleased with the idea, although I couldn't say the same for myself." Wrinkling her nose distastefully, the ladies around her laughed again. Her impromptu dance assistant, Chieko, smiled as she addressed Aoshi, "You see, Hanabusa-san, Meiko-san was most desirous of skirting any sort of dance lessons."
"And bring embarrassment to me when we open the gala?" Aoshi's eyes shined with a hint of humor.
Misao turned pale as she laughed nervously, "Opening dance?"
Aoshi nodded, his eyes alight in striking azure. Turning to the ladies by Misao's side, Aoshi nodded and said, "If you would excuse us?"
Misao gulped as the women trailed out the door, giving her lusty winks and knowing smiles. The young woman decided to pay attention to her fingernails rather than face her "husband". She; however, couldn't ignore the hand outstretched in front of her. With a sigh, Misao took it and said dejectedly, "You have to promise not to make fun of me if I can't dance well enough, okay Ao—Ayo?"
Grasping her small hand with his large one, Aoshi regarded her with a steady look, his warmth encompassing her hand, "Aa."
And they danced, and danced and danced.
Sweat trickled down the sides of her cheeks, and their hands were clammy, yet neither seemed to mind much. Misao couldn't believe dancing was so much fun. Laughing freely, Misao's radiant eyes sparkled as their ocean-sprayed intensity threatened to absorb Aoshi into their storm-tossed depths. At first, dancing had been awkward, with Misao stepping on his feet or tripping on her gown. He was patient and caring; however, and once she had gotten the basics down, Aoshi instructed her on the more advanced steps in a manner much like the way he directed her kempo training. Dancing, nonetheless, was much more intimate matter; Aoshi found her closeness addicting and was loath to release her from his grasp. He had accustomed to her touch, and she to his. With each step, their hearts opened a little more, until the moment when their eyes chanced to meet, and then they both realized that this was the most fun they had ever had with each other since the days when they were both children. Misao broke the tantalizing silence with throaty laughter, her chest heaving as she sat panting on the ground, "You're a wonderful teacher, anata. I'm almost looking forward to tomorrow night." And he—all he could do was smile.
Misao felt dizzier than before—was he smiling? Shaking her head mildly, Misao looked up to find that he was impassive, as always, "Ayo, where did you learn to dance so well?"
Aoshi hid his smile in time to answer her question with composure, despite the sweat beads collected at the bridge of his nose, "Whenever I went out for…business at such affairs, I made sure to observe everything—even the dancing. Once I had gone under martial arts training, I found it easy to pick up different dances."
Wow. That was all Misao could think as Aoshi leaned over, offering his hand so she could take it to pull herself up. Misao felt herself get lightly yanked to her feet as she whispered, "Arigatou, Aoshi." The tall man's senses were perked—where did the honorific –sama go? Peering down at the young woman's face to find that she was already nearly senseless from being overworked with dancing, Aoshi gently brought his arm around her waist to steady her. Hiding his pleasure at the new changes the afternoon had brought, Aoshi led Misao out of the dance hall. Like the incongruence of their first steps in a dance, the couple had been at odds with one another, but with practice, they were now gliding in a timeless dance with growing harmony.
4b.
Liquid perfection, Misao decided as she eyed the contents of her crystal glass, that's what this stuff is. Swirling the contents languidly with a slender hand, Misao brought the glass to her lips, sniffing the wine appreciatively as she peered into its burgundy clarity. The drink had a heady smell to it—it reminded her of a woody, clear autumn breeze. The claret fluid had pleased her aesthetic senses, so it couldn't taste that bad, could it? Tilting her head back slightly, Misao opened her mouth minutely to take a tentative sip of the foreign beverage. Gah! It's bitter, she thought as she recoiled from the overwhelming taste of alcohol, putting the glass back hastily as she reached for a slice of pound cake to mask the strong aftertaste. She heard something that resembled a snort and turned to see that Aoshi was holding a hand up to his mouth as he coughed dryly. Misao frowned slightly: she doubted he had choked on his tea—he was probably just concealing his amusement caused by her naïve reaction to alcohol. She decided to ignore him, taking well-sized bites of her cake without any concern for the crumbs that littered her mouth and face. When the "coughing" had subsided, Misao turned to Aoshi with an arch look and asked, "What will we actually do during our 'evenings' together? Will we do anything more productive than meditating?"
Aoshi didn't answer—his eyes were focused on her mouth. Misao licked her lips conscientiously to get rid of the crumbs spread all over her mouth and reached over to grab a napkin to clear off her face when his hand interrupted her action: "No, Meiko—allow me." Taking the napkin from her stilled hand, Aoshi brought it to her face slowly, his eyes penetrating hers with clear shards of blue as he cleared the crumbs off her face with painstaking care. Once he had taken the napkin from her face, he was surprised to find her lips curve into an unhesitant smile and her eyes lucid: she was becoming comfortable with his presence, and he found that for the first time, it didn't throw him into a state of anxiety and fear. Bold, bold spirit, her coaxing love and confident patience seemed to be winning him over. His eyes settled on those red lips once more as he murmured, "Things that are much more productive, koishii. Now," he continued in a smooth, low voice, "What kind of mischief have you gotten yourself into, as of late? I heard some dreadful news from the head cook that you were pestering her for lunch too early."
Misao ignored his last comment as she stepped closer to him, asking softly, "And you? You must tell me all about your excursions with the stuffed shirts you met today, anata."
"Business? Why, it was absolutely stuffy."
Misao let out rich, flowing bursts of laughter: he was actually amusing her! Bringing up a hand to toy with his shirt lapel, Misao said mock-seriously, "Besides more dancing lessons like yesterday? Well, I was starving by eleven, and the cook wouldn't let me into the kitchen yet, since she had seen the way I wolfed down breakfast. I completely disagreed with her reasons for making me wait until noon, and had a little… discussion with her."
Aoshi quirked an eyebrow at the young woman before he resumed their playful banter with an inquiry of his own: "And what exactly was her reason for refusing you food?"
He didn't miss her flushed look of exasperation as she muttered, "She said that I had to keep a good figure for my husband."
At this response, Aoshi allowed the briefest and smallest of smiles to flicker over his handsome figures as he answered languidly, "Well, she had the best of intentions in mind."
"What? Out of all the perfectly chauvinistic—" Misao stopped short, bringing her hands down from his shirt collar. She seemed to be absorbed by some sudden fancy or thought, one slender hand resting against her chin in a whimsical, girly fashion. He half-smiled again; her eyes were the deepest of blues, lakes of distant, unfathomable thoughts that lent her a womanly grace. His eyes trailed from her eyes, down her sloping cheek, her graceful neck… she was quite fascinating, to say the least. His ministrations; however, were cut short by an unexpectedly well-placed question: "Why did you stop going to the temple, back when we were… visiting Kyoto for a while?"
The question, though not wholly unexpected, was not anticipated at that moment, and Aoshi had the grace to look humanly perplexed before letting his mask slip back into place, "I found that my salvation didn't rest in meditation."
"Oh," was all Misao could manage, but it was a wholeheartedly pleased "Oh". Aoshi, bemused by her odd tone of voice, looked down to find Misao staring out the window, a private smile washing over her countenance, her eyes steadily fixed on the stars twinkling in the crisp night. He then knew: Misao the girl had always brought him tea, always showered him with her affections and concern. It was Misao the woman; however, who was patiently waiting for his meditation sessions to come to a halt, who was waiting for him to give her his all. And he, he had seen it all, and had chosen cowardly to hide under the pretense of meditation to avoid the woman who had gradually taken the place of the girl he had known so well. He wasn't really surprised; after all, the woman in Misao was getting quite impatient with his uncertainty—what was surprising was the fact she hadn't attempted anything drastic yet. He half expected her to attempt to seduce him in her bath or jump him at the night. He assumed that her self-restraint was part of her newly obtained womanly character. Pity, she would lose all the amusement of trapping her prey—now all the pleasure was his.
He didn't take into account that Misao herself was quite capable of fending for herself, thank you very much. Before Aoshi could even blink, Misao turned abruptly and gave him a melting smile before whispering, "I am quite worn out today, anata. I'll go to bed before you do, if you don't mind." Misao didn't feel up to playing around with the one thing that was out of her grasp—she was tired of such emotional tumbling. Rather than waste her energies trying to dissect the mystery that is Shinomori Aoshi, Misao opted for a good night's rest.
Aoshi blinked with well-disguised dissatisfaction, "Aa. Oyasumi, Meiko."
"Oyasumi, Ayo."
He had drunk the rest of his tea in silence, absorbed in the matters of the day, Misao… the Oniwabanshuu, Misao… the culprit for taking the Hanabusas hostage, Misao… Enough! He growled to himself. It was bad enough that she haunted his sleep, bringing infinite temptations to him when he knew that she would be asleep by his side during those dreams, those nightmares. Shaking his head to release the amounting tension Aoshi felt, he smiled wryly: before he had found it too easy to forget her face in his madness, and had even feared losing her image in his mind. He had consulted it in his most despairing moments, those years when he had been alone with his men, and after, when he went after the title of the greatest. Now, he found that he was trying his best to dispel those images, because they wouldn't leave him in peace.
Walking slowly up the stairs, Aoshi loosened his tie and opened the collar of his shirt, bringing him instant relief. When he had arrived to his—their bedroom, he saw that the door was left ajar, and Aoshi opened it a bit to inch his way through, pausing when his eyes settled on the woman before him. She had her back to him as she sat in front of her vanity mirror, attempting to disentangle her hair with a comb. Wild—she looked wild, free and incredibly alluring. His breathing came jagged as he stepped away from the door and opted to watch her deal with her hair. Misao stopped her actions suddenly; looking into the mirror with wide, dark eyes and seeing Aoshi's reflection stare at her in the glass. Turning around swiftly, Misao's tousled hair whipped around, her eyes uncomprehending when she met his eyes with hers. Something in his gaze threw her off, and she searched his eyes, noting that his chest was heaving as if he had ran a great distance without stopping, and his hands were trembling slightly, as if he ached to… do something with them. Then she knew. With a low cry, Misao threw her brush aside and stood up as Aoshi strode across the room, his eyes savage. She licked her lips anxiously, and awaited his presence with a fluttering heart and fervent expression, trapped in place by his possessive eyes. In a matter of seconds, he was before her and around her. He had grasped her roughly by the waist and pulled her against him for a searing kiss. Misao eagerly wrapped her arms around him, fisting his shirt's material as she stepped deeper into his kiss. All hesitation and precautions forgotten, their noses had bumped in this frantic meeting of mouths, and before either of them had come up for air, Misao found herself lying against their bed, caressing Aoshi's back as he stroked her inner thigh. When their lips parted, they looked into each other's faces, and what she read in his expression made her smile: So much for a good night's rest, Misao thought with amusement as she watched Aoshi undo the clasps of her dress.
Author's notes: Urgh… I'm being utterly ambitious these days! Balancing several stories at once confuses me, not to mention that it probably confuses my readers as well. Miyan-heh… The stories I'm actively working on are: "A Whisper of Grace", "Lingering Fragrances", "Makimachi Misao's Diary" (yes, I'm almost done with the third chapter!), "The Crux of the Moment" (Sorry, I've never read "Saitou's angels"… does it seem like I've ripped off ideas from that story?), and The Most Incompatible of Unions (Agh! I didn't know that fiancée and fiancé were different! I just chose the closest word on Microsoft Word Auto-Correction that was on the list… as you can see, Kmye-chan, I don't know a bit of French… I'm a Spanish student…Ole!). It kinda helps that I'm smack in the middle of spring break; I have more time to work on stories. Unfortunately, I think I'm all burned out, and now have a semi-writer's block. Gimme some time to recuperate (after all, I think I've posted like four updates in the last two days).
Major progress between Aoshi and Misao, ne? Wink wink…