Standard disclaimer applies.
This chapter is dedicated to CAT H, the winner of the question I had posted at the end of my one-shot "Was It Meant to Be?"
The inspiration for this story? "Kissed by a Rose" by Seal (hella old song, but it's sooooo good!).
Chapter 7: As Horas Nuas
Did he know how much that tickled? Misao bit the bottom of her lip as the edges of her mouth curved upwards, threatening to break out into a full-fledged smile as she attempted to restrain her laughter. His soft, full mouth was wreaking havoc on her senses as he continued to nudge the soft flesh of her stomach. At the moment, he was focused on the small hollow of her belly, which allowed Misao no room to breathe. The petite kunoichi lost control and began to giggle unrestrainedly, her slender fingers gripping her lover's short midnight hair as she gasped, "A-Aoshi! Please… stop!" His ministrations halted abruptly, allowing her a brief moment to recover her breath before his mouth swept upwards causing her to promptly forget how to breathe again. When his intent became clearer and more aggressive, Misao managed to wrack enough self-restraint to put a gentle yet firm hand against her Okashira's chest: "No, Aoshi." At the tall man's silence, Misao let the hand that held him back rise to rest against his cheek, internally wincing as she prepared to state the obvious: "These sort of… activities tend to make women pregnant."
Aoshi leaned forward, resting comfortably between her spread thighs as he stroked her side lightly, "Does that worry you?"
Misao looked up at him with an inscrutable expression, numerous emotions flitting through her large cerulean eyes, "Yes it does." She sighed slightly as she stopped to lick her lips nervously: it was time to come in for the kill. The slender woman craned her neck upwards as she said gingerly: "I do not think this is prudent for the two of us, especially since we are in the midst of… pressing matters."
His brow furrowed marginally: they were being reckless, to a certain extent. He grasped a slender hand in his, bringing it up to his lips as he kissed her knuckles softly, "If that is the case, we should restrain ourselves until…"
Misao's heart leapt—was he going to say what she hoped he would say?
"Until we have the case settled."
Her heart plunged. Misao turned her head abruptly as she hid behind her tumbling, unruly ebony hair. Did Aoshi even entertain the thought of taking her in wedlock? Her heart and mind both protested the idea that her okashira was merely using her as an outlet for his pleasure—it went against every principle she believed he stood for. Yet, why hadn't he mentioned his reasons for bedding her? She had hoped was that he would tell her he had taken her for reasons greater than desire. But he said nothing. And she would not stop short for anything except love. How were things looking for her at the moment? Vague, confusing, impenetrable… in short, everything that represented Aoshi.
"Misao."
That one statement encompassed it all: it was an inquiry, a command and a simple call for attention all in one. Misao strived to purge her countenance of all troubling emotions and gazed up into her lover's face with a forced smile, "Nani?"
"Tell me." Oh, his marvelous economy of words! Misao smiled genuinely this time, wondering if she would gain enough ground with him to make him talk… the way other normal human beings talked. She had to admit that he did get the main message through though.
"In due time." This was honestly meant. She was really in no condition to press matters of matrimony on him, as fresh and untried as their relationship was at the moment. Her best bet was to make sure that they kept their hands to themselves and thought things out before they… Misao was unable to keep herself from blushing, and promptly wished she could vanish under the sheets that were carelessly pooling around their lower bodies. Agh! They had already done it twice! Couldn't she get over the novelty of it? It didn't help that Aoshi was watching her under guarded yet growing amusement, his eyes gleaming against the pale hint of morning light. Now he was going to think that whatever had been occupying her thoughts was some trivial matter, some issue that mildly conflicted with her maidenly sense of embarrassment. When his eyes shone like that, she could feel their smoldering intensity scorch her skin. Gods, she had to get up, or she would jump him, which would consequently toss all her recently established restraints out the window.
Misao scrubbed her face rather viciously, wishing that the cool water would take away the undesired sensations that raged underneath her flushed skin. Once they had gone so far, she mused to herself, it was nearly impossible to cease their intimacies, even for the sake of business. She tossed her head back, feeling the air cool her wet face as she groped for a towel. Her fingers latched onto one and Misao brought it to her face swiftly, eager to keep the water from slipping down her chest. Too late. The slender kunoichi let out a suffering sigh as she dabbed at her face, neck and chest, her eyes still shut. After wiping away any errant moisture, she let her eyes open, only to find Aoshi watching her mutely from the doorway, his eyes intent on her chest.
"Bretton expects you to live up to your promise, Meiko."
Despite the softness of his touch from just a moment ago, and the novelty of the morning, Misao found herself sighing slightly—it seemed like they were already back to business. Fighting the urge to wrap her arms around the underdressed, tall man by her side, Misao resorted to grabbing a hairbrush and running it through her thick black hair. It was just as well, anyhow. She shouldn't urge him to fall into temptation, not when they had so much at stake. Misao backed away from him, turning to face her side in an attempt at nonchalance, muttering a few words as she tried yet again to school her features to tranquility: "Really? Well, that should prove to be… enlightening."
"I wouldn't be surprised if an invitation finds its way here within the span of a few days, if not today."
Misao laid down the brush with careful, slender fingers, flicking her hair over her shoulder casually as she turned to face her okashira. His eyes followed the flow of her hair. Hers in turn took in his every feature unbidden. There, standing right in front of her in his full glory was the man of her dreams. She let her gaze rest on the bed behind him, her eyes diminishing slightly in their intensity as she strived to restrain the sensations warring within her once again. It was quite obvious that she could barely contain herself whenever it came to anything that concerned him. Pity she wasn't sure exactly what he thought about her in turn. She shifted easily, her ankles peeking out of the sleek robe she had donned so hastily, "So, should I come to call and pay my respects to him, Ayo?"
Aoshi, who had been watching her twirl her lush midnight tresses pale fingers brought his cobalt blue intensity to face her, his eyes settling on her face as he murmured, "As long as I'm sure he doesn't try anything inappropriate." With his pointed emphasis on that word, his piercing azure eyes clashed with her ocean-tinted ones, betraying an almost feral protectiveness. Misao shivered slightly; she wasn't sure if she was reacting that way out of pleasure or discomfort. The willowy kunoichi then shook her head, saying slowly, "I don't think you would even let him lay a finger on me. That doesn't concern me as much as…"
He took a step forward, closing in the distance between them as efficiently as a man would snuff out a candle with his moistened fingers, "As much as?"
Misao took a deep breath—she couldn't think when he was that close, dammit! Why wouldn't he just give her some space to breath? It would make it infinitely easier for her to keep up with her resolutions, then.
"I-I don't think Bretton would be the kind of man just to invite me for the heck of it, Ayo. He's trying to get something out of all of this. I'm not scared for my honor as much as I'm scared with what I can accidentally let out with a slip of my tongue."
"That is a justifiable fear." Her heart plummeted at the idea that he would not consider her up to be able to meet the task proficiently, but the falling sensation was shortlived: "However, I have reasons to place my confidence in you—you are to accept his invitation by all means."
*
"Georgiana?"
A distinguished auburn-haired young woman let out an exasperated sigh—seriously, what did John want now? A delicately arched eyebrow met the man who came langorously into the waiting room, his copper hair in an elegant disarray as he smirked waywardly at his sister, his emerald eyes planning devilment at the very moment that his sister's equally verdant gaze betrayed feigned boredom: "What could possibly be of interest now, especially at this dreadful hour of the morning?"
"Dreadful hour? Pray, do not tell me that you have just awaken."
"Of course not—it is just that there is nothing remotely of significance to engage one's self in."
The corner of his lips curved even further, revealing white, glistening teeth as he articulated: "Really? Well, I must say that tomorrow you'll have someone worthy of dissection."
"By all means, tell me who the guest is, dear brother."
Dr. John Bretton's smirk took a more sadistic sheen—there was no love lost between him and his sister. Their relationship had gone steadily downhill once Georgiana had figured out about his exotic dalliances at the tender, idealistic age of fourteen. He preened his shirt collar, pretending to take much interest in the condition of his spotless gloves.
The stunning European woman stamped her little foot impatiently, "Well? I do not have all day for your foolishness."
"Hanabusa Meiko."
Georgiana cocked her head in a show of blatant curiosity, "A Nippon woman?"
"And one of the most exquisite I have ever seen."
The young lady Bretton sat down lightly, leaning against the downy velvet-lined cushions before allowing her half-lidded gaze turn into an expression of feral irony to match her brother's: "Ah, but that is what I have always heard about every new addition to your growing collection."
Bretton did not lose his debonair composure nor his roguish smirk, but his words cracked against her hearing like a whip: "Don't be impudent."
Georgiana let out a long-suffering sigh, her reddish curls falling back dramatically as she gave in: "Very well then, my lord brother. I will entertain her company tomorrow. At what time, I pray?"
"The evening."
She could not control the smirk from returning onto her features: "Ah, yes… just in time for dessert."
**
Despite the light and enjoyable repast he had with Misao and the bath he had taken, Aoshi could still feel her influence. He could still sense the phantom touches, the prickling sensation elicited by Misao's nimble fingers on his body the night before, as well as the lingering taste of her in his mouth. It was surprising, to say the least, that the woman he had refused to see as an adult until shortly was so sensual—and innocently so. The wide-eyed fascination she had shown the past few nights when they attempted to know each other more intimately was wholly unexpected and pleasantly endearing. He wondered how he had never recognized her charms before, those little whimsical actions she was prone to throwing about. Was he ever actually ignorant of her? He supposed that he wasn't—he had fallen for her hard from the beginning of her budding adulthood; it was more his stubborn mind's refusal to acknowledge it to be so. He had breached the initial barrier and overcome his initial hesitance, drawing Misao closer to him, even when he had once thought that particular degree of intimacy would be impossible for a man like him. And now? Well, the least he could say was that he had several plans set for them both.
Only one more thing to get out of the way—one more thing, and then there would be absolutely no hindrances to keep them apart. And that one obstacle, for all it embodied, was held in his firm grip as he scanned its contents with a distrustful, sharp eye before closing it smoothly, running his fingers absentmindedly over the glossy cover as he gestured for the old manservant to come forth: "Fujitaka? Could you please call for Meiko?"
She was there within moments, striding in with her usual brisk grace: "Did you call for me, anata?"
"The invitation arrived a few minutes ago."
"Under what pretext did he make the invitation?"
"He wants you to meet his sister, Ms. Georgiana Bretton."
Misao, who had been looking out the French window with grim resolution, snapped her head back to Aoshi in cool surprise: "Sister?"
Aoshi merely nodded, his dark eyes piercing her as he added in a low voice: "I hope you have brushed up on your social etiquette."
The young kunoichi gave her okashira a dry smile: how true. This was the true test. If the woman sniffed out any peculiarity or any falseness, their cover would be blown. Her expression must have concerned the man in front of her, for she soon found herself enveloped in steady, strong arms. He offered no words, yet his silence was enough—it was all-encompassing and soothing. After a moment of still bliss, Misao craned her head upwards, looking up in inquiry. In response, Aoshi merely nudged his mouth against hers, pressing warmth into her body.
After pressing one last kiss on her mouth firmly, Aoshi stepped back slightly, his breath fanning over her lips as she mewled discontentedly at his minute withdrawal: "Don't worry."
At this, Misao leaned forward so that their noses touched, crossing the distance he had put between them but a moment ago; he could almost feel her smile on his lips as she murmured, "Didn't I tell you that I won't worry?" Aoshi gave in; sweeping her into his arms once again—with Misao, no distancing was acceptable. Contented in his embrace, she leaned further against him, burrowing her face into his neck before letting her hand run not so gently over his ribs, eliciting a low growl from her lover.
Aoshi's reaction was mildly savage and at once extremely satisfying to hear: "Don't do that."
Misao languidly peeled herself off of her "husband" and flashed him an enticing smile, "As you wish."
No distancing, that is, when she wasn't toying with him on purpose.
He glowered darkly at the kunoichi, "Little tease."
She smirked, quipping back impishly, "Now you know how I've felt for the last few years. Learn to deal with it."
***
Soujirou's smile flickered for a moment. Only a moment. Soon it was in its place, as stubbornly cheerful as ever. In fact, the average observer would most probably not even be able to determine the slight hesitation. But then again, Shinomori Aoshi was not the average observer.
The young man formerly known as the Tenken cleared his throat before asking mildly, "Could you possibly repeat yourself? I'm not sure if I had heard you correctly."
"You need to go undercover as a 'customer' and close friend of mine."
Soujirou was suspicious of this new twist to the mission and for a good reason: "A customer?"
"Yes… a customer for one of Bretton's okiyas."
The young man, to his credit, did not color. Instead, he chose to grow deathly pale: "A brothel? I do understand that the Okami has… dubious connections with the man, but does it really require further investigation? His business with the okiyas seem to be disconnected with his underground affairs with weapons."
"Not quite so."
Soujirou repressed a sigh of frustration: "Would you kindly elaborate further, Shinomori-san?"
Aoshi gave what could be a marginal glimpse of a smirk as he brought out a crisp folder: "Headline article and obituary."
The slight young man gave the Okashira a dry grin—it was remarkable how resourceful the man was. It was nothing fancy, nothing sophisticated—his sources included modest means. Newspaper clippings, indeed. Soujirou allowed one slender eyebrow to rise as he stepped back into the shadows, taking the cool papers out with pale fingers. A short period of engaged reading ensued. The young man then raised his eyebrow yet again, coughed in his slight embarrassment and then slipped the clippings back into the folder.
The deceased person in question was a certain Horiuchi Azumi. Proclaimed geisha who had entertained countless figureheads of Japanese and European bearing. Bretton was stated as her danna-sama before she had been found in a murky alley in the more obscure side of Nagoya with a bullet through her head, and curiously, an unused bullet in her clenched fist.
He then handed them back to Aoshi, "When am I expected to go?"
Glossary:
Okami: head geisha
Okiya: Geisha teahouse
Okashira: Leader, boss…
Kunoichi: female spy/ninja (?)
Onmitsu: spy/ninja (?)
(In this story, 'ninja' and 'spy' can be used interchangeably…)
Title meaning: "As Horas Nuas" is Portuguese for "The Nude Hours". I don't lay a claim on any of Lydia Fagundes Telles' works.
Author's note: Ay caramba. When I read some of the reviews I received for the last chapter, I nearly had a seizure.
Kenni: I do understand your indignation, but if you took psychology, then you surely know that Asian cultures tend to have more collectivist views than individualistic views. No matter how strong, how fiery Misao may be, that does not mean that she is the American version of a strong woman. The only flaw I can truly point out amongst nearly all fanfic writers whenever they portray a strong female character like Misao, Sango or etc. is that they portray them as strong American women: liberated, bold and blunt. True, they are often closely portrayed as such in the animes, but the subtle cultural difference is still there. Being a strong woman does not mean that she cannot have binding ties. Misao, out of her own free will, decides to bind herself to Aoshi. If she decides that's a mistake, then that's because she chose to see it in another light. Having the burden of waiting for love is normally viewed in American society as too partial and unhealthy (not feminist). But have you realized how strong a woman has to be to shoulder such a burden? Misao is all woman. Strong Asian women (even until now) are often those who are self-reliant but choose to love a person unconditionally. She should not be looked down upon as a "Cinderella" just because she simply chooses to wait. A little single-minded, yes; a little intense, yes—but certainly not dumb, dependent or weak. The blind part? It meant that Misao had not seen that Aoshi himself was ready to receive love without any scruples.
Again, I sympathize with your views, but I wouldn't revise the chapter in any way (I guess you can call it a willful manifestation of belief perseverance on my part, eh?). Please, do not feel discouraged to voice your opinions in your reviews (especially since you have well-grounded and elaborate feedback to give, other than the usual "how cute" or "how sweet") and I, in turn, will feel entitled to respond in whatever manner befits the subject matter.
Thanks to the following reviewers: Cat H (my winner!), lebleuphenix, Flamesolo, Kenni, chibi-ken14, Azura Dea, Gina, chitchat (whose review was very thorough, indeed ^_~), angelyca, Argentum Draco, Katisha888 (good question. I'll reveal the meaning of the title at the end of the story. Uh, by the way, are you by any chance the same person as Cat H?), Aiteane (Aoshi? A sleazeball? Wow, I can't really seem to see where he would come out so out of character. Could you give me more specifics?), nadachi_chan, bem, Kenta Divina, Joan Mae, Kmye-chan, Megami No Ushi, SunStar, Ami N Aya, Shahrezad1, chris, Linda_Ishtar, and finally, anonymous (thanks for your "refute", but the review you were defending my story against actually did not offend me. It was constructive criticism and someone else's legitimate opinion. I do thank you for your empathy, though. You come across as a mature reader and I hope I can get you to continue reading my stories).
ARGH! A very smart reviewer of mine (aka thought x crime) had commented that Misao seemed to be fluent in Italian (Dante, Purgatorio, etc.), but I didn't add that as one of the languages she could speak when she was talking to Bretton! I'm so scatterbrained these days… I'll go switch it soon: Misao can speak English, French, Japanese and Italian.
WOO HOO! I hit over a 100 reviews! Honestly, I never thought I would get that much feedback… *squee!* Oh, and by the way, by all means, ask questions! I'll answer 'em!
Erh… I was going over the story again to get "in the flow" again, and I realized that Aoshi is A LOT more out of character than I had originally thought! Bee *winces*… miyanheh! I will not change Aoshi now, though. I value consistency more than characterization. Eek!