Angelus
Rurouni Kenshin copyright Nobuhiro Watsuki
Chapter 2.
NOTE: This story is a sequel (or, if not, a follow-up story) to "A Road Less Traveled," and it takes place nearly a year after the events outlined in the latter. Furthermore, "Angelus," like Road, does not follow the RK storyline in terms of the manga ending, though there might be a reference or two lurking somewhere in the later chapters. While the reader does not really have to read Road first in order to understand this story, Angelus does make a lot of references to aforementioned. Those who are interested can find Road here:
groups.yahoo.com/files/niaiserie
Please ignore the chapter before this one (that is, the 'Chapter 2' linked in FF.net -- it's a bogus copy; I've tried replacing the text but it keeps coming up with the same thing. This is the complete Chapter 2 and what should be Chapter 3. I've just decided to integrate the two chapters.
Note: // // - flashback sequences
-- -- - thoughts
TO FF.NET REVIEWERS -- You can find Road in the yahoogroups address indicated above. You will have to subscribe to the list before you can access the files though, as it is a restricted group ^^; Sorry for the inconvenience. Road is in the Serials directory. So are the HTML copies of Angelus. FF.net keeps spitting out my htm /and/ Word files. Blah.
Thanks for the interest! ^_^
Tin
http://www.livejournal.com/~pornkings
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/niaiserie
Draft: May 24, 2003
She didn't sleep well that night. She kept waking up in between intervals. It was the heat, she told herself. Kyoto in high summer was humid, always on the verge of a sudden thunderstorm that never came. She finally dozed off towards dawn, and when she woke up, the sun was already high in the sky. Misao stared blankly at the ceiling first, feeling the heat of sunlight on her neck and shoulders, and then rolled out of her futon in a hurry, mumbling and cursing. She threw on an old tattered haori over her sleeping robe and ran out into the hallway.
Kuro must have come in already with his report. If he had seen someone trying to break into Thomas's shop, he would need orders on how to proceed. What kind of Okashira was she that she couldn't even brief her men on time? And why didn't they /wake/ her? She skid to a stop in front of the kitchen door and slid it open as fast as she could.
"Kuro, I am so sorry..." Color rushed to her face as she saw who was sitting on the kitchen table. She slid the door shut behind her with suddenly nerveless fingers, her eyes widening. "Aoshi-sama? What are /you/ doing here?"
"Kuro has already left," said Aoshi after what seemed to her an eternity later. "He came in very early this morning. As it turned out, I was already awake. He told me of what happened last night."
"Oh," stammered Misao. "Did--did he?" She opened her mouth to mutter an automatic apology and then closed it. She had not told him or Okina of her plans. When she and Thomas arrived in the Aoiya, she had left him with Okon and Omasu -- who welcomed him with delighted cries and knowing winks and wouldn't hear of Misao taking him first to Okina -- while she went on to the kitchen to talk to Kuro. He had agreed instantly to her request.
Well, I /am/ Okashira, despite what that means in my position, she thought now, resentfully. Why should I be nervous? Just because it's him...
It was then that she remembered she was wearing nothing more than a thin sleeping robe and an equally disreputable haori. Which, she realized with sudden horror, belonged to him. He used to wear it when he stayed with her and Haanya and the others in the Aoiya, just before they left her with Okina for good. He had forgotten to take the haori. Or perhaps he left it deliberately. She had kept it with her ever since, much like a favorite blanket. She tugged it around her now, hoping he wouldn't notice.
-- Why should he? --
Aoshi picked up his tea cup then put it back down again. "You look tired," he said after another pause. "Couldn't you sleep?"
Misao made a belated effort to fix her hair, which was coming apart from its loose braid. When she noticed him watching her, she dropped her hand. She didn't meet his eyes. "Yes. It was--hot last night." She shook her head slightly. "Aoshi-sama, what did Kuro tell you? Did he see someone in Thomas-san's shop after all?"
"No," said Aoshi. "No one came." He closed his hand slowly around his cup. "That doesn't mean anything though. Kuro is already resting. I asked Shiro to do it instead."
She frowned. "To do what?"
"Look for news," he replied in his cool voice. "I know the Aoiya receives a fairly frequent batch of intelligence reports about goings-on in the city, but I was thinking of something more specific."
Misao blinked at him, wondering what he was driving at, when she understood. "Yes, yes, of course. I should have thought of it sooner." She rubbed her eyes vigorously. "It's just that when we send Shiro or Kuro or the others out, it's usually to look for items in a grocery list." She tried to smile, though her eyes were smarting. "And when I think of intelligence reports, it's usually in the context of another boring political squabble or stuff like that."
She knew that was not true. She knew that Okina did send the other Oniwabanshuu out on missions she had no knowledge about, and she had no doubt that /he/ had something to do with it as well. And while the reports they received, or at least those that she saw, /were/ nothing more than statistical enumerations of the latest catfights between government functionaries, she knew there were a lot more she hadn't seen and which were definitely about /other/ things. She hadn't confronted Okina about it yet -- he would just deny it incessantly and they would quarrel -- and she simply didn't know how to confront Aoshi. She could ask him now, straight out, or make a sarcastic hurting comment -- she was in such a mood, had been for weeks -- but what would be the use?
-- That's always how it is. --
"I know you send the Oniwabanshuu out for things other than grocery items, Misao," he said, to her surprise. She gaped at him. "Okina told me you were using Shiro to blackmail the head of the fire prevention department, for instance." His voice was mild, almost carefully neutral. There was no hint of reproach in his tone, but something about the way he said it, perhaps the fact that he was saying it at all, knowing what he did, because it was /him/, got to her.
"If by blackmail you mean threatening to tell his wife about his stupid courting of useless women left and right unless he got off his lazy ass and actually did something about his job," she burst out unthinkingly, "then, yes, I do use the Oniwabanshuu for stuff other than shopping in the market. I also send them to rescue cats that climb too high up roofs and trees." She gave him a defiant stare. "And I make them round up the neighborhood delinquents to clean temples and do the laundry for sick old women. I know it sounds stupid--"
"I wasn't criticizing you," he said. His face was inscrutable as always, but one eyebrow was raised ever so slightly. "But--"
"But that isn't what the Oniwabanshuu is for, is it?" she interrupted him. "Where is the /honor/ and /glory/ in helping cats and snitching on old bureaucrats and--and watching out for insignificant gaijin dressmakers?" She knew she should stop, that she was making herself look ridiculous, but she couldn't. Her mouth just seemed to be perpetually working on automatic whenever she got close to him. That was how it had always been between the both of them, but she knew also that there was something different about it now, ever since... She tried to stop.
-- Why should you? --
"But how could someone like /me/ know what being an Oniwabanshuu and being an Okashira are about, right, Aoshi-sama?" she continued. "It's impossible, and you know why? Because I have absolutely no idea! Because no one would tell me! So if you think what I'm doing is wrong, and silly, then you tell me how to do things, because /you/ obviously know how to do it right. You would know, wouldn't you, Aoshi-sama? Because--"
She stopped.
He stood up from the table and walked toward her. She clutched the haori tighter around her shoulders as he approached.
He slid the door open and she moved away from the doorway.
"No," he said without looking at her as he stepped out. "I wouldn't know."
She was still sitting in the kitchen table when Okon and Omasu bustled in, chatting happily. They stopped talking when they saw her. She hadn't yet gone back to her room to dress or even wash. She was staring at Aoshi's tea cup, which he had left on the table. The green liquid inside looked colorless in the warm light flooding through the open shutters into the kitchen.
"Misao?" said Okon, approaching her hesitantly. "Are you all right?"
She didn't answer.
Omasu laid a worried hand on her shoulder. "You look horrible." She bent down to peer at Misao's face.
"Have you been crying?"
She shook her head slowly. "No. I--I just--woke up."
She felt rather than saw Omasu exchange a glance with Okon over her head.
"I see," Omasu finally said. Then, "Would you like some more tea?" She made a clucking sound. "That looks cold. You haven't even touched it!"
"It isn't--" Misao hesitated, then stood up, faltering, before she put out a hand on the table to steady herself. "Whoa. I'm out of it, aren't I? I knew I shouldn't have stayed up too late reading those crappy love stories." She tried to laugh. "Thanks for the offer anyway, Omasu. I think I'd better go change now. Jiya probably has a lot of errands for me to run. Have you gone shopping already? You should have woken me up."
"It's no big deal," said Okon after another glance at Omasu. "You were looking tired last night, so we let you sleep in. Besides, Okina will boss you around the entire day so we thought we should spare you what we could. And now you owe us." Misao's smile seemed to widen a bit at that. "He said something about hiring an open carriage for Kenshin-san and Kaoru-san. He's getting rather carried away."
"And the horses will be wearing matching bonnets, designed exclusively by Thomas-san," said Omasu.
This time, Misao's laughter sounded genuine. "You mean Jiya met him?"
Omasu smirked. "Let's just say it was love at first sight."
"The dirty old man!" exclaimed Okon. "Milkmaid skirts! Honestly!"
"You should have seen them," said Omasu. "If you'd only stayed up instead of--" Okon nudged her sharply. Omasu coughed. "Well, we'll tell you about it later after you've dressed."
"Where is Thomas-san by the way?" Misao asked.
Okon shrugged and began to unload the contents of her basket, Omasu following suit quickly. "He went back to the shop with Shiro. He said to tell you he'd be back tomorrow. Okina invited him to the dinner party."
"Did he take the kimono with him?" said Misao, as if as an afterthought.
"What? Oh, what that suspicious young man left," Okon replied. "No. He said you didn't want him to. He really wanted to get started on it last night but--"
Misao pushed her hair absently away from her face. "Well, unless we're sure about the identity of who really owns that kimono, I think we should leave it alone. I'm glad he left it here though. Where is it now?"
Omasu was already busy at the oven. "What? The kimono? It's in our room. We didn't even take it out of that smelly old sack. Why? Are you worried about Thomas-san handling the stuff? He won't ruin the fabric."
"No," said Misao quietly as she headed towards the door. "I'm not worried."
"Well, of course, there's the expense," continued Omasu. "But I've known Thomas-san to work for next to nothing as long as he's interested in the material. He told me this is the first time he's encountered something like that kimono. I didn't get to see it last night but he said you did. What does it look like anyway? Is that what you're planning to give Kaoru-san? Misao?" She turned when no one answered. "Ara? Misao-chan?"
Okon shook her head and motioned at the open doorway.
Omasu sighed. "That girl has been acting /so/ strange!"
"Do you think we should tell Aoshi-sama?"
"He's probably noticed himself," replied Okon. "Ohhhh, I could wring their necks. Why can't they just talk about it?"
Omasu was silent for a moment. "I think Misao is tired."
Okon blinked. "What do you mean?"
"After what happened that last time..." Okon shook her head again.
"It isn't like Misao to give up. Do you think she still blames herself for what happened?"
"It wouldn't surprise me. But there's more to it than we think, Okon." Omasu picked up her knife and began to peel a carrot. "There are some things even Misao can't bear, and which Aoshi-sama probably doesn't know how to," she added cryptically.
Omasu made a face. "I still want to wring their necks."
Omasu glanced at the untouched cup of tea. "I hope they do it themselves."
"I give them a week."
"Less."
"Deal."
Okina not only kept her 'busy' the next couple of days, he practically ran her ragged. Misao collapsed on her futon that night, feeling more tired than she had ever been the past several weeks. But it was a sort of tiredness that she could bear, that made her feel alive, somewhat. She smiled a little to herself as she closed her eyes. She wondered if it had been deliberate on Okina's part. He was not so blind as he was pretending to be. On the other hand, he might just be too distracted to care, busy as he was concocting, even for him, the most outrageous plans for Kaoru and Kenshin's trip to Kyoto, including but not limited to flower-decorated carriages, monogrammed horse bonnets, a poetry competition for the neighborhood girls, and an overnight stay in a rather risque bath house in one of the more notorious nightlife districts for Kenshin.
"And for me and Shiro and Kuro and Aoshi and Sano, of course, if he comes. And Thomas-san," added Okina. "Just for old times sake." He stroked the ribbon on his beard and cackled.
"What old times?" demanded Okon.
"You girls can go to another bath house, if you want," said Okina airily.
Okon glared at him and whipped out a piece of paper from her kimono.
"Omasu and I have already reserved rooms at Taki-san's," she declared, waving the paper in the air. "That's where they're going."
"What?" Okina shrieked. "Who goes to that dinky corny place? All those stupid hearts and scary open-air concerts and that frightful old maid Taki--"
"Who goes to perverted bath houses?" Okon shot back.
"It's just one last night of love," said Okina. "Himura will appreciate it."
"Kaoru-san won't," said Okon. "And where's the love in boring half-dressed courtesans stuffing you with badly cooked sushi?" She shook a finger at Okina. "Don't answer that." Then she smiled maliciously. "Besides, you know Kaoru-san. She's a very polite girl but you'll be lucky if she she leaves you with one leg standing to hop after pretty girls once she finds out what you're planning."
Normally Misao would have joined in. She had a little brilliant idea of her own, involving lots of sake, missing futon, and a pinch of this and that on Himura's food, just to be sure. But she didn't say anything. Okina looked at her speculatively, seemed about to say something, and was jabbed in the ribs by a fierce-eyed Okon. He cleared his throat.
"Misao, what are you standing there for? Go clean Kaoru's room," he said instead.
Misao sighed. "I've cleaned it for like a hundred times already, Jiya."
"Then clean Himura's room."
"Likewise."
"Did you put up the diagram?"
".... Jiya, are you sure?"
"Sure I'm sure," exclaimed Okina. He shot her an exaggerated glare, putting up his fists and striking a pose, just like he always did when they were about to fall on each other over another inane happy argument. "Why, are you telling me I'm wrong? Are you telling me--"
"All right, Jiya." She turned and walked back towards Kenshin's room.
Okon jabbed him again. Okina put down his fists slowly.
"She should have been dragging me by the beard," Misao heard Okina mutter. "Or at the very least trying to severe my jugular."
"What, like this?"
"Okon! To do such things to a helpless old man!"
"Quiet. Now how much?"
"Fifty."
"Fine."
"On the other hand," said Okina in a distinctly crafty voice, "how about my lovely bath house against your cheap rabu hotel?"
"You're on, old man."
Now what in the world did that mean, Misao wondered vaguely. She knew she was missing something. She was missing a lot of things these days. Shiro at least had told her that he had nothing to report yet. She hadn't missed /that/. Misao slid her blanket up to her chin, listening to the humming of the cicadas outside in the garden. Her body ached all over. That was good. She should be able to sleep more easily and wouldn't have to meet Kenshin and Kaoru in the station looking like she had just rolled out of bed and wouldn't mind getting back there this very instant. Yesterday morning's encounter with Aoshi rose to her mind; she pushed the memory away with some impatience, some sadness. She tried to think of seeing her friends again tomorrow, to look forward to it. But all she could feel again was that same emptiness. It wasn't much better than thinking about Aoshi.
This was not only disorienting, it was also unfair. There was this one thing which she /should/ be happy about. There was no use associating it with--other things. She had thought that she was a better person than that. When she had read Kaoru's letter, she was even beginning to believe it, was still strong enough to doubt her feelings and assert herself despite them. Even then she had been so sure. Was it only two days ago?
She turned her head to look out into the darkness through the shogi screens which were half-open to the night. At least she didn't see him. She didn't ask the others where he was and they didn't tell her.
Maybe she wouldn't dream about it tonight.
As it turned out, it was Kaoru who saw her first. Misao was standing on the platform, craning her neck and looking left and right for the bright copper flash of Himura's hair, which was as distinct and unmistakable as lighthouse signal in a military installation, when she was engulfed by a blur of pale yellow and rose. She blinked, and the blur resolved itself into an impression of Kaoru's familiar blue eyes and warm smile as the other girl drew back, and then embraced her again.
"Misao-chan! It is so good to see you!"
She hugged Kaoru back as tightly as she could.
"Hisashiburi, Kaoru-san," she said, when she could speak.
She saw Kenshin over Kaoru's shoulder, carrying their bags. He smiled at her, and something in her heart loosened a little at the sight of his face, at Kaoru's presence. She smiled back and waved.
Kaoru stepped away a fraction. "Mou. It's been such a long time, Misao-chan. Let me look at you!" Her eyes were frank and inquiring, as always. Misao tried to meet her gaze directly like she always did. Kaoru frowned a little, a sort of tension flickering in her eyes. Misao stiffened.
"Why, you haven't grown a single bit, Misao-chan," she exclaimed indignantly. "Aren't you taking the pills Megumi and I sent you? They're supposed to be very efficacious--"
She pretended to scowl at Kaoru. "What do you mean I haven't grown? I /so/ did grow! Just because /I'm/ not getting married doesn't mean I'm automatically undernourished! And whoever said I needed those stupid pills?" She poked her chest. "You wanna compare--"
"I'm ready when you are!" Kaoru declared.
Kenshin coughed.
"Misao-dono, it is good to see you," he said and approached her, holding out his hand with his usual gentle smile.
"Himura! You sly shrimp!"
Misao ignored the hand and flung her arms around him, making sure she slugged him in the process. She felt him relax very slightly against her for the smallest fraction of a moment, as if he were reassured by something, before he flopped exaggeratedly in her arms, bent over backwards.
"Oroooooo...."
She grinned at Kaoru, who grinned back, but not before she saw that look in her eyes again.
"Well," Misao said brightly, "shall we go?"
They chatted loudly together on the way back to the Aoiya, and laughed a great deal and talked about things only people who had not seen each other for a time and people who were avoiding having to talk about other things, would talk about. Kenshin beamed benevolently at them both amd at the world in general as he walked slightly behind them.
"It's a pity about Yahiko staying behind in the dojo," said Misao.
Kaoru waved a hand. "Oh, he'll be all right. Besides Yutaro-kun has just returned for a short visit so the timing is about perfect. They'll keep each other company."
"I still say you should have tied at least /one/ of them up," said Misao.
They snickered. Kenshin fell behind a few steps prudently.
"So, when are Sano and Megumi coming over then?"
"Just as soon as Megumi finishes treating this latest patient of hers," Kaoru replied. "She couldn't leave him alone, the state he's in, and besides she's still waiting for Dr. Genzai to return from his vacation. Sano decided to wait for her." She winked.
"Oh," said Misao. "I mean, that's great. Who would have thought the rooster head had it in him?"
"You'd be surprised," said Kaoru with a little laugh. "Did I ever tell you about our stay in that old mansion--?"
"You wrote about it," said Misao and poked her friend slightly. "You said you'd tell me more when we see each other again. What's the big secret? Is it about Sano and Megumi?"
Kaoru glanced away quickly, back at the oblivious-looking Kenshin, and she smiled again, but it was a small distant smile that was gone almost as soon as it appeared. Misao watched her curiously. "Well, something like that. I suppose you could say..." She shook her head and turned back to Misao. "I'll tell you about it when we're alone. And what about you? What about your big secret?"
Misao tensed. "What big secret?"
"There was that one letter, Misao-chan," said Kaoru quietly. Misao glanced at Kenshin. "No. I didn't tell him anything. Don't worry."
"There's nothing to tell anyway," said Misao, pulling away a bit from Kaoru's hold on her arm.
Kaoru tightened her grasp. "Yes, there is. I want to know if you're all right."
"Of course I am."
"Misao, that letter--"
"Kaoru-san, please."
Her friend seemed to hesitate. "I'm sorry for prying. But--"
Misao sighed. "No, it's all right. I just--don't want to talk about it yet. Actually, I'm trying to forget all about it." She tried to smile. "Besides, I'm okay, as you can see."
Kaoru's frown deepened. "If you're sure--"
"Yes," she said, saying it as emphatically as she could. "I'm sure."
Kaoru studied her for a while longer, then she shook her head. "Just remember that if you want to talk about it, I'll be here, Misao-chan. I'll understand."
She nodded and smiled again. "Thank you."
-- No one will ever understand. --
The welcome celebration was a great success, or at least according to those parties who were still sober enough to offer an intelligible opinion later that night. Okina had collared Kenshin early on right after dinner and proceeded to feed him with terrifying quantities of sake as if through a pipeline. The younger man had opened his mouth to protest nervously, Okina had pounced waving the sake bottle like his tonfa, and that was the end of the entire matter. He literally never knew what hit him. The last Misao saw of him he was crawling on hands and knees toward the hallway, where she then glimpsed Kuro picking him up and dangling him upside down, mumbling something about Himura-san is sooo cool let's have another drink, while Okina bellowed rude love songs and slapped another bottle over Kenshin's mouth and Kenshin turned several horrifying shades greener.
Okon and Omasu had latched onto Kaoru in a similar if a more decorous fashion, and all three now disappeared off towards the private rooms, clutching each other and staggering happily, dragging Thomas after them like a cute rag doll on a string. Misao could hear him and Kaoru giggling over a certain 'very very very very pretty dress' and ribbons and lace and petticoats and funny necklines and extremely amusing wedding nights. Thomas, of course, had taken to both Kaoru and Kenshin instantly, to Kaoru's mutual edification and Kenshin's very wary bemusement as Thomas proceeded to stalk him all throughout dinner, eyeing his waistline rather predatorily.
"I am thinking, Kaoru-san, that a few inches less will only be the more divine," said Thomas, with a corresponding angelic smile. "I am sure that Kenshin-san will agree with me."
"He doesn't have to agree," said Kaoru, and giggled once more. "Ne, Kenshin?" She glanced over her shoulder blearily. "Eh? Where's Kenshin?"
Omasu tugged at her sleeve. "Don't worry, Kaoru-san. Okina's still pouring sake down his throat. He won't be breathing until morning."
"Oh, okay," said Kaoru. Then she caught sight of Misao. "Misao-chan! What are you doing there? Aren't you coming? You promised!"
"I'm coming, Kaoru-san," Misao said. "I'm just going to... clear the table."
Luckily, both Okon and Omasu were too drunk to process her response. Kaoru, however, stopped in her tracks, her brow furrowed, then it cleared almost immediately.
"Oh, I get it. You're waiting for Aoshi-san, eh?" She nudged Thomas. "Isn't she a darling?"
"So cute!" trilled Thomas.
"Where'd he go off to anyway?" mumbled Okon. "Ow! OW! I swear, Okina should stop putting these trick mines in the stairs. That old man is sooooo immature!"
"Misao-chaaaan!"
"Yes, yes," Misao called out, waving them off as she stood at the foot of the stairs. "I promise I'll follow, Kaoru-san... Ara, Thomas-san, watch it! Not so hard, Omasu!" She watched them tramp off in the direction of Kaoru's room, listened for another burst of laughter, which was followed very quickly by a collective thump, and then, smiling despite herself, turned back towards the dining area.
The room was a mess of uncleared platters and used sake bottles. Misao glared at the entire table for a moment before she started stacking the dishes one on top of the other, sighing. It could wait until morning but the others would probably be too hung over to do it, and she didn't want to have to ask them to do something later that she was perfectly capable of doing now. She had been doing that for far too long. And getting drunk wouldn't have been an excuse, though it remained a very tempting prospect.
But she wanted to know where he was. He had eaten supper with the rest of them -- she had even glimpsed him smiling at something Himura was saying -- but then disappeared quietly immediately after, because when next she casually glanced at his seat, he was gone. She went on eating quietly, though she noticed Kaoru looking at her pointedly from time to time.
She had managed to draw Shiro aside in the hallway during a lull in the party, along with Thomas. This time, he had news. They didn't talk for long, but they all understood the implications of the conversation.
Misao brought the dishes to the kitchen, half-expecting to find Okina and everyone else there, but to her surprise she found it empty. She put the dishes on top of a table and hurried out of the room. She peered out at the veranda, saw no one there, then retreated to the common room, where she nearly stumbled on Kenshin's prone body which lay limply on the floor by the doorway like fish about to be skinned. She poked him gingerly in the ribs with a finger, wondering, temporarily awe-struck, if he was still alive. He opened his mouth, as if he were about to let loose a hysterical scream, then closed it again abruptly. She shook her head and looked at the inside of the room, where Okina, Kuro, and Shuro were scattered about the floor in varying, sometimes painfully contorted poses, snoring loudly.
Misao headed quietly for the stairs. She checked Kaoru's room first and found everyone there already predictably keeled over. She then went into an empty guest bedroom, just down the corridor, which Okon used as a walk-in storage cabinet, where she collected blankets, after which she went back to Kaoru's room, and, finally, to the common room. Okina wasn't too amenable to her attempts to tuck him in with a blanket. He kept trying to pry her mouth open.
After she finished she started to walk back to the dining area, paused for a long time, deep in thought, then slowly made her way to the official quarters of the Okashira, a large room that also extended into a library, albeit a private and secret one. The existence of the Oniwabanshuu was public knowledge, as it were, but the mechanisms of their organization were very closely guarded. The Aoiya was riddled with hidden corridors, subterranean passages to other buildings in the compound, dead-end exits, some of which had been rebuilt and reinforced after the Aoiya's partial destruction during the Juppongatana attack more than a year ago. Misao entered one such obscure passageway now, feeling her way in the dark. The door to the office was slightly open. She had left it closed earlier this evening, after her talk with Shiro and Thomas.
She pushed the door on its well-oiled hinges and stepped into the room silently. There was no one inside, though she could barely see in the dark and she couldn't be sure. A single oil lamp burned on the table, but the rest of the room was damp, almost cold. There seemed to be a draft in the air. During the day this room was well-lit and well-ventilated, with the windows open and unshuttered; it faced out onto a small garden bordering the edge of the Aoiya property but which was hidden from view by outsiders and passersby. One of the windows was open now; perhaps the source of the draft. Thunder rumbled in the distance. She stepped fully into the room, when Aoshi spoke,
"Have you heard from Shiro?"
She whirled around. He was sitting in a chair deep in the shadows on the other side of the room. She couldn't see him. If he hadn't spoken, she might never have noticed him at all.
Her steps didn't falter though. They moved toward the window, which she shut quickly, though her hands weren't quite so steady as her feet.
"Yes," she answered. "He told me that an old woman was found dead in her house this morning."
A pause and then, "Murdered?"
Misao shook her head. "According to Shiro, the police aren't so sure. She was tied in a chair but there were no marks of violence on her body." She tried to emulate his calm voice. "There might be a connection to the kimono. According to the dead woman's niece, her aunt had kept several antique kimono in a large steamer trunk, which was found forced open. Shiro is going to try and get a copy of the catalogue of these missing items. Thomas-san's kimono is probably one of them."
"I see," he said. "Where is the kimono?"
"I left it here," she replied. "I was just--going to get it." She opened a drawer of the table, reached in, and held up the old sack. "I'm pretty sure that the man who came to Thomas-san's shop is the thief or, perhaps, a fence. I'm betting on the former. Either way we have to find him."
"How do you propose to do so?"
She hesitated. "A police sketch will be more practical. He may already have a record for all we know. Saitou will."
"You intend to report this to the police then," he said.
Misao shrugged and fiddled with the sack in her hands, her head bent. "There seems to be little choice. Even if the Oniwabanshuu find him first, we still have to turn him in. I'll still keep Shiro on the lookout, just to be sure." When he didn't answer, she finally summoned the courage to look at him.
"Why?" she asked, nervously, after long moments of silence. "Is there something else about this situation that I should know about, Aoshi-sama?"
His voice, when he answered, was calm and modulated as always, almost indifferent.
"Why should you think that?"
"You won't be showing any interest at all otherwise," she replied in as matter-of-fact a voice as she could muster. "This sounds only like a routine robbery--"
"--that is complicated by a suspicious death--"
"--and something else," she finished quietly. "What are you hiding from me? Aoshi-sama?"
There was another silence, then she heard him stand up from his chair.
"Thomas-san told me that there was something peculiar about the stolen kimono," he said coolly. "That is why I am interested. May I see?" He emerged out of the darkness to stand before her within the dim circle of light cast by the oil lamp.
Her lips thinned as she studied him. There was no way to tell whether Aoshi /was/ hiding something or not, and there was the reasonable possibility that he was merely taking a token interest in the case simply because of that novel twist involving the kimono. He was not the sort of person to ignore things like that. He had been Okashira for far too long, as he himself told her. He never took risks, but he never left things to chance either, which was why he was nearly impossible to read. He was even more difficult to read than Himura, and she herself was too uncertain of her own ground. This was not a matter of exposing one's emotions, or lack thereof, but a comprehensive assessment of another's motives, his deductions, his choices. Whatever they may be, with or without regard to oneself.
But where did he go and what was he doing here at this time of night?
"Misao."
"Oh!" she stuttered, flushing and cursing herself inwardly for her distraction. "Oh, yes, the kimono. Sure." She drew it out of the sack. The kimono was heavy on her arms. As she handed it to him, that strange gray dust rose up from its surface, clinging to the suddenly chill air.
She sneezed violently. Mortified, she backed away, covering her mouth with both hands.
"Excuse me--"
Aoshi didn't even glance at her. He was studying the fabric of the kimono, frowning.
"It's very dirty. Thomas-san wanted to clean it but I told him we'd better not touch it until we knew who the real owner was," she said in a muffled voice. She sniffed.
"I see," he said. "However, I think perhaps--"
Thunder rumbled again in the distance, and the window, which she hadn't shut properly, slammed open, hitting the wall beside it loudly. Wind rushed into the room, along with an onslaught of dead leaves, the scent of moist earth, and rain, rattling the shutters and the papers on the table.
The lamp went out.
Misao rushed to close the window. Another blast of wind soaked with cold rainwater hit her on the face, splashing her skin and clothes, as she struggled with the window latch. She was dimly aware of Aoshi coming up to stand close beside her, pushing her hands away, as he fastened the shutter himself. Lightning flashed in the sky, and she saw his face as he turned to look at her, before he shut the window completely.
Her breath was coming out in small, shaking gasps in the sudden darkness.
"You're cold," he said and took another step closer towards her.
Something soft and heavy was wrapped around her shoulders, like an embrace. Her hands came up, reflexively, to touch it, but she found herself gripping the starched cloth of his robe instead. She tried to let go, but she couldn't move, and she realized it was because he was holding onto her as well, painfully, his fingers digging into her very skin. This close his face to her became a pattern of isolated elements -- his strange grey-green eyes, staring at her with an emotion she couldn't define, perhaps only a reflection of the emotion in her own; his hair, darker than shadow, against the paleness of his face; the curve of his cheekbone, sharp and elegantly defined. She traced it with the tips of her fingers, moving downward to his mouth.
And then her fingers were pushed away, and he was kissing her with such violence it would have snapped her head back, if she didn't kiss him back with a similar violence.
She didn't know long it lasted. A second, maybe more than an eternity.
But it was over soon enough.
The entire line of his body stiffened, and he pushed her away, so abruptly she staggered. She put up the back of her hand against her mouth, gazing at him with wide dark eyes.
"Misao," he said, his voice harsh and low. "Misao." He reached for her again, but not before she saw the look on his face. Disgust, contempt. Anger.
"Wait--"
She didn't know she was running until she found herself in the dark corridor outside, stumbling blindly towards the exit way, stumbling on her own feet.
// He pushed her away, so roughly she hit the floor. Bruised, and shaken, she stared up at him uncomprehendingly.
"What are you doing?"
"I told you to stop," he said angrily. "I warned you."
She shook her head as she raised herself painfully to her knees. "I don't--I don't understand. Why--"
"Do I have to tell you again?" he shouted. "I'm not going to risk this. I'm not going to risk anything else for you."
"Why?" she cried. "Don't I mean anything to you at all? Didn' t you tell me that you," her voice fell away as she stared at his hard furious face, "loved me," she finished blankly.
He laughed shortly. "Don't be stupid."
"Loved me," she repeated, in a different voice. "You don't. You never did."
He shrugged but he avoided her eyes. "How was I to know you'd take it so seriously?" He squared his shoulders and glared at her. "I'm telling you, you have to behave yourself. I will not answer to the consequences should you do otherwise."
"Don't do this," she said. "I'm warning you."
"You're warning me!?" he burst out incredulously before his face darkened. Then he reached out and hit her on the face, hard. Blood spurted out of her mouth. She didn't flinch.
"Very well," he sneered. "If that's the way you want it. I'm not going to do anything else for you. Leave me out of it." He strode out of the room.
She stared emptily at the space of her for a long, long time. The sunlight was bright on her face. She felt its heat as tangibly as the imprint of his hand on her face, as her own anger.
Then she roused herself and stood up.
She had things to do. //
End Chapter 2
Note: This isn't just vague, it's also morbid and disoriented and all of it at the same time ;_; I'm not sure even now that I want the story to take this direction -- I mean to say that after writing and deciding on this chapter there's another unexpected and dubious ramification to the plot (i.e., it's not just a ghost story anymore goddammit) -- but oh oh it would be a more logical explanation for Misao -- I'm trying to keep her in character, just sort of, for a hopefully intelligible reason, argh. And there's Aoshi, who defeats logic sometimes. Bad boi.
And I don't really have to write OLH any more after this, do I? ;_; As the dynamic is basically the same, only this time, it's a hell of a lot more confused.
Rurouni Kenshin copyright Nobuhiro Watsuki
Chapter 2.
NOTE: This story is a sequel (or, if not, a follow-up story) to "A Road Less Traveled," and it takes place nearly a year after the events outlined in the latter. Furthermore, "Angelus," like Road, does not follow the RK storyline in terms of the manga ending, though there might be a reference or two lurking somewhere in the later chapters. While the reader does not really have to read Road first in order to understand this story, Angelus does make a lot of references to aforementioned. Those who are interested can find Road here:
groups.yahoo.com/files/niaiserie
Please ignore the chapter before this one (that is, the 'Chapter 2' linked in FF.net -- it's a bogus copy; I've tried replacing the text but it keeps coming up with the same thing. This is the complete Chapter 2 and what should be Chapter 3. I've just decided to integrate the two chapters.
Note: // // - flashback sequences
-- -- - thoughts
TO FF.NET REVIEWERS -- You can find Road in the yahoogroups address indicated above. You will have to subscribe to the list before you can access the files though, as it is a restricted group ^^; Sorry for the inconvenience. Road is in the Serials directory. So are the HTML copies of Angelus. FF.net keeps spitting out my htm /and/ Word files. Blah.
Thanks for the interest! ^_^
Tin
http://www.livejournal.com/~pornkings
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/niaiserie
Draft: May 24, 2003
She didn't sleep well that night. She kept waking up in between intervals. It was the heat, she told herself. Kyoto in high summer was humid, always on the verge of a sudden thunderstorm that never came. She finally dozed off towards dawn, and when she woke up, the sun was already high in the sky. Misao stared blankly at the ceiling first, feeling the heat of sunlight on her neck and shoulders, and then rolled out of her futon in a hurry, mumbling and cursing. She threw on an old tattered haori over her sleeping robe and ran out into the hallway.
Kuro must have come in already with his report. If he had seen someone trying to break into Thomas's shop, he would need orders on how to proceed. What kind of Okashira was she that she couldn't even brief her men on time? And why didn't they /wake/ her? She skid to a stop in front of the kitchen door and slid it open as fast as she could.
"Kuro, I am so sorry..." Color rushed to her face as she saw who was sitting on the kitchen table. She slid the door shut behind her with suddenly nerveless fingers, her eyes widening. "Aoshi-sama? What are /you/ doing here?"
"Kuro has already left," said Aoshi after what seemed to her an eternity later. "He came in very early this morning. As it turned out, I was already awake. He told me of what happened last night."
"Oh," stammered Misao. "Did--did he?" She opened her mouth to mutter an automatic apology and then closed it. She had not told him or Okina of her plans. When she and Thomas arrived in the Aoiya, she had left him with Okon and Omasu -- who welcomed him with delighted cries and knowing winks and wouldn't hear of Misao taking him first to Okina -- while she went on to the kitchen to talk to Kuro. He had agreed instantly to her request.
Well, I /am/ Okashira, despite what that means in my position, she thought now, resentfully. Why should I be nervous? Just because it's him...
It was then that she remembered she was wearing nothing more than a thin sleeping robe and an equally disreputable haori. Which, she realized with sudden horror, belonged to him. He used to wear it when he stayed with her and Haanya and the others in the Aoiya, just before they left her with Okina for good. He had forgotten to take the haori. Or perhaps he left it deliberately. She had kept it with her ever since, much like a favorite blanket. She tugged it around her now, hoping he wouldn't notice.
-- Why should he? --
Aoshi picked up his tea cup then put it back down again. "You look tired," he said after another pause. "Couldn't you sleep?"
Misao made a belated effort to fix her hair, which was coming apart from its loose braid. When she noticed him watching her, she dropped her hand. She didn't meet his eyes. "Yes. It was--hot last night." She shook her head slightly. "Aoshi-sama, what did Kuro tell you? Did he see someone in Thomas-san's shop after all?"
"No," said Aoshi. "No one came." He closed his hand slowly around his cup. "That doesn't mean anything though. Kuro is already resting. I asked Shiro to do it instead."
She frowned. "To do what?"
"Look for news," he replied in his cool voice. "I know the Aoiya receives a fairly frequent batch of intelligence reports about goings-on in the city, but I was thinking of something more specific."
Misao blinked at him, wondering what he was driving at, when she understood. "Yes, yes, of course. I should have thought of it sooner." She rubbed her eyes vigorously. "It's just that when we send Shiro or Kuro or the others out, it's usually to look for items in a grocery list." She tried to smile, though her eyes were smarting. "And when I think of intelligence reports, it's usually in the context of another boring political squabble or stuff like that."
She knew that was not true. She knew that Okina did send the other Oniwabanshuu out on missions she had no knowledge about, and she had no doubt that /he/ had something to do with it as well. And while the reports they received, or at least those that she saw, /were/ nothing more than statistical enumerations of the latest catfights between government functionaries, she knew there were a lot more she hadn't seen and which were definitely about /other/ things. She hadn't confronted Okina about it yet -- he would just deny it incessantly and they would quarrel -- and she simply didn't know how to confront Aoshi. She could ask him now, straight out, or make a sarcastic hurting comment -- she was in such a mood, had been for weeks -- but what would be the use?
-- That's always how it is. --
"I know you send the Oniwabanshuu out for things other than grocery items, Misao," he said, to her surprise. She gaped at him. "Okina told me you were using Shiro to blackmail the head of the fire prevention department, for instance." His voice was mild, almost carefully neutral. There was no hint of reproach in his tone, but something about the way he said it, perhaps the fact that he was saying it at all, knowing what he did, because it was /him/, got to her.
"If by blackmail you mean threatening to tell his wife about his stupid courting of useless women left and right unless he got off his lazy ass and actually did something about his job," she burst out unthinkingly, "then, yes, I do use the Oniwabanshuu for stuff other than shopping in the market. I also send them to rescue cats that climb too high up roofs and trees." She gave him a defiant stare. "And I make them round up the neighborhood delinquents to clean temples and do the laundry for sick old women. I know it sounds stupid--"
"I wasn't criticizing you," he said. His face was inscrutable as always, but one eyebrow was raised ever so slightly. "But--"
"But that isn't what the Oniwabanshuu is for, is it?" she interrupted him. "Where is the /honor/ and /glory/ in helping cats and snitching on old bureaucrats and--and watching out for insignificant gaijin dressmakers?" She knew she should stop, that she was making herself look ridiculous, but she couldn't. Her mouth just seemed to be perpetually working on automatic whenever she got close to him. That was how it had always been between the both of them, but she knew also that there was something different about it now, ever since... She tried to stop.
-- Why should you? --
"But how could someone like /me/ know what being an Oniwabanshuu and being an Okashira are about, right, Aoshi-sama?" she continued. "It's impossible, and you know why? Because I have absolutely no idea! Because no one would tell me! So if you think what I'm doing is wrong, and silly, then you tell me how to do things, because /you/ obviously know how to do it right. You would know, wouldn't you, Aoshi-sama? Because--"
She stopped.
He stood up from the table and walked toward her. She clutched the haori tighter around her shoulders as he approached.
He slid the door open and she moved away from the doorway.
"No," he said without looking at her as he stepped out. "I wouldn't know."
She was still sitting in the kitchen table when Okon and Omasu bustled in, chatting happily. They stopped talking when they saw her. She hadn't yet gone back to her room to dress or even wash. She was staring at Aoshi's tea cup, which he had left on the table. The green liquid inside looked colorless in the warm light flooding through the open shutters into the kitchen.
"Misao?" said Okon, approaching her hesitantly. "Are you all right?"
She didn't answer.
Omasu laid a worried hand on her shoulder. "You look horrible." She bent down to peer at Misao's face.
"Have you been crying?"
She shook her head slowly. "No. I--I just--woke up."
She felt rather than saw Omasu exchange a glance with Okon over her head.
"I see," Omasu finally said. Then, "Would you like some more tea?" She made a clucking sound. "That looks cold. You haven't even touched it!"
"It isn't--" Misao hesitated, then stood up, faltering, before she put out a hand on the table to steady herself. "Whoa. I'm out of it, aren't I? I knew I shouldn't have stayed up too late reading those crappy love stories." She tried to laugh. "Thanks for the offer anyway, Omasu. I think I'd better go change now. Jiya probably has a lot of errands for me to run. Have you gone shopping already? You should have woken me up."
"It's no big deal," said Okon after another glance at Omasu. "You were looking tired last night, so we let you sleep in. Besides, Okina will boss you around the entire day so we thought we should spare you what we could. And now you owe us." Misao's smile seemed to widen a bit at that. "He said something about hiring an open carriage for Kenshin-san and Kaoru-san. He's getting rather carried away."
"And the horses will be wearing matching bonnets, designed exclusively by Thomas-san," said Omasu.
This time, Misao's laughter sounded genuine. "You mean Jiya met him?"
Omasu smirked. "Let's just say it was love at first sight."
"The dirty old man!" exclaimed Okon. "Milkmaid skirts! Honestly!"
"You should have seen them," said Omasu. "If you'd only stayed up instead of--" Okon nudged her sharply. Omasu coughed. "Well, we'll tell you about it later after you've dressed."
"Where is Thomas-san by the way?" Misao asked.
Okon shrugged and began to unload the contents of her basket, Omasu following suit quickly. "He went back to the shop with Shiro. He said to tell you he'd be back tomorrow. Okina invited him to the dinner party."
"Did he take the kimono with him?" said Misao, as if as an afterthought.
"What? Oh, what that suspicious young man left," Okon replied. "No. He said you didn't want him to. He really wanted to get started on it last night but--"
Misao pushed her hair absently away from her face. "Well, unless we're sure about the identity of who really owns that kimono, I think we should leave it alone. I'm glad he left it here though. Where is it now?"
Omasu was already busy at the oven. "What? The kimono? It's in our room. We didn't even take it out of that smelly old sack. Why? Are you worried about Thomas-san handling the stuff? He won't ruin the fabric."
"No," said Misao quietly as she headed towards the door. "I'm not worried."
"Well, of course, there's the expense," continued Omasu. "But I've known Thomas-san to work for next to nothing as long as he's interested in the material. He told me this is the first time he's encountered something like that kimono. I didn't get to see it last night but he said you did. What does it look like anyway? Is that what you're planning to give Kaoru-san? Misao?" She turned when no one answered. "Ara? Misao-chan?"
Okon shook her head and motioned at the open doorway.
Omasu sighed. "That girl has been acting /so/ strange!"
"Do you think we should tell Aoshi-sama?"
"He's probably noticed himself," replied Okon. "Ohhhh, I could wring their necks. Why can't they just talk about it?"
Omasu was silent for a moment. "I think Misao is tired."
Okon blinked. "What do you mean?"
"After what happened that last time..." Okon shook her head again.
"It isn't like Misao to give up. Do you think she still blames herself for what happened?"
"It wouldn't surprise me. But there's more to it than we think, Okon." Omasu picked up her knife and began to peel a carrot. "There are some things even Misao can't bear, and which Aoshi-sama probably doesn't know how to," she added cryptically.
Omasu made a face. "I still want to wring their necks."
Omasu glanced at the untouched cup of tea. "I hope they do it themselves."
"I give them a week."
"Less."
"Deal."
Okina not only kept her 'busy' the next couple of days, he practically ran her ragged. Misao collapsed on her futon that night, feeling more tired than she had ever been the past several weeks. But it was a sort of tiredness that she could bear, that made her feel alive, somewhat. She smiled a little to herself as she closed her eyes. She wondered if it had been deliberate on Okina's part. He was not so blind as he was pretending to be. On the other hand, he might just be too distracted to care, busy as he was concocting, even for him, the most outrageous plans for Kaoru and Kenshin's trip to Kyoto, including but not limited to flower-decorated carriages, monogrammed horse bonnets, a poetry competition for the neighborhood girls, and an overnight stay in a rather risque bath house in one of the more notorious nightlife districts for Kenshin.
"And for me and Shiro and Kuro and Aoshi and Sano, of course, if he comes. And Thomas-san," added Okina. "Just for old times sake." He stroked the ribbon on his beard and cackled.
"What old times?" demanded Okon.
"You girls can go to another bath house, if you want," said Okina airily.
Okon glared at him and whipped out a piece of paper from her kimono.
"Omasu and I have already reserved rooms at Taki-san's," she declared, waving the paper in the air. "That's where they're going."
"What?" Okina shrieked. "Who goes to that dinky corny place? All those stupid hearts and scary open-air concerts and that frightful old maid Taki--"
"Who goes to perverted bath houses?" Okon shot back.
"It's just one last night of love," said Okina. "Himura will appreciate it."
"Kaoru-san won't," said Okon. "And where's the love in boring half-dressed courtesans stuffing you with badly cooked sushi?" She shook a finger at Okina. "Don't answer that." Then she smiled maliciously. "Besides, you know Kaoru-san. She's a very polite girl but you'll be lucky if she she leaves you with one leg standing to hop after pretty girls once she finds out what you're planning."
Normally Misao would have joined in. She had a little brilliant idea of her own, involving lots of sake, missing futon, and a pinch of this and that on Himura's food, just to be sure. But she didn't say anything. Okina looked at her speculatively, seemed about to say something, and was jabbed in the ribs by a fierce-eyed Okon. He cleared his throat.
"Misao, what are you standing there for? Go clean Kaoru's room," he said instead.
Misao sighed. "I've cleaned it for like a hundred times already, Jiya."
"Then clean Himura's room."
"Likewise."
"Did you put up the diagram?"
".... Jiya, are you sure?"
"Sure I'm sure," exclaimed Okina. He shot her an exaggerated glare, putting up his fists and striking a pose, just like he always did when they were about to fall on each other over another inane happy argument. "Why, are you telling me I'm wrong? Are you telling me--"
"All right, Jiya." She turned and walked back towards Kenshin's room.
Okon jabbed him again. Okina put down his fists slowly.
"She should have been dragging me by the beard," Misao heard Okina mutter. "Or at the very least trying to severe my jugular."
"What, like this?"
"Okon! To do such things to a helpless old man!"
"Quiet. Now how much?"
"Fifty."
"Fine."
"On the other hand," said Okina in a distinctly crafty voice, "how about my lovely bath house against your cheap rabu hotel?"
"You're on, old man."
Now what in the world did that mean, Misao wondered vaguely. She knew she was missing something. She was missing a lot of things these days. Shiro at least had told her that he had nothing to report yet. She hadn't missed /that/. Misao slid her blanket up to her chin, listening to the humming of the cicadas outside in the garden. Her body ached all over. That was good. She should be able to sleep more easily and wouldn't have to meet Kenshin and Kaoru in the station looking like she had just rolled out of bed and wouldn't mind getting back there this very instant. Yesterday morning's encounter with Aoshi rose to her mind; she pushed the memory away with some impatience, some sadness. She tried to think of seeing her friends again tomorrow, to look forward to it. But all she could feel again was that same emptiness. It wasn't much better than thinking about Aoshi.
This was not only disorienting, it was also unfair. There was this one thing which she /should/ be happy about. There was no use associating it with--other things. She had thought that she was a better person than that. When she had read Kaoru's letter, she was even beginning to believe it, was still strong enough to doubt her feelings and assert herself despite them. Even then she had been so sure. Was it only two days ago?
She turned her head to look out into the darkness through the shogi screens which were half-open to the night. At least she didn't see him. She didn't ask the others where he was and they didn't tell her.
Maybe she wouldn't dream about it tonight.
As it turned out, it was Kaoru who saw her first. Misao was standing on the platform, craning her neck and looking left and right for the bright copper flash of Himura's hair, which was as distinct and unmistakable as lighthouse signal in a military installation, when she was engulfed by a blur of pale yellow and rose. She blinked, and the blur resolved itself into an impression of Kaoru's familiar blue eyes and warm smile as the other girl drew back, and then embraced her again.
"Misao-chan! It is so good to see you!"
She hugged Kaoru back as tightly as she could.
"Hisashiburi, Kaoru-san," she said, when she could speak.
She saw Kenshin over Kaoru's shoulder, carrying their bags. He smiled at her, and something in her heart loosened a little at the sight of his face, at Kaoru's presence. She smiled back and waved.
Kaoru stepped away a fraction. "Mou. It's been such a long time, Misao-chan. Let me look at you!" Her eyes were frank and inquiring, as always. Misao tried to meet her gaze directly like she always did. Kaoru frowned a little, a sort of tension flickering in her eyes. Misao stiffened.
"Why, you haven't grown a single bit, Misao-chan," she exclaimed indignantly. "Aren't you taking the pills Megumi and I sent you? They're supposed to be very efficacious--"
She pretended to scowl at Kaoru. "What do you mean I haven't grown? I /so/ did grow! Just because /I'm/ not getting married doesn't mean I'm automatically undernourished! And whoever said I needed those stupid pills?" She poked her chest. "You wanna compare--"
"I'm ready when you are!" Kaoru declared.
Kenshin coughed.
"Misao-dono, it is good to see you," he said and approached her, holding out his hand with his usual gentle smile.
"Himura! You sly shrimp!"
Misao ignored the hand and flung her arms around him, making sure she slugged him in the process. She felt him relax very slightly against her for the smallest fraction of a moment, as if he were reassured by something, before he flopped exaggeratedly in her arms, bent over backwards.
"Oroooooo...."
She grinned at Kaoru, who grinned back, but not before she saw that look in her eyes again.
"Well," Misao said brightly, "shall we go?"
They chatted loudly together on the way back to the Aoiya, and laughed a great deal and talked about things only people who had not seen each other for a time and people who were avoiding having to talk about other things, would talk about. Kenshin beamed benevolently at them both amd at the world in general as he walked slightly behind them.
"It's a pity about Yahiko staying behind in the dojo," said Misao.
Kaoru waved a hand. "Oh, he'll be all right. Besides Yutaro-kun has just returned for a short visit so the timing is about perfect. They'll keep each other company."
"I still say you should have tied at least /one/ of them up," said Misao.
They snickered. Kenshin fell behind a few steps prudently.
"So, when are Sano and Megumi coming over then?"
"Just as soon as Megumi finishes treating this latest patient of hers," Kaoru replied. "She couldn't leave him alone, the state he's in, and besides she's still waiting for Dr. Genzai to return from his vacation. Sano decided to wait for her." She winked.
"Oh," said Misao. "I mean, that's great. Who would have thought the rooster head had it in him?"
"You'd be surprised," said Kaoru with a little laugh. "Did I ever tell you about our stay in that old mansion--?"
"You wrote about it," said Misao and poked her friend slightly. "You said you'd tell me more when we see each other again. What's the big secret? Is it about Sano and Megumi?"
Kaoru glanced away quickly, back at the oblivious-looking Kenshin, and she smiled again, but it was a small distant smile that was gone almost as soon as it appeared. Misao watched her curiously. "Well, something like that. I suppose you could say..." She shook her head and turned back to Misao. "I'll tell you about it when we're alone. And what about you? What about your big secret?"
Misao tensed. "What big secret?"
"There was that one letter, Misao-chan," said Kaoru quietly. Misao glanced at Kenshin. "No. I didn't tell him anything. Don't worry."
"There's nothing to tell anyway," said Misao, pulling away a bit from Kaoru's hold on her arm.
Kaoru tightened her grasp. "Yes, there is. I want to know if you're all right."
"Of course I am."
"Misao, that letter--"
"Kaoru-san, please."
Her friend seemed to hesitate. "I'm sorry for prying. But--"
Misao sighed. "No, it's all right. I just--don't want to talk about it yet. Actually, I'm trying to forget all about it." She tried to smile. "Besides, I'm okay, as you can see."
Kaoru's frown deepened. "If you're sure--"
"Yes," she said, saying it as emphatically as she could. "I'm sure."
Kaoru studied her for a while longer, then she shook her head. "Just remember that if you want to talk about it, I'll be here, Misao-chan. I'll understand."
She nodded and smiled again. "Thank you."
-- No one will ever understand. --
The welcome celebration was a great success, or at least according to those parties who were still sober enough to offer an intelligible opinion later that night. Okina had collared Kenshin early on right after dinner and proceeded to feed him with terrifying quantities of sake as if through a pipeline. The younger man had opened his mouth to protest nervously, Okina had pounced waving the sake bottle like his tonfa, and that was the end of the entire matter. He literally never knew what hit him. The last Misao saw of him he was crawling on hands and knees toward the hallway, where she then glimpsed Kuro picking him up and dangling him upside down, mumbling something about Himura-san is sooo cool let's have another drink, while Okina bellowed rude love songs and slapped another bottle over Kenshin's mouth and Kenshin turned several horrifying shades greener.
Okon and Omasu had latched onto Kaoru in a similar if a more decorous fashion, and all three now disappeared off towards the private rooms, clutching each other and staggering happily, dragging Thomas after them like a cute rag doll on a string. Misao could hear him and Kaoru giggling over a certain 'very very very very pretty dress' and ribbons and lace and petticoats and funny necklines and extremely amusing wedding nights. Thomas, of course, had taken to both Kaoru and Kenshin instantly, to Kaoru's mutual edification and Kenshin's very wary bemusement as Thomas proceeded to stalk him all throughout dinner, eyeing his waistline rather predatorily.
"I am thinking, Kaoru-san, that a few inches less will only be the more divine," said Thomas, with a corresponding angelic smile. "I am sure that Kenshin-san will agree with me."
"He doesn't have to agree," said Kaoru, and giggled once more. "Ne, Kenshin?" She glanced over her shoulder blearily. "Eh? Where's Kenshin?"
Omasu tugged at her sleeve. "Don't worry, Kaoru-san. Okina's still pouring sake down his throat. He won't be breathing until morning."
"Oh, okay," said Kaoru. Then she caught sight of Misao. "Misao-chan! What are you doing there? Aren't you coming? You promised!"
"I'm coming, Kaoru-san," Misao said. "I'm just going to... clear the table."
Luckily, both Okon and Omasu were too drunk to process her response. Kaoru, however, stopped in her tracks, her brow furrowed, then it cleared almost immediately.
"Oh, I get it. You're waiting for Aoshi-san, eh?" She nudged Thomas. "Isn't she a darling?"
"So cute!" trilled Thomas.
"Where'd he go off to anyway?" mumbled Okon. "Ow! OW! I swear, Okina should stop putting these trick mines in the stairs. That old man is sooooo immature!"
"Misao-chaaaan!"
"Yes, yes," Misao called out, waving them off as she stood at the foot of the stairs. "I promise I'll follow, Kaoru-san... Ara, Thomas-san, watch it! Not so hard, Omasu!" She watched them tramp off in the direction of Kaoru's room, listened for another burst of laughter, which was followed very quickly by a collective thump, and then, smiling despite herself, turned back towards the dining area.
The room was a mess of uncleared platters and used sake bottles. Misao glared at the entire table for a moment before she started stacking the dishes one on top of the other, sighing. It could wait until morning but the others would probably be too hung over to do it, and she didn't want to have to ask them to do something later that she was perfectly capable of doing now. She had been doing that for far too long. And getting drunk wouldn't have been an excuse, though it remained a very tempting prospect.
But she wanted to know where he was. He had eaten supper with the rest of them -- she had even glimpsed him smiling at something Himura was saying -- but then disappeared quietly immediately after, because when next she casually glanced at his seat, he was gone. She went on eating quietly, though she noticed Kaoru looking at her pointedly from time to time.
She had managed to draw Shiro aside in the hallway during a lull in the party, along with Thomas. This time, he had news. They didn't talk for long, but they all understood the implications of the conversation.
Misao brought the dishes to the kitchen, half-expecting to find Okina and everyone else there, but to her surprise she found it empty. She put the dishes on top of a table and hurried out of the room. She peered out at the veranda, saw no one there, then retreated to the common room, where she nearly stumbled on Kenshin's prone body which lay limply on the floor by the doorway like fish about to be skinned. She poked him gingerly in the ribs with a finger, wondering, temporarily awe-struck, if he was still alive. He opened his mouth, as if he were about to let loose a hysterical scream, then closed it again abruptly. She shook her head and looked at the inside of the room, where Okina, Kuro, and Shuro were scattered about the floor in varying, sometimes painfully contorted poses, snoring loudly.
Misao headed quietly for the stairs. She checked Kaoru's room first and found everyone there already predictably keeled over. She then went into an empty guest bedroom, just down the corridor, which Okon used as a walk-in storage cabinet, where she collected blankets, after which she went back to Kaoru's room, and, finally, to the common room. Okina wasn't too amenable to her attempts to tuck him in with a blanket. He kept trying to pry her mouth open.
After she finished she started to walk back to the dining area, paused for a long time, deep in thought, then slowly made her way to the official quarters of the Okashira, a large room that also extended into a library, albeit a private and secret one. The existence of the Oniwabanshuu was public knowledge, as it were, but the mechanisms of their organization were very closely guarded. The Aoiya was riddled with hidden corridors, subterranean passages to other buildings in the compound, dead-end exits, some of which had been rebuilt and reinforced after the Aoiya's partial destruction during the Juppongatana attack more than a year ago. Misao entered one such obscure passageway now, feeling her way in the dark. The door to the office was slightly open. She had left it closed earlier this evening, after her talk with Shiro and Thomas.
She pushed the door on its well-oiled hinges and stepped into the room silently. There was no one inside, though she could barely see in the dark and she couldn't be sure. A single oil lamp burned on the table, but the rest of the room was damp, almost cold. There seemed to be a draft in the air. During the day this room was well-lit and well-ventilated, with the windows open and unshuttered; it faced out onto a small garden bordering the edge of the Aoiya property but which was hidden from view by outsiders and passersby. One of the windows was open now; perhaps the source of the draft. Thunder rumbled in the distance. She stepped fully into the room, when Aoshi spoke,
"Have you heard from Shiro?"
She whirled around. He was sitting in a chair deep in the shadows on the other side of the room. She couldn't see him. If he hadn't spoken, she might never have noticed him at all.
Her steps didn't falter though. They moved toward the window, which she shut quickly, though her hands weren't quite so steady as her feet.
"Yes," she answered. "He told me that an old woman was found dead in her house this morning."
A pause and then, "Murdered?"
Misao shook her head. "According to Shiro, the police aren't so sure. She was tied in a chair but there were no marks of violence on her body." She tried to emulate his calm voice. "There might be a connection to the kimono. According to the dead woman's niece, her aunt had kept several antique kimono in a large steamer trunk, which was found forced open. Shiro is going to try and get a copy of the catalogue of these missing items. Thomas-san's kimono is probably one of them."
"I see," he said. "Where is the kimono?"
"I left it here," she replied. "I was just--going to get it." She opened a drawer of the table, reached in, and held up the old sack. "I'm pretty sure that the man who came to Thomas-san's shop is the thief or, perhaps, a fence. I'm betting on the former. Either way we have to find him."
"How do you propose to do so?"
She hesitated. "A police sketch will be more practical. He may already have a record for all we know. Saitou will."
"You intend to report this to the police then," he said.
Misao shrugged and fiddled with the sack in her hands, her head bent. "There seems to be little choice. Even if the Oniwabanshuu find him first, we still have to turn him in. I'll still keep Shiro on the lookout, just to be sure." When he didn't answer, she finally summoned the courage to look at him.
"Why?" she asked, nervously, after long moments of silence. "Is there something else about this situation that I should know about, Aoshi-sama?"
His voice, when he answered, was calm and modulated as always, almost indifferent.
"Why should you think that?"
"You won't be showing any interest at all otherwise," she replied in as matter-of-fact a voice as she could muster. "This sounds only like a routine robbery--"
"--that is complicated by a suspicious death--"
"--and something else," she finished quietly. "What are you hiding from me? Aoshi-sama?"
There was another silence, then she heard him stand up from his chair.
"Thomas-san told me that there was something peculiar about the stolen kimono," he said coolly. "That is why I am interested. May I see?" He emerged out of the darkness to stand before her within the dim circle of light cast by the oil lamp.
Her lips thinned as she studied him. There was no way to tell whether Aoshi /was/ hiding something or not, and there was the reasonable possibility that he was merely taking a token interest in the case simply because of that novel twist involving the kimono. He was not the sort of person to ignore things like that. He had been Okashira for far too long, as he himself told her. He never took risks, but he never left things to chance either, which was why he was nearly impossible to read. He was even more difficult to read than Himura, and she herself was too uncertain of her own ground. This was not a matter of exposing one's emotions, or lack thereof, but a comprehensive assessment of another's motives, his deductions, his choices. Whatever they may be, with or without regard to oneself.
But where did he go and what was he doing here at this time of night?
"Misao."
"Oh!" she stuttered, flushing and cursing herself inwardly for her distraction. "Oh, yes, the kimono. Sure." She drew it out of the sack. The kimono was heavy on her arms. As she handed it to him, that strange gray dust rose up from its surface, clinging to the suddenly chill air.
She sneezed violently. Mortified, she backed away, covering her mouth with both hands.
"Excuse me--"
Aoshi didn't even glance at her. He was studying the fabric of the kimono, frowning.
"It's very dirty. Thomas-san wanted to clean it but I told him we'd better not touch it until we knew who the real owner was," she said in a muffled voice. She sniffed.
"I see," he said. "However, I think perhaps--"
Thunder rumbled again in the distance, and the window, which she hadn't shut properly, slammed open, hitting the wall beside it loudly. Wind rushed into the room, along with an onslaught of dead leaves, the scent of moist earth, and rain, rattling the shutters and the papers on the table.
The lamp went out.
Misao rushed to close the window. Another blast of wind soaked with cold rainwater hit her on the face, splashing her skin and clothes, as she struggled with the window latch. She was dimly aware of Aoshi coming up to stand close beside her, pushing her hands away, as he fastened the shutter himself. Lightning flashed in the sky, and she saw his face as he turned to look at her, before he shut the window completely.
Her breath was coming out in small, shaking gasps in the sudden darkness.
"You're cold," he said and took another step closer towards her.
Something soft and heavy was wrapped around her shoulders, like an embrace. Her hands came up, reflexively, to touch it, but she found herself gripping the starched cloth of his robe instead. She tried to let go, but she couldn't move, and she realized it was because he was holding onto her as well, painfully, his fingers digging into her very skin. This close his face to her became a pattern of isolated elements -- his strange grey-green eyes, staring at her with an emotion she couldn't define, perhaps only a reflection of the emotion in her own; his hair, darker than shadow, against the paleness of his face; the curve of his cheekbone, sharp and elegantly defined. She traced it with the tips of her fingers, moving downward to his mouth.
And then her fingers were pushed away, and he was kissing her with such violence it would have snapped her head back, if she didn't kiss him back with a similar violence.
She didn't know long it lasted. A second, maybe more than an eternity.
But it was over soon enough.
The entire line of his body stiffened, and he pushed her away, so abruptly she staggered. She put up the back of her hand against her mouth, gazing at him with wide dark eyes.
"Misao," he said, his voice harsh and low. "Misao." He reached for her again, but not before she saw the look on his face. Disgust, contempt. Anger.
"Wait--"
She didn't know she was running until she found herself in the dark corridor outside, stumbling blindly towards the exit way, stumbling on her own feet.
// He pushed her away, so roughly she hit the floor. Bruised, and shaken, she stared up at him uncomprehendingly.
"What are you doing?"
"I told you to stop," he said angrily. "I warned you."
She shook her head as she raised herself painfully to her knees. "I don't--I don't understand. Why--"
"Do I have to tell you again?" he shouted. "I'm not going to risk this. I'm not going to risk anything else for you."
"Why?" she cried. "Don't I mean anything to you at all? Didn' t you tell me that you," her voice fell away as she stared at his hard furious face, "loved me," she finished blankly.
He laughed shortly. "Don't be stupid."
"Loved me," she repeated, in a different voice. "You don't. You never did."
He shrugged but he avoided her eyes. "How was I to know you'd take it so seriously?" He squared his shoulders and glared at her. "I'm telling you, you have to behave yourself. I will not answer to the consequences should you do otherwise."
"Don't do this," she said. "I'm warning you."
"You're warning me!?" he burst out incredulously before his face darkened. Then he reached out and hit her on the face, hard. Blood spurted out of her mouth. She didn't flinch.
"Very well," he sneered. "If that's the way you want it. I'm not going to do anything else for you. Leave me out of it." He strode out of the room.
She stared emptily at the space of her for a long, long time. The sunlight was bright on her face. She felt its heat as tangibly as the imprint of his hand on her face, as her own anger.
Then she roused herself and stood up.
She had things to do. //
End Chapter 2
Note: This isn't just vague, it's also morbid and disoriented and all of it at the same time ;_; I'm not sure even now that I want the story to take this direction -- I mean to say that after writing and deciding on this chapter there's another unexpected and dubious ramification to the plot (i.e., it's not just a ghost story anymore goddammit) -- but oh oh it would be a more logical explanation for Misao -- I'm trying to keep her in character, just sort of, for a hopefully intelligible reason, argh. And there's Aoshi, who defeats logic sometimes. Bad boi.
And I don't really have to write OLH any more after this, do I? ;_; As the dynamic is basically the same, only this time, it's a hell of a lot more confused.