A/N: Look, I enjoy writing this story, but I'm not getting any feedback,
really. (Sorry all my wonderful reviewers!) I don't think I'll continue
past this chapter unless I get SOME sort of response. I'm quite serious
about that, too. Angst WAFF ahead. By the way, what does WAFF stand for? I
know it means fluff but yeah. Here you go then:
Koori no Kaji
Chapter 5: Tadaima (I'm home.)
"That will hold him until the police get here," she turned back to Aoshi. "Let's go home."
Haku immediately began to protest, "LET ME DOWN FROM HERE YOU LITTLE B-"
THWACK!
Misao smiled, twirling one of her kodachis and observing the now unconscious Haku, who had a bump growing on his forehead. When she was sure he wasn't going to wake up any time soon, she turned back to Aoshi. And nearly fainted.
He was slumped on the floor, breathing heavily. She quickly raced to his side and knelt, disregarding the blood on the floor. The extent of his injuries was extremely obvious just by looking at him. His back bled profusely from the wounds the whip had caused and a dark bruise had formed on the side of his face. She also noticed some dried blood in his hair, meaning he'd been hit hard over the head with something.
Carefully, she helped him stagger to his feet. Aoshi tried valiantly to stay standing without her help and nearly fell over again. Misao caught him and said, "It looks like you're not going any where too quickly. Thankfully the Aoiya isn't very far from here. We should be there in no time at all."
She kept on a brave face, but inside she was screaming. She'd never seen the man she admired so hurt and...tired. That's the word. He looked tired. As though the whole world had just collapsed on his shoulders. She was more than willing to help him with that weight, but she knew he'd never accept it. He was just too damn stubborn. Being mindful of his injuries, she slipped her arm around his waist. To her utter and complete surprise, he did not pull away. Instead, he put his arm across her shoulders and leaned on her for support.
Aoshi could feel his defenses slowly crumble for the first time in years. He had known Misao was no longer a child, but the nights events had proved what his heart had already acknowledged for quite some time. But it still shocked him. He had fully expected Misao to rush over to him in tears after the fight, like she often had when she was younger and he was hurt. He had not intended Misao to be stoic, almost brave about the whole situation. It suddenly occurred to him that their usual roles had been switched. It was usually he who came to rescue Misao as the Okashira. How ironic.
He felt her arm around his waist and was for some reason comforted. He put his arm around her shoulders and for once, allowed her to help him. He leaned heavily against her and she led him outside into the cold, snowy night.
~*~*~
They entered the back door of the Aoiya, so as not to disturb anyone. Misao assisted him to his futon and then rushed out, only to return moments later with a bowl of hot water, several rags, and a lot of bandages. Aoshi was sitting staring out the window. Misao sighed and put the supplies down. "Aoshi-sama?"
"I thought I asked you not to call me that."
"Sorry, Aoshi. Could you...uh...take off your shirt?"
Aoshi stared at her, as she blushed a deep shade of crimson.
"Well, I need to bandage you up, which I can't do if you're wearing your shirt."
Aoshi was reluctant to take it off. He didn't want her to see the scars he'd accumulated over the years. So, he remained silent. This did not go over well with Misao's increasingly short temper. She knelt down in front of him and began to undo his shirt. Aoshi caught her wrists in his hands and she glared at him.
"Look, either let me take this bloody shirt off of you, or I will knock you out!"
For one wild moment, Aoshi considered shooting back with a bawdy comment that would have put Sanosuke Sagara to shame. He kept his self control, and decided that if she was going to remove his shirt and treat his injures anyway, he might as well be conscious for it. He dropped her hands.
Misao reached forward again and warily stripped off the garment. Her eyes widened in shock. 'So many scars...' she thought. She glanced up at Aoshi's face, only to find that he'd turned away and was staring out the window again. Slipping around behind him, she began to work on cleaning out the wounds in his back. He did not flinch, though Misao knew it had to be painful.
It didn't take long for her to clean all of the wounds on his back. She cautiously wrapped that cloth bandages around him, covering up the wounds. When she finished, she stood and walked over to his wardrobe. After shuffling around for a few minutes, she produced a thick winter yukata and tossed it to him. Aoshi caught it easily and put it on. Misao bowed and turned to leave, when his voice stopped her.
"You're hurt too."
"Huh?" She had barely noticed her stomach wound. "Oh, this is nothing. Don't worry about it."
"Please come here," it was not a question. She walked back over to where he sat on his futon and knelt.
Aoshi took the last clean rag, dipped it in the still warm water, and began to clean out the wound. She was right, it wasn't fatal. It wouldn't even need stitches, but it looked like hell.
He put down the rag as he finished and said, "I am certain you can dress that on your own."
She nodded and said quietly, "Hai, I can." On sudden impulse, she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips.
Aoshi was surprised to say the least when Misao kissed him. When she started to pull away, Aoshi tucked a hand behind her neck and prevented her escape. They had to pull away moments later, however, to get some air. He smiled at her, noticing the deep blush playing across her face, but she did not look up. Then she stood and murmured, "Gomen ne. Oyasumi nasai, Aoshi- sama." With that, she darted from the room.
Aoshi gently touched his lips and stared after her in a daze. "Oyasumi nasai, Misao-koi."
The shoji suddenly slid open again, breaking Aoshi from his reverie. It was Okina. And he did NOT look happy.
A/N: There. My longest chapter ever. Want me to continue? THEN TELL ME SO!
Koori no Kaji
Chapter 5: Tadaima (I'm home.)
"That will hold him until the police get here," she turned back to Aoshi. "Let's go home."
Haku immediately began to protest, "LET ME DOWN FROM HERE YOU LITTLE B-"
THWACK!
Misao smiled, twirling one of her kodachis and observing the now unconscious Haku, who had a bump growing on his forehead. When she was sure he wasn't going to wake up any time soon, she turned back to Aoshi. And nearly fainted.
He was slumped on the floor, breathing heavily. She quickly raced to his side and knelt, disregarding the blood on the floor. The extent of his injuries was extremely obvious just by looking at him. His back bled profusely from the wounds the whip had caused and a dark bruise had formed on the side of his face. She also noticed some dried blood in his hair, meaning he'd been hit hard over the head with something.
Carefully, she helped him stagger to his feet. Aoshi tried valiantly to stay standing without her help and nearly fell over again. Misao caught him and said, "It looks like you're not going any where too quickly. Thankfully the Aoiya isn't very far from here. We should be there in no time at all."
She kept on a brave face, but inside she was screaming. She'd never seen the man she admired so hurt and...tired. That's the word. He looked tired. As though the whole world had just collapsed on his shoulders. She was more than willing to help him with that weight, but she knew he'd never accept it. He was just too damn stubborn. Being mindful of his injuries, she slipped her arm around his waist. To her utter and complete surprise, he did not pull away. Instead, he put his arm across her shoulders and leaned on her for support.
Aoshi could feel his defenses slowly crumble for the first time in years. He had known Misao was no longer a child, but the nights events had proved what his heart had already acknowledged for quite some time. But it still shocked him. He had fully expected Misao to rush over to him in tears after the fight, like she often had when she was younger and he was hurt. He had not intended Misao to be stoic, almost brave about the whole situation. It suddenly occurred to him that their usual roles had been switched. It was usually he who came to rescue Misao as the Okashira. How ironic.
He felt her arm around his waist and was for some reason comforted. He put his arm around her shoulders and for once, allowed her to help him. He leaned heavily against her and she led him outside into the cold, snowy night.
~*~*~
They entered the back door of the Aoiya, so as not to disturb anyone. Misao assisted him to his futon and then rushed out, only to return moments later with a bowl of hot water, several rags, and a lot of bandages. Aoshi was sitting staring out the window. Misao sighed and put the supplies down. "Aoshi-sama?"
"I thought I asked you not to call me that."
"Sorry, Aoshi. Could you...uh...take off your shirt?"
Aoshi stared at her, as she blushed a deep shade of crimson.
"Well, I need to bandage you up, which I can't do if you're wearing your shirt."
Aoshi was reluctant to take it off. He didn't want her to see the scars he'd accumulated over the years. So, he remained silent. This did not go over well with Misao's increasingly short temper. She knelt down in front of him and began to undo his shirt. Aoshi caught her wrists in his hands and she glared at him.
"Look, either let me take this bloody shirt off of you, or I will knock you out!"
For one wild moment, Aoshi considered shooting back with a bawdy comment that would have put Sanosuke Sagara to shame. He kept his self control, and decided that if she was going to remove his shirt and treat his injures anyway, he might as well be conscious for it. He dropped her hands.
Misao reached forward again and warily stripped off the garment. Her eyes widened in shock. 'So many scars...' she thought. She glanced up at Aoshi's face, only to find that he'd turned away and was staring out the window again. Slipping around behind him, she began to work on cleaning out the wounds in his back. He did not flinch, though Misao knew it had to be painful.
It didn't take long for her to clean all of the wounds on his back. She cautiously wrapped that cloth bandages around him, covering up the wounds. When she finished, she stood and walked over to his wardrobe. After shuffling around for a few minutes, she produced a thick winter yukata and tossed it to him. Aoshi caught it easily and put it on. Misao bowed and turned to leave, when his voice stopped her.
"You're hurt too."
"Huh?" She had barely noticed her stomach wound. "Oh, this is nothing. Don't worry about it."
"Please come here," it was not a question. She walked back over to where he sat on his futon and knelt.
Aoshi took the last clean rag, dipped it in the still warm water, and began to clean out the wound. She was right, it wasn't fatal. It wouldn't even need stitches, but it looked like hell.
He put down the rag as he finished and said, "I am certain you can dress that on your own."
She nodded and said quietly, "Hai, I can." On sudden impulse, she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips.
Aoshi was surprised to say the least when Misao kissed him. When she started to pull away, Aoshi tucked a hand behind her neck and prevented her escape. They had to pull away moments later, however, to get some air. He smiled at her, noticing the deep blush playing across her face, but she did not look up. Then she stood and murmured, "Gomen ne. Oyasumi nasai, Aoshi- sama." With that, she darted from the room.
Aoshi gently touched his lips and stared after her in a daze. "Oyasumi nasai, Misao-koi."
The shoji suddenly slid open again, breaking Aoshi from his reverie. It was Okina. And he did NOT look happy.
A/N: There. My longest chapter ever. Want me to continue? THEN TELL ME SO!