Standard disclaimers apply. Hope you enjoy.
Nagai Aida
by Sigel Phoenix
Her beauty was soft. Like the pressure of starlight, a snowfall's whisper.
Not soft in feature; her eyes were bright, keen, vibrant, and her laughter clear and strong. Her temper, too, was far from gentle, quick and sharp enough to thoroughly merit her nickname of weasel. But the presence of it, and the awareness of its affect on him, were deceptively soft. He wouldn't know until she smiled that it was so easy for her to make him breathless.
He felt the sleek flow of her hair through his fingers, saw the flash of clear blue as her eyes flickered up at his. Closing his eyes, he drew toward her, to feel that soft, infinitely soft, brush of her lips ...
And opened his eyes, his hand closing around nothingness as the world shifted back into focus. He was in an empty room, his temporary guest quarters at the Kamiya dojo, and Misao in hers; and her eyes and lips and laugh were very distinctly not there with him.
You need to get a hold of yourself, Shinomori. He'd been thinking of her far too often as of late; his mind was beset with images of her, waking and asleep. She had appeared in his dreams often in the past month or so, and every night since they set out from Kyoto; in them, he knew what it felt like to kiss her, to have her close. Some dreams were more innocent, with only a simple touch. Some were less so.
Fortunately for Aoshi, his body had kept working while his mind was occupied with his visions, and had continued dressing for the group picnic that was set to begin soon. It wouldn't have done for Misao to come in and find him standing half-clothed and staring stupidly. She had been so excited for the event, a reunion party of sorts, that he wouldn't be surprised if she were already dressed, or if Kaoru had managed to get her into a kimono as she'd been threatening.
Actually, such a phenomenon had occurred recently, back in Kyoto; Misao had, amid vocal protestations, donned a kimono for the festival several weeks back. Her grumbling had even been somewhat half-hearted, and Okon had teased that it was a sign that there was a girl in her yet. The thought of her petulant response, followed by constant, self-consciously surreptitious adjustment of her attire, brought a small smile to Aoshi's lips.
Of course, it had also been that night in which his notice of her had been sharply revised; when the niggling sense that she was not a little girl anymore could no longer be quietly squashed and paved over with more comfortable, familiar thoughts. At first, he'd forced himself to think of her exuberance in terms of childish enthusiasm instead of the passionate nature of a woman. The young men who turned appreciative eyes on her were mere adolescents; and when she fell asleep during the fireworks, the illusion was maintained. The reason for her tiredness was a sleepless night spent poring over Oniwabanshuu paperwork; still, when he picked up her slight frame and carried her back to the Aoiya, she was just little Misao-chan, worn out after a full day of celebration. Carrying her to her room, she'd been a little girl, and stayed that way when he found that her hand clutched tightly to his yukata in her sleep. But, as he disentangled her fingers, they'd been disturbingly long and graceful in his grasp, and her countenance in sleep disconcertingly lovely.
It was just as well he stopped himself from doing anything rash that night, simply in response to physical attraction. He had time, and he took it, to consider the situation carefully from every angle ... Yet love was a far cry from a spy mission, and once he'd accepted his condition for what it was, he found himself at a loss as to how to handle it.
Aoshi frowned slightly at his reflection in a nearby mirror. Not being able to do something was a largely alien and most distressing situation for him. But he was sadly inexperienced when it came to emotional interactions, especially with people outside of a combat setting. Misao could beat him at something, after all.
"Aoshi-sama," called a voice that managed to send a thrill up his spine despite its familiarity, "Are you ready yet?"
He could see her silhouette through the shoji, hopping a little from one foot to the other, and his mouth twitched in a smile once more.
"Aa," he answered quietly, moving to slide open the door. The sight that greeted him was incongruous, the petite kunoichi he knew in a dark blue kimono meant for a young woman. It wasn't an altogether unpleasant one, though. "Is that Kaoru's kimono?"
"Yeah." She laughed and tugged at her braid self-consciously, as if she realized how out of place it seemed on her. "Do you like it?"
Aoshi gazed down for a moment at the bright sapphire eyes that looked at him eagerly, the small mouth that danced in a smile as if aware of a secret joke. "It suits you well."
Her eyes widened the smallest amount before she recovered and flashed him her usual grin. "We should go now, the others are here." And she ran lightly down the hall, to where he could already hear the voices of Sanosuke and Yahiko greeting each other in their usual violent manner.
Aoshi followed at a more sedate pace, watching her braid as it bounced behind her, and pondered. Anytime he was around Misao, he found himself drawn to her; and he was grown weary of trying to content himself with solitary reflections of how he wanted to be with her. Yet still he remained, plagued with hesitations and frustrations. Much as he disliked to admit it, he knew was afraid to take action on his yearnings.
He could just imagine if his men were still alive; they'd be laughing at him, he knew they would. He was their okashira, had led them unflinchingly through countless battles, and he was scared of little Misao-chan.
The problem is, she's not little anymore, he mused, pausing to observe as Misao practically pounced on her friends. She was once as physically affectionate with him; he could still remember her chubby little girl hand latching onto his larger, callused one and tugging him along behind her excitedly. After his return, however, even after he gradually emerged from his isolated state, she'd maintained a small but noticeable physical distance. Hers was not an unusual behavior; everyone at the Aoiya knew he was more comfortable that way, but he wondered how to let her know that he wouldn't mind, if she would throw her arms around him as she did to Sanosuke.
"Watch out, Weasel Girl -- dressed like that, someone could mistake you for a woman!" Sanosuke was already ducking as he finished the statement, to avoid a punch swung at his head.
Perhaps Aoshi wouldn't wish her to be that familiar with him ... but still, the idea of having Misao comfortable enough to express her feelings for him was an alluring prospect.
Soon, he assured himself. When ... the time is right.
Beside Sanosuke stood Megumi, dressed in her own brightly colored kimono. She caught sight of him before the other two, and her eyes shifted from him to Misao and back again speculatively. Aoshi raised his eyebrow slightly, and she smiled, greeting him warmly. He nodded in response; he and Megumi had been on much friendlier terms as of late, a fact of which he was glad.
Yahiko stood with the other new arrival, Tsubame from the Akabeko; the former waved, the latter smiling shyly. Kenshin and Kaoru emerged from the kitchen with the picnic supplies, and Aoshi joined the entire group as they set off together; though amidst the familiar chatter, he remained silent, his eyes and ears trained on one person only.
The picnic had been as he'd expected: food, friends, and a nonstop flow of talk and laughter. It had ended as he'd expected, as well, with Kenshin and Kaoru excusing themselves to take a private walk along the river, and Yahiko and Tsubame breaking away to a snug shelter of trees nearby -- a less private hideaway for their less established relationship.
The only ones left were himself, Misao, Megumi, and Sanosuke, who was drunk -- also expected, Aoshi supposed -- and drowsing comfortably on his lover's lap. Megumi endured his appropriation of herself as an impromptu pillow with affectionate exasperation. She maintained a conversation with Misao, but the intimacy, however casual, of her and Sano's arrangement was clear to the younger woman. The current circumstances must have made her doubly aware that she and Aoshi were surrounded by pairs of smitten lovers. It was not long before she, too, pardoned herself and headed off alone, in the opposite direction Kenshin and Kaoru had gone.
Aoshi tensed when she walked away, not because she had left him alone in the inescapably romantic atmosphere, but because of the potential opportunity that lay in following her.
"You don't have to be polite, Aoshi," Megumi told him, amusement in her eyes. "I know you want to go with her."
He remained silent for a moment to regard her. "You're a perceptive woman, you know."
"It comes with being a doctor."
Aoshi turned his gaze upward to study the clear blue of the sky. It made him think of Misao's eyes. I really am hopeless.
Megumi shifted a little, adjusting Sano's head more comfortably on her lap. The young man mumbled a little without awakening; he looked perfectly content. "She has been waiting for a long time."
"I know. If I say the wrong thing, I might disappoint her." It was strange, that he was discussing romantic prospects -- perhaps even confiding in -- a woman with whom he had maintained an ambivalent relationship for so long. The idea of Aoshi needing advice on love, of all things, was a bewildering concept in and of itself; but he found any surprise or reluctance overshadowed by an almost breathless eagerness for the possible outcome of his current actions.
"Believe me, finesse is not a requirement," Megumi laughed, waving her hand dismissively. "If it was, I would have refused this chicken head a thousand times. But that would have been stupid; even if he is an idiot, he makes me happy." She looked squarely at Aoshi, and her voice took on a more serious tone. "Misao-chan deserves to be happy. You do, too."
Megumi was an older sister to Misao almost as much as she was to Kaoru. Perhaps that was why he was willing to put his trust in her. "She does."
"Hurry up and catch her."
"Aa." He inclined his head to her, both in thanks and to excuse himself, then headed toward where Misao had disappeared.
She was easy to find; she was moving at a slow pace, and hadn't gotten very far. At the moment, she was standing in the middle of the path among the trees, her eyes closed and face upturned to the sunshine and sakura petals raining down. A light breeze teased the hair around her face, sweeping it back as if with gentle fingers. The slightest of smiles curved her lips, and Aoshi distractedly reminded himself to breathe.
Beautiful.
"Misao."
"Hm?" She opened her eyes and looked at him, and he had a fleeting wish that she wouldn't. Much as he loved looking at her eyes, and loved seeing them focused on him with such unmistakable affection, at the moment they were rather distracting. He knew that Megumi had told him that charming words were unnecessary, but right now those eyes demanded the most eloquent speech he could give.
Fortunately, she spoke before he had to. "Did Megumi-san ask you to leave? Or I bet it was Sanosuke, right?" She wrinkled her nose, giggling. "Let me guess -- he woke up and wanted to be alone with Megumi-san, so he kicked you out."
Aoshi relaxed and felt the amusement warm him as he shook his head. "No. I came myself, to see you."
"Oh." She blinked. "What?" Her face colored quickly as she realized her rudeness. "I mean -- no! That's fine! You can walk wherever you want, right?" she said awkwardly, and laughed.
Laugh again, he thought, then immediately changed his mind. He wanted her to be quiet, so he could kiss her. But even as he felt the need to touch her, he wanted to stand and do nothing, simply drinking in the sight of her. The jumbled thoughts translated into motion, and he took a step toward her.
Misao watched curiously as he approached, as if trying to puzzle him out. He knew she was confused by his behavior; but he didn't say another word as he walked up to her, stopping only when they were inches away from each other. He looked down at Misao, whose lips were parted slightly as if she wanted to say something, but didn't know what; he watched her breathing rapidly in her nervousness. He couldn't remember the last time they had been this close to each other, and his own heart had quickened its pace.
"Um," she said, but he cut her off when he lifted his hand and lifted a stray petal that had lodged in her hair. His fingers brushed her cheek in the movement, and he watched her eyes widen, as they had earlier. This time, the smile that followed was smaller, softer, more hopeful.
"Misao," he said again, rather inanely; but from the look on her face that one word uttered from his lips was worth more than any suave or clever line he could deliver. "I want to tell you --"
"Aoshi-sama ..." she interrupted quietly.
"Yes?"
"Are you going to kiss me now or not?"
He knew she could feel the smile on his lips as he acquiesced, closing the remaining distance between them swiftly. She kissed him back with inexpert but expressive fervor, tugging him down by the collar of his yukata and pressing closer to him. She had been waiting a long time, after all; he understood her impatience, and welcomed her eagerness.
Satisfaction and relief settling on his mind, he took the opportunity to secure his hold on her, testing how his arms felt around her; it was like in his dream, only this time he knew what it was like to have her responding just as avidly. Her kiss wasn't quite the same, not as soft; but sweetly awkward, and it infused him with the same warmth, a thousand times magnified.
She laid her hand against his cheek, and her touch was like electricity; he broke the kiss off gently, before he lost complete sense of their surroundings. Her fingers trailed down his jaw as she opened her eyes.
"We should remember where we are," he murmured, even as he shifted his hold to settle her more firmly against him.
She gave him a languid smile. "No, we shouldn't." Already his eyes were drawn down to her lips again as she said, "I don't think the others will be looking for us for a long time."
He kissed her again, slowly. He could see no reason to argue. Even if anyone came upon them, he'd fight them off before letting her go. Misao, for her part, looked content enough that he doubted she would dispute his response.
She eyed him carefully; the look on her face reminded him of the one she would give the other Oniwabanshuu when she was a little girl, trying to determine who was the one who had played a joke on her. "So you'll stay?"
"Aa."
"Good," she said, and grabbed his hand, tugging him off the path to find someplace more private.