Chapter 2 : Reminisce The Past
What this? What this? Pretty tears?
Megumi cringed at the voice, shaking her head wildly and clutching at her temples. That voice… that strange melodic voice, so very child-like and yet so very evil… "Leave me alone", she whispered, her voice almost non-existent, her throat so raw she could barely breathe.
A throaty chuckle.
Pretty. So, so pretty. How pretty does Pretty scream?
"Leave me alone!!". The scream of rage that tore out of her throat encompassed all her emotions – anger at having her mind violated, fear of what that voice embodied, hysteria that signaled she couldn't take much of this any longer.
Her sanity was at stake here.
"… me alone".
Curious, Aoshi glanced down at the sleeping woman snuggled up against him, blissfully unconscious of that particular fact. Deep in slumber, she appeared so much more fragile than usual. She had slipped out of her serene and unflappable mask, her elegant features softened by the pale of her skin, much like one of those western porcelain dolls. Her brow was slightly furrowed as well, dark lashes fluttering as she drifted in and out of sleep. Her hands had long taken a fistful of his shirt and now they clenched tightly, as though seeking support and refuge from a torment in her mind.
"Leave… alone". The words tumbled from blood-red lips; he had noticed she had started biting down on them a few miles back, not long after she fell asleep. Her legs, which had been dangling by the side and only on occasion bumping into his, started to twitch slightly. The horse snorted in surprise, its gait changing slightly in response. Ever vigilant, despite the fact that in the two days they had been traveling he had not caught a single hour of rest, he reminded the steed who exactly was in charge by a slight pressure on the reins.
He recognized these signs as a prelude to one of her nightmares and reacted accordingly. Gathering the reins into a hand, he carefully cradled the woman closer to him, holding her fast. At the same time he made sure he had tighter control over the skittish stallion.
He knew what was coming up.
The voice changed then, becoming a chorus of various others. Men, women, even children. They sang and laughed, they cried and screamed.
"…what I could be…cannot become".
"Your fault, you did this…".
"Bad stuff… you killed…".
"…denial is strong...".
"You! You did this!".
Then all at once the voices melded together, the crescendo roaring in her ears, "All because of you!". She shrieked once, then found her lips sealed. Muscles working furiously, she panicked further when she realized they refused to open. Then came the feel of cold metal slithering over her wrists and ankles, wrapping themselves around her limbs and tightening slowly. Struggling, she could only cry out soundlessly as she found they had fused together, digging into her skin and setting her limbs on fire.
She felt something drop onto her head just then, the strange sensation momentarily putting a halt to her growing frenzy. She looked upwards.
-Drip. Drip. Drip.-
He sensed their approach long before he felt them. Raindrops small and thin tap-danced on him, leaving damp skid-marks against the curve of his cheek, disappearing into the thick darkness of his hair and marking his coat with small splotches. Against him, Megumi stirred, a deep frown marring her features. It was obvious that the slight drizzle held meaning for her that far surpassed mere physical discomfort.
His own darkened as a long forgotten memory came to light, softened only slightly by a touch of… regret? No. Sadness? Maybe, but not quite.
Carefully, as though not to disturb her, he drew her into the expanse of his coat, flipping over one side of the collar to form a makeshift canopy over her raven-haired head. Even then, she had started to shudder a little.
His eyes narrowed as he contemplated waking her up. His decision was answered when she settled down immediately after that, but even then he was wary of loosening his grip on her.
Water… first a couple of drops, landing into her mane of dark hair to plaster it to her skull. Then it became a slight shower, a drizzle, a torrent. She became drenched, the water caressing her skin in an almost loving feel as it ran down her body to collect on the floor.
The water level was rising. She tried to push it away from her, but found her hands swallowed up by the liquid. It felt viscous and slippery; the all-to-familiar texture of blood.
No!!!! Thrashing around wildly, she lost all sense of calm and reason. Sobbing, scrambling to her feet and trying to run away, she screamed inwardly as the chains held her back. If anything, they looped tighter up the length of her limbs, rendering her completely motionless.
The water was up to her chin now, carrying with it the chill of death.
"Megumi". She jerked at the word, a bit of the wildness leaving her frightened eyes. She… did she hear it? Was it just her imagination? Or…
"Megumi?". She heard it. Definitely. Faint, but she knew she did. And that voice… she knew that voice. It never mocked her. It never taunted her. It never told her she was at fault. And it was always, always, the voice of reason.
'Calm. I must stay calm'. Chanting the words over and over in her head, she tried to take a deep breath, and completely lost it once again when there was a restriction around her neck.
She couldn't breathe, and the water was now up to her lips.
The last thing she heard then, before everything went black, were the voices whispering, "May you never be forgiven".
"Megumi!".
"No!". Her voice sounded alien to her ears, no longer the previous raw croak she expected. Struggling to free herself from her bonds, she felt a sense of elation when she found her limbs under her control again. At that point though, the ground shifted and an indignant neigh echoed in her ears. Her bonds tightened slightly, and she struggled harder.
"Stop that!". That voice… She froze then, blinking in confusion, looking around in a numb manner. Then it hit her; it was a dream. The voices, the water, the chains… it had all just been a dream. The horse beneath her calmed down, though its irritation at her thrashing around was evident from the way it kept on shaking its head and blowing furiously. And behind her…
"Nightmare?". All the reproach from his previous command was gone, instead replaced by concern. Megumi could only nod dumbly, at the moment painfully aware that while one of his hands were holding onto the reins, his other was clutching her shoulder, its arm wrapped around her shoulders. She was also in a cocoon of warmth, the result as she noted with horror, of being pressed up against his firm chest whilst his coat protected her from the elements.
Finally finding her tongue, she removed his grip from her, saying stiffly, "I am no longer your charge, Aoshi. I don't need you to hold me". The words 'you would have fallen' hung in the air, but he said nothing, accepting her words with a calm nod.
Feeling a slight tap on her head, she looked upwards in puzzlement and was rewarded with another damp tap on her cheek. Yet another fell on her shoulder, staining the thin fabric of her kimono darker.
"It's only a slight drizzle", he stated confidently.
"You must be tired", she muttered, "You're starting to state the obvious". She was, however, grateful for his confirmation. It made it seem more real. But then again, when for over two years her only source for outside information and when his voice was the only thing that directed her in the darkness of a blindfold and precarious situations, it was hard to disregard his words as anything other than the truth.
He merely swept his bangs aside in response –they had started to stick to his skin– and directed his gaze far ahead of them. "We will reach home in half an hour's time".
"Home?".
"Aaa", he nodded, a strange light in his usually dead blue eyes as he regarded the distance. With a tap of his foot, the horse slipped into an easy canter, prompting the luggage-laden second one to follow and within minutes they entered the city.
Meanwhile, a young girl of sixteen sat idly on a chair, restlessly fidgeting and thus causing her long black braid to brush against her back repeatedly. Dull green eyes swept the empty street outside, alert for any passersby. Well, specifically one passerby. One tall, dark-haired, coolly silent and irresistibly hunky passerby.
The thought seldom failed to bring a faint blush to her cheeks.
"Aoshi-sama, where are you?", she wondered out loud unhappily, mindless of how her voice carried in the large room. Besides, there was no one around at this time of the night so she didn't have to worry about being overheard and having to be embarrassed about it. The leader of the Oniwa Banshu had been gone for a whole month with no word of whether he was alright or not. Okina, her Jiya, had assured her Aoshi-sama was just fine; he might just be having some trouble locating the doctor Okina had sent him to bring back.
Her former guardian's words did little to reassure her though. But, her ears perked up at this, the rapid hoof-beats coming up the street did.
"Aoshi-sama!". Leaping to her feet, she raced to the window to scan the darkness. Sure enough, she could just make out two horses cantering towards the Aoiya. Grabbing a lantern, the young ninja shot out of the room and down the stairs, a bright sparkle in her eyes. She reached the doorway just in time to hear a deep voice finish off, "… renovate to incorporate an inn".
There was no doubt about it now. Aoshi-sama was home!
Just barely able to contain her excitement and relief, Misao was about to draw the curtain aside when another voice gave her reason to pause. It was laughing, and undeniably female, "That's the second time you've talked without me prompting. Are you sure you're alright, Aoshi-kun?". The familiarity of her tone caused her to wince inwardly; who was this woman?
Misao peered through the hangings of the doorway and caught the silhouette of a slender woman pressing a hand to –and she gasped at this realization– Aoshi's forehead. The unfamiliar voice was sly, "Hmm. A bit warm".
Aoshi's reply was a simple one, "I see you've recovered from sleep, then". Misao watched as he grasped her wrists gently to ease her off the horse.
There was a feminine 'hmmpf'; "I don't care what you say. Next time we're traveling via carriage".
A pregnant pause then, punctured by the occasional nickering from the horses. Misao meanwhile pressed herself further into the wall; who was this woman, who acted so brash towards Aoshi-sama? Did she have no respect for the leader of the Oniwa Banshu, head of the Omnitsu ninjas?
"Misao".
"H… hai! Welcome back, Aoshi-sama!", she replied automatically, jumping at the sound of her name, more so as it was uttered by him. With that she grabbed hold of the lantern and made her way outside.
Her eyes immediately fell on her idol. Yup, that was Aoshi-sama, still as sturdy and stoic as ever. He held a couple of suitcases in one hand with the reins to the horses in the other, using the latter to brush away his damp bangs aside.
Wait. Wet?
"Ah! Were you caught in the rain, Aoshi-sama?!", Misao exclaimed in alarm, a flash of concern as she moved towards him.
A chuckle from the side, "Don't worry, Misao. Misao, was it?".
She turned slowly. Now that the lantern provided sufficient illumination, she was able to see the newcomer smile at her pleasantly, red lips parting to reveal a set of perfect pearly white teeth. It was evident she was elegant, tall and shapely too. Standing right next to Aoshi-sama, she stood to his shoulders. A heavy mane of black tumbled down her back, completely devoid of moisture. Unlike her Aoshi-sama.
Misao looked back and forth between the both of them, confusion reigning in her forest green eyes.
"Aoshi was determined to be a gentleman. He can handle some rain", the woman continued, turning to pat the young man's arm. There was a mischievous glint in her dark eyes then that unnerved Misao, "But he'll have to get out of these wet clothes before he catches a cold".
"Megumi…". There was a tiny note of exasperation in his tone now. To Misao, "This is Doctor Takani Megumi. Megumi, this is Makimachi Misao".
Misao gaped, "You're the doctor Jiya asked for?". She hardly registered the gracious nod directed towards her, her mind already whirling with answers falling into place. The doctor was a woman! So that was the explanation for Jiya's absolute insistence for her. Most doctors in Kyoto were men, and if there were any female ones around they most certainly could not compare with Doctor Takani.
Geez, I can't believe that old pervert actually dared to send Aoshi-sama out just to get him a really beautiful doctor…
Pause. Stop. Rewind. Beautiful? Misao actually felt a strange twisting in her chest as she watched the doctor continue teasing Aoshi on his sudden bout of talkativeness. What if… what if Aoshi-sama thought the same?
"Misao, it's late. Shouldn't you be sleeping?", his calm voice jerked her back to reality. Looking at him now, with only the lantern she held in her hand serving illumination, there was a strange intensity in his eyes that she had very rarely seen. It lent him a darker perspective, and with him partially clothed in shadows, he suddenly appeared menacing.
His suggestion also suddenly seemed to be a not-so-subtle command.
"H… hai, Aoshi-sama. Goodnight". Overwhelmed with bewilderment, she hastily dropped the lantern and bolted into the building, wisps of Megumi's gentle tone chiding Aoshi hounding her heels.
What… what on earth was that?!
Having raced up the flight of stairs, Misao dumped herself onto the floor just around the corner of the hall that led to her room. The only image in her mind right now was Aoshi's expression…
The weak light from the lantern had just touched his face, illuminating the sharp angles of his features whilst casting the rest in darkness. And what light penetrated the thick fringes of his bangs revealed cerulean eyes detached from any emotion whatsoever. And yet… yet…
… they burned.
She had never seen him like that. The only one time she did, and she couldn't help but feel a sudden chill creep across her shoulders, was several months past when she had barged into a hut and found Okina lying prone on the ground in a pool of his own blood.
And Aoshi had been standing over him, displaying no emotion whatsoever towards his own former guardian, both kodachi drawn and bathed in crimson. He had simply brushed past her then, his gaze locked at some distant target far beyond the horizon. As for her, she couldn't help but look into his face and what she saw…
She shuddered, turning her concentration away from the dark recesses of memory. Aoshi had returned not long after that incident, and the stranger she had met that day at the hut was gone –banished– and replaced by the man she grew up admiring and eventually becoming the object of her affections.
But now… what exactly had happened?
Is it that Megumi woman that's doing this to him?
Misao recalled that the day before Aoshi had set out for Tokyo, he had seemed a little preoccupied. He was still meditating at the temple and everything, but Misao still had the feeling that his thoughts were straying away from his long dead comrades and prayers of redemption. Okina must have thought so as well since he had invited him for a private chat.
The very next day, Aoshi had rented two horses and rode off, with no explanation save that Okina was sending him on an errand to fetch a doctor. In the meantime, Okina had the strangest grin splitting his weathered face into two…
Now, knowing she was purposely defying Aoshi-sama's orders, Misao found herself listening for their approach as she crouched down behind the corner. Darkness enveloped her, and she found herself grateful that she had left the lantern with them. It made for easier spying.
Spying? Misao felt a rush of heat in her face; how could she be spying on Aoshi-sama? No, she reminded herself. She had a right to be in the corridor… it just wasn't her fault if the two didn't notice her. Right? Besides, maybe just 'hanging around' would help shed some light on what was up with Aoshi-sama.
There was a soft creaking then. They were coming up the stairs. Soon, their voices drifted to her straining ears. "Aoshi, it's very nice. I'd say the renovation was a good idea". The doctor's voice was filled with admiration.
"Aaa". It was still his usual monotone, which was somehow reassuring to the young ninja. That he had replied to the comment meant he had not withdrawn into himself, and the characteristic remark meant Aoshi hadn't warmed to the doctor, right?
A different creaking this time. They must have reached the top of the stairs. Risking a glance, Misao peeked around the corner to see Aoshi head down the hall to stop at the third room on the left. Megumi meanwhile was observing her surroundings with interest, and Misao muffled a gasp when the woman caught sight of her and gave her a small wave.
Ducking back around the corner, Misao felt dread settling into the pit of her stomach as she waited for Megumi to blow her cover. But listening to the following conversation proved her otherwise.
"Aoshi… this room is huge. Are you sure it's mine?".
"Yes. Especially if you'd reconsider-".
Megumi cut him off then, a certain edge to her tone, "I no longer need you with me since I'm not in Tokyo, right?". Misao's eyes narrowed; what exactly did the doctor mean?
"…aaa". It was very slight, but there nonetheless. An uncharacteristic pause, something Misao found herself shocked to hear, and no doubt the lady doctor failed to miss.
A sigh of disappointment. Megumi's next words were quiet, almost so that Misao had to lean slightly forward and strain her ears to catch them, "Aoshi… it would be better if you told me what's going on. The real reason why you want me here".
"I have told you everything there is to know". As the words sank in, the treacherous thought of Aoshi looking deeply into Megumi's eyes danced in Misao's mind. Chiding herself for being so silly, she concentrated on hearing his next words, "There is a bathroom down this hall, and…", there was another brief pause here, but this time it seemed as though Aoshi was being extra careful with his words, "…if there's anything… or if you need me, my room is that one".
"Aoshi, you're a terrible liar". Never mind terrible liar, Misao thought furiously, Aoshi-sama just told you which room he's in! And… and…!!
"Goodnight, Megumi".
Another sigh at the note of finality in his words, "Goodnight Aoshi. Sleep well". The soft grating of the door; Megumi must be closing it. Misao made to move off as well. Clearly, they were done.
"Sleep well, Megumi". The softness of the words were almost beyond hearing, and Misao froze once again. The door had paused for a mere moment before shutting with a final 'thunk'.
Misao's heart sank.
In her room, Megumi cast an appreciative look at her temporary lodgings. There was a wooden separator in the far end of the room, with a desk and accompanying chair. A futon was laid in the near corner of the room, and it looked increasingly inviting as travel fatigue began to set in.
Megumi heaved a sigh as she rummaged through her luggage for sleepwear, her thoughts preoccupied with what had happened a few minutes ago. The girl, Misao, had bolted away as though Aoshi himself had threatened her. Little wonder; Aoshi's expression would have scared even her, if it weren't for the fact that he covered it back up the moment he realized his mask had slipped. And she knew that expression well. She had asked about it, wondering what had triggered it, but he had brushed it off with a simple. "Nothing. I'm just tired".
And that was that. And he must really be tired, as the Aoshi she knew would never have admitted that. Or, she mused as she readied herself for bed, Aoshi's changed.
Now that thought was depressing. That man… why won't he tell me what's going on?
Unbeknownst to her, from the depths of the garden outside, a shadow detached itself from the others to slink up a branch that offered a better view of the room. Strange mismatched eyes eagerly peered through the thick foliage to watch as Megumi settled into bed, blowing out the candles before she did so.
Long, limber fingers automatically twitched. A memory trudged up from, for want of a better word, the observer's mind. Of soft creamy skin with the texture of silk, so soft and tender that a pinch could draw a drop of glistening blood…
It shuddered, eyes widening further as it unconsciously leaned forward. "Pretty…Yowan want to play with Pretty", a soft, almost melodic voice crooned softly, an odd accent giving extra emphasis on each vowel. He had found Pretty. Master would be pleased. And maybe, just maybe, Master would give him Pretty to play with again.
Unable to hold back excited squeaks of anticipation, he scampered up and down the branch with an inhuman grace, almost as though he was dancing. Oh but how he wished to play with Pretty. The silky strands of her hair sliding through his fingers as he tugged on them, the little beads that gleam in the corners of her eyes when he looked into her face, the blazing fear and anger in her dark, dark eyes when he reached out for her…
Snap. Dumbfounded, he stared at a twig now reduced to mere shards in his small delicate palms. No, he had lost control again. Master would not like that. Master wanted him to slink, to lurk, not to break things and make noise. No, no, no, noise cannot do…
Especially when noise always alerted The Shadow.
Thin lips stretched back in a snarl; The Shadow, with his dead icy eyes, always looming above him, so quiet until he started talking in that calm evil tone. How he hated The Shadow. The Shadow never let him play with Pretty. The Shadow had hit him whenever he touched Pretty. The Shadow…
"Shadow made Yowan bleed". The words came out in a violent hiss; spittle flying, fingers digging hard into the bough he was squatting on as he remembered the harsh beatings he had received. There had been so much pain, so much blood...
And he had made Yowan so very un-pretty.
In an almost loving caress, he touched the scars left on his arms and torso; smooth skin broken by jagged edges and deep indents. And there were just so many…
It was worth it though, just to play with Pretty. But Shadow was just so stingy… he refused to share Pretty with Yowan, and it wasn't as if Shadow knew how to play with her! The Shadow didn't value Pretty as much as Yowan did. Shadow didn't even know how pretty her screams were!
Well, now it was his turn to be stingy. Master had promised him he could have Pretty all to himself just as long as he did as Master said. That, among other things like telling Master what he saw and heard, especially meant avoiding The Shadow at all costs.
Fixated in his position, Yowan twisted his head left and right, eyes shifting to see if there was anyone around, ears perked for any telltale sounds of approach. For all his buzzing thoughts, and despite the usual instinct he had for hiding and skulking, he could sense that The Shadow knew he was there. Or at least, knew someone was here.
Yowan had seen The Shadow's face before he went into the building and despite all his hatred for the tall man, he knew and recognized that expression. It promised a lot of pain if he was caught. And he couldn't be caught now, not when Pretty was there.
Perhaps it was time to go and report back to Master…
A/N:
^_^* A bit weird, this chapter… dedicated to my ever-strict editors and Quart, my fighting fish who stays up and keeps me company while I write this in the dead of the night.
Thanks again to everyone who reviews! They help immensely with self-esteem, something I have never heard of and thought was an endangered species in Asia. *grin*
Please leave a review and any constructive criticism you have. They are good for improvement and I need improvement. Thanks for reading!