Nobody's Listening: Aoshi and Misao's Story (Written to, among other songs on Meteora, Nobody's Listening! Oh, and the Furi Kuri closing credits theme.)
(Ok, tiny miniature bits of Aoshi are LOOSELY based on my on this ficnamely chronic failing to pay attention in class because I think I'm so damn smart, relentlessly listening to an MP3 player at all times of day and night, and spinning pens relentlessly. On the other hand Aoshi really is that smart and I'm not, Aoshi never drops the pen and I always do, and Aoshi actually listens to 'Lucky You', whereas I just used it as inspiration music. So, no Mary Suing, really, on with the fic! If nothing else maybe it will clear my head enough to write EITHER of the serious Kenshin ones that are kicking around, and if I get bored enough maybe even write an outline for the paper I have to do in class tomorrow! Enjoy!)
Misao sighed dreamily, lost in Aoshi's deep blue eyes, his glossy black hair begging her fingers to caress it softly, so softly
"Misao, I draw the line at actual drooling." Said Omasu. "So if you could return to reality and pry your lusty thoughts from Aoshi for just five seconds I might be tempted to actually speak to you, which is I might point out far more than he does."
"Oh! Sorry Omasu, was I drooling again?"
"Yepthe napkins are where they usually are"
Aoshi remained oblivious, or more likely just uncaring to the situation, holding his full lotus position (with shoes on no less!) and never even considering removing just one of the shiny black head phones that linked his ears to the music that he listened to non-stop outside of class.
And sometimes in class, too.
It wasn't as though he needed to listen to the actual teacher, or that anyone else would speak to him, he made no friends and passed every test flawlessly. His eyes reflected an ocean of boredom every time the History teacher opened her mouth about this or that aspect of medieval life, and he had become a true master of pen-twirling out of the sheer lack of anything better to do.
Teachers hated him with a burning passion that threatened to overwhelm him with simply mental force. Because every time he made that pen jump around at speeds passing 80 or 90 miles per hour, finger to finger, around and around, never ever dropping it, every single eye in the class, including their own, was completely unable to leave it.
Not that Misao ever really looked away anyway.
She was merely the president of his fan club, which spanned much of the un-attached female part of the student body, and was beginning to branch into the couples and male section.
I mean, who could resist him, so strong and so handsome and so clever
"Misao. You're drooling AGAIN."
Misao didn't hear. But he never listens to me! He never listens to anyone! He never takes off those godamn headphones no matter how much I try and snuggle on the bus!
And most of all he never speaks a word unless spoken toand if he can he'll answer with a gesture. He'd rather write a note saying what he wants than order lunch like a normal person
"Misao! That's my food you're getting spit in! MISAO!"
*
Another day. Another mysterious lack of lunch. Another half hour of the full lotus position underneath a tree outside the cafeteria.
On the other hand, it was the exact same gaggle of girls who rested in a rough circle around Aoshi, gazing lustfully and haggling viciously on the details of un-fulfilled dares to go ask him out.
Slightly skinnier though, since Aoshi never ate, neither did his fans. Misao looked positively annorexic, although judging by her incredible reserves of energy this was definitely untrue, unless she played chug-a-lug with latte every morning.
Today's debate: what the hell is he listening to that could possibly be more interesting to him than the combined womanhood of James S. Rickards Highschool?
Theories were set forth, debated, cast aside, evidence was demanded, dares were made, girls were exhorted, girls backed down, and the greatest fear of every male-loving female (And secret hope of every male-loving guy) in the entirety of the school was raised.
Again.
"What if he's GAY!?"
Misao set herself apart, and mediated disputes, as chairperson of the Aoshi-counsel. She was, after all, the only person to whom he had ever spoken.
Of course, all he said was 'What?', but they don't need to know that.
The idea of Aoshi being homosexual had a brutal effect on morale, but Misao was not one to be pulled down by idle speculation. She had hopes! Dreams! A warmth below the waist whenever she saw his face! And the only unsolicited verbal communication from him on record!
Indeed, her enthusiasm and rapport had won her the right (by way of death-threats, bribery, and the mysterious disappearance and then reappearance of an opponent's backpack after her surrender) to sit next to Aoshi on the long, winding bus-ride home.
This duty was not one she took lightly. Every day she attempted to twist from him every drop of communication possible, and every night she joined the usual chat-room on AIM to report failure to grind more than an adjective or off-hand gesture from him.
How how how do I get under your skin, Aoshi? How do I get those godamn headphones off?
*
The rest of the day following lunch was, as always, really just a waiting period before the bus ride home for Misao. She glided along the surface of Honors Pre-Calc (Her schedule craftily matched to her crush's), which was taught by the most boring humanoid on the surface of the planet, who had apparently taken to being a gender-bender solely to attract attention. It's (The teacher) gender (or maybe lack thereof?) had sparked almost as much debate as Aoshi, although of course no one actually paid attention to his lectures or assignments. Bets were still regularly made on the subject.
Most students left the class feeling sick and confused, but Aoshi's eyes were focused far beyond the teacher, and no matter how many warning it issued Misao's eyes were still focused on Aoshi.
Next was Advanced Placement Euro History, where the teacher CONSTANTLY droned on the subject of feudal hardship, even after that period of history had technically been passed. Somehow her descriptions of Nazi Germany, each and every one of the French Rebellions, and even the list Martin Luther had nailed on the church door ALWAYS managed to find space for a quick analysis of the lifestyle of early peasant gynecologists or some-such.
Needless to say, this method of teaching was by far the most riveting and disturbing in use, but not even the effects of the plague on manorial sex lives could pry Misao's attention from the blue-eyed shadow at the back of the room. Sitting. Twirling his pen. Staring straight ahead at something no-one else could see.
And just generally being the burning hunk of love he is
The walk to the bus ramp was, as always, more of a stalk than anything else. Aoshi walked with his usual effortless glide (Despite much effort, no one could ever imagine seeing him RUN), and Misao slunk along behind with her usual stealth and failure look at anything besides her target. It brought out a very predatorial side in Misao, although she had yet to attempt to drag him down, as appealing as the idea was.
The bus itself was a hell-hole, with two or three students crammed in a seat with all their books, bags, calculators, band instruments, science fair projects, art assignments, and English essays that were not under any circumstances to be TOUCHED, lest their gleaming luster be lost before the due-date arrived.
Misao loved it though, because she got to share a seat with the master of her existence.
who of course ignored her as steadfastly as he did when she was 30 feet away at lunch.
The traditional first question of the day, in vain hope he might actually answer in more than one word, or the usual shrug of the shoulders: "Sooo, how was your day?"
Shrug. Duly noted.
"Good! I think! Well let's see"
This was the portion of the ride where Misao attempted to wring a complete English sentence out of her subject, whilst accidentally sliding up against him every turn the bus took (even those which technically should have actually forced her away). Not to mention occasionally having to wave or shout at someone she 'knew', and leaning over him to get to the window.
I could ask him where he lives, or what he thinks about the teachers, or the schools, or A dozen more ideas flew through her mind before she noticed they all had tiny mental check marks next to them.
Dear god, I've asked him everything. Misao colored, as she realized she had indeed asked him every single mundane question about everything and nothing. And he's replied to every single one of them with one of those stupid shrugs or a little hand gesture, or 'good' or 'bad' or 'long'.
HE HAS MY UNDYING WORSHIP AND HE ISN'T DOING ANYTHING WITH IT!!! WHAT THE HELL IS HE LISTENING TO THAT'S SO GREAT HE DOESN'T HAVE ANY TIME FOR ME!?! AM I THAT UGLY!?
Misao's self-confidence was nose-diving even as her anger grew to a truly frightening level. Aoshi, somewhere deep down, took note. The inter-personal relationships part of his brain was rather atrophied, but he could still notice the glistening eyes and beet-red cheeks.
So he carefully removed one headphone and raised a sculpted eyebrow questioningly.
There was a faint popping noise.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU LISTENING TO!?" Misao exploded, ejaculating the first question of many on her mind (most beginning with 'where do you get off?').
The bus, as a collective, stared.
Aoshi gave her a look that asked why she hadn't just spoken at a normal level, then shrugged, replaced the headphone-
-and detached the one on the opposite side, offering it to her.
Misao looked at it as she might at a large dead moose. Is he really?
Aoshi cocked that eyebrow again, and she scrambled to grab the black and sliver circle and press it to her ear, fumbling with the little grip thingy.
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod AOSHI IS LETTING ME LISTEN TO HIS HEADPHONES! JOY AND CELEBRATION!
She almost forgot about the music itself, until she managed to shift her focus from the total excitement consuming her mind.
The beat was slow, the words slurred and elongated, and the feel of the song was incredibly surreal. Deftones, She realized, sneaking a peek at Aoshi. I love this man so much
And if you're feeling lucky
Come and take me home
And if you feel
She stared up at Aoshi, and caught a tiny flick of his eyes leaving her face. He waslooking at me?
So if you're feeling lucky
Come and take me home
Brakes hissed. Misao jerked up, looked around-and then hissed with them. Aoshi's stop.
Aoshi collected the other headphone, and replaced it, smoothly sliding over the crushed sophmore who forlornly gazed after him.
"Good afternoonMisao."
The doors slid closed, the bus slowly pulled away. Aoshi glided up the street, and the street itself seemed to glide away from her window.
Misao just stared, dissapointed and happy and confused and smitten totally all at once by Aoshi's second, third, and fourth ever un-provoked words to anyone. Good afternoon
Slowly, hesitantly, and then faster and louder, with whistles thrown in, the other students began to applaud.
(HmmI like this concept. Which is why I didn't write a real ending. Tell me what you think, people! I'm afraid of putting in elements from my own life unless specifically requested, so I'm stopping for nowreview with a vote on whether or not I should continue and I'll consider further chapters. By the way, this story (Chapter?) is dedicated to my iPod, which was brutally confiscated on the 20th of August, 2003, and returned to me less than 24 hours later, it's battery totally drained. NEVER FORGET!!! I'll be bringing it to school for the rest of the school year as a protest against musical nazis, the MP3 big brother staff of my High school. DOWN WITH TYRANNY!!! Drop me a line, tell me what ya think, I've got lots of high-school RK ideas kicking around, a decent ending to Misao/Aoshi, and plenty more of my friends and possibly myself to introduce into the narrative (Although in my mind the character bears little resemblance to me.). My plan is to simply steal the character, not try and match my plot with the show's. Talk about been-there-read-that. Feedback or death. Thankies for reading. Arigato Gozieshita if you review. L8r! I love you Koishii!)