Author's Notes: Wow. I really appreciate the reviews on that last chapter – it looks like it went over quite well. This is by far the most painful song on the cd, for me, and now it's, unfortunately, Aoshi's turn for pain.

Chapter Six: Tourniquet

I tried to kill the pain

But only brought more

I lay dying

And I'm pouring crimson regret and betrayal

I'm dying, praying, bleeding, and screaming

Am I too lost to be saved

Am I too lost?

Aoshi awoke to a vivid monsoon of rain and storm. The moon was low in the sky, and morning was approaching, but he had not slept. He would fool himself into thinking it was the gale, but in reality, Misao's departure haunted him as he argued amongst himself.

Why didn't you go after her? This weather is horrible.

Weather? Is that what you care about, Shinomori? The damn weather!

Aoshi sat still in bed, the color draining from his face. Suddenly the voice inside his head had taken on quite a keen resemblance to Hannya's. Wasn't this what he had spent the last several years of his life trying to escape?

She'll freeze to death.

"So?" Hannya's voice challenged, now clear and identifiable.

So? How can you say that, you were practically her --

"Obviously you mistake my meaning, Aoshi-sama. Why does it matter to you what happens to her?"

And now Aoshi was mumbling his arguments, trying to get a stronger footing in the conversation. "You were there when I made that promise. I swore I'd never let any harm come to her."

"Oh, right. No harm. Then why in hell is she out there right now?"

Aoshi was silenced, his heart twisting as his friend continued to berate him.

"You know why she left."

"Yes, because of me. Is it necessary to repeat that?"

"You don't get it, do you Aoshi-sama?"

Aoshi sighed, lifting up his gaze and peering through his bangs, eyes glazed in defeat. "I don't understand what you want. I know I failed you, and the others, but please –"

"This isn't about me or them, and you know it never has been. You're the only one still living in that moment, Aoshi-sama, and it's time for you to wake up and realize what has happened since."

The window shutters slammed against the inside of the room, misty rain pooling upon the wooden floor. Startled and thankful for the momentary distraction, Aoshi moved to close them, dropping an old, discarded piece of clothing to the floor to serve as a rag. Unfortunately, he made the mistake of returning his gaze to the window.

Outside, the sheets of rain formed a picture of Misao, just as she had been when she had collapsed while fleeing from the temple. The proportions of her body, however, seemed much smaller; it was Misao as a child.

"Why are you showing me this?"

"To show you what it is you think you're seeing, Aoshi-sama. There is our Misao-chan, crying because you left without telling her goodbye. None of us did, but she wanted to hear it from you most of all."

"She grew past that. You know I regret not telling her we were leaving, but there was no other way."

Hannya was quiet for a moment, and Aoshi thought he could hear the smirk form on his lips. "You're right. She did grow past that."

The picture of Misao changed only vaguely, now reflecting the young woman she truly was. The image chipped away at Aoshi's hardened heart; unlike the one of before, the pain resonating from this one seemed much more prominent – more mature.

"That's right." The man replied to Aoshi's thoughts. "You're not as dense as you look, Shinomori." Another mocking smirk. "Misao has changed. Yes, Misao. She's no longer our Misao-chan, though she will always belong to you."

Aoshi felt the presence staring him down. "What do you mean by that? Misao is not tied to me in any way."

"No, Aoshi-sama. It is there where you are wrong. Misao is tied to you in the strongest way."

"Don't say it. Just leave those thoughts alone. They're ridiculous, as you well know."

"You're the only one that seems to think so, Shinomori."

Aoshi remained silent, focusing his senses upon the sound of the rain, hoping to drown out the conversation. When at last he thought he had won, he crossed the room once more, taking a seat upon the edge of his futon.

"You're not escaping this time. You're better than that, Aoshi-sama."

He made no response, undoing his sleeping yukata and baring a scarred chest, an apt portrait and symbol of the man who bore the scars themselves. Across the room lay his clothes for the day, pressed and folded.

"She loves you."

Aoshi snaked a hand through his hair, seizing the strands in a death-grip. His teeth clenched and his eyes shot open, embittered and pained. "No, she doesn't."

"She doesn't? Ah, I see. So I suppose she left for her own general well being, then? Perhaps a leisure trip?"

"It's the stress of the Aoiya… it's getting to her."

Aoshi's words began to fail him, his cadence faltering at every step. He felt surrounded, accused, and utterly trapped.

"Is that what you're telling yourself, Shinomori? 'The stress of the Aoiya'?"

"She can't love me."

"She is a grown woman, Aoshi-sama, and she may love whomever she pleases. Her heart's been set on you for quite some time now, you've just been too blind—"

"No!" Aoshi snarled, aggressively willing the voice away. He would have no such luck.

"Stop thinking in terms of the little Misao-chan you helped to raise and start thinking and living for today." Hannya's voice countered.

"You don't understand…"

"Then make me."

Aoshi stared across the room, his gaze blank. Pain filled his chest, gripping his heart. "She cannot love me."

The countering voice began to protest but was quickly cut off.

"She cannot love me because I don't deserve it."

And suddenly, the voice fell silent. There was nothing more to argue. Aoshi admitted to himself that although Misao might think she loved him, she truly could not. Obviously, no one would be able to love the shell he had become.

Then why did she leave… Aoshi's own voice whispered.

Aoshi found his heart wanting to know the answer to that question, and before his brain or his shielding walls could answer it with jarring cynicism, he dressed and prepared to leave the Aoiya, clueless as to where to search, or why he was even bothering to do so.

As he slid open the shoji, Hannya's voice made one final comment on par with his resolution.

"While you're out looking, Shinomori…find yourself, as well. I'm sure the two answers will relate well."