Chapter 4 ~ Mimamoru
A. Mimamoru: Misao
In a shining arc the blade fell, catching the light and glinting brightly, to be followed by another just as beautiful and swift. The twin swords moved in an ageless dance, weaving an intricate pattern of silver and gold with the early morning sunlight. Their wielder moved just as gracefully, although he preferred to stay in the shade.
The clearing was peaceful and quiet, surrounded by tall, majestic trees. Through their clear green leaves filtered golden light, falling like shafts of warm wine on the gleaming kodachi and occasionally daring to caress the man bearing them. Although most of the time he stayed away from light, preferring to surrender only his kodachi to its brilliance, he could not help sometimes but bask in its warmth and glow. And it could not help but tenderly kiss the rich tints of his hair, the proud features of his face, the deep, muted fire of his eyes.
And so he continued, the look of intense concentration on his face mingled with the greatest, most fragile, peace. Nothing broke the silence of the clearing, save the occasional hiss of the kodachi slicing through air. Swords, wielder, light, peace…together they made the most moving, most telling of poems.
She watched quietly, unable to explain the sudden warmth filling her eyes or the wet track it traced down her cheek.
Hidden behind the slim birch tree, Misao leant lightly upon its silvery smooth bark and trembled with the force of her emotions. So…he has found peace, at last. She had never seen him like this; he had always practiced at night, in darkness and moonlight ~ never at dawn, never with this hope. There had always seemed to be a fierce, almost desperate determination hidden in his movements, as if he was forever trying to reach for something, something fleeing from his touch. Now, there was only acceptance, and peace.
She couldn't help but smile when she saw that he still wore his old martial arts uniform, from Okina's school all those years ago, complete with the bow that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else but him. Now, it only served to mark the grace of his movements as he effortlessly whirled his kodachi. She glanced down at her own uniform, at the matching bow tied at her waist. At least they still had that much in common.
She had not expected to see him here this morning. Although they had both trained on Roosevelt Island as children, they instinctively chose different times for individual practice. She always came early in the day, relishing the feeling of basking in golden light; he chose night, and darkness. She fingered her kunai absently and winced at the memory of his simple explanation: "I have you." Three words that bore a world of meaning ~ and could inflict a lifetime of pain. Looking back to the swordsman, her eyes clouded again with sadness. When had he found this peace? Who had helped him find it? Was I…was I not enough, then?
Had Aoshi already found what he looked for? Did he have what he wanted? If that was true, then what about…
She closed her eyes against the approaching tears and stubbornly shook her head. No. She would not venture down that path again. And she would not break their fragile bridge of friendship, carefully formed and nurtured over the past two weeks with their new partnership. Her palms suddenly itched for her kunai, her body filled with an irrepressible yearning to move, to be wild and free in the light.
Eyes suddenly alight with mischief, Makimachi Misao leapt towards the sky and released her kunai…to fly straight at Shinomori Aoshi.
They sped towards their aim, in a path straight and true. But he was faster. In a single, flawless move the kunai were knocked to the ground, swept aside by his kodachi. He sheathed his blades and studied the unexpected intruders. Narrowed blue eyes suddenly widened in surprise, and recognition.
"Good morning, Aoshi."
Slowly, deliberately, he raised his eyes, hardly daring to trust his senses and afraid to shatter the illusion. It was no mirage. Misao stood before him, wearing a triumphant smile despite the kunai's failure; it was enough that she had surprised him. She wore her old uniform, navy edged with lighter blue, which as always was a little too short for her slender legs. Her hair, no longer waistlength, now hung in two shorter braids, briefly making her seem like a child. Her eyes sparkled up at him, the light in their blue depths at once teasing and challenging.
"Hello, Misao." He could not help but give a small smile, which she took as ample reward for her efforts. He had been so concentrated on his own movements that he'd failed to recognize her approach ~ a true rarity.
"I was wondering if you would indulge me in one of our old games today." She offered no explanations. He did not need any. The flash in his eyes ~ almost playful ~ answered her challenge.
"Catch me if you can!" It was her old battle cry. Both realized that today, its meaning went far beyond surface truths. Then there was no more time to contemplate such things.
She leapt nimbly into the trees, turning to smirk down at him and not knowing how pretty she looked with the sunlight framing her face. She knew that he liked to keep to the ground, which explained her shock when he appeared just as effortlessly on a neighboring branch. Laughing, she spun around and headed for another bough, fleet-footed and swift. He followed.
The world was a blur of gold and green, as she sped through the treetops and flew with the wind. He followed fast on her heels. In the early stillness of morning, the rustling of the leaves they passed and their quiet breathing were the only sounds to be heard.
For Misao, the world contained only the steady branches beneath her feet, the brush of leaves on her arms and face, the warm light bathing her in its glow. She knew of nothing else, her focus narrowed to only the movements of her body and the ever-closing presence on her trail. Aoshi was just as isolated, mind and heart seeing only the slim, blue-clad girl racing away.
They both knew that he could easily overtake her. Yet, as with so many other things, they chose to pretend.
Pretense…falsehoods…he was lying to her, just like he lied every other time he'd let her win, every time he'd smiled at her stupid jokes, every time he'd let her fall asleep leaning against his shoulder. He had lied when he kissed her and left her without a trace. And she ~ she had been fool enough to believe him all those years.
Even as the more rational part of her mind screamed at her foolish temperament, the rash, unreasonable side bombarded Misao with insecurity and doubt. Her concentration shattered, she forgot to look for safe footing on the next branch. Landing awkwardly, her foot slipped painfully against the rough bark and she felt a hot flash of pain as something sharp tore at her ankle. She fell.
In slow motion, she felt herself falling through the glorious golden light, watching the leaves pass, noting every detail of vein and dewdrop. She saw the sun shining through the forest canopy overhead, saw the patches of blue sky dwindle and fade. She felt, rather than heard, someone call her name.
Aoshi. He would be trying to catch her, now. But it would be too late. He could not possibly hope to reach the ground in time. She felt the beginnings of a bitter laugh rising from deep within ~ she had thrown away all they had gone through, all they had rebuilt, in a careless moment of insecurity. For what mattered besides the present? How foolish it was of her to dawdle on the past. And now they would have no future…
Misao! Never give up! The voice echoed in her mind, calling from far away. Never give up. Her eyes flew open, her teeth gritted in determination. A million images flashed before her consciousness, but only one remained. She reached for it with all her might…
The moment she faltered was the moment an icy vise gripped his heart. The moment she started to fall was when he forgot to breathe.
"Misao!"
He watched her seemingly float through the air, saw her blue-green eyes overrun by shock, then pain, then fear. Then he saw them close, in failure. Almost by instinct he dove after her, his body urging onwards and speeding up to almost inhuman limits. He never felt the sting of innumerable twigs and branches rushing towards his face, never noticed the strain in his overworked muscles. His senses were focused on one, single point; with a hoarse cry he reached towards it…
…In the split moment between despair and hope, fear and courage, failure and success, he caught her. He clutched her tightly against his heart, so that both felt its frantic pulsing. She, no less shaken, trembled in his arms like a broken leaf. For the briefest, sweetest of moments, she surrendered to his embrace, drinking in his warmth, his scent, his very presence, with desperate abandon.
Kyutto…motto kyutto, Aoshi.
Her heart whispering words her lips could not say, Misao gave herself one moment, and stopped fighting at last.
He knew he would never be able to find words fitting for the exquisite wonder of having her in his arms, or the almost painful joy lancing through his being the moment he felt her body relax against him in sweet surrender. Surely, she could hear the thundering of his heart, feel the blood singing through his veins. Unbearably grateful to have been given this moment, Aoshi could not help but hold her closer, reveling in her warmth and scent.
For one moment, only they existed. Illuminated by light, neither moving or speaking, hardly daring to breathe, they knew only the unfathomable depths of each other's eyes and the inexplicable ache in their hearts. In the silence of the forest clearing, even the air itself seemed hushed and waiting.
Then the silence was broken by a single birdcall, high and clear, and the moment passed. Suddenly aware of her predicament, Misao tore her eyes away from Aoshi's probing gaze, a blush beginning to stain her cheeks. Feeling her body stiffen and start to move away, Aoshi fought the urge to cry out in disappointment and averted his eyes as well. His arms, however, did not loosen their hold on their precious burden.
"Dai…daijoubu desu ka?" His voice sounded embarrassingly hoarse. His eyes shimmered with concern.
She smiled weakly at his worried face. "Hai, I think so." Then in a stronger, more determined voice, as she managed to regain her composure, "You can put me down now. I'll be okay."
He almost smiled at that. Misao was always so fiercely independent, unable to tolerate others' pity or sympathy. Some things never seemed to change.
Reluctantly he began to set her down, only to tighten his arms around her in alarm when she collapsed on her injured ankle the moment her feet touched the ground.
"Misao!" She ignored the anxiety in his voice and concentrated on easing her way to a nearby boulder. His arms were dangerously warm and reassuring around her waist; the boulder, by comparison, offered a relatively safer form of support. She sat against it gratefully and looked down to assess the damage.
"I should have been more careful," she muttered in disgust and disapproval, frowning at the sight of the deep gash along her ankle and the rapidly swelling bruises that would make walking difficult for at least a week. "You'd think that years of hard training would at least keep me from falling off a tree."
He was too preoccupied with her wounds to offer the simple observation that, up to a certain moment, she had been completely capable and perfectly adept at sprinting at high speed through the forest canopy. He wisely decided to save such comments for later.
"Large, bleeding cut to the ankle from errant tree branch, developing bruises from sprain due to horrible landing. All injury caused by extreme idiocy and carelessness," Misao grumbled in distaste. Luckily, nothing was broken, but there was still blood and grime to clean up. "Isn't there a stream somewhere on this island?" she asked, using a hand to support herself and struggling to rise. Wordlessly, he moved to help her, only to be stopped by a threatening ~ and extremely irritated ~ glare. "Daijoubu, daijoubu, I can take care of my-ouch!" She couldn't help wincing as pain shot up her side, having put too much weight on the injured leg. In a flash he was by her side, silently holding her up as they waited for the pain to wear off. When it did, she smiled sheepishly up at him, a self-conscious flush of crimson lighting up her face. "I guess I needed that helping hand, after all."
His only response was a terse, tight-lipped nod; her smile faded at his stern expression. "Go-gomen," she faltered, looking down to hide quick tears of shame and rejection. "I didn't mean to become another nuisance."
But when she tried, unsuccessfully, to remove herself from his grasp, all she felt was the brush of gentle fingers under her chin, lightly tilting it up to let her see that his face was no longer shadowed and grave. He was smiling, though only slightly, his expression one of mingled reassurance, relief and concern. His eyes were wonderfully bright and wonderfully blue, but as always, their exact message could not be interpreted.
"Misao-chan," he said lightly, almost teasingly. "Do you think we could make it all the way to the stream without another mishap?"
She bristled at the unwelcome, childish nickname, but thought better of protesting and gave a glum nod. Bemused, and secretly relieved that she was no longer hurt, Aoshi resettled his arm around her waist, following an unspeakable urge to have her close to him. Carefully he guided her in the direction of the stream, unfortunately situated on the island's other side. Still, it would have been a short walk, were it not for Misao's injuries.
The going was slow and, as much as she tried to hide it, painful. Teeth gritted in determination, Misao refused all other offers of help, only allowing his supporting arm because otherwise, she would have been unable to stand. He had to admire her independence, thinking back to numerous women he knew who would even have faked an injury for attention. Yet he also could not help but wince silently each time she gasped in pain, could not stop the wringing of his heart each time she faltered then relentlessly drove on. Many times they had to stop for her to catch her breath, and as she would lean against a tree, struggling for air, face pale and drawn, he would have to clench his fists hard to stop himself from sweeping her up and carrying her slight form the rest of the way.
Misao was equally tense, inwardly cursing her clumsiness and unable to tolerate being such a liability. She had an unspoken terror of depending on others, a fear that arose with Aoshi's leaving and her belief that he had not wanted her to be a burden. Did he despise her now for being so troublesome? Would he leave her again? A sick feeling gathered at the pit of her stomach ~ she was afraid, so afraid that she could not meet his eyes and see that instead of irritation, all they held was worry, and concern.
Trying desperately to hang onto her previous euphoria during the chase, Misao fought the tides of fear and pain and concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other. She almost cried with relief, and exhaustion, when they at last heard the sounds of running water.
Sinking wearily into the grassy bank, she waited meekly while Aoshi gathered the clear, cool water in a makeshift cup of birch bark for her to drink. The water was refreshing and sweet, with an extra tang added by its wooden container, and Misao immediately felt some of her tension wear off. She smiled in appreciation and did not protest when Aoshi quietly began tending to her foot.
With extraordinary tenderness and care he eased her injured ankle into the water. His eyes left out no details, silently taking in the bloody gash, which had torn wider and deeper with their journey, and the similarly worsened condition of the swelling around it. She was watching him intently, fearing signs of disapproval at her clumsiness. She could read nothing, however, in his tightly shuttered countenance.
With her watching, Aoshi reached into an inner pocket of his uniform and took out a neatly folded square of material. It shone brightly in the morning light, and as he unfolded it, an embroidered corner slipped into view. He smiled upon hearing her gasp of surprise, and recognition.
"That's…that's…" she stammered, blushing a deep scarlet when she met his bemused expression.
"So, it is possible to catch the famous lawyer at a loss for words." His teasing tone only made her more embarrassed. His eyes softened as his gaze fell on the white handkerchief. "Yes, it is what you think it is." Fingers tightening around the material, he looked at it with an indefinable expression. "It's been my only constant companion all these years."
She reached for it, holding it almost reverently as she examined the simple square of silk. Although it looked plain from afar, up close one could obviously see that it was of a very fine material, soft but not fragile, smooth but not slippery. Her eyes lingered on the embroidery in one corner, sea-blue gaze deepening as she studied the two characters of his name, artfully emblazoned in rich purple. She had made this herself for his thirteenth birthday; having been forced by Okon and Omasu to study some refined, ladylike arts, the first thing she had wanted to learn was how to sew his name. Clumsy at first, she had practiced for weeks, ruining many pieces of white material with bloodstains from her pricked fingers. Smiling softly at the memory, Misao carefully turned the silk in her hands, noting that the edges were becoming rough and the creases were deep and worn ~ as though it had lain folded in its wearer's pocket for a long time. She pretended to pout in annoyance, "Mou, Aoshi, you haven't used it at all!"
Chuckling, he reached over, plucked the handkerchief from her grasp and, to her great astonishment, plunged it into the stream. As he brought out the soaked material and ran it gently along her cut ankle, skillfully removing all traces of her blood, he murmured in a smooth, low voice, "But I am now, Misao-mine."
Suddenly unable to speak, she swallowed nervously and tried to hide her blush. With nowhere else to turn to, and Aoshi absorbed in his task, she could only lean back on her elbows and tip her head towards the sky, drinking in the glorious spring morning. She breathed deeply, inhaling the sweet fragrance of the surrounding wildflowers.
Looking up at her was a mistake. Seeing her relaxed and serene in the grass, face lifted joyously to the sunlight, a beautifully contented smile playing across her lips, Aoshi felt something break loose inside, flooding his entire being with warmth ~ and something more. His hands fisted so tightly that his knuckles turned white, he fought off with steely resolve the overwhelming desire to snatch her up from her bed of flowers and crush her petite body to his own, to kiss her until they were both dizzy and wild.
She wasn't ready for this, he knew. They both weren't ready for this. Desperately trying to focus on anything other than the enchanting creature before him, who was as yet blissfully unaware of his internal battle, Aoshi decided that silence was far too dangerous.
"Misao." She stirred, lazily opening her eyes and waking from her reverie.
"Hmm?" Her languid response, half murmur, half contented sigh, almost broke his control.
"Come to the Cherry Blossom Ball with me."
She sat up so quickly that her ankle throbbed in protest. Ignoring the pain, she stared at him in wide-eyed surprise. "Really? You want me to go with you?"
For a moment, she had almost looked like a child again, eager and hopeful. His eyes shone warmly at her. "Aa. Demo…the Festival is in two weeks." He glanced down at her ankle. "Do you think you'll be okay by then?"
A determined light blazed in her eyes. She clapped her hands together in enthusiasm. "For the biggest annual ball in D.C.? Definitely! Everyone keeps telling me how fun it is, how pretty all the girls look…and of course we all know that they crown a Cherry Blossom Princess every year! Okon and Omasu, and Kaoru too ~ they've all been Princesses! Jiya's been pestering me for ages to go." She laughed mischievously. "Of course, he never misses it!"
Aoshi quirked an inquiring eyebrow at the excited little nymph. "You mean, you've never been asked?"
She flushed self-consciously. "Well…I suppose a few people have tried, but I…I was always busy with work. Demo," she added lightly, "this time is different! I'm working with you now, right? So it'll be like a 'business' affair."
"Right." His bemused gaze was neither skeptical nor accusing, but still made her squirm. They lapsed into another, less comfortable silence, each lost in thought. He was almost done tending to her leg, bandaging the now-clean wound with his large handkerchief.
"Aoshi," her voice was quiet and sincere. "Thank you."
He looked up in mild surprise, not having expected the change of tone. His eyes sought her own, which were bright and full of meaning. With a small smile, he replied warmly, "You would have done the same for me, Misao. In fact, if I remember correctly, you already have."
They both remembered. Misao's eyes grew misty with memory as images of the past paraded through her mind ~ like pretty gossamer spirits they teased her, inviting her to relive those precious, ephemeral moments. She saw the countless times Aoshi had come home from practice ridden with injuries, saw herself carefully bandaging every cut, every scrape, patiently wiping away mud and grime from the bruises, and finally…
She shook her head, once, and the memories faded. Ignoring Aoshi's curious look, Misao flashed her brilliant smile and asked, "All done yet?"
Aoshi nodded slowly, pushing his questions aside for later. "All done." He rose and extended a hand towards Misao. "Can you walk now? Or…" his eyes twinkled impishly, "will you put aside some of that famous Makimachi family pride and let me carry you?" Waiting a moment for this to sink in, he paused before throwing in the crucial line ~ the line that would make it impossible for her to refuse his offer. "You know, it would be easier on both of us this way."
She was too exasperated to bother hiding her emotions. He waited, watching first outrage, then confusion, and finally hesitation expressing themselves in her arresting gaze. She would never allow another to trouble himself unnecessarily for her. So he was not surprised when at last, she sighed in defeat, glaring childishly up at him even as she nodded a quiet assent. He almost laughed when, as he bent to pick her up, he heard her mutter under her breath something about tricky fools trying to take advantage of helpless women.
"Don't worry, Misao-mine," he murmured playfully in her ear, effectively silencing her protests. "You're safe with me."
In resignation, she laid her head against his heart, lulled to sleep by the gentle sway of his footsteps and the rise and fall of his chest. Just before she drifted off, Misao suddenly remembered something she had been meaning to ask for weeks…
"Ne, Aoshi," she mumbled sleepily, snuggling closer against him. "Did you notice that we haven't seen Jiya for a while? I wonder what new girlfriend he's made off with."
Aoshi's answering laughter, rumbling deep in his chest and echoing in the golden air, was better than any lullaby she had ever heard.
Behind them, on the sun-drenched grass of the stream-bank, two shimmering spirits played out an unforgettable memory. Sweetly, tenderly, the girl went over each of the boy's cuts and bruises, giving them the best medicine of all: a kiss.
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Standard disclaimers apply.
Author's Notes ~
Hmm…where to begin. First of all, I'm sorry this chapter (actually only the first half) took so long, but I hope its unprecedented length can make up for the delay (it took up 9 pages on my word-processor! Then again, chapters I thought were long, once posted, always seemed a lot shorter). The title, Mimamoru, means "to watch over." The chapter is split into two parts for a reason, as there are two different watchers. In the middle of this part, when Misao is finally letting herself be held, she is thinking in her mind, "Tightly, more tightly…Aoshi." *Hopefully* I got that right; if not, please tell me the correct way to say this so I can change it. And those who have seen Fushigi Yuugi may realize it's inspired by a scene from the last episode.
The opening scene is inspired by the song "Warriors Blue," from the Kenshin soundtrack, and is Aoshi's theme song. Here is the link where you can listen to it in Real Audio: http://zerog.simplenet.com/kenshin/kenshin3.htm
The best thing would be to listen to it while reading the first part, for "maximum effect." ^_^
But really, I love the song. It's amazing, and absolutely beautiful. It really took me by surprise the first time I heard it, and moved me to tears. It *is* the perfect song for Aoshi, embodying all the sadness and tragedy in his life, letting us feel the beauty and wonder of the man himself. Because it was unexpected, the first time I heard it I really did cry. It's not one of those experiences where the sadness builds up to lead eventually to tears ~ it grabs you right from the beginning, hits you straight in the heart, so that even if you were smiling before, you'd dissolve into tears right away. Maybe my reaction was a bit dramatic, but I think you'll all find it enjoyable. :)
Of course, all comments are cuddled and lovingly read, then re-read, and read again, and so on. ^_^ (Hmm…is anyone still actually reading this story here? I'm afraid that no one checks it anymore.) Anyway ~ for those who are reading, thanks!