Fallen Blossoms ~ Part II: Spring's Promise

Chapter 4 ~ Mimamoru

B. Mimamoru: Aoshi

Flowers spring to blossom where she walks

The careful ways of duty,

Our hard, stiff lines of life with her

Are flowing curves of beauty.

-WHITTIER

In silence he watched her, his presence undetected. And even he himself did not notice in his rapt fascination: he was smiling.

The subject of his unwavering attention was perched on a low stool in the middle of the room, wearing a frilly pink cape and fluffy pink slippers, a medieval princess hat lending her all its sparkly, beribboned glory. A star-tipped wand was cradled in one arm, while a very old, very worn book was carefully held in her hands. Around her sat a crowd of children, of all ages and personalities. Yet now, just like him, they gazed at her with silent devotion, their senses and imaginations filled by her musical voice and ever-changing expressions. In their bleak, lonely lives at the orphanage, she was one of the few bright spots to light up their days.

Misao the Storybook Lady. He wondered what the gossip columnists would say if they ever discovered their Ice Princess in all her childish finery, looking for all the world like a character from a fairytale. His smile grew self-satisfied and smug; he hoped they would be shocked.

"She's amazing, isn't she?" said a low voice in his ear, accompanied by a soft chuckle. Startled from his thoughts, Aoshi looked down at the woman who had suddenly appeared at his side. A stout, matronly figure in her early-fifties, her eyes matching the steel-grey of her hair, she must have at all other times appeared stern and imposing. Yet now she wore a kind smile, gazing placidly back at the handsome young man who was studying her in silent scrutiny.

Suddenly aware that he was staring rather impolitely, Aoshi started and hurriedly spoke, "I'm sorry…but you are…?"

What a fine-looking young man ~ but definitely too sneaky for his own good. She mused. Still, for some reason, she had been moved by the way he had gazed so intently at Miss Makimachi, with such tenderness and longing in his eyes. Misao had to be very important to him.

Which made her wonder why the girl never mentioned him.

"I'm the mistress of this orphanage," she replied, seeing no other reaction in his face save a brief flash of understanding. Looking pointedly in Misao's direction, she arched an eloquent brow. "But I see that you seem to have an…interest in our Storybook Lady here."

His response was aggravatingly vague. "Yes. We are old friends." After a short pause, he added thoughtfully, "Although I never knew of her other…identity."

Her expression softened as she returned her gaze to Misao. "Really? She's been doing this for almost seven years now." She chuckled again. "Of course, I was surprised myself when she first approached me with the idea. Such a pretty slip of a girl, barely eighteen years old ~ I thought, what was she doing here when she could have been enjoying herself with her friends? Then again," her eyes became pensive, "she wasn't like other youth of her age. She always seemed so…sad, as if underneath all her brightness and vigor there was an overwhelming loneliness. You could say that I was reading too much into it, but it seemed like all her laughter and smiles only served to hide a terrible, choking pain inside. That no matter how much she smiled, she was really hurting like crazy. I couldn't refuse her when her eyes seemed so desperate." The kind-hearted matron suddenly started from her murmuring, hastily wiping at her eyes and looking almost sheepish. "I'm sorry, I'm sure you didn't want to hear all that. Just think of it as indulging an old woman." Her voice brightened. "Misao's become quite the helper around here. We can't afford much, so I try to take on most of the duties myself. But ever since she arrived, it's been easier and easier to run the orphanage. She takes care of all the paperwork and funding for the place, and even comes once a month to help me clean. Then of course there's the weekly Storybook Hour." She paused, giving him a meaningful glance. "I'm not completely oblivious to who, or what, she is, you know. I've read about her plenty of times in the papers and magazines. But since she never brings it up, I keep quiet about it, too. She doesn't talk much about herself, so I guess she must be pretty good at taking care of her own affairs. Although sometimes, I'm almost tempted to tell her to take a break, she gets such a weary, haggard look in her eyes. Really, the rest of her may seem fine, but her eyes never lie."

A bell chimed somewhere upstairs. The older woman turned to Aoshi, who had been quiet throughout her speech. "I'm sorry, that's the dinner bell. I should be getting the table ready. Misao should be finished with the story soon." As she turned to leave, she suddenly fixed Aoshi with a penetrating gaze. "There's a reason why I told you everything I just did. I'm not normally one to meddle in other people's business, but just this once, I'll stick my oar in. I don't know who you are but," her voice was serious and earnest, "take care of her. You don't easily find someone like Makimachi Misao."

No. No you don't. He silently agreed. His outward demeanor of calm and quiet had never changed, his eyes still an unfathomable blue-grey as he remained half-hidden behind the door of the room. A casual observer would never have guessed at the turmoil within.

The older woman's words still rung in his ears, snatches of her confessions returning to haunt him like vengeful spirits. Misao had come to the orphanage seven years ago, barely eighteen, barely a year after he had left. She had been so young, should have been heartbreakingly happy and idealistic, but knew only of pain and betrayal. A terrible, choking pain. Aoshi was only beginning to understand the extent to which he had hurt her ~ and only just beginning to know everything she had suffered, endured and accomplished in the eight years that he was gone. Eight years! They had been too long of a punishment for both of them. Away overseas where he couldn't see her, only barely keeping in touch with Okina ~ and even then both avoiding the subject of Misao in their letters ~ he had almost gone crazy with longing. Only his work, and the goal he was so determined to reach, kept him sane. It seemed like Misao had also needed something to occupy her mind. And as always, whatever she set her heart on she succeeded in. He looked with admiring eyes at the bright, cheerful room, with its simple but comfortable furnishings, potted garden plants, and most importantly of all, happy children, gathered adoringly around their princess.

He wanted more, wanted to know about every second of those years, wanted to feel her every sadness, every loneliness, every happiness. He wanted to celebrate her every triumph and wipe away every single tear. The mistress had told him to take care of her; he wanted to do that and much, much more.

Because of what he had done to hurt her, because of that terrible, choking pain they had both felt, because of every single time she had kissed his wounds, because of how she had looked on the streambank that day, because of the way her soft girlish cheek was now pressed against the tousled head of a sleepy toddler, because of the light shining in her eyes that made his heart swell with boyish excitement, because she made everyone smile, even when she herself was crying inside.

Because he loved her.

It was the simplest, most complex of reasons, an unrelenting vise around his heart that he could never ignore. And he didn't want to run from it anymore. It was too priceless a gift. He had never trusted love, never truly believed in its power to sweep away all doubt and inhibition, but now he knew. And like a sweet, clear spring, her words to him, so long ago, bubbled forth from the secret well of his soul.

Trust in love, Aoshi. It is always, always enough.

She was right.

She would be finished with the story soon. His eyes shone with a strange light. It was, after all, her favorite…

Yoshi! Misao silently cheered, lips curving in a delighted smile. It was her favorite part of the book ~ she had read and memorized it a long time ago, so that she didn't even need the text. And the children will love it too, especially the girls, she thought in satisfaction, remembering the first time she had read the book as a child. Taking a deep breath, she began…

"…Then she locked the door and sat down under the silver poplar to wait for Gilbert, feeling very tired but still unweariedly thinking 'long, long thoughts.'" And as always, her mind filled with images from the past ~ a beautiful memory of starry nights and warm breezes, of two murmuring voices, earnestly repeating that poignant scene.

"'What are you thinking of, Anne?' asked Gilbert, coming down the walk. He had left his horse and buggy out at the road.

'Of Miss Lavendar and Mr. Irving,' answered Anne dreamily. 'Isn't it beautiful to think how everything has turned out. . .how they have come together again after all the years of separation and misunderstanding?'"

And suddenly she could go on no longer, voice choked by unnamable, inescapable emotions. Eyes shimmering with unbidden tears, she could only bow her head as the pages before her became blurred and unreadable. Even now, the memory was that vivid, and that painful. The children peered at their unexpectedly silent reader, the older ones wearing expressions of worry and concern.

Without warning, a new voice rose in the room and seamlessly, flawlessly continued the story.

"'Yes, it's beautiful,' said Gilbert, looking steadily down into Anne's uplifted face, 'but wouldn't it have been more beautiful still, Anne, if there had been no separation or misunderstanding. . . if they had come hand in hand all the way through life, with no memories behind them but those which belonged to each other?'"

Speechless, she could only stare as he approached, senses hypnotized by the sound of his rich, low voice, once more bringing to life that unforgettable passage. His eyes gazed unfalteringly into hers, intense and full of meaning. They had never looked so blue, never been so incredibly beautiful and honest. He was smiling, obviously enjoying her surprise.

"Ao-Aoshi!" she stammered, blushing furiously and trying hard to ignore the curious looks from her audience.

With no seeming break in his composure, he inclined his head politely and murmured, "Good evening, Storybook Lady. I thought I might join in the story hour tonight," then, turning to the children, "would your friends mind?"

Still lost in wonder, Misao could only shake her head mutely. Her eyes widened further as Aoshi gracefully sat down on a low stool beside her, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do.

As if they had been doing this, together, for ever.

It felt right, he mused. Sitting beside her, reciting the old story together, watching her from the corner of his vision, seeing her smile and cuddle the children ~ this was where he belonged. Where they belonged. What a fool he had been for ever wanting to run away.

Her cheeks still burned with mingled surprise, embarrassment and hidden delight. But she managed to steady her voice as they finished the book, secretly reveling in the sound of his voice blending so smoothly, so naturally with her own, both discovering again the old rhythm from childhood days. The children were more than happy to have their princess joined by such a handsome "prince," and although Misao worried about what they must be thinking, all such cares soon passed from her mind and left her only to enjoy the rare moment of intimacy. Funny, how it was possible to feel so close to someone in so public a situation.

Speaking together, they ended the story: "And over the river in purple durance the echoes bided their time." He did not meet her eyes as she closed the book, but somehow she knew he was smiling. He waited silently as the children lined up to hug her one by one ~ it was their Story Hour tradition. After wishing the last boy "Goodnight" and sending him downstairs to dinner, she turned to Aoshi with an inquiring look in her eyes.

Without waiting for her question, he answered, "I've come to invite you to dinner with the Himuras. Kaoru called earlier and told me she wanted to make an announcement. And," he added, with a bemused expression, "she told me where to find you."

She nodded in understanding. So that's how he knew. No wonder, since she kept her activities at the orphanage very private. "I'd love to. Just wait a moment and let me change."

His lips curved in a slight smile. "Anything, Storybook Lady." Unable to resist, he added as she headed for a side room, "I never knew pink was your favorite color."

"It's not." Without breaking her stride, she tossed back over her shoulder, "But I do tell fairytales here, Aoshi."

Five minutes later, she emerged a changed person. Clad in a slim black sheath, hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, she was the picture of casual elegance and sophistication ~ worlds away from the childlike storyteller of moments ago. Only her eyes remained the same, shining at him with youthful eagerness.

He paused for a split second, memorizing the moment and tucking it away with many other such treasures in a secret corner of his heart. Helping her put on her coat, he said softly from behind her slim figure, "Misao, about that story…" His hands lingered for a brief instant upon her shoulders as he leant down to whisper something in her ear, something he had been wanting to tell her from the first moment he saw her reading their book. Something which meant far, far more than merely its surface truth.

"I remember everything."

Himura Kaoru looked triumphantly across the table at the two expectant faces. "I'm pregnant!" she announced, then smirked at Misao's shocked expression. Even Aoshi looked momentarily stunned. Misao's surprise soon turned to joy, however, as she leapt up and gave Kaoru an exhilarated, but careful, hug; Aoshi, in turn, murmured his congratulations to the proud father-to-be.

"Kaoru!!! That's incredible! You must be so happy! I'm so happy for you!" Her excitement was infectious, and two of those sitting at the table were immediately reminded of a much younger Misao, who possessed very much the same tangible joy. Kenshin, who did not know the young Misao, nevertheless knew he was seeing something that was letting itself show for the first time in eight years. Her eyes have lost their shadows, as if the depths of happiness have been stirred. She seemed completely transformed from the distant Ice Princess of the society balls and gossip papers ~ she was very much alive now, glowing with warm vitality. His gaze flickered to Aoshi, whose eyes had not strayed for even a moment from his companion since their entering the restaurant. Although not personally acquainted with him, Kenshin felt keenly the connection between two warrior spirits that had manifested itself as soon as their eyes had met. He is undoubtedly the reason. He had not known if Shinomori Aoshi's return was meant to be a good thing for Misao, but seeing her now, fairly radiating happiness, and seeing the same sort of joy quietly reflected in her companion's eyes, Kenshin knew that the two had come to some sort of peace at last. And he finally realized why everyone he had ever met who knew of Aoshi and Misao had told him that they were a couple that was simply, meant to be.

The men sipped their tea in comfortable silence while the two women chattered away like excited birds. "Is it a boy or girl?" Misao was asking Kaoru.

Kaoru gave a delighted laugh, "Silly Misao, it's too early to tell! But I promise that you'll be the first to know when we do find out, and you can even help us choose the baby's name!"

Suddenly, a loud and familiar voice interrupted their conversation. "Oi! What are you two so excited about?" called Sagara Sanosuke.

Misao suddenly stiffened and turned pale, her gaze slowly shifting from the approaching Sano to Aoshi, who was still calmly drinking tea with Kenshin. She knew that Aoshi had seen Sano's entrance, yet his outward demeanor showed no sign of any disturbance. Only the almost imperceptible tightening of his fingers around the teacup betrayed his tension. Any normal person would have missed it, but the four sitting at the table were far from ordinary.

An awkward silence descended upon the little group; Sano, whose view of Aoshi was blocked by the girls, made his way over to the table, continuing on in his usual manner, "Why is everyone so quiet? Too stunned by my arrival? I'm starving! What, already started the feast without m—" He stopped abruptly, eyes suddenly narrowed. Misao had to look away for fear of what she might see on his face.

After what seemed to be an eternity, but in reality was only a few seconds, Sano spoke again. "Ah, I see." His voice was soft and low, yet had never before sounded so dangerous. His eyes bore piercingly into Aoshi's icy blue-gray gaze.

Both men were silent, but the tension between them was almost tangible. They seemed to be engaged in some sort of private struggle, each unwilling to back down from the other.

Moments passed, then suddenly, Sano smiled ~ but it was a smile that made Misao shiver. He deliberately broke eye contact with Aoshi, and to her great surprise, turned to her instead, smiling all the while. He reached for her, and because it was Sano, she could not bear to step back.

"Good evening, dear," he gave her an affectionate hug and an impish kiss on the cheek. Her eyes widened and she could not suppress a blush. She had never blushed around Sano before. "How was storytelling tonight?"

Kaoru, in the midst of this silent mayhem, risked a glance at Aoshi. His face remained impassive, but...his poor teacup is going to shatter soon. And his eyes…

Aoshi had felt the ~ barely restrained ~ fury enter him as soon as Sano had dared to utter that endearment, threatening to spill over when he kissed her and held her so impetuously in his embrace. Yet the mingled despair he felt had only appeared with Sano's last question, as the full impact of his eight years away hit him with overwhelming force. He had forgotten…forgotten that Sano had been here all along, that Sano was the one who'd wiped away her tears, that it was Sano to whom she had turned for support, that Sano had been the one holding her in his arms, sharing in her life, for all the time that he had been gone. The elated confidence of the past few weeks faded away like a dream. For the first time in his life, Aoshi realized that he had real competition.

But he would not give up without a fight, would not give up again what was rightfully his.

His…

Standing up abruptly, Aoshi cleared his throat, holding out one hand towards Sano. "Hello, Sagara."

Sano turned around and took it effortlessly. To Aoshi's surprise, there was a measure of sincerity in the younger man's eyes as he returned the greeting. "Good to see you're back, Shinomori."

Because both loved Misao, because neither could bear to see her hurt, because neither could survive without her smile, they chose to put the conflict aside while in her presence. The awkwardness slowly dissipated, disappearing entirely with Sano's first joke ~ trying to predict just how big Kaoru would become during her pregnancy ~ which was followed by a playful slap on the arm from the offended mother-to-be. Both men were rewarded for their restraint, as the color and sparkle returned to Misao's face.

But the challenge had been issued, and neither of Okina's two best students had ever been one to step down from a fight.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Standard disclaimers apply. I do not own any of the characters.

Author's Notes ~

*BIG SIGH OF HAPPINESS* Wow, this chapter is finally done!!! It certainly took me long enough, didn't it? And with school starting again in a few days, I'm afraid I can't promise speedier delivery. But like I said before, I WILL KEEP WORKING!!!

First of all ~ A MILLION THANK YOU'S to all those who commented, threatened, encouraged…and most importantly, read. I couldn't have done it without you, truly. Rest assured that each of your responses has been lovingly cuddled and reread dozens of times. I think I could probably recite them all from heart. J

The excerpt in the middle of this chapter was from the book "Anne of Avonlea" by L.M. Montgomery. The Anne of Green Gables books are like my guide for life ~ I absolutely love them, and I found this particular passage very pertinent to the Aoshi and Misao in my story. Let's hope they take Gilbert's advice! In case anyone didn't catch the reference ~ the reason Misao is so overcome when she reads this is because she and Aoshi had used to act out the passage as children. Very good of Aoshi to remind her that he does remember, isn't it? J

Well, I'm off. Until next time, I remain…

Fondly yours,

Mikomi