Chapter 3 ~ Hitotsuboshi
"Breathe, Misao. Just…breathe."
She stood nervously on the smooth white marble, one step away from the top, one step away from entering the magnificent ballroom. After all the planning, after years of waiting for the one person to ask her whom she would not reject like the others, she was hesitating.
Somehow, by an instinct she couldn't name, she knew that when she took that final step forward, everything would change. And she wasn't sure if she was ready for that yet.
Oh ~ she wanted to! She wanted to take that step forward, to stand on the top of the marble staircase with the secure knowledge that he would be on the other side, waiting for her. Yet, she didn't know what she would see in his eyes, if they would shine with that unmistakable intensity they used to hold only for her, or if she would only find the caring warmth of a childhood friend, here to have a good time, and nothing more. And that would kill her.
They had remained almost silent during the limousine ride, each lost in thought, but it had been a companionable silence. Her face hidden within the hood of her long white mantle, she had snuck occasional glances at him, only to find his eyes unwaveringly focused upon her. She was glad that he couldn't see her blush. Nor had she missed the telltale flash of sapphires at his cuffs, and she smiled in secret triumph at seeing her gift.
The Kennedy Center, festooned with the rich crimson silk that made it seem like a gift wrapped with red ribbon, had looked like a dream. His hand, when he helped her from the limousine, was strong and firm and warm. Her heart, which for years had joyously awaited this moment, beat so, so fast.
She'd asked him to enter first and wait for her in the ballroom, wanting for once in her life to make a grand entrance and ~ hopefully ~ surprise him. Yet as she had made her way eagerly up the stairs, her excitement had somehow dissipated and she'd been filled with an awful…fear.
Makimachi Misao had never considered herself a coward. After all, she had never once failed to step up to a challenge, never once retreated out of fear. She was a formidable foe in the courtroom, a person to be looked up to with awe and respect. Most people would never have dreamed of seeing her back down.
Yet when it came to love, she was absolutely spineless.
From the moment that Aoshi had reappeared in her life, Misao had felt the shadow of change. It had crept up at first, tentative and careful, able to retreat easily into a corner of the mind and be ignored. She couldn't exactly pinpoint its nature, and didn't particularly care to, only aware of the disconcerting fact that life seemed somehow brighter, that smiles became easier, that the smile of one person in particular meant too much to be…safe.
Isn't this what you've always wanted? A part of her had slyly asked. But the uneasy feeling had only grown, as change suddenly lost its hesitant exterior and galloped towards her full-force ~ too fast, too soon. And she had found herself wondering when the happy dream would end, and she would once again be…alone.
Now, if she were to take this step…Misao fought the sudden trembling in her heart, the absurdly overwhelming feeling of terror mingled with excitement and a wild, wild exhilaration.
Everything will change.
For a brief moment, the hand that had hung limply by her side curled itself into a fist, knuckles white with tension. Then the moment passed, and her head was no longer bowed, and her eyes no longer uncertain.
Makimachi Misao was no coward. And no fear could overcome the one realization that was making her insides sing.
He's waiting for you.
As the first chord sounded on the grand ballroom piano, the last marble step finally felt the cool caress of silk.
~ Je m'en souviens comme si c'était hier ~
Washington D.C.'s annual Cherry Blossom Ball had always been the highlight of the year, gathering together under the Kennedy Center's glittering crystal chandeliers the equally brilliant stars of D.C. society. Only the best and brightest belonged to this evening, looking their most splendid in lustrous gowns and sparkling with jewels, gaily mingling with kindred spirits from the worlds of art, literature, politics and science.
Yet when Makimachi Misao stepped into the room, all conversation ceased.
There had been no special spotlight, no broadcast announcement, but she seemed naturally to belong to the light, glowing with an inner brilliance that eclipsed all else in the grand ballroom. Those whose nature it was to be jealous and unforgiving would later claim that Ms. Makimachi had "chosen" her entrance well, perfectly coordinated with the music's beginning. Those who knew Misao, knew that such were the ways of Fate, to arrange for the girl the only introduction befitting one of her kind.
And as they took in the enraptured gaze of one in their midst, they would suddenly find themselves believing in that previously absurd idea…of Destiny. Then return their eager eyes to the object of that gaze, waiting with bated breath to see how the fairytale would unfold.
As for the hero and heroine of that fairytale ~ they were oblivious to it all.
~ Tour à tour nous soutenant ~
He couldn't seem to take his eyes off her. She stood, slim and radiant, on the marble landing above the crowd. She wore a white dress, just as she had done those weeks ~ no, lifetimes ~ ago at the opening of Okina's restaurant. Cut from the same delicate silk, this dress, strapless, clung just as elegantly to the graceful contours of its wearer, falling smoothly to lightly touch the ground. Yet this time, its pristine surface was no longer bare, embroidered with a scattering of tiny crystal blooms so real they looked like real sakura floating across the silk, almost leaping into the air to gently surround Misao with a myriad of pink petals. The dress ended in a slight train, now gathered and affixed to it owner's right wrist with the sheerest silk tie. She wore no jewelry around her neck, leaving open the unmarred line of slim, smooth neck and shoulders. On her left wrist, he noted with a sense of secret joy, she wore a distinctly familiar bracelet of pink and white diamonds, shaped to look like the entwining branch and blossom of a sakura in bloom. The matching necklace that had been missing from her neck was, he realized with admiring surprise, fixed in the shining masses of her hair, one brilliant sakura blossom resting lightly in the center of her forehead. It was not unlike the circlet of real blooms she had worn the day before.
Aoshi waited last to look upon her face, and what he found there would remain vivid in his mind until the day he died.
Her cheeks were tinged a most alluring shade of pink, born of the slightest sense of…was it self-consciousness? Or hesitation? Or excitement? Lips full and slightly parted, she looked as if she were about to tell him something, something he would have willingly given his life to hear. And the eyes that he had not dared to look into before then were filled with a happiness so simple yet so deep that he feared his heart would burst.
A part of him registered the music of a lone violin, weaving an intricate melody with the notes of the piano. He had never believed, until that moment, in the romantic notion that love stories had their own musical accompaniment. He could believe in anything, now.
He never realized, however, that he dared not look at her feet ~ somehow afraid that he would fine there crystal slippers and, like Cinderella, she would disappear into the night as an ethereal dream.
~ nous disputant, riant de nous-mêmes ~
She wondered, idly, if for the rest of her life she would always be able to spot him this easily in a crowd. If his image had been forever branded upon her consciousness, never to fade with the passage of time.
She was not surprised to see him look up as soon as she entered; her position was conspicuous enough without the finely honed senses they both possessed. But she would never, ever cease to be amazed by how utterly beautiful he was.
It was a beauty beyond the appearance of face or dress, that transcended the impeccably tailored tuxedo, the lean uprightness of build, the dark gleaming hair, the sapphire cufflinks that she had known would match the exact shade of his eyes at this moment. For Misao, Aoshi was beautiful in the careless way his hair fell over his forehead, lightly brushing the tips of his eyelashes and making her ache to be in their place; he was beautiful in the way the smooth planes of his face spoke at once of strength and vulnerability; he was beautiful in the mix of unnamable emotions that flashed in his silent gaze as he lifted his eyes to hers; he was beautiful in the way his very presence made her want to forget everything and run into his arms, as if that was where she had always belonged.
But she didn't run, this time. She couldn't afford to disturb the magic of this moment, as the music wove its enchantment and bound her to him with gossamer thread.
As Misao began to walk down the steps, she never noticed the people moving apart like the edges of two parting waves, never saw the path cleared instinctively by the mesmerized crowd. She knew only one final destination; physical obstacles had no place in this world.
They moved towards each other, accompanied by memories of their past and hopes for their future. Impish spirits played out unforgettable moments from the landscape of remembrance ~ surrounding them with visions of laughter and tears.
And they met.
~ Le souvenir de cette époque rayonnante
reste gravé dans mon coeur ~
Her hand was in his, her eyes shining like evening stars, and with a tiny smile, she stepped back into a graceful curtsy. With the violin mirroring his movements, he responded with an effortless bow that never took his eyes away from her. Then he pulled her close.
For an endless moment they simply looked. And all of a sudden the moment was too unbearably sweet ~ so as the music soared, he swung her onto the polished ballroom floor and into the ageless dance they both knew so well.
The audience remembered to breathe.
~ Je pense ne jamais pouvoir l'effacer, ni même l'oublier ~
Takani Megumi was furious ~ not only had the Makimachi girl stolen her date, she'd done an even more terrible thing and consigned Megumi to being a mere member of the spectator throng. She glared at the dancing couple. "Why, that conniving little—" but her frustrated words were cut off by a very firm hand on her shoulder.
"Shh…" Sagara Sanosuke's expression was unreadable, but his tone was low and serious, and not to be disobeyed.
If it had been anyone else, she would not have complied so meekly. For in a strange and ironic way, she knew that Sagara was in the very same predicament. She turned to face him, expecting sympathy and the companionship of the dispossessed., but he was already looking away from her and back towards the dance floor. His chocolate-colored eyes were strangely warm as he murmured:
"Just…this moment."
~ Courant après mon rêve, je reste enchaînée ~
They paused at a sudden lull in the music, as he twirled her away and held her at arm's length. Yet their eyes still saw nothing but each other, and as the color deepened in her cheeks Misao could not resist following the magnetic allure of his gaze. Slowly but surely, she ended up again within the circle of his arms.
~ Cherchant à m'en libérer, mon rêve s'évanouit... ~
In the privacy of their own world, he smiled…and for her alone the smile reached his eyes and illuminated the whole of his being. Before she could react, he lowered his head and whispered next to her ear the words of a poem he had long ago memorized and saved for just this instant. At his voice she grew still; when he was finished, he saw that her eyes were glimmering with unshed tears.
But these were tears of joy, not sorrow ~ they gave him courage, not fear. And as the music swept in he did what he had dreamed of doing all these years since that morning in Okina's garden:
He kissed her.
Author's Notes:
I know that I don't deserve any readers after such a long absence, but I hope that anyone who has strayed across "Fallen Blossoms" will have enjoyed it, and this much-delayed chapter. "Hitotsuboshi" means "Evening Star," and the accompanying music is Gackt's instrumental "Story" ~ it is a wonderful, wonderful song, and was the inspiration behind this entire scene.
This chapter could very well be the end of the story ~ although it continues in my mind and imagination. I'm not sure if I should continue it. What does everyone think? Are there too many loose ends to be tied up? I have many more scenes imagined for Aoshi and Misao, but I'm not so sure if I should put them through it. :) I would definitely welcome any opinions on the matter!
Thank you for reading.