Disclaimer: Pick me, Pick me, oooooo please pick me, I wanna own them, then I'm sure to be able to get in my Aoshi-sama's trench coat. Oh damn what do ya know I don't own'm. And I'm outta cheese.
The Wildcat
Chapter 4
The Japanese Museum of Memories
Part 2
Misao led Aoshi to a barstool about midway down the bar then flounced her way into the kitchen with a skip in her step. She supposed she should be more upset, depressed even. But it just wasn't her way. Okina her adoptive grandfather had always said she was too stubborn, cheerful, and genki for her own good but dammit when life tried to get Misao Makimachi down she simply kicked its ass, kunai and fists flyin'.
She hopped around the meticulously arranged kitchen, its interior stark and simple when compared to the chaos and fire of the bar room, collecting supplies for Aoshi's tea and Aoshi's wounds. She had lied when she had told him she had just made tea, not really even sure what had compelled her to do so, only knowing with some epiphanic awareness that she HAD to make him stay. She, not being much for logic, and more for intuition and her gut feelings, had simply went with it. She wondered vaguely if she would end up regretting it.
Misao's luck had never the best anyways…
Her hands ran methodically through the motions of preparing the tea as her brain wandered again to the stranger waiting in the next room. Aoshi Shinomori… Shinomori…… The name struck a chord within her, though she was sure she had never met the man before, or anyone with the last name Shinomori for that matter. She figured she had heard the name before in passing conversation, though she noticed the name was Japanese in origin, as was her own. Her Japanese heritage was something she was insanely proud of, having been born there and spending the first nine years of her life there with her mother.
Her mother Sakura, possibly the most beautiful and feminine woman Misao had ever encountered in all her twenty three years of life. Her voice always soft and breathy, though always full of such sweet gentleness and laughter. Her mother had been her lifeline. Always there to dry her tears and encourage her in every avenue that Misao, with her chaotic nature, seemed to entangle herself in. Her dear, sweet kachan, who's life had lasted so briefly. She felt tears sting her eyes, and quickly blinked them away, as she placed the water filled kettle on the burner of the stove.
Her thoughts swung oddly enough, to her father. A man Misao scarcely let herself contemplate. She had respected the man greatly, had listened to his sage opinions religiously, almost obsessively, had loved him as much as she could possibly love anyone, but had such anger and resentment towards him, that still to this day, threatened to tear her apart.
Genrou Makimachi had left Kyoto, Japan when Misao was at the tender age of two, a man of ideas and dreams, hoping to make a new life for himself and his family in the western world, a world that he idealistically thought suited his vision of himself perfectly. He had come to Miami, where his dear friend Okina had migrated to, hoping to stake a claim in the business world and provide security and wealth for his family.
He had went into business with Okina, opening a traditional Japanese restaurant they had reverently named the Aoiya, a tribute to their ancestors who had ran a similar establishment in the late 1800's in Kyoto. The story of its history as a harbor and base for the Oniwaban, a clan of ninjas, was a legacy Misao proudly and thoroughly knew by heart. Okina and Genrou's venture had proved prosperous Genrou later venturing into real estate, the building, The Wildcat, now resided in being one of his purchases.
She rarely saw her father during those seven years, he only being able to visit home rarely, what with the responsibilities of his growing establishment, though each brief stay was burned firmly into her mind. She could remember being so impressed and awe inspired every time her father's commanding presence would grace the small home, she and her mother shared. He would always bring her trinkets from America, dolls and the like and dresses of the latest fashion for her mother. It was several years before Misao fully understood who Genrou was, she not realizing the full meaning of the role this man she called father was supposed to be playing in her young life.
When she was nine years old her father had returned again, though this visit completely different from his previous visits, he was finally there to take them both to their new life in America.
Misao had not had too much difficulty adjusting, as her mother had began teaching her daughter the English language almost as soon as she had a grasp on her native tongue, knowing that the transition to America would be all the easier for her child's knowledge of the language. And Misao's own cheerful disposition and energetic attitude had made making friends easily done including her best friend and partner in crime, Kaoru Kamiya.
She had walked, well more like skipped into her forth grade class room, on her first day of school in America, had taken one look at the small girl, almost as tiny as herself, with long ebony hair tied into a high bow bedecked pony tail and wide sapphire eyes and their fates had been sealed. Misao and Kaoru had become as close as sisters, hopping into their share of mischief and trouble with feet first and eyes wide open. Even to this day, now as coworkers, with the business of making money, instead of trouble, the two girls were inseparable.
And when Misao had decided to open up her own bar a little over a year ago, Kaoru had immediately signed on to support Misao in any way that she could. So now it was she, Kaoru, and Enishi…. Wait scratch that Enishi, the bastard, had just walked out. Ok, she and Kaoru, ensuring the smooth operation of The Wildcat, swiftly gaining popularity as one of the hottest bars in the large city. Something Misao was insanely proud of accomplishing. She imagined though, that her father was rolling over in his grave at what she had done with his hard earned money.
But dammit all, she needed to hire a replacement. And fast. The Saturday night crowds were the toughest to manage, usually brash, loud, and easily swayed to violence. Misao knew with her kempou, kunai and fast talking she could resolve just about any situation that could come up, but with only two people working she just didn't have enough eyes or hands to dedicate to both keeping her customers happy AND keeping her bar in one piece.
Setting the traditional tea set and condiments on a delicate crystal tray, an heirloom from her mother, she quickly grabbed a clean cloth, dampening it, for Aoshi's bleeding nose and grabbed an ice pack for his eye from the industrial sized freezer. Juggling her items carefully, she slowly made her way back into the bar, pulling the kitchen door closed with her foot.
She studied him across the short distance, the black hair, falling into those crystalline eyes, giving him an almost boyish appearance, though she guessed he was around twenty-seven. The long, narrow, muscular frame, lounging almost elegantly on the barstool, clad in a semi-clinging black t-shirt and slightly baggy jeans. And that damned ridiculous white and orange trench coat, that oddly served to give him a quite aura of command. She wasn't sure why, and really didn't want to delve into that thought process any further, it just was. From his narrowed eyes, and scrunched forehead, he appeared to be studying something with great interest. She followed that icy gaze to where it rested, on the center of her display of weaponry, seemingly focused on the kodachi she had reverently displayed.
Her father had been a master of twin kodachi, as well as kempou and a vast array of throwing weapons. After coming to America, he had taught her everything she knew about martial arts, though her preference had always been kunai. She could skillfully, and accurately throw sixteen of the deadly sharp throwing knives, at once, her aim always right on the mark. Her skill with kunai and her mastery of kempou had served her well at maintaining a safe and well run establishment. She kept one set of kunai hidden under the bar, as well as three strapped to her right thigh with a garter, one good aspect of her wearing those skirts she despised so much.
But as Kaoru was repeatedly reminding her, in order to succeed you had to look the part. And look the part she did. Tall black combat boots encased her legs to just below the knee, the ties up the front just for looks though, they were actually quite practical , with zippers running up the sides. Her shirt was asymmetrically cut, deep red and covering one arm completely, leaving the other arm and shoulder deliciously bare. A small black leather mini sat low on her hips covering just enough for decency sake, and a pair of matching fingerless gloves, completed the ensemble, a striking contrast to the milky white of her skin. She hadn't finished getting ready though, hair and makeup still undone, what with her flight down the street after Enishi. She would have to go upstairs to her apartment, soon, to finish in time for opening.
She walked closer to Aoshi, noticing now that attention was elsewhere, glaring down at the small puddle of his blood collecting on the surface of the bar, seemingly fascinated with it. What the fuck was his problem, she wondered silently.
"God, are you planning on bleeding on every damn thing I own? She voiced loudly.
His gaze lifted to her then, his eyes carefully studying her face, as though searching for something, she wondered vaguely what that was.
His voice broke through her thoughts then, startling her slightly, "Genrou Makimachi was your father, was he not?" her eyes widened considerably, how the hell did he know who her father was. She was frankly astonished.
"You… how do you……. How do you know that?" her voice coming out soft and confused her brain whirling to try and get her thoughts sorted out correctly and formed into words.
Misao was not prepared for his answer. If she had, had the ability to see the future and find out the answer to her question she never would have asked. But she didn't, and his next words caused her body to go numb, almost dropping the priceless tea set in her arms.
His low timbred voice resonated through her being, paralyzing her when he uttered in response, "He was my teacher."
********************************************************************************************
Evil evil evil evil Nekochan….. Tee hee
Yes I know I still haven't answered the questions as to why this conversation, or why Aoshi knowing Misao's father is such a big deal to her. And I realize that there still wasn't much action in this chapter. This chapter kind of came out of the blue, completely going against the plans I had for chapter 4. So those ideas have obviously been moved to chapter 5 lol.
I have had some response stating that my chapters are not long enough, and the only thing I can say is that I end them where they feel right. Its also easier for me to post more chapters more often If they are shorter.
Now on with the Thanks:
Zerianyu: Thanks so much girl I am in love with the newest chappie of Marriage Case. No you weren't rambling and you weren't overly promoting your story but I will. EVERYONE GO READ ZERIANYU'S MARRIAGE CASE! Its awesome. Thanks again for loving my story.
IrisKitsune: Thanks so much for the support, Your story Land of Smiles is shaping up to be a very nice story, interesting choice in your name for the bar.
Battousai's Girl: I appreciate the review, and I hope to update as frequently as I possibly can.
JL: YAY!!!!! Warm and fuzziness is at an all time high!! Thanks…
Kagome-angel2000: Glad you are liking it so far…. I can't wait to see what happens with Misao and Aoshi either. Though I do plan for a few surprises along the way, ideas for this fic keep growing and changing in my mind the more I write and receive reviews.
SpiritDemon: I love when I get repeat reviewers, that makes me feel like I'm doing at least something right. Lol sure would love to talk with ya some time, I'll get to that dreaded email thing as soon as I get a chance…. Hope to talk to ya soon…
Pyroaoi: I tell you that was the hardest thing ever!!!! I love Japanese history, as well as design and weaponry…. (Kchan loves her swords!!!!!!)…. But when it came to deciding on a design for the bar I was at a loss for two days, and when I finally decided on a Japanese arsenal as the backdrop for The Wildcat, I thought hey this will be so much easier. Lol not true at all……… I sweat dropped all the way through that scene. Glad it felt so realistic though!!!!
And lastly Ukchan/lunarwolf/ookamichan: Your off the hook now I suppose. You've been keeping me very busy with stories to beta read!!!! Sorry about the Wolf Song chappie 1 mishap…. Oi when I got it, it was already messed up, I'm not sure what happened there…… Geez bowing and graveling and scraping… as soon as this is finished I'm on my way to your house to help you fix it!!!! I swear!!!!!!
Oh and for everyone who actually reads this lol check out Ukchan's stories "Wolf Song", if you like card captor Sakura, and her ranma/slayers crossover, "Never Trust Spells You Find On the Internet"! Both great stories and posted under our screen name Treefairy. ^---^
Ciao loves!!!!!!
(Gross, Now I sound like La Blanc that Naga wanna be from FFX2.…… ugh)
The Wildcat
Chapter 4
The Japanese Museum of Memories
Part 2
Misao led Aoshi to a barstool about midway down the bar then flounced her way into the kitchen with a skip in her step. She supposed she should be more upset, depressed even. But it just wasn't her way. Okina her adoptive grandfather had always said she was too stubborn, cheerful, and genki for her own good but dammit when life tried to get Misao Makimachi down she simply kicked its ass, kunai and fists flyin'.
She hopped around the meticulously arranged kitchen, its interior stark and simple when compared to the chaos and fire of the bar room, collecting supplies for Aoshi's tea and Aoshi's wounds. She had lied when she had told him she had just made tea, not really even sure what had compelled her to do so, only knowing with some epiphanic awareness that she HAD to make him stay. She, not being much for logic, and more for intuition and her gut feelings, had simply went with it. She wondered vaguely if she would end up regretting it.
Misao's luck had never the best anyways…
Her hands ran methodically through the motions of preparing the tea as her brain wandered again to the stranger waiting in the next room. Aoshi Shinomori… Shinomori…… The name struck a chord within her, though she was sure she had never met the man before, or anyone with the last name Shinomori for that matter. She figured she had heard the name before in passing conversation, though she noticed the name was Japanese in origin, as was her own. Her Japanese heritage was something she was insanely proud of, having been born there and spending the first nine years of her life there with her mother.
Her mother Sakura, possibly the most beautiful and feminine woman Misao had ever encountered in all her twenty three years of life. Her voice always soft and breathy, though always full of such sweet gentleness and laughter. Her mother had been her lifeline. Always there to dry her tears and encourage her in every avenue that Misao, with her chaotic nature, seemed to entangle herself in. Her dear, sweet kachan, who's life had lasted so briefly. She felt tears sting her eyes, and quickly blinked them away, as she placed the water filled kettle on the burner of the stove.
Her thoughts swung oddly enough, to her father. A man Misao scarcely let herself contemplate. She had respected the man greatly, had listened to his sage opinions religiously, almost obsessively, had loved him as much as she could possibly love anyone, but had such anger and resentment towards him, that still to this day, threatened to tear her apart.
Genrou Makimachi had left Kyoto, Japan when Misao was at the tender age of two, a man of ideas and dreams, hoping to make a new life for himself and his family in the western world, a world that he idealistically thought suited his vision of himself perfectly. He had come to Miami, where his dear friend Okina had migrated to, hoping to stake a claim in the business world and provide security and wealth for his family.
He had went into business with Okina, opening a traditional Japanese restaurant they had reverently named the Aoiya, a tribute to their ancestors who had ran a similar establishment in the late 1800's in Kyoto. The story of its history as a harbor and base for the Oniwaban, a clan of ninjas, was a legacy Misao proudly and thoroughly knew by heart. Okina and Genrou's venture had proved prosperous Genrou later venturing into real estate, the building, The Wildcat, now resided in being one of his purchases.
She rarely saw her father during those seven years, he only being able to visit home rarely, what with the responsibilities of his growing establishment, though each brief stay was burned firmly into her mind. She could remember being so impressed and awe inspired every time her father's commanding presence would grace the small home, she and her mother shared. He would always bring her trinkets from America, dolls and the like and dresses of the latest fashion for her mother. It was several years before Misao fully understood who Genrou was, she not realizing the full meaning of the role this man she called father was supposed to be playing in her young life.
When she was nine years old her father had returned again, though this visit completely different from his previous visits, he was finally there to take them both to their new life in America.
Misao had not had too much difficulty adjusting, as her mother had began teaching her daughter the English language almost as soon as she had a grasp on her native tongue, knowing that the transition to America would be all the easier for her child's knowledge of the language. And Misao's own cheerful disposition and energetic attitude had made making friends easily done including her best friend and partner in crime, Kaoru Kamiya.
She had walked, well more like skipped into her forth grade class room, on her first day of school in America, had taken one look at the small girl, almost as tiny as herself, with long ebony hair tied into a high bow bedecked pony tail and wide sapphire eyes and their fates had been sealed. Misao and Kaoru had become as close as sisters, hopping into their share of mischief and trouble with feet first and eyes wide open. Even to this day, now as coworkers, with the business of making money, instead of trouble, the two girls were inseparable.
And when Misao had decided to open up her own bar a little over a year ago, Kaoru had immediately signed on to support Misao in any way that she could. So now it was she, Kaoru, and Enishi…. Wait scratch that Enishi, the bastard, had just walked out. Ok, she and Kaoru, ensuring the smooth operation of The Wildcat, swiftly gaining popularity as one of the hottest bars in the large city. Something Misao was insanely proud of accomplishing. She imagined though, that her father was rolling over in his grave at what she had done with his hard earned money.
But dammit all, she needed to hire a replacement. And fast. The Saturday night crowds were the toughest to manage, usually brash, loud, and easily swayed to violence. Misao knew with her kempou, kunai and fast talking she could resolve just about any situation that could come up, but with only two people working she just didn't have enough eyes or hands to dedicate to both keeping her customers happy AND keeping her bar in one piece.
Setting the traditional tea set and condiments on a delicate crystal tray, an heirloom from her mother, she quickly grabbed a clean cloth, dampening it, for Aoshi's bleeding nose and grabbed an ice pack for his eye from the industrial sized freezer. Juggling her items carefully, she slowly made her way back into the bar, pulling the kitchen door closed with her foot.
She studied him across the short distance, the black hair, falling into those crystalline eyes, giving him an almost boyish appearance, though she guessed he was around twenty-seven. The long, narrow, muscular frame, lounging almost elegantly on the barstool, clad in a semi-clinging black t-shirt and slightly baggy jeans. And that damned ridiculous white and orange trench coat, that oddly served to give him a quite aura of command. She wasn't sure why, and really didn't want to delve into that thought process any further, it just was. From his narrowed eyes, and scrunched forehead, he appeared to be studying something with great interest. She followed that icy gaze to where it rested, on the center of her display of weaponry, seemingly focused on the kodachi she had reverently displayed.
Her father had been a master of twin kodachi, as well as kempou and a vast array of throwing weapons. After coming to America, he had taught her everything she knew about martial arts, though her preference had always been kunai. She could skillfully, and accurately throw sixteen of the deadly sharp throwing knives, at once, her aim always right on the mark. Her skill with kunai and her mastery of kempou had served her well at maintaining a safe and well run establishment. She kept one set of kunai hidden under the bar, as well as three strapped to her right thigh with a garter, one good aspect of her wearing those skirts she despised so much.
But as Kaoru was repeatedly reminding her, in order to succeed you had to look the part. And look the part she did. Tall black combat boots encased her legs to just below the knee, the ties up the front just for looks though, they were actually quite practical , with zippers running up the sides. Her shirt was asymmetrically cut, deep red and covering one arm completely, leaving the other arm and shoulder deliciously bare. A small black leather mini sat low on her hips covering just enough for decency sake, and a pair of matching fingerless gloves, completed the ensemble, a striking contrast to the milky white of her skin. She hadn't finished getting ready though, hair and makeup still undone, what with her flight down the street after Enishi. She would have to go upstairs to her apartment, soon, to finish in time for opening.
She walked closer to Aoshi, noticing now that attention was elsewhere, glaring down at the small puddle of his blood collecting on the surface of the bar, seemingly fascinated with it. What the fuck was his problem, she wondered silently.
"God, are you planning on bleeding on every damn thing I own? She voiced loudly.
His gaze lifted to her then, his eyes carefully studying her face, as though searching for something, she wondered vaguely what that was.
His voice broke through her thoughts then, startling her slightly, "Genrou Makimachi was your father, was he not?" her eyes widened considerably, how the hell did he know who her father was. She was frankly astonished.
"You… how do you……. How do you know that?" her voice coming out soft and confused her brain whirling to try and get her thoughts sorted out correctly and formed into words.
Misao was not prepared for his answer. If she had, had the ability to see the future and find out the answer to her question she never would have asked. But she didn't, and his next words caused her body to go numb, almost dropping the priceless tea set in her arms.
His low timbred voice resonated through her being, paralyzing her when he uttered in response, "He was my teacher."
********************************************************************************************
Evil evil evil evil Nekochan….. Tee hee
Yes I know I still haven't answered the questions as to why this conversation, or why Aoshi knowing Misao's father is such a big deal to her. And I realize that there still wasn't much action in this chapter. This chapter kind of came out of the blue, completely going against the plans I had for chapter 4. So those ideas have obviously been moved to chapter 5 lol.
I have had some response stating that my chapters are not long enough, and the only thing I can say is that I end them where they feel right. Its also easier for me to post more chapters more often If they are shorter.
Now on with the Thanks:
Zerianyu: Thanks so much girl I am in love with the newest chappie of Marriage Case. No you weren't rambling and you weren't overly promoting your story but I will. EVERYONE GO READ ZERIANYU'S MARRIAGE CASE! Its awesome. Thanks again for loving my story.
IrisKitsune: Thanks so much for the support, Your story Land of Smiles is shaping up to be a very nice story, interesting choice in your name for the bar.
Battousai's Girl: I appreciate the review, and I hope to update as frequently as I possibly can.
JL: YAY!!!!! Warm and fuzziness is at an all time high!! Thanks…
Kagome-angel2000: Glad you are liking it so far…. I can't wait to see what happens with Misao and Aoshi either. Though I do plan for a few surprises along the way, ideas for this fic keep growing and changing in my mind the more I write and receive reviews.
SpiritDemon: I love when I get repeat reviewers, that makes me feel like I'm doing at least something right. Lol sure would love to talk with ya some time, I'll get to that dreaded email thing as soon as I get a chance…. Hope to talk to ya soon…
Pyroaoi: I tell you that was the hardest thing ever!!!! I love Japanese history, as well as design and weaponry…. (Kchan loves her swords!!!!!!)…. But when it came to deciding on a design for the bar I was at a loss for two days, and when I finally decided on a Japanese arsenal as the backdrop for The Wildcat, I thought hey this will be so much easier. Lol not true at all……… I sweat dropped all the way through that scene. Glad it felt so realistic though!!!!
And lastly Ukchan/lunarwolf/ookamichan: Your off the hook now I suppose. You've been keeping me very busy with stories to beta read!!!! Sorry about the Wolf Song chappie 1 mishap…. Oi when I got it, it was already messed up, I'm not sure what happened there…… Geez bowing and graveling and scraping… as soon as this is finished I'm on my way to your house to help you fix it!!!! I swear!!!!!!
Oh and for everyone who actually reads this lol check out Ukchan's stories "Wolf Song", if you like card captor Sakura, and her ranma/slayers crossover, "Never Trust Spells You Find On the Internet"! Both great stories and posted under our screen name Treefairy. ^---^
Ciao loves!!!!!!
(Gross, Now I sound like La Blanc that Naga wanna be from FFX2.…… ugh)
