by glaube
Setting: 1932-33, New York, America & Various Places, Japan. A reviewer was kind enough to notate my, well, apathy towards the timeline, so allow me to explain why I was reluctant to peg the 1920's or 1940's: in the 1920's, America was isolationist, and wouldn't have had much go-between involving Japan. In the 1940's, Japan had a different government. So, for this "type" of era, roughly 1933 is the best year -- America and Japan will still be trading and attempting to keep peace, but Japan's government will be eyeing a lot of expansion; so money and power will, of course, be crucial. Also, America's starting to get the depression under control, because Roosevelt's been elected. Misao and her gang are all gainfully employed by the most successful newspaper, and because the war in Europe is going on, Newspapers are becoming more successful. I hope this clears things up. Better, Aiteane? That should help the settings issues. Thanks. ^_^
Summary: AU, 1930's, Aoshi + Misao. Misao, a successful reporter in America, hasn't seen Aoshi for five years. But when she starts investigating Kanryuu for the New York Police, she finds herself in the middle of a tangle of power, wealth, and ancient ninja clans in Japan. Will they meet again?
Chapter 3: Pleasantly Clouded Judgement
She'd had to take Sano out for food, but eventually Misao and Sano sat together eating in a restaurant called the Akabeko, near the back. It seemed that Sano had friends here, as he did everywhere else, so getting a private booth was easy for the lanky gangster.
"You're going to tell me why I didn't pummel that guy in the alley." Misao said simply, staring over at her spiky-haired companion. "I've fed you. No excuses now."
"Hai.." Murmured Sano, who let out a belch, much to Misao's dusgust, as he leaned back and stretched. It seemed that Zanza was trying to pick a starting point for his story. "Alright, Weasel. You say you're a descendant of the Oniwabanshuu, right?"
"Yes." Misao muttered impatiently, waiting for him to get to the point. "Ninjas during the Meiji. The style's been passed down, but Okina lives in New York."
"That doesn't mean that they merely ceased to exist. A clan as strong as the Oniwabanshuu will stay together unless ordered otherwise by an extremely strong leader. Even then, most Okashiras would allow a unanimous choice to be made by the group members -- many say that the ONiwabanshuu is like a family and has those bonds between its members. I'm surprised you don't know more about them, Misao-san."
"And why is that?" Misao asked, curiosity peaked.
"Because your father was the last Okashira. And Okina-san before him."
Her chopsticks hovered in stunned surprise above her plate.
***
The palm of Kanryuu's hand connected sharply with Megumi's cheek. "You stupid whore! What do you mean, the shipment will have to be delayed?!"
"I mean your goons overheated my lab." Megumi said coldly. "If you're going to force me to work for you the least you could do is provide intelligent personnel."
Kanryuu's eyes narrowed, the crazed and greed-driven slits filled with anger as he stared at the pretty woman before him.
"Megumi-san." Murmured Kanryuu, dangerously. "I am sure you are aware of what the money from this shipment is going towards."
"Yes."
"And you are aware of what I will do to you if you fail?"
An incline of her head, a sad sigh of surrender. "Yes."
"Good."
She turned to go, and Kanryuu smirked. "I suggest you stay, m'dear. You still owe me for your failure and your commentary." When Megumi froze, Kanryuu stepped closer, his hands sliding over her slender shoulders as he leered down at the slender woman. "Remember, Megumi. I own you."
"If you want your money on time," Megumi murmured, "I suggest you let me get back to work."
***
"That's impossible. My father died in a car accident and Okina runs a newspaper in New York."
"No, Weasel. Your father was murdered. So was my mentor, whose name I've taken for my purposes -- Sagara Sanosuke. I was there."
Chopsticks fell out of slender hands, landing on her plate with a clink. Sano, assuming Misao's full attention now, went on with his story.
"Look. Everyone who knows anything about the underground knows that Kanryuu's up to no good. He's probably the one behind your father's death as well as Sagara's. Saitou's been after him for amost four years now; ever since he became an ambassador to the embassy in New York. But the Oniwabanshuu...ever since the Meiji, they've been thorns in the side of anyone who wants to gain power through money and bloodshed. And interestingly enough, they do it using the opposite methods of politicians driven by greed: they've won with integrity and by the sword. If Kanryuu can't beat them on those fronts then he's going to go down like all the rest."
"Who is the Okashira now?" Misao asked quietly. "I'd like to meet them."
"I'll see what I can do. No promises, Weasel. You might be a descendant but they still keep their identity secret."
***
"No." Aoshi said flatly, later that evening, much to Sanosuke's surprise.
"Come on, Shinomori! You'd be a fool not to meet this girl. She's related to the last two Okashiras and she can fight."
"I'm aware of Misao's skills." Murmured Aoshi coldly. "I'm the one who trained her."
"Then you should also know that she's not going to take no for an answer, Shinomori. I told her about her father."
Something in Aoshi's eyes became fierce and deadly; and Sagara Sanosuke found himself pushed against the wall with amazing speed.
"You WHAT?! Saitou told me you were STUPID but I never believed HOW MUCH!" Snarled Aoshi. "Do you REALIZE how much DANGER you're putting her in?!"
Sano waited for Aoshi to let him down and dusted off the edges of his jacket, smirking at the ninja. "Oh, I get it. Shinomori's got a thing for the little lady."
Aoshi stared at him coldly. "I do .not. have a .thing." Said the Okashira, with a tone of voice that none of his men would ever have doubted.
"Whatever you say, Shinomori. Shall I tell her I saw you?" Sano teased with his infamous cocky grin. Aoshi's eyes narrowed.
"You may tell her to be at the temple tomorrow. She will not see any of us. She must be willing to accept that."
Sano smiled. "Fair enough. Later, Icicle."
***
And that's how Misao found herself at an old temple about an hour away from Tokyo the next day at dawn. In the middle of the main hall was a single scarf, blue.
"Blindfold yourself." Came an unfamiliar voice from the rafters. "Do it."
"Why?!" Misao asked, exasperated.
"The Oniwabanshuu at all times protects the identity of its members. You will do this, or you will die."
Misao rolled her eyes, yanked up the scarf, and tied it on.
"Happy?!" She snarled, in the general direction of the voice. It made no reply, and Misao became aware of several steps in her direction. She assumed a fighting stance, although she couldn't see.
***
God. She was still beautiful.
Aoshi had known that it had been a bad idea to let Sano bring Misao ever since he said it, but in a moment of weakness, he'd let his feelings for the young reporter cloud his judgement.
Now, that judgement was out the window again, even though her most alluring feature -- wide, honest eyes, was thankfully covered by the scarf. How long had it been? Five years and a couple of days?
Ice blue eyes settled on smooth, rosy lips, and Aoshi couldn't help but wonder if anyone else had kissed her. Or touched the braid that fell down her back. He almost did, but then Misao took up a fighting stance and he couldn't restrain his amusement. That was his Misao. Ready to defend herself at a moment's notice.
"I have no intention of harming you, Makimachi-san." Aoshi murmured coldly; hoping that his Japanese would throw her off.
"I want to know why Okina lied to me about my father."
"Because you would have insisted on inheriting his position and you were not ready?"
"And someone else was?!" She yelled. "I can fight! I could've led. Damnit, I was entitled to know."
Aoshi was silent, pacing in a slow circle around the blindfolded figure in the middle of the dojo. "Makimachi, I'm going to be honest. I don't know why you're here. But you need to leave. The Oniwabanshuu has every intention of handling Kanryuu."
"Saitou didn't seem to think so."
"The Wolf is a paranoid fool. I want you out of Tokyo in a week."
"I refuse."
"You will be given no choice." Aoshi replied smoothly. He could feel, as well as see, Misao's anger surge up, preparing himself for the temper-tantrum that surely would've been typical of a younger Misao.
"Then I will fight you for my right to make that choice." Came the voice of this new Misao, the confident one, the beautiful woman who stood in front of him. Her hands moved faster than he could stop them; the knot of the scarf coming untied, the blue ribbon falling to her feet.
And for the first time in five years, their eyes met.
"...Aoshi."
***
Aoshi had given Sano his word that Misao would be escorted back to Tokyo when her meeting with the Oniwabanshuu was over; so Sano had gone back to town alone, wandering the streets in that lazy, confident style of his. The brunette's stride came to an abrupt halt when something very short and very slender crashed into him as he rounded a corner. Surprised, Sano reached out in instinct to steady whatever it was; and came face to face with Megumi.
"We meet again, Fox." He drawled, although his smirk disappeared when he noticed the stains of tears marring the beautiful, pale woman's face.
"Get out of my way, Rooster."
"The name's Sagara Sanosuke. Why are you crying?"
It was the first time in years that anyone had showed genuine concern for Megumi, but she was smart enough to know that doing so would probably get Sano in trouble, or killed...probably killed.
"Get out of my way, Sagara."
"I'll walk you to wherever you're headed, Fox."
"I don't want your help, Rooster."
"Too bad. I'm a stubborn asshole." Teased Sanosuke, and to his surprise, Megumi bit back a sob.
***
To Misao's credit, she didn't faint, sob, shriek, or scream, which were all options Aoshi had prepared himself for as soon as the scarf fell to the ground. Instead she seemed to bonelessly sink into him, her pretty forehead falling against his chest, hands clenched into small fists, lightly beating into him. When he finally got her to stop, Misao's words were muffled somewhat by his jacket.
"Why...?"
"I didn't want you involved in this." Aoshi said quietly, and Misao's eyes narrowed angrily.
"What, Shinomori?! Afraid I couldn't handle it?! Ditch me in America only to Ditch me again in Japan?!"
Aoshi cringed and shook his head. "No." He said icily. "Afraid I couldn't handle it. Look, the Oniwabanshuu is a family buisness--"
"Yeah. It is. MY family buisness." Misao pointed out.
"You haven't mastered the technique." Aoshi replied smoothly. "And Okina wanted you to finish college. If I could have stayed I would have. But instead I gave up all my dreams in New York and came here so I could lead these men against Kanryuu. In case you haven't noticed, Misao, the world's going to war. I'm doing all I can to stop any extra bloodshed."
Misao stared up at him, falling stubbornly silent. After a moment she chose to speak, apparently having gained control of her confusion and her anger. "Do you know what he wants?"
"Yes. I don't know exactly what it is, but I spoke to the people running the Kamiya dojo, and it appears he's interested in some sort of super-sword and succession technique to eliminate his competition."
"And the Oniwabanshuu. Apparently he doesn't like them much, either."
"He doesn't like things that get in his way. The Oniwbanshuu are in his way." Aoshi replied, truthfully enough. "So are you."
"I'm not leaving." Misao replied stubbornly enough. "You're not going to stay here and die trying to play big brother; I'm not your little sister and I'm tired of being treated like one."
She was surprised when Aoshi's hands gripped her shoulders firmly; intense blue eyes meeting her own.
"Makimachi Misao, I have never thought of you as a little sister."
"Then what do you think of me, Shinomori Aoshi?" Quipped Misao back, her eyes narrowing. "Obviously not much if you don't even bother writing a girl a letter in five ---"
But she was cut off by a low growl from Aoshi. "You're so damn frustrating." He interrupted fiercly, before the Okashira's lips captured her own, not bothering to let Misao make her own vitriolic reply or even finish her sentence.
In the back of the room, Hannya clapped.
"About bloody time; I certainly was getting bored listening to you argue."
review! You know you want to. Sorry for the long update delay.