Edited: October 12th, 2012.

Warnings: Language, OOCness. Seriously, I really mess with the characters in this. Read it anyway.

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just mess with their personalities to infuriate the masses.

I Am...

Chapter 1: Bittersweet

Misao stepped into her dimly lit apartment, the door shutting firmly behind her. She hissed as her tinted shades immediately began to fog up from the suddenly change of environment. Tearing them from her face with a vengeance, she threw them at the wall, where they bounced off chipping paint and hit the floor. The shadow beside the offended pair of glasses regarded them lightly before tilting its head at her.

"You're late," The feminine voice commented idly.

"Didn't know I had a curfew," Misao snapped back, her movements conveying her anger and irritation as she flung herself onto a chair and attacked the laces of her boots. "What do you want, Kaoru?" She spat the words out, and was not ashamed of how they sounded, even if the other was not deserving of such treatment.

Kaoru seemed to not mind, though she did raise a delicate brow. Pushing forward, she stepped out of the shadows, her arms across her chest. "You are... unusually tense tonight." The word was an understatement. They both knew it, and ignored the fact. The unasked question of why hung in the air.

Misao pursed her lips into a tight line, ignoring the burn as the abused flesh pressed against each other. Successfully pulling one boot off her foot, she finally scowled. "I got jumped."

Kaoru tilted her head. She looked fine, so it could not have been serious. "And?"

Misao twitched, yanking her other shoe off with such volatility that Kaoru feared she might break her own ankle. "Some freak was following me. He was good. I had no clue."

"He attacked you?"

"No. He helped me."

Kaoru gave pause to this, painted lips parted as she considered that tidbit of information. "Odd."

"No shit, Sherlock," Misao spat irritably, rubbing her temples.

"I am not your enemy here," Kaoru growled back, tiring of her behavior. It was clear this was not the first time they had had this sort of night. "I never have been. So stop treating me like I'm the enemy. I've got your back and have had it since Shinom-"

"Do not ever say his name around me, Kaoru!" Misao barked, venom dripping from her lips. Her pupils were tiny black dots against a backdrop of angry green, staring down Kaoru like she might draw her weapon. The other woman stared back, realizing her mistake but not backing down. They both had such a trait in common.

After several drawn out seconds of staring, Misao finally backed off, slouching in her chair and running a hand through her bangs. With a frustrated sigh, she inquired, "What do you want, Kaoru?"

"Came to check up on you," The words were terse, but not as clipped as they had been after past arguments.

Misao scrunched her nose up, hand still pressed against her forehead. "Since when do you care?"

"Well, you still owe me fifty bucks, for starters."

She could feel the beginnings of a smirk threatening to tug at her lips as she cracked one eye open to look over at her friend. As much as they fueled each other's tempers, Misao could admit to herself she would be lost with Kaoru. Even if she would not admit it to anyone else. "Why are you really here, Kaoru?"

"Mmm..." The older woman moved across the small apartment into the kitchen area. The old fridge gurgled as she opened the door, eyes surveying the almost-barren contents. A cheap beer was her choice and she popped the cap on the corner of the counter. Misao did not seem to care about that fact, either. "I am in."

Green eyes opened fully to rest on her. "It is him, isn't it."

Kaoru's smile held no mirth. "Yukishiro has made himself a powerful man in recent years. Nothing like the little whelp you encountered so long ago."

"Think he's working under a higher power?"

Kaoru laughed softly, and it was hollow. "No... he has become the higher power. There are others equal to him, but he is not working under anyone. That, I promise you."

Misao tilted her head, her face not betraying her thoughts. Her eyes narrowed in calculation, regarding her friend. "How easy was it for you to get in?"

"Fairly," Kaoru replied, and there was a nasty bite as she added, "It seems I live up to his standards."

Misao scowled, "That's sick."

"Yeah, well, I've always done the dirty work."

The younger woman could not help the sharp bark of laughter that escaped her. It was true, in some regard. She and Kaoru had worked together forever and Kaoru's specialty had always been intelligence gathering and infiltration. From blending in with crowds to gaining trust, she could do it.

And she would do it by any means necessary.

"Just don't fuck him, all right? That's just wrong."

Kaoru smirked, but said nothing on the matter. The precarious situation she was in was not something to joke about, but here both of them were doing so. Sanity was not something either woman had in surplus. Such things like rationale withered under the heat of Misao's thirst for blood, and Kaoru's undying devotion to eradicating what she deemed evil. And there were many, many evils in this world.

The sound of glass hitting glass in the trash can told Misao that her partner had finished her beer. "I need to go before I am missed. The closer I get to the inner web, the less frequent I will be able to meet up with you. I will find other ways to get you the information, though. That, I promise you."

Misao nodded in understanding as Kaoru picked up her coat off the ragged couch and slipped it on. "Oh, and I overheard a small bit of information that you should know."

There was concern laced in Kaoru's voice, and Misao took attention to it, looking at her friend. Pink lips pursed together before she murmured, "I heard the words 'Byakko Warehouse Incident.'"

Misao's blood froze, her eyes glazing over at the words. Kaoru regarded her quietly before glancing at her watch. She did not want to leave at this point, but if she did not, both women would be in jeopardy. "Be careful and stay low. They might be looking for you." Her words were soft, a mere whisper in the otherwise silent apartment. And then the door clicked shut behind her.

Slender fingers with short, chipped nails pressed to her chapped lips as her stomach churned at such words. Heat and anger rolled through her, making her insides twist painfully. Her eyes lifted to a dusty frame sitting on an otherwise barren shelf. In the pale light, she could just make out the two figures in it, one much taller than the other. Regret and despair replaced the anger and she tore her eyes away and closed them painfully, a choked noise escaping her as she struggled to contain the emotions that were rolling inside.

'Aoshi... it should have been me who died that night.'

Images flashed behind her eyelids, the sound of gunshots echoed in the back of her mind. His tall form urging her along. She could remember the pain, smell the tang of the blood from her wounds, and the fear that she was going to die.

She could hear his voice, so calm despite the situation; could see his face set into a grim mask that did not betray the worry she knew lay beneath that mask.

She could still hear her own screams as he went down under the hail of gunfire that should have been meant for her.

The image of his body collapsing on the roof as she was taken away by the truck he had thrown her on as it went by was forever grained into her mind.

Aoshi.

Years of practice at pushing the painful memories back let her return to the presence, and she blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet, feeling more tired than she had in months. With minimal effort she pulled her jacket from her body, her anger gone and her chest feeling hollow. She needed sleep. Needed to forget. Needed... him.

Slowly, she pulled her defenses back together and began to peel her clothes from her body, moving in the general direction of her bathroom.

She did not see the shadow that melted past her frost-ringed window, or the ghost of a smile that accompanied it.

Phoe-chan