Chapter 3.
" Misao."
Misao gripped the arms of the chair for support as she got unsteadily to her feet. She rested a hand on the back of the chair as she turned to face her visitor. She gasped in surprise, her face showing a mixture of happiness and guilt.
" Aoshi-sama."
Aoshi stood before her, his trench coat glistening with moisture from the rain outside. His wet hair clung to his face and she could see him shiver from the cold ever so slightly. Relief filled her heart. She was grateful for the comforting presence of familiarity.
Her mind slowly registered the fact that Aoshi was there in the room with her. In the Seiibanshuu compound. Her relief quickly turned to anxiety.
" Aoshi-sama. What are you doing here? You have to leave."
Aoshi stared at her, rooted to the ground as his legs refused to move. His eyes focused on Misao, slightly wide with the shock of Misao's physical form. She had indeed grown very big in the front. He could tell by her posture that her pregnant form did not agree with her petite frame. Seeing her there, pregnant, seemed to reinforce in his mind the fact that Misao was not his.
Misao wondered why Aoshi did not answer her. She followed his gaze towards her round stomach, her lips lifted in a half hearted grimace.
" A bit of a shock isn't it?"
" Aa."
Suddenly, a large clap of thunder caused Misao to jump in fright, her hand moving to touch her racing heart, beating quickly not only because of the surprise.
" Aoshi-sama. Why are you here?"
Aoshi shook his head vigorously, shaking out much of the rainwater that soaked his hair.
" You weren't at the funeral."
Funeral. Her Jiya's. She missed it.
Misao remained stubbornly silent, too deep in her own memories to notice the man right in front of her. Aoshi's blue eyes pierced directly into hers through the wet strands of black hair falling across his forehead. His sheathed kodachi gripped tightly in his right hand, ready for any interruption and aid in his escape.
" Why did you not attend?"
Misao winced visibly at this question. Her body began to shake and she found that she could not stop herself. She wanted to appear composed so that she could avoid Aoshi's question but found that she could not.
" Tell me."
She was surprised at the hint of pleading in Aoshi's voice. However her appearance had not changed as she began to feel overwhelmed. The sounds of his groans. The steady thud of bodies crashing together. The sounds were so vivid. But the pain, the mental pain was crystal clear in her mind. The steady pounding in her head replaced her perceptions of the room, her knees became weak and she hurried to sit down. She didn't want to see Aoshi. She did not want to see anyone in the Aoiya or her 'previous life' as Donashiro had called it. They would not want to see what kind of person she had become.
Neither did she.
_______
Aoshi watched as Misao stared at him for a brief moment before looking away, hurrying to get out of his sight. Or to get him out of HER sight. Something akin to pain cut through his heart as he observed Misao. Her breathing was slow and shaky, as if it was a struggle to breathe at all. He could sense the tension and uncertainty in the young girl simply by watching her as he had done almost all of his life.
"Doushita ?"
A simple, cold request for information. That wasn't what he had wanted it to sound like. However, it did seem to get a reaction out of her. Watching her from behind the over stuffed chair, he could see her body stiffen, her head rising as she straightened up.
Still silence. Unease. Tension. Concern.
" Misao-"
" Why did you come here?"
Misao cut him off, asking the same question he had not quite answered.
" ...Everyone at the Aoiya is very worried about you. This is because-"
" Jiya's funeral...I didn't go."
Aoshi took this chance to move forward, to stand in front of her and force himself to take a good look at her to see what state of health she was in. After all, wasn't that what his fellow Oniwabanshuu members wanted?
" Why?" he asked softly, not shifting his attention away.
Misao's eyes glazed over, the once prominent blue disappearing retreating deeper into the depths of her soul.
" I couldn't...he...he wouldn't let me. I couldn't face Jiya again...it was my fault."
Her final words were in stark contrast to the uncertainty and fear in her speech. Aoshi knew she felt strongly about it. But how could Okina's death be her fault?
Aoshi looked down towards the floor, unable to face Misao for what he had failed to do. Protect her happiness by saving her Jiya. He wondered why he could not comfort her as he had all those years ago. It had been so easy to coax a young child to smile. But that was then, this was now. Misao was no longer a child. A simple fact that he had realised too late.
" Its not your fault."
There it was again. That cold and emotionless tone.
" No. It's my fault. My fault that Jiya's...Jiya's dead."
Aoshi stared at the figure before him. Her slender figure slumped on the chair, her hair greasy and her blotchy face streaked with tears. She looked so pitiful, so unlike the genki Misao that he knew and loved. And still love.
He moved forward, dropping his weapons on the floor soundlessly and knelt, cupping her face with both his hands, bringing her eyes to look squarely into his. For a moment he simply stared, a strange feeling clenching his chest as he saw the confusion, the guilt, the fear.
" It is not your fault."
Misao was surprised by Aoshi's uncharacteristic behaviour and forceful tone, startling her for a moment before she continued.
" You're wrong. You don't understand! I killed him!"
Misao flailed her arms out to accentuate her words, pushing Aoshi away from her in the same swift motion. She heard Aoshi's sharp draw of breath in surprise.
" You couldn't have killed him."
Tears trailed down her blotchy cheeks. Tears of anguish.
" I did! I KILLED MY JIYA."
Suddenly, Misao fell forward from her chair, pitching forward from the impaired balance her pregnancy had brought her. Aoshi caught her before she landed on the floor. He continued to hold her in his arms as her tiny frame wracked with sobs. His mind drifted back to that night...the night where he had held her just like this...minus various items of clothing.
Aoshi looked down at Misao, holding her somewhat stiffly as his surprise disappeared. Why not just humour her. If she felt so strongly about it, maybe he could gain some information to investigate further, to convince Misao otherwise.
" How did you kill Okina?"
" I disobeyed him...he warned me. But I didn't listen...he threatened...and...Jiya. He died...Jiya died because I defied him."
" He...Donashiro."
Misao leaned back against the base of her chair, loosening her grip on Aoshi, refusing to look up from the wooden floor. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides as perspiration dripped down the side of her face. She could feel the kicks coming from within.
Aoshi quivered, not from cold, but from red hot anger. His mind slowly pieced together the puzzle of Misao's current condition. He had always known that that bastard had been capable of deception and lies. But not this.
" I'll kill him."
Misao did not look up. Her even breathing told him that she had fallen asleep. Deciding not to question why she had fallen asleep so suddenly, he stood, stooping to pick up Misao and gently placed her back onto her chair as if he had never been there. His eyes roamed over the room, taking in the wet puddles on the wooden floor he had left when he had jumped into the room. He focused on Misao's even breathing pattern as he picked up a nearby glass of water from a food tray and spilt it on the floor where he had landed, placing the empty glass within arms reach of Misao's chair.
He could hear footsteps, hushed conversations and laughter. He would need to leave soon. He checked carefully for any dirt that may have dislodged from his boots before taking one last look at Misao. He spotted a shadow on her hand, peeking out from the sleeve of her kimono. He reached forward, allowing curiosity to get the better of him and pulled back the sleeve. Nasty yellow marks and fresh purple bruises. Hints of dried blood along the edges of cuts and abrasions.
" I think its time we check on Donashiro-sama."
Aoshi listened quietly at the soft voice of the female who was somewhere near the room. It took him a moment to register the fact that she was talking about Misao. Donashiro Misao. Kaede owned her.
Quickly, he let the sleeve fall back to cover her wrist before grabbing his kodochi and disappearing into the shadows.
As the heavy wooden doors to the room edged open to allow a harsh stream of yellow light to partly illuminate the silent room, Misao opened her eyes again, now breathing normally. She let out a sigh of relief as she deduced that Aoshi had already left.
It wasn't that she wasn't happy to see him.
It was because she did not want him to see her. She smoothed her ruffled sleeve, her fingertips running over the silver threads and their intricate designs. He knew now. Of her injuries. This was sure to be a problem.
Misao had never felt so helpless about any situation in her life. There had always been hope. When her Aoshi-sama left her, she had been able to search for him. When she wanted him dead for the wellbeing of the Oniwabanshuu, despite her own hope, Himura had been there. But now, there was nothing. Okina was gone, the Oniwabanshuu would be able to do nothing because of diplomatic reasons. Marriage was final, there was no going back.
Why had she gotten married? If only Aoshi had told her he was leaving. If only she would have waited...to have been more patient. If only someone had cleared up the misunderstanding.
If only.
Life is filled with possibilities. But regrets are useless, always too late.
All she could do now was to prevent anything happening to her beloved family. Even if she had to be a cordial and obedient wife to that man.
" Donashiro-sama?"
Kanako appeared before her, her happy smile and genki nature almost infecting her as she sat up straighter, looking more reminiscent of the past Misao.
" What is it Kanako? Please do not call me Donashiro-sama...while no one is around."
" Hai hai...I understand."
Kanako looked around her, surveying the spilt water and untouched food tray.
" Mou Misao! Why did you spill the water?"
Kanako knelt to wipe up the water on the wooden floor as Misao stared at her blankly. Suddenly, she caught sight of the empty water glass. Suddenly it dawned on her.
" Sorry. A little clumsy."
Kanako straightened again, satisfied that the floor was dry enough and put her wet towel on the table next to the food tray.
" You didn't eat too! You HAVE to eat."
"...not hungry."
Kanako's sharp hearing picked up Misao's half hearted mumbling.
" If not for you, then for the child you are carrying. Anyway, you can't eat this now. It's cold. I'll go get you a fresh meal."
Misao looked down at her round stomach as Kanako walked away, shutting the door behind her.
The child she carried within. When the child was born, that man would surely take him or her away. Used against her, a tool for that man to take the Oniwabanshuu under his power.
She couldn't let that happen.
As her mind drifted back to that night, so many months ago, something dawned on her. The doctor that had attended to her by order of that man had said something very peculiar. She was very far along in her pregnancy.
Too far along.
Of course, the doctor had not said any more than that. Donashiro's reputation far exceeded the voicing of any reasoning on the doctor's part. That night...perhaps the situation was not as dire as Misao had first thought.
She smiled, the first time in months. A genuine smile, much like her former self. Gently placing her hand on her bloated stomach, she felt the vigorous kicks of the child. Her ally. Her child. And someone else's.
Now she had her hope. That would be all she needed to hold on and to survive.
The door opened again, this time Kanako and an extra maid whose arms were laden with a tray of food. The maid set the tray on the dining table at the other side of the large sitting room before being waved away by Kanako. When the door closed securely behind her, Kanako walked over to Misao, beaming as she proudly displayed a jar of browned eggs, a faint sour aroma tantalizing the air.
" This is one of the items I saved from your packages. I felt it was a shame to throw it all away...Will you at least eat this?"
Misao recognised this dish. While one of the Oniwabanshuu members were pregnant, Okon and Omasu had teamed together to make vats of it. At that time, Misao had complained about the sour taste. But now, she gladly welcomed it, one of the many specialties in Okon and Omasu's cooking repertoire. Kanako began to twist the jar to put some in a bowl and force Misao to eat as she had done in the past months.
" No."
Misao pushed her away, this time beginning to rise unsteadily in her chair. She waved Kanako's helping hands away.
" I can still walk by myself."
With renewed determination, she walked to the table where the tray of food had been set on the table where the maid had left it. Kanako stared at her in surprise. This had been the first time since all those months ago that Misao had voluntarily gotten up and wanted to eat. She shrugged.
________
Nightfall. The rain falls endlessly.
Wet hands move to slide open the damp wooden door, the sounds of the hustle and bustle of the Aoiya reaching his ears as he did so.
" Irrashaimase...get those wet things off right now!"
Okon set down the cup of tea in front of the customer and tucked the tray under her arm, pushing Aoshi towards the main house where he would not be in the way. Beads of water sliding off his clothing and hair had already become a puddle beneath him as he stood in the hallway.
" Don't catch a cold now. I don't want another thing to deal with. I'll ask you about Misao later...right now the Aoiya is too full!"
With that, Okon hurried off, leaving Aoshi alone to peel off his trenchcoat and head up the stairs to his room. His footsteps made little noise as he walked along the halls of the upper level. He looked to his side, watching the closed doors go by as he headed down the hall. Suddenly he stopped, standing in an open doorway to Omasu's quarters where a mirror lay propped up.
He slide open the door wider, his eyes fixated on his own reflected image. It had been awhile since he had seen himself in a mirror. He didn't like what he saw. His eyes had become sunken, dark circles around cold blue eyes. He himself had always been proud of having the ruthless look. It was essential to being okashira of a ninja clan. But it didn't appeal to him so much anymore. Nothing really mattered very much anymore. His mind seemed to have become almost obsessively preoccupied with Misao.
He slid the door closed, not wanting to see himself anymore. Entering his room, he hung his trench coat up to dry, ignoring the beads of water dripping from the material. Changing into dry, warm clothes, he sat down, back against the wall with the window above him, with his kodochi leaning against his shoulder. The stream of moonlight usually present was now obstructed by the dark storm clouds and the silence disturbed by the endless drone of falling rain.
What should he do?
All the information he had obtained from his 'visit' would surely shock the people of the Aoiya. The sheer powerlessness he felt...he didn't want this to interfere with the already damaged morale of his clan from the death of Okina. He didn't want to stand by and watch but he knew that interfering in the Seiibanshuu's business was very unwise. It wasn't unusual for a husband to hit a wife. It was his right. No one ever said anything about it.
But not Misao. She is different. Was different.
He could not forget the image of her sitting there forlorn. Looking so pitiful. So unlike the genki Misao he knew, the girl who would always bounce back. Always smile.
It hit him that she never did once smile at him. Not genuinely.
The fact of the matter remained. Misao was married to Donashiro. There was nothing he could do about that. But what would he tell the Oniwabanshuu? Telling them the truth would only sadden them. If the information would act as a detriment towards the Oniwabanshuu, he would keep the news to himself. He would find a way to solve it as he had always done. Every problem has a solution.
His mind could not get around it. The problem far too complex, too many variables, too many results which would end in failure.
" Aoshi...I mean Okashira. What did Misao-chan say?"
Aoshi looked up abruptly, seeing Omasu hover around in the doorway. Her hands gripped the side of the door, as if she expected bad news. His mind raced with possible replies to Omasu's question.
" Is she ok? Did she like our present? I'm sure she's very big by now. She must be complaining so much. She's happy right?"
It seemed Omasu had already attempted to answer her own question. This is what she wanted to hear, and the news of the truth would only hurt her.
" Misao is fine."
" Oh really! That's so good! I'm so relieved...Misao is just fine. What a relief."
Omasu began to spiel off onto a tangent until a nagging question brought her back down to earth.
" But...if she is fine...then why did she not come to Okina's funeral?"
With a split second of thinking, Aoshi managed to answer back smoothly.
" Her pregnancy."
Omasu sighed with relief, smiling and stopped wringing her hands in her lap.
" Oh of course! That's why. It was so simple...why did we get so worried? We're so silly. I'll go tell the others. Sorry I interrupted your rest Ao-...I mean Okashira. Oyasumi."
Omasu hurried to take her leave, grateful for the 'good news' that she had received. Aoshi listened to the door slide shut and the woman's footsteps becoming quieter as she slipped down the hallway.
It was always easy to let people hear what they wanted to hear.
Even if it was not always the truth.
He looked up again, suddenly hearing approaching footsteps. Hearing the rattle of cups and plates and the aroma of tantalising food, he could have guessed what was coming.
His door slid open to reveal Okon holding a heavily laden tray of food. Puffs of steam could be seen in the cool air as Okon set the dinner tray down near Aoshi.
" Okashira, here's your dinner."
Okon made no move to leave Aoshi in peace with his dinner. Instead she started chatting happily. It was obvious that Omasu had already told her the news about Misao.
" Isn't it so good that Misao is ok? I wish I could have gone to see her too. Our little Misao...pregnant! She must be hating it so much ne Okashira? She'd probably think that it was in the way or something. Or could it be that Misao has matured?"
Okon paused, waiting for a couple of seconds for Aoshi to answer before spouting off again.
" Oh maybe its both! I can't wait to see the baby. Maybe he has the same blue eyes as the Makimachi family. Or maybe it will be a she."
Okon kept chatting happily as Aoshi sat, listening to her words. Okon's words, however untruthful painted a bright and happy picture, contrasting with the dark reality. They were just words, but listening gave him a spot of comfort.
" Speaking of Donashiro, I wonder who started that ugly rumour about the baby?"
Aoshi's eyes widened, his fists clenched.
" What rumour?"
Okon was quite taken aback by Aoshi's sudden participation in the conversation.
" Oh...well...its nothing really. Just some neighbourhood gossip. You wouldn't really be interested-"
" tell me."
Okon shrank back a little under Aoshi's intense gaze.
" Erm..well the ladies around the area have been speculating that...well...Misao is a bit too far along."
Aoshi kept silent this time, allowing Okon to take her time to get over the embarrassment of spilling a juicy bit of gossip to a male okashira.
" She's too far along in her pregnancy for the child to be Donashiro-san's. Of course that's just a silly little rumour. Take no notice of it Okashira! I better get back down to the Aoiya to help out. Oyasumi."
Okon quickly left the room, leaving a rather startled Aoshi behind. Flashbacks of that night. The long and silky strands of hair tangled in his long fingers. The softness, the warmth, the scent of her pale skin.
Okon had said Misao was too far along for the child to be Donashiro's.
Could it be? Could the child...be his?
His mind raced, exploring all the possibilities. His mind reached the conclusion that it was just wishful thinking on his part. A yearning for a second chance, a connection with her once more. Nevertheless, something deep down was clinging to that hope, believing that it was true.
Could Misao be pregnant with his child?
_____
Screams of pain. Panting, heavy breathing.
The wooden doors open, revealing a quite disgruntled old woman drying her hands on a piece of cloth.
" False alarm."
Donashiro glared at the old woman before walking past her, pushing the doors open wider and stalked towards the tired figure slumped on a chair.
" Leave us."
The women obeyed his order, wiping the sweat from the girl's face before dropping the face towel into the basin of hot water and walking out of the room. As soon as the doors eased closed with a soft thud, Donashiro moved to his wife's side, standing menacingly over her.
" Don't do that again. If you're not going to actually give birth, do not call me."
Misao sat sullenly, refusing to look at Donashiro.
" Do you think it's a joke to interrupt my work? You get enough attention already. If not from me, then from your visitors."
This caught her attention. She looked up at Donashiro in surprise.
" What do you mean by that?"
" Don't speak back to me! I know all about your little visitor."
" What visitor!? You won't let me have any!"
Donashiro's large hands encircled around her neck, his fingers pressing into the hollow, choking her. He shook her hard, her arms weakly tried in vain to make him stop. Suddenly he released her, letting her flop back onto the chair. He leaned in close, his rough hands caressing her cheek and her neck, gently outlining the side of her face.
" Kirei."
Tilting her head back, he kissed her forcefully. Misao's stomach lurched and nausea filled her. She didn't have the strength to push him away. When it ended, Misao breathed heavily to catch her breath but refused to say anything or respond to his affections. The same hand which had caressed her lovingly came across her face in a loud hard slap.
" What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Tense silence.
" You know...I could be the cause of your miscarriage."
Donashiro's whispered words made Misao's eyes widen, shrinking back in her chair and her arms moved to protect her stomach.
" Ah. So you can be passionate. Just not with me."
Donashiro straightened, taking a slight step back. He smiles enigmatically.
" Not my child, is it?"
He observed his wife. He knew that he had hit the right mark from Misao's involuntary twitching when he had asked his question.
" So I was right. Its Shinomori's right?"
" ...no. it's not." Misao stammered.
She had answered too late. Donashiro knew she was lying, simply for the fact that she had taken a little too long to think of an answer.
" You still love him don't you. That's why you want to have his child."
Misao looked up into Donashiro's eyes, startled by his soft tone. He now looked reminiscent of the old Kaede, the one she knew to be kind and sweet, before they had married. His coffee brown eyes showed his pain and hurt. Despite all the things he had done to her, Misao still felt the need to comfort him. After all they had been good friends before he changed. She moved to the edge of her seat and hugged him to her, Donashiro bending down for her to reach.
" Gomen ne."
Misao apologised, knowing full well that in the end, it was her fault for getting pregnant out of wedlock and marrying her husband without telling him of the fact.
" You know Misao-chan. I knew that Shinomori would never have abandoned you right from the start."
Misao loosened her grip on Donashiro, her mind racing to find the hidden meaning of Donashiro's words.
Don't worry Misao-chan. Even if Aoshi abandoned you...I'll always be here for you.
That had been Donashiro's words to her when she thought Aoshi had disappeared. She had been so upset. All along, he had known...and he lied to her.
" You knew all along...?"
" You never would have loved me otherwise. But I realise you never loved me anyway."
His voice dropped to an almost evil register, his smiled seemed almost predatory.
" Even if you didn't love me...I could still exact my revenge on the one you love most. On both Shinomori and his child."
Misao realised the severity and seriousness of Donashiro's statement. He was a man who kept his word and would do whatever it took to act on it.
" No...please. I'll do anything you ask."
" You have to love me. You can't leave me. Ever."
Taking Misao's hestitation as an answer, Kaede turned to leave. Misao sprang up from her chair and threw herself at him, clutching onto his leg tightly.
" I...I love you. I'll stay by your side."
Donashiro smirked, looking down at Misao clutching pitifully at his leg.
" Forever?"
She hated herself for what she said. And for what she would say next.
" Forever."
Donashiro stoked her hair gently, smiling as he did so.
" Good."
Extricating himself from her, he left the room, leaving Misao kneeling on the floor. She barely noticed the woman who had been with her before pull her to her feet and sat her on the chair again. All the luxuries provided to her was nothing. It had no more meaning. She had no freedom. She had just promised that to somebody else. Looking down, she rubbed her large tummy.
It was worth it, to save her child and HIM.
__________
" Misao."
Misao gripped the arms of the chair for support as she got unsteadily to her feet. She rested a hand on the back of the chair as she turned to face her visitor. She gasped in surprise, her face showing a mixture of happiness and guilt.
" Aoshi-sama."
Aoshi stood before her, his trench coat glistening with moisture from the rain outside. His wet hair clung to his face and she could see him shiver from the cold ever so slightly. Relief filled her heart. She was grateful for the comforting presence of familiarity.
Her mind slowly registered the fact that Aoshi was there in the room with her. In the Seiibanshuu compound. Her relief quickly turned to anxiety.
" Aoshi-sama. What are you doing here? You have to leave."
Aoshi stared at her, rooted to the ground as his legs refused to move. His eyes focused on Misao, slightly wide with the shock of Misao's physical form. She had indeed grown very big in the front. He could tell by her posture that her pregnant form did not agree with her petite frame. Seeing her there, pregnant, seemed to reinforce in his mind the fact that Misao was not his.
Misao wondered why Aoshi did not answer her. She followed his gaze towards her round stomach, her lips lifted in a half hearted grimace.
" A bit of a shock isn't it?"
" Aa."
Suddenly, a large clap of thunder caused Misao to jump in fright, her hand moving to touch her racing heart, beating quickly not only because of the surprise.
" Aoshi-sama. Why are you here?"
Aoshi shook his head vigorously, shaking out much of the rainwater that soaked his hair.
" You weren't at the funeral."
Funeral. Her Jiya's. She missed it.
Misao remained stubbornly silent, too deep in her own memories to notice the man right in front of her. Aoshi's blue eyes pierced directly into hers through the wet strands of black hair falling across his forehead. His sheathed kodachi gripped tightly in his right hand, ready for any interruption and aid in his escape.
" Why did you not attend?"
Misao winced visibly at this question. Her body began to shake and she found that she could not stop herself. She wanted to appear composed so that she could avoid Aoshi's question but found that she could not.
" Tell me."
She was surprised at the hint of pleading in Aoshi's voice. However her appearance had not changed as she began to feel overwhelmed. The sounds of his groans. The steady thud of bodies crashing together. The sounds were so vivid. But the pain, the mental pain was crystal clear in her mind. The steady pounding in her head replaced her perceptions of the room, her knees became weak and she hurried to sit down. She didn't want to see Aoshi. She did not want to see anyone in the Aoiya or her 'previous life' as Donashiro had called it. They would not want to see what kind of person she had become.
Neither did she.
_______
Aoshi watched as Misao stared at him for a brief moment before looking away, hurrying to get out of his sight. Or to get him out of HER sight. Something akin to pain cut through his heart as he observed Misao. Her breathing was slow and shaky, as if it was a struggle to breathe at all. He could sense the tension and uncertainty in the young girl simply by watching her as he had done almost all of his life.
"Doushita ?"
A simple, cold request for information. That wasn't what he had wanted it to sound like. However, it did seem to get a reaction out of her. Watching her from behind the over stuffed chair, he could see her body stiffen, her head rising as she straightened up.
Still silence. Unease. Tension. Concern.
" Misao-"
" Why did you come here?"
Misao cut him off, asking the same question he had not quite answered.
" ...Everyone at the Aoiya is very worried about you. This is because-"
" Jiya's funeral...I didn't go."
Aoshi took this chance to move forward, to stand in front of her and force himself to take a good look at her to see what state of health she was in. After all, wasn't that what his fellow Oniwabanshuu members wanted?
" Why?" he asked softly, not shifting his attention away.
Misao's eyes glazed over, the once prominent blue disappearing retreating deeper into the depths of her soul.
" I couldn't...he...he wouldn't let me. I couldn't face Jiya again...it was my fault."
Her final words were in stark contrast to the uncertainty and fear in her speech. Aoshi knew she felt strongly about it. But how could Okina's death be her fault?
Aoshi looked down towards the floor, unable to face Misao for what he had failed to do. Protect her happiness by saving her Jiya. He wondered why he could not comfort her as he had all those years ago. It had been so easy to coax a young child to smile. But that was then, this was now. Misao was no longer a child. A simple fact that he had realised too late.
" Its not your fault."
There it was again. That cold and emotionless tone.
" No. It's my fault. My fault that Jiya's...Jiya's dead."
Aoshi stared at the figure before him. Her slender figure slumped on the chair, her hair greasy and her blotchy face streaked with tears. She looked so pitiful, so unlike the genki Misao that he knew and loved. And still love.
He moved forward, dropping his weapons on the floor soundlessly and knelt, cupping her face with both his hands, bringing her eyes to look squarely into his. For a moment he simply stared, a strange feeling clenching his chest as he saw the confusion, the guilt, the fear.
" It is not your fault."
Misao was surprised by Aoshi's uncharacteristic behaviour and forceful tone, startling her for a moment before she continued.
" You're wrong. You don't understand! I killed him!"
Misao flailed her arms out to accentuate her words, pushing Aoshi away from her in the same swift motion. She heard Aoshi's sharp draw of breath in surprise.
" You couldn't have killed him."
Tears trailed down her blotchy cheeks. Tears of anguish.
" I did! I KILLED MY JIYA."
Suddenly, Misao fell forward from her chair, pitching forward from the impaired balance her pregnancy had brought her. Aoshi caught her before she landed on the floor. He continued to hold her in his arms as her tiny frame wracked with sobs. His mind drifted back to that night...the night where he had held her just like this...minus various items of clothing.
Aoshi looked down at Misao, holding her somewhat stiffly as his surprise disappeared. Why not just humour her. If she felt so strongly about it, maybe he could gain some information to investigate further, to convince Misao otherwise.
" How did you kill Okina?"
" I disobeyed him...he warned me. But I didn't listen...he threatened...and...Jiya. He died...Jiya died because I defied him."
" He...Donashiro."
Misao leaned back against the base of her chair, loosening her grip on Aoshi, refusing to look up from the wooden floor. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides as perspiration dripped down the side of her face. She could feel the kicks coming from within.
Aoshi quivered, not from cold, but from red hot anger. His mind slowly pieced together the puzzle of Misao's current condition. He had always known that that bastard had been capable of deception and lies. But not this.
" I'll kill him."
Misao did not look up. Her even breathing told him that she had fallen asleep. Deciding not to question why she had fallen asleep so suddenly, he stood, stooping to pick up Misao and gently placed her back onto her chair as if he had never been there. His eyes roamed over the room, taking in the wet puddles on the wooden floor he had left when he had jumped into the room. He focused on Misao's even breathing pattern as he picked up a nearby glass of water from a food tray and spilt it on the floor where he had landed, placing the empty glass within arms reach of Misao's chair.
He could hear footsteps, hushed conversations and laughter. He would need to leave soon. He checked carefully for any dirt that may have dislodged from his boots before taking one last look at Misao. He spotted a shadow on her hand, peeking out from the sleeve of her kimono. He reached forward, allowing curiosity to get the better of him and pulled back the sleeve. Nasty yellow marks and fresh purple bruises. Hints of dried blood along the edges of cuts and abrasions.
" I think its time we check on Donashiro-sama."
Aoshi listened quietly at the soft voice of the female who was somewhere near the room. It took him a moment to register the fact that she was talking about Misao. Donashiro Misao. Kaede owned her.
Quickly, he let the sleeve fall back to cover her wrist before grabbing his kodochi and disappearing into the shadows.
As the heavy wooden doors to the room edged open to allow a harsh stream of yellow light to partly illuminate the silent room, Misao opened her eyes again, now breathing normally. She let out a sigh of relief as she deduced that Aoshi had already left.
It wasn't that she wasn't happy to see him.
It was because she did not want him to see her. She smoothed her ruffled sleeve, her fingertips running over the silver threads and their intricate designs. He knew now. Of her injuries. This was sure to be a problem.
Misao had never felt so helpless about any situation in her life. There had always been hope. When her Aoshi-sama left her, she had been able to search for him. When she wanted him dead for the wellbeing of the Oniwabanshuu, despite her own hope, Himura had been there. But now, there was nothing. Okina was gone, the Oniwabanshuu would be able to do nothing because of diplomatic reasons. Marriage was final, there was no going back.
Why had she gotten married? If only Aoshi had told her he was leaving. If only she would have waited...to have been more patient. If only someone had cleared up the misunderstanding.
If only.
Life is filled with possibilities. But regrets are useless, always too late.
All she could do now was to prevent anything happening to her beloved family. Even if she had to be a cordial and obedient wife to that man.
" Donashiro-sama?"
Kanako appeared before her, her happy smile and genki nature almost infecting her as she sat up straighter, looking more reminiscent of the past Misao.
" What is it Kanako? Please do not call me Donashiro-sama...while no one is around."
" Hai hai...I understand."
Kanako looked around her, surveying the spilt water and untouched food tray.
" Mou Misao! Why did you spill the water?"
Kanako knelt to wipe up the water on the wooden floor as Misao stared at her blankly. Suddenly, she caught sight of the empty water glass. Suddenly it dawned on her.
" Sorry. A little clumsy."
Kanako straightened again, satisfied that the floor was dry enough and put her wet towel on the table next to the food tray.
" You didn't eat too! You HAVE to eat."
"...not hungry."
Kanako's sharp hearing picked up Misao's half hearted mumbling.
" If not for you, then for the child you are carrying. Anyway, you can't eat this now. It's cold. I'll go get you a fresh meal."
Misao looked down at her round stomach as Kanako walked away, shutting the door behind her.
The child she carried within. When the child was born, that man would surely take him or her away. Used against her, a tool for that man to take the Oniwabanshuu under his power.
She couldn't let that happen.
As her mind drifted back to that night, so many months ago, something dawned on her. The doctor that had attended to her by order of that man had said something very peculiar. She was very far along in her pregnancy.
Too far along.
Of course, the doctor had not said any more than that. Donashiro's reputation far exceeded the voicing of any reasoning on the doctor's part. That night...perhaps the situation was not as dire as Misao had first thought.
She smiled, the first time in months. A genuine smile, much like her former self. Gently placing her hand on her bloated stomach, she felt the vigorous kicks of the child. Her ally. Her child. And someone else's.
Now she had her hope. That would be all she needed to hold on and to survive.
The door opened again, this time Kanako and an extra maid whose arms were laden with a tray of food. The maid set the tray on the dining table at the other side of the large sitting room before being waved away by Kanako. When the door closed securely behind her, Kanako walked over to Misao, beaming as she proudly displayed a jar of browned eggs, a faint sour aroma tantalizing the air.
" This is one of the items I saved from your packages. I felt it was a shame to throw it all away...Will you at least eat this?"
Misao recognised this dish. While one of the Oniwabanshuu members were pregnant, Okon and Omasu had teamed together to make vats of it. At that time, Misao had complained about the sour taste. But now, she gladly welcomed it, one of the many specialties in Okon and Omasu's cooking repertoire. Kanako began to twist the jar to put some in a bowl and force Misao to eat as she had done in the past months.
" No."
Misao pushed her away, this time beginning to rise unsteadily in her chair. She waved Kanako's helping hands away.
" I can still walk by myself."
With renewed determination, she walked to the table where the tray of food had been set on the table where the maid had left it. Kanako stared at her in surprise. This had been the first time since all those months ago that Misao had voluntarily gotten up and wanted to eat. She shrugged.
________
Nightfall. The rain falls endlessly.
Wet hands move to slide open the damp wooden door, the sounds of the hustle and bustle of the Aoiya reaching his ears as he did so.
" Irrashaimase...get those wet things off right now!"
Okon set down the cup of tea in front of the customer and tucked the tray under her arm, pushing Aoshi towards the main house where he would not be in the way. Beads of water sliding off his clothing and hair had already become a puddle beneath him as he stood in the hallway.
" Don't catch a cold now. I don't want another thing to deal with. I'll ask you about Misao later...right now the Aoiya is too full!"
With that, Okon hurried off, leaving Aoshi alone to peel off his trenchcoat and head up the stairs to his room. His footsteps made little noise as he walked along the halls of the upper level. He looked to his side, watching the closed doors go by as he headed down the hall. Suddenly he stopped, standing in an open doorway to Omasu's quarters where a mirror lay propped up.
He slide open the door wider, his eyes fixated on his own reflected image. It had been awhile since he had seen himself in a mirror. He didn't like what he saw. His eyes had become sunken, dark circles around cold blue eyes. He himself had always been proud of having the ruthless look. It was essential to being okashira of a ninja clan. But it didn't appeal to him so much anymore. Nothing really mattered very much anymore. His mind seemed to have become almost obsessively preoccupied with Misao.
He slid the door closed, not wanting to see himself anymore. Entering his room, he hung his trench coat up to dry, ignoring the beads of water dripping from the material. Changing into dry, warm clothes, he sat down, back against the wall with the window above him, with his kodochi leaning against his shoulder. The stream of moonlight usually present was now obstructed by the dark storm clouds and the silence disturbed by the endless drone of falling rain.
What should he do?
All the information he had obtained from his 'visit' would surely shock the people of the Aoiya. The sheer powerlessness he felt...he didn't want this to interfere with the already damaged morale of his clan from the death of Okina. He didn't want to stand by and watch but he knew that interfering in the Seiibanshuu's business was very unwise. It wasn't unusual for a husband to hit a wife. It was his right. No one ever said anything about it.
But not Misao. She is different. Was different.
He could not forget the image of her sitting there forlorn. Looking so pitiful. So unlike the genki Misao he knew, the girl who would always bounce back. Always smile.
It hit him that she never did once smile at him. Not genuinely.
The fact of the matter remained. Misao was married to Donashiro. There was nothing he could do about that. But what would he tell the Oniwabanshuu? Telling them the truth would only sadden them. If the information would act as a detriment towards the Oniwabanshuu, he would keep the news to himself. He would find a way to solve it as he had always done. Every problem has a solution.
His mind could not get around it. The problem far too complex, too many variables, too many results which would end in failure.
" Aoshi...I mean Okashira. What did Misao-chan say?"
Aoshi looked up abruptly, seeing Omasu hover around in the doorway. Her hands gripped the side of the door, as if she expected bad news. His mind raced with possible replies to Omasu's question.
" Is she ok? Did she like our present? I'm sure she's very big by now. She must be complaining so much. She's happy right?"
It seemed Omasu had already attempted to answer her own question. This is what she wanted to hear, and the news of the truth would only hurt her.
" Misao is fine."
" Oh really! That's so good! I'm so relieved...Misao is just fine. What a relief."
Omasu began to spiel off onto a tangent until a nagging question brought her back down to earth.
" But...if she is fine...then why did she not come to Okina's funeral?"
With a split second of thinking, Aoshi managed to answer back smoothly.
" Her pregnancy."
Omasu sighed with relief, smiling and stopped wringing her hands in her lap.
" Oh of course! That's why. It was so simple...why did we get so worried? We're so silly. I'll go tell the others. Sorry I interrupted your rest Ao-...I mean Okashira. Oyasumi."
Omasu hurried to take her leave, grateful for the 'good news' that she had received. Aoshi listened to the door slide shut and the woman's footsteps becoming quieter as she slipped down the hallway.
It was always easy to let people hear what they wanted to hear.
Even if it was not always the truth.
He looked up again, suddenly hearing approaching footsteps. Hearing the rattle of cups and plates and the aroma of tantalising food, he could have guessed what was coming.
His door slid open to reveal Okon holding a heavily laden tray of food. Puffs of steam could be seen in the cool air as Okon set the dinner tray down near Aoshi.
" Okashira, here's your dinner."
Okon made no move to leave Aoshi in peace with his dinner. Instead she started chatting happily. It was obvious that Omasu had already told her the news about Misao.
" Isn't it so good that Misao is ok? I wish I could have gone to see her too. Our little Misao...pregnant! She must be hating it so much ne Okashira? She'd probably think that it was in the way or something. Or could it be that Misao has matured?"
Okon paused, waiting for a couple of seconds for Aoshi to answer before spouting off again.
" Oh maybe its both! I can't wait to see the baby. Maybe he has the same blue eyes as the Makimachi family. Or maybe it will be a she."
Okon kept chatting happily as Aoshi sat, listening to her words. Okon's words, however untruthful painted a bright and happy picture, contrasting with the dark reality. They were just words, but listening gave him a spot of comfort.
" Speaking of Donashiro, I wonder who started that ugly rumour about the baby?"
Aoshi's eyes widened, his fists clenched.
" What rumour?"
Okon was quite taken aback by Aoshi's sudden participation in the conversation.
" Oh...well...its nothing really. Just some neighbourhood gossip. You wouldn't really be interested-"
" tell me."
Okon shrank back a little under Aoshi's intense gaze.
" Erm..well the ladies around the area have been speculating that...well...Misao is a bit too far along."
Aoshi kept silent this time, allowing Okon to take her time to get over the embarrassment of spilling a juicy bit of gossip to a male okashira.
" She's too far along in her pregnancy for the child to be Donashiro-san's. Of course that's just a silly little rumour. Take no notice of it Okashira! I better get back down to the Aoiya to help out. Oyasumi."
Okon quickly left the room, leaving a rather startled Aoshi behind. Flashbacks of that night. The long and silky strands of hair tangled in his long fingers. The softness, the warmth, the scent of her pale skin.
Okon had said Misao was too far along for the child to be Donashiro's.
Could it be? Could the child...be his?
His mind raced, exploring all the possibilities. His mind reached the conclusion that it was just wishful thinking on his part. A yearning for a second chance, a connection with her once more. Nevertheless, something deep down was clinging to that hope, believing that it was true.
Could Misao be pregnant with his child?
_____
Screams of pain. Panting, heavy breathing.
The wooden doors open, revealing a quite disgruntled old woman drying her hands on a piece of cloth.
" False alarm."
Donashiro glared at the old woman before walking past her, pushing the doors open wider and stalked towards the tired figure slumped on a chair.
" Leave us."
The women obeyed his order, wiping the sweat from the girl's face before dropping the face towel into the basin of hot water and walking out of the room. As soon as the doors eased closed with a soft thud, Donashiro moved to his wife's side, standing menacingly over her.
" Don't do that again. If you're not going to actually give birth, do not call me."
Misao sat sullenly, refusing to look at Donashiro.
" Do you think it's a joke to interrupt my work? You get enough attention already. If not from me, then from your visitors."
This caught her attention. She looked up at Donashiro in surprise.
" What do you mean by that?"
" Don't speak back to me! I know all about your little visitor."
" What visitor!? You won't let me have any!"
Donashiro's large hands encircled around her neck, his fingers pressing into the hollow, choking her. He shook her hard, her arms weakly tried in vain to make him stop. Suddenly he released her, letting her flop back onto the chair. He leaned in close, his rough hands caressing her cheek and her neck, gently outlining the side of her face.
" Kirei."
Tilting her head back, he kissed her forcefully. Misao's stomach lurched and nausea filled her. She didn't have the strength to push him away. When it ended, Misao breathed heavily to catch her breath but refused to say anything or respond to his affections. The same hand which had caressed her lovingly came across her face in a loud hard slap.
" What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Tense silence.
" You know...I could be the cause of your miscarriage."
Donashiro's whispered words made Misao's eyes widen, shrinking back in her chair and her arms moved to protect her stomach.
" Ah. So you can be passionate. Just not with me."
Donashiro straightened, taking a slight step back. He smiles enigmatically.
" Not my child, is it?"
He observed his wife. He knew that he had hit the right mark from Misao's involuntary twitching when he had asked his question.
" So I was right. Its Shinomori's right?"
" ...no. it's not." Misao stammered.
She had answered too late. Donashiro knew she was lying, simply for the fact that she had taken a little too long to think of an answer.
" You still love him don't you. That's why you want to have his child."
Misao looked up into Donashiro's eyes, startled by his soft tone. He now looked reminiscent of the old Kaede, the one she knew to be kind and sweet, before they had married. His coffee brown eyes showed his pain and hurt. Despite all the things he had done to her, Misao still felt the need to comfort him. After all they had been good friends before he changed. She moved to the edge of her seat and hugged him to her, Donashiro bending down for her to reach.
" Gomen ne."
Misao apologised, knowing full well that in the end, it was her fault for getting pregnant out of wedlock and marrying her husband without telling him of the fact.
" You know Misao-chan. I knew that Shinomori would never have abandoned you right from the start."
Misao loosened her grip on Donashiro, her mind racing to find the hidden meaning of Donashiro's words.
Don't worry Misao-chan. Even if Aoshi abandoned you...I'll always be here for you.
That had been Donashiro's words to her when she thought Aoshi had disappeared. She had been so upset. All along, he had known...and he lied to her.
" You knew all along...?"
" You never would have loved me otherwise. But I realise you never loved me anyway."
His voice dropped to an almost evil register, his smiled seemed almost predatory.
" Even if you didn't love me...I could still exact my revenge on the one you love most. On both Shinomori and his child."
Misao realised the severity and seriousness of Donashiro's statement. He was a man who kept his word and would do whatever it took to act on it.
" No...please. I'll do anything you ask."
" You have to love me. You can't leave me. Ever."
Taking Misao's hestitation as an answer, Kaede turned to leave. Misao sprang up from her chair and threw herself at him, clutching onto his leg tightly.
" I...I love you. I'll stay by your side."
Donashiro smirked, looking down at Misao clutching pitifully at his leg.
" Forever?"
She hated herself for what she said. And for what she would say next.
" Forever."
Donashiro stoked her hair gently, smiling as he did so.
" Good."
Extricating himself from her, he left the room, leaving Misao kneeling on the floor. She barely noticed the woman who had been with her before pull her to her feet and sat her on the chair again. All the luxuries provided to her was nothing. It had no more meaning. She had no freedom. She had just promised that to somebody else. Looking down, she rubbed her large tummy.
It was worth it, to save her child and HIM.
__________