Shadow's Assassin: …………… I had something witty to say here. Really I did.
Disclaimer: Shadow's Assassin owns nothing remotely connected to Rurouni Kenshin.
Review Responses:
Silver Twilight: Thanks. But you could have bothered to go to the actual chapter to review.
Shin: ^_________^ Don't we all?
Digital Siren: Yeah… this one's a little slow too. But it's shorter, so I guess that's better, ne? I hope to pick up the pace after this one, though. Maybe. Erm… Tokio was talking to Saitou. I musta forgot to put his name. *sweatdrop*
Adrenaline Shockwave: ^_________^ I really love A/M. I'm glad you like my story. I'll try to keep it interesting! ^^
len: ^^ Yep, I finally updated. *sweatdrop* Hm… *mysterious smile* guess you'll have to read and find out! ^^
zhoujen: *sweatdrop* To tell you the truth… I only have a hazy idea. Heh… heh… At the time I started this I knew… but then I forgot… yes, I am stupid.
Lebleuphenix: ^^ Amen to that! I looooooove the Shinsengumi. Almost as much as I love Aoshi. Therefore, I just HAD to put them in my fic. I love Soujiro too, and Okita. (Actually, my first RK fic was a Sou one-shot) I might involve the Ishin Shishi, I might not. I'll have to see how things work out. Tokio's relationship with Misao… as far as Misao knows, Tokio's just some nice lady who works at the desk.
Angelic Giggles: ^_______________________^ Thank you so much! I'm glad people are liking my favoritest fic I'm writing! ^^
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"Um… tea, Aoshi-sama?" Misao asked tentatively. A week. It had been a whole week, and she still wasn't any more comfortable around him than when they first met.
His only response was a slight nod. His long black bangs swayed gently across his flat blue eyes. Was it possible he was as uncomfortable around her as she was around him? No, of course not. Stop being silly, Misao.
"Is green okay? It's all I have," she explained, outwardly as unfazed and chipper as ever.
Again, her query was answered only by a nod. She accepted defeat for the time being, but she intended to hear him speak. How could she get an inkling of what he was without hearing his voice? A voice could tell a lot about a person. But, then again, so can silence.
As she busied herself making the tea, Misao became aware, not for the first time that week, of the bustling activity going on beneath her feet.
She was struck by a brief wave of nostalgia. This was, after all, the setting for all of her fondest childhood memories – The Aoiya, a prosperous restaurant, owned by her family and set in the thriving heart of Kyoto. She never imagined the circumstances that would bring her back here, after all these years…
Misao didn't remember much of her father, as he died when she was very young. In fact, her most vivid memory of him didn't include him at all. Thoughts of her father always brought to mind the stale smell of the funeral home, accompanied by that of the rich, damp soil. She vaguely recalled the stuffy black dress she was forced to wear, her mother's bowed head, and the pretty flowers laid on the freshly turned earth. Young Misao didn't understand what death meant; she simply understood that daddy was gone. Oddly enough, the thought didn't perturb her in the least.
Misao as a child rarely spent much time with her parents – they traveled a lot. Invariably, she was left in the care of her 'grandfather' and the other residents of the Aoiya. She was never lonely, never unwanted, so she never felt the absence of her parents too keenly. Young Misao was a tough one.
Lately, however, her mother had been making overtures of friendship; Misao was merely puzzled by this. She held no resentment toward her mother; it was not in her open and honest nature to do so. Her mother was a very busy woman, and Misao had little place in her private life. At least until now.
Misao heard (from eavesdropping on several conversations) that her mother quit the job she held with her father only a few years after his death. The girl supposed this had something to do with grief at his passing, although she was unfamiliar with the emotion herself. She then moved to Tokio, leaving Misao, yet again, behind at the Aoiya. After that, Misao heard little news, although they talked on the phone at least once a year.
Funny she should try to talk now, after all this time…
"Makimachi-san."
Lost in her musings, Misao hardly heard the deep, flat voice.
"Makimachi-san." It was slightly more persistent now.
She stared glassily into space.
"Makimachi-san." This time, the voice, much closer, along with a firm hand on her shoulder, succeeded in snapping her out of her reverie.
"AOSHI-SAMAAAA?!" A bit too quickly. (He talked! He talked! HE TALKED!!)
"Your water is overboiling."
(HE TALKED!! HE TALKED!!)
"Makimachi-san. Your water is overboiling."
Finally she turned. Indeed it was. Not only that, but flames from the rather old-fashioned stovetop were beginning to lick away at the teapot and surrounding objects.
"AAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!" She didn't think. She dashed over to the other side of the room and grabbed a jug full of water and hurled its contents in the general direction of the stove.
Aoshi had very keen senses and instructions to keep Makimachi-san from whatever harm might befall her. So when he detected a rather odd sound coming from the kitchen, his immediate concern was for her safety. Upon arriving in said room, he determined that she merely forgot to turn off the heat when the water became hot. He called her name. Nothing happened. He tried again. Same result.
He laid a hand on her shoulder and called her. She jumped, yelling something along the lines of 'Aoshi-sama!' He did not understand her insistence in addressing him that way.
"Your water is overboiling." Misao was a reasonably capable girl, to the extent of his knowledge. She had the presence of mind to escape from a killer intending to murder her. She could deal with a problem once it was pointed out to her. Apparently he was wrong.
"Ah… heh, heh. Sorry?" she offered sheepishly.
He was not supposed to make mistakes. But he had miscalculated this time. And that miscalculation resulted in his being drenched with two gallons of icy cold water. So the girl did not think rationally in a tight spot. He silently picked up the fire extinguisher (which had been located not a foot away this entire time) and calmly put out the offending flames. Aoshi replaced the device and coolly walked away. With whatever dignity could possibly be salvaged.
"Ah heh heh…" Misao stared at the jug she still held. "Heh… heh…" She rubbed her shoulder where his hand had been. It still burned.
*sweatdrop*
Omasu blinked at the ripples splashing against the sides of her teacup. The table shook. The chairs rattled.
Okon sighed. "And here I thought we'd seen – sorry, heard – the worst when she woke up to find Shinomori-san on her couch."
Omasu turned her face towards the ceiling. "What do you suppose they're doing up there?"
"Nothing we should know about," Okon winked.
Omasu sniffed. "Little Misao-chan, all grown up."
Their speculations were interrupted as Okina, Shiro, and Kuro burst through the door.
"What's the matter?" Okon asked casually.
"Misao-chan lit her kitchen on fire!"
"Oh…" the two women sighed simultaneously.
"What's wrong with you two?" Shiro asked curiously.
"Nothing," they replied with a sweatdrop.
BANG, BANG! Okina rapped on the small wooden table with a spoon he'd picked up recently.
"Attention, Oniwabanshuu!"
"Checkmate." Tokio looked over her glasses at the young man sitting on the carpeted floor across from her. "Really, Okita-kun – is anything bothering you? I shouldn't be able to beat you three times in a row."
He shrugged and grinned. The smile faded all too rapidly, however – a fact Tokio was quick to pick up on.
"Well, just so you know, you can tell me about it if you feel like talking."
Saitou snorted from his armchair where he was reading the paper.
"Something funny, Hajime?" Tokio said acidly.
"Those morons from the Department leaded again. It's all over the papers," he said, obviously disgusted.
"Let me see…" Tokio said, leaning over Saitou's shoulder to read the headlines. "Government official brutally murdered – only witness on the run…"
"They can't do a thing right, can they?" Okita sighed.
"They brought us Misao," Tokio pointed out.
"Only because they didn't know what to do with her," Saitou retorted. "They cannot deal with Makoto Shishio."
"True enough," she conceded. "The Shinsengumi will always be the best at what they do."
"Strange to have a Makimachi pop up at a time like this," Okita commented from his place on the floor.
"They always did have a knack for it," Saitou remarked.
"It can't be more than a coincidence," said Tokio. "But still… fate has a way of working in funny ways."
"Do you believe in fate, Tokio-san?" Okita asked mildly.
"Sometimes I don't know what to believe anymore."
"Okina, the Oniwabanshuu was disbanded. I thought we all understood that," Okon said gently. "After Makimachi-sama died…"
"I vote that we re-band it! Misao-chan needs us!" Okina insisted.
"Okina." This time it was Omasu's turn to attempt to reason with him. "The police are perfectly capable of handling the situation. They've even been kind enough to assign a bodyguard so Misao-chan will be protected."
The old man somehow managed to look dignified and serious despite sporting a pink bow at the end of his beard… thingy.
"I believe the Shinsengumi are involved in this."
Dead silence settled around the little group.
"The Shinsengumi?" Omasu echoed. "I thought they didn't involve themselves in common murder cases."
"They don't," Shiro said grimly.
The young woman angrily brushed sweaty bangs out of her face and tugged at the collar of her tight jumpsuit. She set her body in a 'ready' stance and fired her handgun.
BANG! BANGBANG!
Three bullet holes neatly pierced the wall of the target. Close, but still not bull's-eye.
She gritted her teeth in frustration. She had NOT been training furiously the last few years for THESE kinds of crappy results. She raised the gun again, when a soft noise in the hallway startled her. Her raven-colored ponytail whipped around instantly, the gun trained on the entrance.
She edged nearer. Hardly daring to breathe, she kicked open the door and gripped the trigger.
"ORO?! Kaoru-dono?!"
Okita blinked at the rain running down the glass pane in little rivulets. Strange. He didn't recall rain in tonight's forecast. He glanced at the clock. Late. Time to be heading home. He shifted, wondering how best to broach the topic and actually manage to escape to his own apartment.
Tokio, unfortunately, correctly interpreted the motion and beat him to it. "Okita, why don't you stay here tonight? It's late; your apartment's quite a ways from here, ne?"
"Tokio-san, I really don't – "
"It's no problem. You can sleep on the couch, you know it's comfortable. We even have a bunch of your clothes in the closet so you don't have to worry about a change. And besides, it's raining. You don't want to walk all the way in the rain, do you?"
Damn. Cornered again. "I…guess I could…"
"Great."
"Naturally, Misao will know nothing of this," Okon said, retrieving a long unused manila folder from an old fashioned filing cabinet and throwing it on the table.
The other members solemnly nodded. Makimachi-sama's last order would be carried out. Misao would know nothing of the dealings of the Oniwabanshuu.
The loud ring of a telephone shattered the still air.
"I'll get it," Omasu said, rising from her seat and disappearing out of the room.
A few minutes later she re-entered, several shades paler. "It was the Tokyo Hospital. Makimachi-sama's in critical condition."*
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Shadow's Assassin: Sorry for the crappy ending and slow updates. I'm having computer problems, so I can't update too regularly. But I'm trying! Trying my hand at subtlety here, (heh) not working out too well. If you have questions, feel free to ask. I've been having the week from hell, so review and cheer me up. Onegai?
*That would be Misao's mother, not her father. Her father is dead.
P.S. What are the names of Misao's parents?