Shadow's Assassin: I've noticed that my constant switching of scenes is strongly reminiscent of a soap opera. sweatdrop I'll try not to… but it's hard, neh? Ah well, rambling is kinda boring, so… onward!
Disclaimer: Standard applies.
"Tell me your secrets/
And ask me your questions/
Oh let's go back to the start/
Running in circles/
Coming up tails/
Heads on a silence apart/"
Coldplay, "The Scientist"
When Misao woke again, several hours later, her head throbbed painfully and she at first couldn't remember where she was. The events of the previous night filtered slowly back into her memory, filling her with sickness and deep shame of her actions.
A wave of nausea threatened to overcome her, so she rushed to the bathroom and collapsed over the sink.
Aoshi, in the kitchen, folded the laptop he was using when he heard Misao wake in the adjoining room. The bathroom door was ajar, and he could tell she was inside, being sick, he surmised. Not surprising, considering the shock of last night. She would wish to be left alone. He moved to leave, but he heard soft sobs sounding within. He hesitated, then pushed open the door and stepped onto the tile.
A few strides carried him to her side, but she wasn't yet aware of his presence. He carefully gathered up the dark strands that had fallen loose from her braid to keep them away from her face. He wrapped his arm securely around her waist to hold her steady. She heaved as softly as she could as he stroked her hair.
After a while, she quieted, and he released her and stepped back while she washed her face. When she finally turned to face him, her face was blotchy but improving. Fresh tears gathered in the corner of her eyes.
"Why are you being so nice to me, Aoshi-sama?" she asked quietly. She looked down and fiddled with the hem of her shirt and realized she hadn't been changed since last night. So it had been Aoshi who brought her home.
"I'm not being 'nice,'" he replied in a monotone.
"But you are!" she cried, grabbing his sleeve. He was beginning to recognize Misao was a very physical individual. "And I was so horrible to you," she whispered, her eyes lingering on his face. She reached up to touch him, but realized she needed to stand on tiptoes to do so. She motioned and he obediently lowered himself to the floor. The tile wasn't all that cold, he supposed. Misao knelt beside him.
She traced her forefinger along a slight bruise on the side of his face, then along a superficial cut on the other, the only reminders of her earlier abuse.
"I'm sorry."
"There's no need."
"No," she silenced him. "It's my fault. I… everything happened so fast… mother… and… Okita-san… I shouldn't have taken it out on you, and I apologize." The tears were flowing thickly again. 'And it's that time and I forgot to take the pill…'
His hands moved in comforting circles across her back. "Don't apologize. I wasn't hurt."
She peered at him; he was so stiff and unmoving - yet so warm at the same time. "Do you ever feel hurt?"
"Of course."
She had a feeling he didn't understand. "Ano… I meant… does your heart ever hurt?"
His silence was answer enough.
She stood and smiled at him nonetheless. "I'm going to take a bath now, Aoshi-sama. Domo arigato."
Now even her smile carried a note of anxiety, he observed as he left her. Don't worry… Misao.
Tokio-san –
I have completed the autopsy you requested. Attached are photographs of the body and a full description. Okita-san was shot multiple times: once in the left shoulder, once in the right shoulder, and once in the right forearm. Katana wounds across back and arms. Final death: ritual suicide (seppuku).
You may find it of interest to note that Okita-san was infected by an advanced mutation of tuberculosis for at least a year prior to death. Apparently went untreated. Doctor Takeda Kanryuu left no records.
Takani Megumi
After her private message to Tokio, Megumi sent a formal copy of her autopsy to the remaining 9 Squad Captains, Captain Kondou-sama and Vice-Captain Hijikata. They could later share it with whom they wished.
Megumi thanked whatever gods might be listening that she had been given the remainder of the day off. She shut down her computer and locked her office.
When she stepped gratefully into her welcoming apartment, all she could think of was a long, steamy bath followed by a dreamless sleep. Dreamless.
It seemed the idiot rooster head, Sanosuke, had other plans.
"Oi, Kitsune-san!" he called from the kitchen.
She dropped her purse in surprise. "Tori-atama? Is that you?" Her heels clicked rhythmically on the hardwood floor.
He was slumped over the western-style kitchen table, grinning at her sheepishly. He looked utterly wasted, although in her experience, Sanosuke was never quite as drunk as he seemed.
"I don't know if anyone's told you," Megumi began, "but you can't live your whole life on booze."
"Says who?"
She indicated her doctor's ID.
"… I ate a sandwich…"
"Freeloader."
He chewed idly on a toothpick.
"You look ridiculous with that thing in you mouth," the doctor snapped.
He shrugged.
She dropped gracefully into the chair opposite him. "Alright, I can see you're not in the mood to be baited. I'm not either. So let's be honest – why are you still here?"
He moved to look her straight in the eyes, and she felt a chill race up her spine at the intensity behind the mild hazel.
"I was worried," he said.
"About me?" Megumi scoffed. "I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself, rooster-head."
"I know." His voice was suddenly husky. With surprising speed, he was behind her, his hands warm on her tense shoulders. "But I worried anyway."
"Sanosuke! Are you drunk?!"
He nuzzled beneath her ear. "Not a bit."
Megumi shivered. Why did she suddenly think her bath wouldn't be so relaxing after all?
Aoshi's orders hadn't changed since he last checked, about two days ago, except for one thing: should he happen to see Takeda Kanryuu, former doctor for the Shinsengumi, he was to capture him, preferably alive. Aoshi filed the order away in one of the neat little chambers of his mind. Takeda Kanryuu. Aoshi remembered him as a sharp, pointy man with impossibly angled eyebrows, none too attractive, who seemed to get some kind of perverse pleasure out of strapping him down to the examination table.
It was at times like those, if Aoshi had been capable of feelings, he might have wished he wasn't so intuitive.
Misao touched his shoulder gently. "Aoshi-sama? Can I talk to you?"
"Aa."
"Thank you." She sat down opposite to him, dressed in a pair of loose sweatpants and a tee-shirt. Her hair hung unbraided down to her thighs. "I just want to say again that I'm sorry for what happened last night, and I want to prevent that from ever, ever happening again. But, even if I can't, I want to be of some use to you. It isn't fair for you to always be protecting me! Aoshi-sama, I want to learn how to fight."
She'd reached this decision in the bath, with the steam swirling around her body as she reflected on the past night. She'd been totally incapable of coping with the scenario she found herself in. Unacceptable.
His flat bluish green eyes searched hers, as if seeking the level of her commitment. She stared back defiantly.
Misao already understood the fact she might be required to kill someone if she found herself armed in a real fight. She didn't want to, but circumstances required her to change. She felt strangely at peace with herself. Her old life was gone for good.
"There is an armory at the base we can look at, if you wish."
She tugged on a stray lock of her hair. "Actually, Aoshi-sama, I was wondering if we could do this without Saitou-san knowing about it. It's just… he'll laugh…" she trailed off, her huge ocean blue eyes hopefully turning on him.
"…"
And so, Aoshi finally discovered the power of puppy eyes.
There was something she loved about green tea, Kaoru thought, staring down into her cup. It was so warm, so soothing, and on the rare times she could sit down and really enjoy it, made her feel so much better. But somehow, it failed this time.
Kenshin… was the legendary Battousai, a boogeyman mothers used to scare misbehaving children into obedience. Go to sleep or I'll call Battousai! Eat your vegetables or Battousai will get you! The feared assassin of shadows, was… Kenshin. Kenshin was the awkward guy who did her laundry, for God's sake! He cooked her dinner when she couldn't get takeout, for crying out loud! (Actually, that was probably a public service; Kaoru's cooking would bring the health officials down on their heads.)
And yet, it all made sense. Strange people often came to visit him, people that had a mean look about them, and were almost certainly armed, but Kenshin was never hurt. And now she knew why Kondou-sama had asked for his help. Oh, yes, it all fit together so painfully well.
But Kaoru knew also that Kenshin was no manslayer. In deed, perhaps, but not in heart. He made that clear to her in the car when he had explained everything else. Kaoru sighed. Sometimes life was just so wrong, and not even green tea could make it right.
In Kyoto, there is a decent, respectable section of the city where decent, respectable people live. In this decent, respectable section there is a decent, respectable block. On this decent, respectable block there is a decent, respectable apartment building. In this decent, respectable apartment building lived the decent, respectable Seta family, on floor number 13 in apartment number 666, the fourth door from the stairwell.
The Seta's had lived here for as long as anyone could remember. Their decent, respectable neighbors knew them to be decent, respectable people. But the Seta's had a dirty little secret: they were all dead.
Correction: Not all the Seta family was dead. Because the Seta family had more than one dirty little secret, and one dirty little secret's name happened to be Seta Soujiro.
Not that any of the neighbors knew about Seta Soujiro, of course. If, sixteen years ago, there had been strange noises coming from the Seta apartment, people thought it best to leave matters be. For, while the Seta's were most certainly respectable people, they were not known to be especially friendly or forthcoming.
Then, eight years ago, any noise had abruptly stopped, without explanation. Most of the old neighbors had by now moved on, and most of the new neighbors hadn't seen much of the Seta family anyway. In fact, none of the neighbors knew Seta Kana had died for over a year, well after Seta-san had remarried. Such a pity. What a nice lady.
But Seta Soujiro was still very much alive, and currently was cheerfully watching the washing machine spin while munching on a donut. At first glance, he might have seemed like any normal sixteen-year-old, until one noticed the bandages and the sling, of course. At a closer glance, he seemed to be pretty badly injured, though it did nothing to affect his demeanor.
After a while, a woman appeared in the doorway of the laundry room, dressed in a revealing, (though stylish) tank top and skirt. Her hair was a deep magenta, her eyes a pale, shifting color. Her name was Komagata Yumi, renowned actress and model. She addressed Soujiro in a sharp, motherly tone.
He listened, then sighed and nodded happily as he replied. Yes, he would go back to bed; yes, the other night had been a strain and he was still healing, thank you, Yumi-san, for calling the school, goodnight.
She watched him leave with her hands on her hips, then stalked over to the laundry and pulled out what he'd been washing. Goodnight indeed, it's hardly the afternoon. Damn! How many times do you have to wash a uniform to get the bloodstains out? Why was she doing this? Didn't they have servants for this sort of thing? Right now… ah, right now she could be in the strong arms of her lover, steaming in a hot spring, just the two of them - it would be so romantic; she hadn't seen him for so long, so long it burned…
Back in his room, Seta Soujiro fingered a wakizashi in the drawer of his desk almost fondly, then replaced it, closed the blinds, and fell asleep. At least he didn't have to go to school for a while now…
Tokio sent her thank-you message to Megumi, shut down her laptop, and buried her head in her hands. She didn't cry. Oh, no, she had already cried all the tears she had to give. Now, she simply succumbed to the defeat.
After a while she stood up, straightened the pillows on the couch, and lit several candles on a mini-shrine to Okita. She bowed briefly; she uttered a small prayer. 'Perhaps it is for the best,' she thought grimly, 'After all, what hope was there for him in life?'
"None," Saitou remarked, stripping off his jacket and gloves as he entered quietly through the door.
Tokio spun around. "I wish you wouldn't do that," she said softly.
"Hn." He reached for a cigarette.
Tokio glared, then lowered her eyes, reminding herself it was a difficult time for all of them. She'd air out the flat later.
"Kanryuu escaped," he growled.
"So I surmised," she replied, setting the table. She knew full well how the bastard had managed to flee.
"Do you care?"
"We will find him someday. And when we do, he will wish he'd never been born a traitor."
Chou the sword hunter owned a modest little shop in a shady part of town where the knowledgeable buyer might purchase anything for the right price. Naturally, the Shinsengumi held no affiliations with such a man. Officially, of course.
Aoshi led Misao deftly through the back alleyways with the practiced ease of one acquainted with the area. She followed obediently, her head swiveling from side to side to keep up with the unfamiliar sensations of the district.
She resisted the childish impulse to grasp his hand. Somehow she thought that action didn't fit under the bodyguard job description. And besides, maybe he was just a teeny bit annoyed at her earlier behavior…?
Probably not.
Chou was a lean man, probably in his late twenties, who had the appearance of a fruity leftover from the punk movement ten years ago.
His shirt, modeled after traditional the traditional Japanese dress, was the color of a pomegranate and one sleeve was ripped off, revealing ragged edges of a deep purple undershirt. His spiky blonde hair, reminding Misao forcefully of an old-fashioned broom, was swept back by a grape-colored headband. His belt was a contrasting brown and wrapped several times around his waist. He was not visibly armed. When he spoke, Misao blinked at his heavy Kansai accent. (blinks but I think they speak that in Kyoto, too…?)
Chou looked over his customers critically. Most of those he dealt with were the kind you wouldn't remember, the kind that liked to blend in to a crowd. Now, these two, these two made quite the pair. That man probably had half the women in Kyoto salivating after him. Actually, he kinda looked familiar…
Now the girl, the girl he felt he had seen somewhere, but he couldn't imagine why. She looked like she belonged waitressing in some suburban café. Or perhaps in a pet shop that kept weasels.
"…eh?" Chou snapped to attention. The man had been speaking.
Not looking the least bit ruffled, the man repeated his request. "Two sets of kunai. The best in your stock, if it is not too much trouble."
Chou arched a dark eyebrow. "Kunai, eh? What are you, a ninja? I shoulda thought a guy like you 'twould go for the big ones." He patted the desk, where katana lay gleaming in neat lines.
The girl twitched. Why was she always overlooked?!
"Iie. Kunai, onegai," the man said politely but firmly.
Ah! Now he recognized the man – Shinomori Aoshi – one of those Shinsengumi bastards. Now… what were they doing here?
His eyes fell on the girl. Place her, place her… this could be important!
"Hai, hai, Shinomori-han," he said aloud. The girl turned and whispered something to the man. He raised an eyebrow thinly. She huffed slightly.
Eureka! Chou could have stripped and danced naked on the sidewalks in celebration of his discovery. But he kept his composure, to the everlasting gratitude of the entire world. (Except for Chou fangirls… are there any?)
Makimachi Misao!
"I'll be right back, if y'all will please wait right here," Chou called, fighting to keep the glee out of his voice as he backed into his office and pulled a cell phone from his pocket.
"Boss… this is Chou…. yeah, that's right… listen… I've got Makimachi right here! …. Wait? What for? I can take her now!..... Yes, Shinomori's with her… I…" he stopped as cold metal tickled his throat.
"Care to repeat that?" Aoshi's voice was flat and deep.
SA: Whew, that was an exhausting chapter to write, minna-san! Gomen nasai, I didn't mean to let it run that long. sweatdrop There probably won't be another update till the beginning of July… unfortunately minor things like exams and finals are consuming my free time at the present moment. After that, I will be on vacation, so sorry.
And I am currently feeding an unhealthy obsession with Miroku from InuYasha! Woo-hoo! New episodes! (Yeah, yeah – I know I'm in the wrong fan base here!) I wish I could get DVD's with subtitles for all my favorite anime. I finally got to watch a subtitled version the other weekend, and it is sooo much better than dubs.
On a saner note… Review Replies! I love you all!
prexus: It is if you meant 'good luck' I think… or maybe that's ganbatte…(My Japanese is steadily improving, but it still sucks.) Domo arigato!
Digital Siren: is crying because of your lovely review Eeee, I'm so happy other people are catching on to my mood! Thank you!
Engel Star 13: Yay! New reviewer! I'll try as soon as I get a spare moment in my hands.
Weasel1029: I hope you like this one too! Slightly different mood and all, hopefully not too boring. cheesy grin