It was going to rain soon.

Aoshi could tell – the air told him.  The smell of it, the feel of it, the taste of it … it was all there, in the wind.  You just needed to be able to understand the air to know.

He was outside, sitting on the front step of the Kamiya dojo.  Misao had wanted to take him shopping in Tokyo – that "next time" he'd promised, but she'd changed her mind when he told her it was going to rain.

It had never once occurred to her that he might not want to go, and that this was a way to get out of it.  Not, he admitted, that he would ever lie to Misao; even if he would, this would be a very bad lie to use – the weather itself would prove his lie eventually.

Still.  It was there – a blind, unthinking faith.  An unshakeable certainty that Aoshi-sama was right.  She hadn't even checked the air herself, hadn't even considered for a moment he might be mistaken.

That was bad.

Very bad.

Oh, he'd never deliberately mislead her, but he was human.  And however intelligent or experienced, humans made mistakes.  Humans could be wrong.

And therein lied the catch, didn't it?

He wasn't sure if Misao had ever gotten to demoting past the "demigod" rank in her mind.

He should probably go in soon.  The overhanging roof gave some shelter, but he'd get wet if he stayed out to long, and the wind was already noticeably stronger.  When humans were wet and cold, they got sick.

But what was he, really?

…

He was Shinomiri Aoshi.

There were some, a very few but some, who knew who they were.  Beyond name, rank, vital statistics, and public appearance, anyways.  There were some who knew, without a doubt, what that were.

Aoshi almost envied them.  He was not one of those elite.

It was going to rain soon.  If he didn't go in, it would rain on him, because that was what happened when it rained.  People got wet.  That was the way things worked.

So be it.

Let there be rain.

*****************************

*looks around for crowbar*  *finds crowbar*  *beats ff.net into a tangled heap of circuitry with said crowbar*  *pets crowbar*  *leaves to play FFVIII*

(ff.net was being screwy and wouldn't let me upload this last night, so here it is now)

… The beginning's cool, but I so did not expect this to end the way it did.  I'm not complaining (this way's better) but … funny the way these things get away from you, eh?  *shrug*  Whatever.

Kuroiyousei:  Clueless!Kenshin = more fun than I should be having.  Hehehehee.  And I did type it in as your URL – that's how I found out I was doing it wrong.  I don't get in anywhere near as much D&D time as I'd like either – none, I repeat none of my friends like it.  One of my friends only stopped mocking me because I do like it when he found out the lead singer of one of her favorite bands (Wheezer) also plays it.  (Which is a stupid reason to change your opinion, I think, but I do appreciate the lack of teasing.)

Lychee2: oh, so you think you're the big man now, huh?  Well, you asked for it!  *GLOMPS*  hehe… anyways.  I'm pretty sure Yahiko's ten … but what do I know?  Doesn't matter much, anyways.  (Sano is way more deserving of hero-worship than Kenshin … plus, he's more lickable!  Mmmm … *is gatousu-ed by angry Saitou*)  And Kenshin already knows, alright.  He can smell these things!  (Not really, but you gotta admit the guy's pretty observant)

Nicky: They didn't stop laughing, per se … Kenshin walked in just after Misao's "YOU WHAT?!" from the last chapter, and right here everyone 'xcept Misao is trying really hard not to start laughing like crazy at her expression.  Thanks for the advice – I went to the doctor at about four in the afternoon on Tuesday, actually, and she prescribed some liquid syrup stuff that tastes absolutely disgusting (not as bad as the stuff I had to take when I had pinkeye, though) *shudder*  I know not all medicine tastes terrible, but enough of it does to make me believe what the old wives say.  *attempts to scrape taste off tongue*