Tears of Buddha

"Expression – an Epilogue"

By Starhopper

Disclaimer: Nope, nadda, zilt, zilch. Iie, no, nine. Don't own them at all. Cause if I did, I'd let Misao go, in the words of Fleetwood Mac, "crazy on" Aoshi. Yup, just throw those two in a closet and swallow the key. I'm sure that'd make everybody happy.

THANK YOU for the reviews! 39 is a good number, and I'd like to personally thank everyone who has ever reviewed this story. I'm so happy that you all like it. And don't worry, it was supposed to make you cry, touch you in a special place (wink) and maybe even get some people thinking about how utterly terrifying it is to be in love, realize love, and face love for the first time.

Again, thank you. I hope this epilogue will end my lovely dream nicely with a yawn and good a start to the day.

The swell of its crest caught his sky-blue eyes before the scent tickled his nostrils. Bending down on one knee, the young man peered down into the grass to inspect such a priceless treasure.

To the ignorant eye it was just a flower. A long green stem tipped by a still-life explosion of red petals. Yet the plant seemed to blush as calloused fingers brushed over the bloom. And it shivered as the touch drifted down to the warm earth that babied it so. As the young man teased the stem free from its roots it fell back into his palm with a grace that could only be described as a feminine swoon. Picked up between two fingers, twirling and spinning in the sunlight as he examined its exquisite beauty, it seemed to move to steps of its own like a dancer crossing the stage.

A dark shadow fell over him along with a whispered, "Aoshi?"

Her lover in question lifted his soft blue eyes from the embarrassed petals and soared through the heavens to settle on the angel standing above him. Remaining bent on one knee, he deftly flipped the stem around and slipped the flower behind her ear.

Both her eyes and fingers questioned the bloom and the role it had played in their lives just eight months prior to this day. With a nod and a brilliant smile, Aoshi relieved the fear that had flitted softly over her features. "With all the changes, I never apologized,"

"But you did!" Misao all but screamed at the thought of that night wracked with storm clouds and bolts of passion. Finding herself in the present looking back into the past flurries of events, the snowstorm overwhelmed her senses and resulted with a shake of her head. "You never needed to tell me once I found you,"

"I'll shower you in flowers all your life Misao," He whispered, the back of his hand running rough and drawing shivers over the arch of her cheekbone. The touch, though warm and tender, drew chills of another kind . . . a more familiar kind.

The stinging déjà vu threw the ninja into her own wedding, which was caught in its own maelstrom of petals. She remembered peering through the pink snow and found the staunch figure of her beloved standing impervious to the tosses of nature's confetti. He'd stared hard into her eyes then too, never so determined to leap forward and face the next day with his smile to guide her. His words had kept her focused, transfixed by the ice that had crystallized over his persona. She remembered the allure of failure tempting her nose at the sight of her old Aoshi-sama.

Kissing her as husband to wife, she was finally assured of the heat she'd worked so hard to stoke. Pulling away drew the applause and garbled laughter of their friends and the smallest member of the band from Tokyo. The Himura's tiny son greeted Mrs. Shinomori the next morning at the kitchen table with gleaming wondrous eyes and chubby little waves. Every part of him was warm, and soft and tangible to hold dear to a mother's heart. Misao's eyes grew soft as she stared at her husband of six months.

"I," unlike his wife, Shinomori Aoshi was still very much guilted into the present. Ducking his head in repent he murmured, "I made a horrible mistake giving you that flower,"

A kick displaced her from consciousness and sent her head spinning. Landing at the pit of her stomach, Misao covered the offense with her palm and stifled a giggle. "Aoshi-anata, to me that aphid-eaten weed was the sweetest rose,"

Aoshi remained crouched in silence, head cocked and eyes disbelieving as Misao put her hands on his shoulders. His own arms immediately rose to catch her inner-arms as she lowered herself to the ground.

"I love that flower, I love this one, and I love you," pulling him in for a hug, his little wife conveniently lost her balance, dragging him over her as she tipped and settled her back on the mattress of grass.

"Are you okay?" The laughter in his bright blue eyes was dampened at the sudden switch in position. They narrowed in concern for her safety as well as –

Misao nodded, annoyed at being asked that question for the tenth time that day. "Aoshi, I'm fine . . ." Her hand slid down the collar of his trench coat and fell protectively to the perceptible abdominal swell padded under the obi. "As long as I'm with you, we're just fine." Her grin of assurance was caught in the lips of a very relieved smile.

From the perceptive eye of her spirit, Misao could see the grass lawn shrink to a tiny speck below them. Aoshi's hands fell over her chest and with a sensuous massage, brought her physical body up to meet with her already flying self. She was lifted every time he squeezed and pressed to a height that he had reached numerous times during stints of meditation. Through his gentleness, now familiar and enveloping, she experienced the same sense of calm and yet complete and utter chaos. She was alive in his arms, aware of every aspect of life from the rhythm of his pulse as his wrist brushed over her ribs to a sudden clap of thunder with every beat of her child's heart as it lived deep within her womb. It was proof that life and sanity existed, at least for this individual who suckled off its mother's energy and cemented a bond of love tighter than any held between lovers.

Her hand tightened over the top of the kimono and squeezed the material in a universal sign of protection. A memory suddenly tugged at the back of her mind, begging to be recalled as she fell deeper and deeper into this intimate trance.

Trance . . .

Meanwhile, as Aoshi deepened the kiss, he traced his fingers over hers and gently pried them loose from the maternal death-grip that closed around the bottom edge of the obi. Reaching under the thick pad, Aoshi came to the kimono folds that overlapped each other in a playful embrace. He continued to slide his left hand over her stomach and around her waist until soft flesh met his fingertips. Smiling wickedly over her mouth, Aoshi doubled back, this time gliding his fingers along all the right places.

Misao melted into his shape at every brush, relishing in the attention. With his movements, the memory replayed and blended with the present. She was lying on her futon as a three, no, four-year-old, and Aoshi-sama was lying on his side next to her. His lips, though occupied at the moment as he kissed her neck and behind her ears, were back then whispering lullabies that softened the night and made her want to fall asleep, if it was only to wake up to any song her god sung. Lyrics started humming at the back of her throat just as a fingertip edged its way against the sharp edge of an orgasm.

Arching her back, the song whining high into her vocal chords, Misao twisted into it. It was at this moment, just as his wife came tumbling back down to earth, that Aoshi palmed the small swell at her abdomen and stopped the rapid descent with a rush of realization.

"I love you both so much,"

Wide ocean-set eyes popped open and stared blankly into the motionless sky so void of life. The clouds moved with no energy of their own. The blueness of the sky was not caused by inner-explosions of sensation and pleasure. She suddenly felt strangely disenchanted with a world where movement and abandon were nonexistent for it simply needed something more.

Reassuring laps at her bottom lip filled the void with the mere presence of her most treasured love. Inhaling his richness, more flashes of the past scratched at her retina, and Misao found herself staring into sky-blue eyes shrouded by the dark velvet of storm clouds.

"Drown me," she whispered over his mouth, still locked into the memory of quenching a thirst for his attention. "Aoshi,"

Wordlessly, her husband answered her with another stroke over her pregnant stomach and the sudden withdrawal of his hand. Raising himself off her, Aoshi came to kneel aside her, shaking his head with a smile. "Wait for the sun to set," his words were promising and soft like the beautiful arch her back was still formed in. They were almost pleading, equally consoling for her as well as assuring for himself.

Satisfied with his answer, Misao finally relaxed out of her beg and pressed the small of her back to the mattress of grass. Feeling a rustle a moment later, she wasn't surprised to find her head suddenly resting on Aoshi's lap. Twining through her hair, his gentle fingers found her temples and began to gently massage out any headache that threatened to intrude upon his wife's solitude.

Her smile was genuine as she whispered, "Aoshi-anata,"

Aoshi was lost in his own thoughts and nodded vaguely to the question in her voice. "Aa?"

Misao found her gaze drifting from the sky down to scrape her toes. Clutching at the fabric that delicately smoothed the bulge that had grown steadily over a few months, she wondered where the anxiety lay behind the question that was reticent to roll off her tongue had originated. Suddenly a nervous shudder snuck up on her and was met with a gentle neck massage and an even more soothing tone. "What is it my Misao-chan?"

Her fingers stilled his own as she tilted her head back to look in his eyes. "Do you fear the future?" Silence cloaked Aoshi like a comfortable old blanket as Misao continued. "Because I do. Every morning I wake up and wonder if our happiness will last through the day,"

"I'm sorry if I've ever made you doubt my promise to ensure your eternal happiness," his words were rushed and emotional, sincerely apologetic and if her gaze had floated away from the sky of his eyes, she would've seen the slight quiver of his chin.

Patting his hand was assurance enough before his young wife could speak. "No, Aoshi, I trust you to protect us. With all my heart I do. But I can't keep some fears from popping into my head."

Aoshi again returned to battle the stress attacking his wife's nerves, murmuring that he could easily slit the throat of anyone who dared interfere with her well-being. However, he couldn't keep the word 'us' from popping into his own head. Yes, there was indeed an 'us' that he was responsible for, an 'us' that signified the growth of his own family. Thoughts of the past that he kept locked tight within a steel-frame flashed in all their significance. He had lost a family of friends before, had been entirely alone, and then by the grace of his personal angel had been given a second chance.

The warmth that stirred in his heart was different from the electric shock of his love's touch. Ferocious in all its primal glory, the duty to protect this family at times overrode other needs, other wants. For the first time in his life, Aoshi could actually sense his maturity from a transparent ghostly form forever lost to a vibrant alive individual found within the faint heartbeat of his child.

"With my last breath of this air that you made sweet, I will protect you both."

"I believe you more than I've ever believed anyone in anything," Misao said, heart heavy in each word. "So please, let me take care of us so you can protect us."

"Are you saying that I shouldn't worry?" His brow was furrowed and his guess given foundation when his wife broke into giggles. Of course, his inquiring tickle at her neck didn't help the situation.

"No," Smiling as she shrugged off his fingers, Misao continued, "Just worry about things when there's something to worry about."

Aoshi blinked, then bending his head in placation, conceded, "A young wife, carrying my child, who still practices her Keicho kicks behind my back isn't something to worry about?"

The look on the shinobi's face was worth every aggravation she'd driven in him by refusing to act as a traditional wife should. Reprimanded and embarrassed, Misao smoothed the already straightened folds of the obi around her waist. Her lips turned down in the cutest of frowns as she shifted to fill the nervous silence.

"You haven't said anything, I assumed you didn't mind,"

"I mind everything you do, Misao." He tapped her lightly on the nose with the tip of his finger. "And I try to ignore all that I see."

"Don't ignore too much," reaching a hand up to pinch his chin, she giggled, "You might miss something," and winked.

Nodding, he quietly hooked his arms under her armpits and hoisted her to her feet. Before she could say anything that resembled a protest or a whine about how nauseous she got whenever he did something so fast like that, he pulled her back into his chest, and crossed a strong embrace in front of her body. A palm drifted over her heart and she immediately grabbed for it to hold it there.

"Aoshi,"

"Aa?"

"How much longer till sunset?"

He chuckled as he pressed her closer, sure that she'd faze on through him and stand untouched on the other side. He'd wake up and find this paradise a delectable dream.

Just to make sure, he pinched himself and wanted to laugh as the pain rippled around the bend in his thumb.

"Not long, my Misao. It will come sooner than you think,"

"So, in the meantime. . . how about some dinner?" she craned her neck up to see his expression. Finding it thoughtful and devoid of the sky-blue eyes that starred her nights, she relaxed back into her original position and drew wistful circles over the misleading flatness of her pregnant tummy.

"So in the meantime," she said again, this time in a whisper petal soft for his ears alone. "How about making the most out of the day? We're not afraid."

"Aa, I know we're not," he acquiesced with a reassuring flex in his arms and letting go of her body to hold just one hand. He traced the curves of his wife with his eyes before starting their stroll.

A/N: I did it! Was it any good? I deliberated on it for so long, it's just been collecting dust. (Blowing off the dust) Can you see it clearly?

Tell me how I did in a REVIEW please, because I'll never turn down a review of any sort. It just makes my writing that much better.

Till next time, peace and love to all!

Starhopper