glossary:
sou = "Is that so."
kiai = yell for focusing and expressing one's aggressive energies when attacking
kunoichi = a girl/young woman trained in stealth; a young female ninja
shinobi shozoku = ninja clothing/gear
Mune no Monogatari
by Mirune Keishiko
Four: Starless
Dismay.
"Aoshi-sama? You're leaving?"
"Aa."
Disappointment. "Sou. How long will you be gone?"
Hesitation? "It remains to be seen. Perhaps until autumn." Emotion?
Hope, then. Courage. "Won't you be back in time for Tanabata? Jiya wants to set up a stall..."
"I do not believe I can return that soon. I have much ground to cover." Calm. Composure—broken.
Emotion.
Shock.
"Do not wait for me, Misao."
Emotion.
Sorrow.
Summer overhung Kyoto in a stultifying haze of humidity and heat that was worsened by the rains that never lasted longer than several minutes at a time. Okina tried to rid himself of the sticky feeling greasing his every movement by sipping his favorite tea on the balcony of the Aoiya. Firmly ignoring the fact that every breath seemed a struggle against the stagnant evening air, he tried to occupy himself instead in the ordinary sounds that echoed from the inn and restaurant below.
Pots and utensils clinked in the kitchen, lively talk and the occasional chorus of laughter filled the common room. Footsteps pattered coming and going among the rooms; guests chattered quietly to one another. Greetings to prospective passing customers filtered up from the street. Orders and comments passed from one staffer to another about firewood, tofu, sake, this customer's complaints, that customer's charms. Over everything, the quiet, deadening prickle of summer rain.
And then, faintly through the buzz of it all, a feminine kiai: rage, despair, determination, triumph.
Okina shook his head. Misao was training again.
She hadn't trained this hard in the last two years, had allowed other concerns to take priority over her martial skills. No one had really pointed this out, as everyone tacitly agreed it was best in this enlightened age that Misao remained a normal, ordinary girl instead of a kunoichi—more preoccupied with lace gloves than arm guards, kimono rather than shinobi shozoku. And so they let her help in the kitchen and around the inn, and made no mention of her daily trips to the temple.
But then the cause of her temple visits had left, and she had apparently remembered her neglected training. Over two months she had seemed formidably intent to recover two years of only intermittent practice with her kunai and kempo. If she stayed nearly all day in the training hall, if she emerged only to eat, bathe, and sleep, and then with reddened eyes that suggested tears, if her gaze lost its old brightness and keenness and her speech became dull and slow, still no one mentioned it. Tacitly everyone agreed that Misao would snap out of it soon enough, given enough straw dummies to skewer with her anger-fueled kunai.
Except, perhaps, Okina. The old man shared the hope that Misao would eventually recover, but he did not make so bold as to expect it. He heard the shrill kiai dimly from the training hall and drowned his sigh in his cup of tea.
It was not long before he sensed her presence approaching; had anyone been watching, the only expression of the old man's sadness was in the hard set of his mouth as he set down his teacup. Her ki had changed over the last six weeks. Always before, Okina had looked forward to every conversation with her. But now he dreaded it—if only because it pained him to hear that edged, hollow voice, see those dull, lifeless, darkly burning eyes upon his.
"Jiya. I'll leave for Tokyo tomorrow."
"No, you won't." Okina did not turn to face her. "You'll stay here in Kyoto, and help out at the restaurant."
"I've given him two months."
"Two months to do what, exactly?"
"To come back. Since he won't do it, I'll go out there and bring him back."
"He did say his journey would take long, and that he didn't know when it would be over."
"You know as well as I do he was just saying that."
"I know as well as you do that he told you not to wait for him."
A pause. She was close, dangerously close... She had not spoken of him with Okina or anyone else since his departure—and now she was treading the paper-thin line between ice-locked composure and sheer fury. The old man braced himself and rose to his feet, then turned to face her in the semidarkness of the balcony.
"Misao-chan. Stop this insanity. You know why he left."
"No, I don't!" She was trembling. "He never told me anything. He never did tell me anything!"
"Misao." He stepped closer to her. The ocean blue eyes she slowly lifted to him were huge and shadowed. "I'm very sorry. But it's time to let go."
"I can't!" It came out a low, agonized moan. Her slender hands, still encased in their leather guards, curled into fists. "He never did say anything to me, Jiya!"
He sighed. "He never had to, did he?"
She broke at that—he caught her as she fell on him, crying bitterly, her slim body shaking with her emotions, her fingers twisting into his clothes. Soothingly stroking her back the way he had used to in her childhood, he let her cling to him as she wept all the tears she had kept secret for the last two months, and even after her sobs faded at last to a sniffle and hiccup. He gave her his tea to finish, and the two sat in companionable silence for a long while on the balcony, watching as the rain gave way once again to a quiet, motionless night, the moon obscured by furrowed clouds.
"Please, Jiya." She spoke calmly, more in control of herself now. "Just let me go, this one last time, to Tokyo, or wherever I might track him down. I will force him to say the words if I must. But I have to hear them from him."
Words were superfluous now. He knew, and he suspected she knew it too. But in the stubborn optimism of youth, if this was the only way to get her to accept reality and outgrow her foolish pride...
"All right, Misao-chan. Go to Tokyo, or wherever you feel you need to go to find the answer. Just remember that this answer might not come from him." He stroked her disheveled hair; even though it was thick with sweat from the summer heat and her training, it still smelled light and sweet, like a little girl's. "Come back when you are ready to go on with your life. The Aoiya will be waiting for you."
When she spoke next, her voice was grim and heavy. "What if I don't come back, Jiya?"
His was stern. "Then you cannot have been Oniwabanshuu."
She recoiled at that; and he wondered if he had been too harsh, this time. But she stiffened and stood up, and her eyes were hidden in the fall of her hair as she gave him a small, soft smile. "Then I will certainly come back."
His proud, accustomed posture belied nothing of his silent grief for yet another ward seemingly astray.
She was gone before morning.
~ tsuzuku ~
A/N. Argh. Went through three and a half drafts and took up the better part of a day—changing viewpoints, characters, locations, weather conditions—before I finally ended up with this unusually short chapter that I wasn't totally dissatisfied with, for once. My rationalization is that, if you put this chapter with the previous one, they make up the length of two ordinary chapters. ^.^
From the beginning of this story I imagined Misao chapters interspersed with Megumi/Aoshi mini-arcs; we mustn't forget the weasel girl, now, ne? I don't know if it's just the effect of four days being forcibly away from RuroKen-kai, but I'm really wrestling with her characterization, and how her parallel story fits (or will fit) into the mood and flow of this whole piece. Hoping now that you didn't notice anything odd or ungainly here, since that would indicate that I'm not completely off track just yet. ^.^
Gratitude from the depths of my heart to those who read and reviewed the last chapter, and helped to properly boot up my fanfic-writing mechanism, which lay mostly dormant the past few days...Hitomi-dono: Thanks, I did have fun! Rissi-Sama: Mainly the only thing the Jinchuu arc shows regarding Aoshi is that he's found peace with himself... so don't worry, there aren't any big spoilers here on that count. Cherie Dee: Yep, Megumi-dono is definitely one classy lady. ^.^ mij: I share your abhorrence of that white coat. I prefer the butt-bow myself. And believe me, the chemistry is all there, I'm just putting it into words, is all. And hurrah for catching the KKnJ reference. ^.^ eriesalia, thanks for such consistent patience and generosity in the reviews! Please do go ahead and link this to the Shrine of Fire & Ice; I'm deeply honored! And I will humbly succumb to your beatings if that ever does happen... PackLeaderT: Thanks very much! Nice reviewers like you get me going. Yes, I'm an egomaniac. ^.^
An additional note to dearest mij: A truly frustrating glitch with that wretched Internet Explorer v6 is preventing me from replying to your email, but yes, same country, and yes, same university too, it seems. My God, the world gets smaller everyday...! ^.^ I'm stunned. I'll email you properly once I get the chance (blasted browser notwithstanding). ^.^
Ah, screw unrequited love... @.@ But maybe not before we get a lot of bloody, angsty fanfic out of it first.