A/N. This chapter has been slightly modified due to a bit of confusion on my part. My bad. Gomen, gomen, gomen nasai! ^.^; Thanks, ChiisaiLammy, for pointing it out, and so very tactfully too! Where would I be without sharp readers like you, ne?
glossary:
obasan = literally "aunt," but very politely used to address women who are at least middle-aged and older than the speaker
uiro = a chewy, subtly sweet steamed cake made of rice flour and sugar; similar to mochi. May be flavored with sweet bean paste, green tea, strawberry, chestnut, or the aromatic rind of a Japanese citrus fruit called yuzu
kuchiyaku = the "official mouths" of the ruling class. They were trained intensively in poisons and drugs so that they could watch for these in their lord's food, clothing, and so on. (Please see additional note below. ^.^)
daimyo = the feudal lord ruling directly over a han or province. Nine successive generations of the Matsudaira clan ruled Aizu through the 300 years of the Tokugawa period. In 1871 the han system was abolished. The last Matsudaira daimyo died in 1894.
Mune no Monogatari
by Mirune Keishiko
Seven: Unconcealment
Even from far down the road, Megumi thought she caught a familiar, delicious scent in the air, and she smiled, half-consciously quickening her steps. Hers was the only garden on this row of houses that featured roses. When summer set the flowers blooming in rich masses of rosy petals, they served as a fragrant announcement to anyone coming down the road that they were nearing the Takani house.
Rounding the bend of the road, Megumi saw, from far off, that a woman was idling by her gate.
"Is this an inopportune time?" asked Aoshi from where he kept pace beside her. "If so, I can return tomorrow morning."
Megumi shook her head, straining to recognize the woman, who seemed familiar. "I don't recall having set an appointment for this afternoon. Even if I had, I certainly wouldn't have set it at my house."
As they approached, Megumi realized at last who it was with an inward groan. It was Mizuaki Tsubasa—hawklike mother of Mizuaki Keiichi, last sighted six days previously at that horrid o-miai—and there was a devious gleam in her eyes as they settled on Megumi.
"Should I leave?" asked Aoshi again.
Megumi sniffed. "I don't see why. She's the one showing up at people's private homes with no prior notice whatsoever."
Her last words were spoken in an undertone, as they drew near enough to the haughty-looking woman to be heard. Megumi affixed her politest smile to her face and felt the last of the inner tranquility she had acquired at Oyakuen slipping away.
"Good day, obasan." She bowed.
"Good day, Takani-san." Megumi wondered if it were only rheumatism that made the middle-aged lady's bow so stiff. "Forgive me for visiting unannounced, but there is an important matter we must discuss. In private," she added with an icy glance at Aoshi. He merely gave her a deep, courteous bow that left her visibly flustered for a moment.
As if he'll let a little look like that get to him. Megumi saved her mischievous giggle for later. "You must also forgive me, Mizuaki-san," she said aloud, her own tones sweet, "if I ask that we postpone this conversation at least for an hour or two. My friend here has come on equally important business which he must conclude before leaving Aizu tomorrow."
"Unfortunately, my son and I are also leaving tomorrow, Takani-san." The older woman was not to be outdone; her voice oozed fake friendliness. "That is—whether we leave tomorrow or not depends quite entirely on the outcome of our discussion today. I promise you this will not take much of your precious time."
Megumi paused delicately. Violence was not a viable option, not even against such an irritating woman.
"I would not mind waiting, Takani-san." If a voice could be called refreshing in its coolness after all the saccharine that had been flying around, Megumi felt it would have been Aoshi's. She turned to give him a small smile.
"I apologize for this unexpected delay. I understand you wished to return before nightfall."
From the way Mizuaki-san's eyebrow shot upward, the older lady did not miss the meaning of Megumi's none-too-subtle statement. Nor did Megumi miss the glint of amusement in Aoshi's eyes.
"Please make yourself at home, Aoshi-san, while Mizuaki-san and I have our conversation. Mizuaki-san, do please come in."
Megumi sighed to herself in irritation as she boiled water for tea for her guest, who was waiting with a strangely smug composure in the common room. Aoshi had taken it upon himself to wander through Megumi's little garden, no doubt looking for somewhere to meditate, she thought half crossly. Meanwhile, she not only had to put up with this woman who irritated her with her syrupy voice and the unpleasant memories she evoked of the o-miai, she also had to feed her. Grumpily Megumi fumbled for the uiro she had bought on the way home from Oyakuen. She had intended to save them for an evening snack.
"Just tea, thank you very much," said Mizuaki-san calmly as Megumi brought in the refreshments. "You need not worry that I'll stay too long."
Megumi hoped her relief was not that obvious. "What did you wish to speak with me about, obasan?"
The older woman took her time in answering, instead picking up her teacup and examining it with elaborate care—sniffing the rim, eyeing it for imaginary cracks, wiping the inside with a fingertip she then held up to the light for sharp scrutiny, before tasting it gingerly with a flick of her tongue. Megumi watched mutely, annoyance compounded now with curiosity intensifying moment by moment.
At last Mizuaki-san held out her cup, as though bestowing on Megumi some great favor. Gritting her teeth, determined not to lose her composure, Megumi daintily poured tea.
As Mizuaki-san sniffed at the hot liquid, Megumi felt something inside her snap.
"I apologize for my poor meal," she ground out through a forced smile, "if it fails to meet your exacting standards."
"On the contrary, Takani-san, the tea is of excellent quality." The older woman smiled at her serenely and lowered the cup, undrunk. "I was merely checking for inappropriate substances."
Megumi felt the last of her patience ebb. "Obasan, please say whatever you mean. It would benefit us both."
Mizuaki-san's smile turned grim. "Very well. I came here to verify whether the woman with whom my son is so pathetically besotted is truly a drug maker."
Megumi froze.
The cup she had been holding fell to the ground and shattered. Through the layers of her yukata, she felt the spilled tea spread across the fabric, warm and damp.
Dimly, she saw the other woman smirk.
"So it's true. Takani-sensei, whose fame for her skill and beauty has spread far and wide, was a lowly opium woman for three years." Mizuaki-san shook her head—and Megumi wondered feebly if, for a moment, she had truly glimpsed a look of sincere sorrow flash across the older woman's face. "Using the knowledge of generations to make street drugs—Takani Ryuusei would be ashamed of you."
Megumi blotted dazedly at the tea stain on her lap. I know... "H-how did you—"
"Believe me, I could tell." Mizuaki-san smiled. "My son refused to believe me, but now you've all but confirmed it, he can properly forget about you now." She stood up, dusting tiny fragments of ceramic off her kimono.
Tiny pinpricks of pain came to Megumi from her hands as the shards pierced her skin, but she no longer cared. She hid her face in her long hair as hot tears quickly spotted her kimono; hugging herself tightly, she tried to steel herself against the sudden trembling of her body.
"You've kept the secret very well," Mizuaki-san was saying calmly as she stepped over the broken cup. "Orihara-san seemed to have absolutely no idea. I'm sure those kind family friends of yours, the Sanadas, don't know either. And you had the gall to move back to your hometown and establish yourself as a full-fledged doctor." Her voice was barbed with scorn. "I wonder how you sleep at night, sensei"—Megumi flinched—"treating patients all day with those drug-stained hands."
Mizuaki-san walked past the shaken woman to the door. "I just wanted you to know that you can't go on fooling people with that three-year hole in your history. You're clever, Takani-san, but not everyone is that stupid. There's nothing you can do to erase your criminal past. So stop hiding behind your father's name and own up to your sins, and maybe then you can find redemption." Mizuaki-san glanced back at her—and again, Megumi caught her breath, wondering if she had only imagined that brief look of cold, distant sadness amid the disgust. "Although with so much innocent blood on your hands—I sincerely doubt it."
"Speaking from experience, O-Kuroyuki-san?"
Megumi blinked and stared through her tears. Aoshi hadn't been there a few minutes ago.
He stood leaning against the wall, head bowed, arms folded across his chest, black suit well complementing the gathering afternoon shadows.
Mizuaki-san was staring at him with narrowed eyes.
"Black Snow." Aoshi sounded almost bored. "Once directly under the kuchiyaku of the last Matsudaira daimyo, she was quick to disappear after Aizu fell to the Ishin loyalists. Only twelve years after the Restoration, she is now obscured in history, even though for two decades she was matchless in her mastery of narcotics and hallucinogens. Now she wishes only to be loving wife and devoted mother in the anonymity of a rural town."
"What are you blathering about, young man? Apparently not only rude, but also mad." The woman shot Megumi another withering glance. "Appropriate enough company for one of her ilk, I suppose."
The next moment Aoshi had her by the arm, gripping it painfully in one large hand, eliciting a squeak. Mizuaki-san glared up at him, trying in vain to twist her arm out of his grasp.
"Of all the impertinent—"
"You are right, O-Kuroyuki-san, I am rude. I should have introduced myself first." As Aoshi easily caught hold of her other arm, she stared fiercely up at him. "My name is Shinomori Aoshi."
Mizuaki-san's eyes went wide.
Slowly Megumi shook her head, trying to dispel her confused emotions and think. As she rose unsteadily to her feet, one hand flew onto the floor to stabilize her—and she drew a sharp, hissing breath as a shard of ceramic rent her palm.
"Shinomori..." breathed Mizuaki-san in awe.
"Of the Edo Castle Oniwabanshuu. But you know this already." Aoshi tightened his grip on her arm, wringing a cry from the older woman. As he spoke, his voice never rising above a quiet tone of absolute certainty, she stopped wriggling in his grasp and merely stared at him as though entranced.
"Now understand this as well. This woman has gone to greater lengths than you would know to make amends for sins she was only forced to commit. She has earned every moment of her new happiness with her own blood and tears; every life she ever took she paid for with a piece of her own. You who cannot even begin to fathom her suffering—I will allow you to inflict no more on her."
He suddenly released her and she staggered backward, stumbling painfully against a low shelf set into the wall. The crash of the flower dish that followed jolted Megumi from her awe, and wincing, she set about checking her wounded hand for any remnants of sharp ceramic.
"You were never under my command, O-Kuroyuki-san. For that you are fortunate. However." Aoshi slid open the door to the hushed afternoon. "Remember this, if you ever think again to tell of another's past that will never outdo yours: Takani-san is under my protection."
Icy eyes pinned down the woman cowering before him.
"I trust you understand fully what that means."
He went out to shut the gate behind the woman, and, as calmly as though he actually lived here, thought Megumi wryly, re-entered the house.
"Nothing serious?" He moved to stand by her, where she was kneeling and picking up the broken ceramic pieces. A fresh bandage bound her injured hand.
"Nothing serious. The most superficial wounds hurt the worst, that's all." She sighed, tossing one last chunk of cup into a tray and leaning backward.
For a moment neither spoke, Megumi kneeling silently with her face hidden in her hair, Aoshi staring down at her, blue eyes shadowed.
Then he knelt beside her, pulling on a pair of leather gloves he produced from a pocket. As he picked up the finer fragments and placed them on the tray, Megumi stilled his hand with a touch from hers.
"Thank you, Aoshi-san."
"Your gratitude is misguided." Peeling off one glove, he used it to brush tiny particles from the tatami onto a piece of paper she mutely handed to him. "I merely brought to light certain elements of the truth that she did not know." He glanced at her before picking up the tray. "And that you yourself seem to have forgotten."
Megumi frowned. "I don't understand—"
"You would if you decided to. As long as you choose not to understand, Takani-san, you will always seek to leave your past behind."
Glaring at his back which was moving off toward the kitchen to dispose of the broken cup, Megumi wondered how he had so deftly turned her appreciation into the beginnings of anger. "I really wish you'd start using words like a normal person, Aoshi-san."
"I'm saying"—he sounded faintly put-upon—"that what you went through in three years is not so shameful that you should completely turn your back on all of it."
Having placed the fragments in the garbage, he turned back toward her as he spoke, just in time to see tears fall once again. She averted her face quickly, as if to hide her bitter sorrow.
"Why must we talk about this?" she hissed through clenched teeth, trying to contain her emotions so forcefully a cold tremor jarred her entire body. But the tears were already sliding down her face. Cursing herself for breaking down, cursing him for being there to see it, cursing the meddling woman who had forced to the surface all the hellish memories she sought to bury—she covered her face with her sleeves and bit hard into the fabric to keep from whimpering, as the tears fell too fast for her tenuous self-control to stop.
She stumbled blindly outside, wanting only to hide from him and his intent, depthless eyes that seemed to see clear through her. She gasped for breath as she emerged into the cool, shaded air of the engawa, clenched her hands into shaking fists as she struggled for control. Suddenly weak, she sank to her knees.
When she felt his arms slowly, hesitantly encircle her, the wave of astonishment that washed over her was only to be expected; but then the feel of his warm, solid strength was too much for her, and burrowing into his embrace, she wept then as she had restrained herself from doing for more than two years. Not the silent, tightly controlled tears she had shed at the dinner party, but wild, tempestuous sobs, soft incoherent keening moans of anger and grief, muffled desperately in her sleeves—the kind one wept at funerals, the kind that mourned the passage of a life dearly and bitterly loved, an innocent soul forever lost.
And Aoshi held her with a gentleness as palpable as his strength and far more surprising, as she had never dreamed it existed in his warrior's heart of ice; and as the crushing pain in her chest eased gradually into a softer, lonelier sorrow, she hardly dared to look at him, knowing the sight of his impassive blue eyes again would only drive her to doubt the silent sympathy he so tenderly offered.
"You are too modest, Megumi-san, to see the truth in its entirety," he murmured in her ear—she wondered if she shivered from the sudden, smooth change of her name, or from his warm breath against one very sensitive spot. "And hiding your modesty in fear and regret, you want to throw it all away. But not all of it is as worthless as you deem it to be. I will tell you now, and never again, what I have told no one in more than two years; and you will choose to understand at last."
Her self-possession seemed to have melted away entirely, and for a moment Megumi registered a dim and distant annoyance at herself. But perhaps mastered by the quiet authority in his voice, she stilled against him, in the thrum of his chest as he spoke finding a restful rhythm against her cheek.
"I threw away everything of myself to become Okashira. When the shogunate fell and the Oniwabanshuu were cast to the winds, I was the only force that kept them alive, kept them from straying, from reducing themselves to common criminals as innumerable other warriors had done. To be the leader they needed, I dedicated myself to the Oniwabanshuu. Their strength became mine. Their happiness became mine. Their life became mine. And when they were scattered by the paths of the new era, when the last of us fell to protecting worms like Takeda, their shame became mine."
She glanced up at him then without thinking; but his eyes were shut, his hair falling forward in a dark veil.
"The ancient defenders of the shogun, now mere bodyguards for a merchant who had not even the guts to enrich himself honestly. We chose to join him for the money. You, however, were denied the luxury of choice. Alone and orphaned, from the young and ignorant bedmate of a fallen doctor to the drug maker of a money worshipper—you were indeed one of little luck."
Megumi stiffened, averted her gaze. Between the doctor who had taken her as apprentice and whore and Takeda who had taken her as opium woman, she had hardly ever known who was worse. She realized now that Aoshi's hold on her was firm as well as light; and as she glanced back at him in sudden apprehension, the cool blue eyes asked her quietly to stay.
"It was not for kindness that Takeda did not touch you. Certainly he never spared you torture. But you never lost your spirit. Every moment that the Oniwabanshuu stood guard at his door, hearing the cries and the laughter within, I felt our dignity slipping away. But you, Megumi-san, never gave up yours."
She caught her breath. He stared at her evenly, the unassailable truth of his words broken by no hint of emotion.
"You bore his beatings, the men's advances with defiance. You manipulated the recipe as best you could—altered the methods, substituted useless ingredients, changed the measurements so often that the bruises from one beating hadn't healed before they were overlaid with bruises from the next. My men and I could tell immediately, of course, having been raised among drugs and deception. But since our duty was to safeguard the businessman, not his money, we chose not to betray you; and thus we spent the last of our tarnished honor."
The warmth of blood blazed across her cheeks. She knew better now than to try to hide it from him.
"Had I or one of my men been so soullessly entrapped for three years, I cannot imagine what we would have done. Surely we would have fought to be free, and death would have been sweet. But you, a woman in a house of warriors, had no such recourse, not even when you tried for the only honor left to you—and ultimately denied. You tried to escape many times; and even as honor dwindled at last to a mere pretense for us, you even tried to kill Takeda even though you were utterly incapable, even though everything in your blood moved against it. Yours was a courage and strength that would have been easily extinguished in a lesser heart—a courage and strength that then brought you hope for a new life even alone, when I who thought so much of strength and leadership only descended deeper into madness and dishonor."
Her eyes met his: comprehension dawning hesitantly amid amazement, and a single last tear he swiftly brushed away.
"You humble me, Takani Megumi. Before your spirit, that of the Oniwabanshuu Okashira bows."
~ tsuzuku ~
Author's Notes upon Notes upon Notes. The kuchiyaku bit is, I'm sorry to say, not absolutely sure on my part. (Gomen, gomen!) What I do know (thanks to Koike Kazuo's "Lone Wolf & Cub" manga) is that there was a kuchiyaku for the Shogun as far back as the 17th century, and poison indeed was his function. Obviously, a lot of people would be constantly trying to kill the Shogun. What I've been unable to ascertain is whether daimyo had kuchiyaku too. But hey, it sorta follows logic that they did, ne? Especially since Aizu han was a fairly rich and prominent province that proudly supported the Shogun all the way through the Tokugawa era. And the Oniwabanshuu likely had ties to them, being on the shogunate side too and all.
I was a bit scared at first about suddenly dropping this motherlode of info on what was at first a purely incidental OC. I really did have this vague plan from the beginning of her later exposing Megumi's past (kicking up a tornado of angst in the process), but then when I got down to it it was one far-out idea after another. (I toyed with the idea of making her Oniwabanshuu, but then—egad, they'd be all over the place.) I don't think I'll be resuscitating her for a later chapter (she ought to be slinking out of town for good soon enough) but I feel kind of bad about puffing her up and then putting her down, all in a single chapter. Hope poor Mizuaki-san is still believable. ^.^;
For that matter, I earnestly hope Aoshi-sama is still believable. @.@ I'd been stewing on that question of "why does he care???" for the longest time, and when I finally thought I'd hit on the idea (although I'm sure all of us Aoshi/Megumi writers have our own takes on the subject), I knew I had to put it in somewhere. Unfortunately (A) he's suddenly unusually talkative, and (B) here we've got, yes folks, another dialoguey chapter. T.T Which I was trying very hard not to do after all that yakking in "Yoake Mae," honest.
But after all, according to social psychology... Mutual, voluntary disclosure facilitates interpersonal relationships. Harhar. Please forgive the jargon, if I got any clearer I'd have to end the story awready. And I am trying to keep him IC despite all this yakkety-yak. (whine: But he does talk in the manga when he has to...!) ^.^; I promise, Aoshi will be his good ol' closemouthed self again soon enough.
Another apology/explanation: Only in hindsight did I realize that I loaded a lot of cultural/historical stuff into the last chapter. I'm not sure why myself, or whether it was absolutely necessary. (You guys decide; I'm biased.) I sure hope it didn't weigh things down. I hate explaining myself, but... I decided to put in Oyakuen after I came across it doing Net research (it was too much fun to not put in there with Megumi), and I wanted to convey Aoshi's past—the noble, illustrious parts instead of the usual "Beshimi. Hannya. Shikijou. Hyottoko" stuff—to Megumi without resorting to a dialoguey chapter. (Case in point: this one. =.=) So you kind readers must see for yourself whether I accomplished my objectives. ^.^
Thankyouthankyous to mij, who never fails to cheer and comfort me with her words of support. I hope sincerely that I should never let you or any other reader down! PackLeaderT, I'm so glad you like all these traditional tidbits too... I haul my normally lazy cyber-ass all over Google for discriminating reviewers like you. ~.^ conspirator, thanks so much! I hope you will continue to give me such concrete, helpful feedback throughout this story, as I find myself struggling with almost every chapter. ^.^; Heartfelt gratitude also to the ever-hardworking eriesalia—I rummaged through quite a few tea and flower websites to get the right information, and I'm happy you enjoyed the little details. On reading your review, I read fujifunmum's fascinating "Dreams" myself. I'm just glad our tea ceremonies weren't exactly alike, or I might find myself accused of plagiarism. ^.^;
Geesh, look at all this blather. Anyhow, do kindly Submit a Review before those darned withdrawal symptoms of Feedback Addiction Syndrome kick in again... please? ^.^