Tanabata, depending on the region, is celebrated on the seventh day of the seventh month, either on July 7th (solar calendar) or August 7th (lunar calendar). An old Chinese legend, known in Japan as Kikkoden, portrays the annual convergence of the two stars Veda and Altair as a yearly tryst between two lovers, the weaver princess Orihime and the cowherd prince Hikoboshi. Their lord king allowed them to only that periodic meeting since being together made them neglect their duties. Ah, love...
People pray for clear weather at Tanabata, because it's said that the lovers can't meet if it's rainy.
Tomorokoshii is grilled corn doused with soy sauce. That may sound weird, but apparently it's pretty good. It's often served at festivals.
Tanzaku is a special kind of paper, cut into strips. People write wishes on the strips and tie them onto the branches of bamboo at home, at temples, and at schools as a Tanabata tradition.
Mune no Monogatari
by Mirune Keishiko
Nineteen: Cowherd and Weaver
At the time, two sentries had been posted at the huge gate, dozens others on guard in the driveway beyond. Then, of course, there had been the four Oniwabanshuu, blending seamlessly into the surroundings as they kept their own watch. It had been late afternoon then; shafts of amber sunlight had mocked her slow and heavy footsteps with their warmth, and the wind had toyed with her hair as she approached one of the guards.
"Tell Kanryuu that Takani Megumi has come back."
Shuddering with the memory, Megumi stopped dead on the overgrown path, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
It was taking every ounce of her courage not to turn and run.
Clenching her hands into fists, she opened her eyes again and stared up at the tall, vine-covered gate. A heavy, broken chain emerged from the tangle of green to drag along the ground, and one half of the gate swung slightly and soundlessly back and forth with the breeze. Golden afternoon sunlight sifted through the trees to dapple her gaily patterned festival kimono.
She forced herself to take one more step, and then another, and another—and trying not to really think about it she pushed past the gate with its bobbing tendrils of morning glory and walked up the driveway, whose bricks were broken in places by tall grass. Some of the old lampposts had fallen over in two years of neglect; small summer flowers made for bursts of color against crumbled gray stone and black iron.
Something dark fluttered overhead and she let out a cry, instinctively raising her arm across her face. But it was only a bird, disappearing with a screech into the thick, wild foliage that had once been the peach orchard.
The trees had only been for show, of course. Only Megumi had ever really eaten of their sweet fruit, those rare times she had had energy enough to crave a taste of freshness. But the rest had simply rotted on the bough or in the ragged undergrowth. In the summer, the stench of overripe peach and the faint buzz of flies had added to the feeling of decay and oppression.
If the grounds had been neglected two years ago, they resembled a mountain forest now. Looking through the maze of trees, Megumi wondered what sort of animals had come to take refuge in its shadows and suppressed a shudder.
Before her loomed the old Takeda mansion. Ivy had grown up the concrete walls; most of the windows were broken, and the roof had fallen in in several spots. The dense, pervasive hum of cicadas seemed to crowd in upon her hearing as she went up the stairs leading to the main entrance.
She slowed to a halt, staring apprehensively at the tall wooden doors.
It had been five years since she had first passed this way—two since she had last come.
Tightly gripping the collar of her kimono as though she would seize her wildly beating heart to steady it, she laid her other hand on the handle whose fake gold paint had long since rubbed off.
Hesitant mechanisms gave way beneath her pressure. The door swung open, and Megumi covered her nose and mouth with her sleeve as musty, warm air flowed out past her.
"Excuse me," she called out into the silent house. After a moment, she lowered her sleeve, though the stale smells of dust and old lacquer made her nose wrinkle. "Excuse me," she repeated more loudly.
There was no answer. Megumi shook her head. Of course, whoever might have been left on watch was probably enjoying the festival—like everyone else sensible enough not to visit old abandoned mansions alone.
She proceeded inside, on a sudden thought making sure to leave the door ajar. Her geta clattered against the wooden floor, echoed eerily through the stagnant silence of the hallway; she cringed and tried to walk more quietly. A fingertip touched to the banister of the front staircase came away gray with dust.
She emerged into the old ballroom and came to a halt. The weight of phantom pain bent her head.
It seemed the mansion had been all but totally abandoned once Takeda had been arrested. The bare walls were discolored where paintings had been ripped off their moorings, and peppered with trails of bullet holes. The paneled wood was chipped and broken, the varnish dull. Where an ostentatious chandelier had once glittered overhead, there was now only a small, ugly stump bristling with disconnected wires. And in the fading sunlight tilting in through the far windows, Megumi thought she saw old bloodstains clouding the floor's neglected polish.
She, and Kenshin, and Aoshi, Sanosuke, Yahiko, and Kaoru—how far they had all come since that night.
Lost in thought she made her way slowly through the other, smaller rooms, noting the furniture that had been removed or forgotten, the various small, ordinary things left behind as clutter. Memories she had not visited in years flitted past her in echoes and shadows, as loud and vivid as she dared to recall them.
The huge den whose walls and floor were pitted with scars and scratches had been the weaponry. The chamber that was once hers had long since been stripped bare. The library had been her sanctuary countless times, holding many texts that had been in her father's own collection at home, allowing her to escape, for precious hours at a time, the reality that awaited her the moment she stepped outside. Now the shelves were naked save for a few odd volumes and a thick film of dust.
A green, pungent odor hinted at decay from behind the door to the ofuro. Skating her fingertips along the wooden paneling, Megumi thought of Aizu and walked past the door without stopping. The spacious room that had been Takeda's office she, too, passed with only a moment's glance inside; in a house full of unpleasant ghosts, she hardly needed one more room of them.
She could not, however, ignore the door that led down to the basement.
Workplace and prison in one—Takeda had had the entire chamber fitted out as a makeshift laboratory. Megumi bit her lip, blinking back tears as she went slowly into the cavernous room. The various vessels and instruments were gathering dust in their accustomed places, though some had fallen to the floor or been shattered. The fireplace, kept assiduously clean so long ago, was full of cobwebs. In a corner was a thin Western-style pallet, the sheets still neatly folded, though gray with grime.
The room seemed to have hardly been touched since perhaps that last day she had worked here—some indistinct, colorless day lost in a series of so many others like it, her mind deadened, her heart still, and her hands working on their own in a kind of automatic knowledge. Her tools, the fireplace, the little bed for when Takeda had insisted she work overnight—keeping them meticulously in order had been one way to steal time from her loathsome duties, and one way she had somehow reassured herself, amid so many leering guards, away from Takeda's humorless grin, that she still held some sort of control over her own life.
That last day she had worked here was important only because Takeda had spoken to her, the previous evening, about the Spider's Web. And that morning, before mustering the very dregs of her courage for one final attempt at escape, she had burned her books and notebooks—every single dog-eared page, every diagram, every chart and illustration that contained any information about the opium recipe.
She had knelt by the fireplace and watched the papers dissolve into a bed of ash, and envied how they so easily and completely disappeared from the world.
Gradually Megumi became aware that she was standing before the old fireplace, her arms wrapped tightly around her trembling body, weeping.
Then a warm, solid presence enveloped her in strong arms, and she sank wordlessly against Aoshi's broad chest.
"You forge into old regrets so boldly, Megumi-san." There was a note of respect in his voice she had not heard in some time. "Do you never fear being unable to escape them afterward?"
"Sometimes I do," she murmured into his shirt, feeling heat flood her tearstained cheeks. "But it's a bad habit of mine, I'm afraid."
They ascended from the basement to find the house dark with the onset of evening. The chorus of insects was deafening.
"You are missing the festivities," said Aoshi, lighting an old storm lantern he found in one of the old servants' rooms.
Megumi smiled. "You're right. I'd almost forgotten. But there is still one more place..."
She turned slightly toward the staircase at the back of the ballroom.
He followed her silently up the stairs, the lantern bobbing gently as he held it aloft to cast its warm yellow light ahead of both of them. The door to the small observatory opened easily; inside it was pitch black.
Without a word he set the lantern down on one end of the low bench and bent to help Megumi open the shuttered windows. Cool night air rushed in with the faint aroma of ripening peaches.
For several minutes neither spoke, merely sat by the window and watched, in companionable silence, the lights of Tokyo twinkle in the distance.
"This would be an excellent view for your office," said Aoshi at last.
Startled, she turned to him. He met her wide-eyed gaze calmly.
"How did you know?"
He shrugged. "The turnover of such a large private property as the former Takeda estate to the city health officials would not likely escape my notice."
She said nothing, only smiled weakly and settled back into his arm as it came to encircle her.
"You would have preferred I said nothing?" His lips brushed her cheek and she shivered, not unpleasantly.
"I'm glad you already know, actually. I was wondering precisely how to bring it up with you."
The lantern was already burning low. Aoshi marked the orange flicker of its flame without comment.
"They want to send me and several others to Europe to study for a while."
"A woman?" Aoshi's voice was deep with surprise. "Since when has the government been intelligent enough to recognize the potentials of the other half of its citizenry?"
Megumi laughed. "Let's just say my family name seems to have well enough survived the transition into the new era." In the darkness, her fingers entwined with his. "This is to be a hospital, and a model training center for women nurses besides. And they want me to assist in the administration."
"You'll move from Aizu."
She paused. "Yes."
"How long will you be gone?"
"Almost three years, if all goes well."
The lantern sputtered, gave a last, dying hiss as its flame went out. Through the windows, the night sky glowed a deep blue.
For some reason, Megumi's thoughts strayed back to that first meeting in Aizu months ago, when she and Aoshi had had that most awkward lunch at the restaurant. She smiled to herself. At that time, she had been on her guard against him, and against the deluge of memories he evoked in her; she had feared that he would somehow destroy her new life, even if only with his presence.
"I'm so glad the rain cleared up in time," sighed Megumi, smiling up at the stars. "Come then," she said more briskly, standing up and tugging at his hand. "I don't want to miss the fireworks."
Hesitating only a little as she made her way through the darkness, she led him out of the observatory, down the staircase, through the grand ballroom that echoed now only with their footsteps, down the other stairway and out the double doors. He said nothing, but she suspected his amusement in the way his fingers slid around hers, and the way he followed her without a word through the shadow-strewn path away from the mansion—almost indulgently; and perhaps two months ago she would have been thoroughly irritated at this, except that now she felt only an answering mirth.
"They're setting up already." She permitted herself a grin, straining to see through the milling crowd as they emerged from a side street into the well-lit avenue leading to the temple. "Do you see Ken-san and the others anywhere?"
She caught the tail ends of bright streamers in her hands as he scanned the throng from his enviable height. "Kaoru-san appears to be buying tomorokoshii."
"Is Misao-chan with her?" Megumi turned to look at him, willing him to read her gaze as she sought to read his. He responded with an abrupt nod.
Megumi hesitated; though she was eager to catch up with her old friends, there was something she had yet to make clear. "Aoshi-san—"
"There is no need for concern."
But he looked away, and in the midst of the noise and bustle of the crowd, Megumi felt his silent sadness seep into her.
"When I'm gone..."
"I will be in Kyoto, with Misao and the others." Humor, gentleness, reassurance tightened his grasp on her hand. "It will be time well spent."
She stared hard at him then, and after a moment found herself relaxing into a smile. "You must promise not to assassinate any gaijin I bring back with me," she teased, pushing past him through the throng.
"Now, woman"—he stooped to murmur low in her ear—"you ask too much."
Misao's smile of greeting was obviously strained as Megumi and Aoshi approached. But Suzume and Ayame soon distracted their new Misao-neechan with their insistence on being taken up to the rooftops to watch the fireworks, and visibly perking up, the kunoichi soon disappeared to exert herself for her young charges. After some cheerful advice to keep his grandchildren from bumping their little heads, old Genzai-sensei let them go to amuse himself with a blitheness that made Megumi sweatdrop.
"There is no need for concern," said Aoshi quietly, looking down at her with a very faint smile.
Kaoru led them to where Kenshin sat comfortably with Kenji, Yahiko, and Tsubame under a stand of feathery maple trees on a nearby hill. Sitting beside Tsubame who promptly offered the newcomers some Akabeko sushi, Yahiko was being unusually irritable toward everyone in sight. Megumi decided to take pity on him and divert his attention from Tsubame's distracting presence—by teasing him.
"Ken-san, exactly how much has Yahiko-kun had to drink yet tonight? Look at him, he's red all over! You should know better than to give a child liquor!"
"Hey, I'm not a child!"
"Anou, Megumi-dono, Yahiko really hasn't had any sake yet..."
"Oh, dear, then you must have a truly unusual allergy, Yahiko-kun. Is it the heat? Does the lamplight hurt your eyes? You seem to be avoiding it. Perhaps you should lie down awhile."
Now Tsubame matched Yahiko cheek for flushed cheek, Kenshin was sweatdropping violently, and even Kaoru appeared to be groping for a different topic of conversation. Her work accomplished, Megumi leaned back with a warm cup of sake and felt immensely pleased with herself. Beside her, Aoshi was still, silent, and terribly amused.
She remembered with a smile the tanzaku she had tied that morning to the dojo bamboo, with her wish for a certain toriatama to be safe and happy, and to always find his way, wherever he was.
Somehow, all felt right with the world.
And as the first of the Tanabata fireworks arced into the starry sky for a dazzling burst of red and gold fire, Aoshi's hand found hers in the evening darkness. He raised it to his lips for a barely felt kiss that sent heat sparkling through her.
He did not have to smile. She did it for him.
tsuzuku
A.N. Wonderful to be back on familiar ground. Darned if I ever even think to write Misao again...
Is it just me, or is this chapter distinctly lacking in that delicious WAFFy goodness? Just keep in mind, folks, I aim to please. Will be happy to revise if need be. Can't quite put my finger on it, but I seem to be a bit off kilter these days... must be hung over from summer vacation...
The nice thing about obsessively reading and rereading Aoshi/Megumi fanfic: Halfway through this installment I remembered BarbaraSheridan's "Separate Lives," where Aoshi also surprises Megumi while she's angsting up a storm in Takeda's old mansion. But I promise, the resemblance is purely coincidental. Heh. (sweatdrop) But that is of course a truly excellent story.
Amberle-chan, welcome to the Fire & Ice fandom! Yipe, being an old Sano/Megumi fan myself, I'm a bit wary of converts like you and me. Hehe. But the kitsune onna is happy, so all's well. Rissi-Sama, heehee, I'm afraid I share a bit of your, erm, strong feelings against Misao after wrestling so hard with her for the previous chapter. conspirator's support is always, always appreciated! (bows deeply) The same goes for mij—oh, for some reason (even though you so faithfully review my instalments), I missed you! When you brought up the "Megumi supporting Aoshi for once" angle in an earlier bit of feedback, you really brought up something I'd had on my mind quite a while. I sort of wanted to prolong that particular scene, but I felt that would really have been overdoing it. jojobilu, you are such a sweet person! Yes, Misao does deserve to be happy. But I'll let better weasel-writers handle that instead. Just you wait for when eriesalia-sama updates "Blades, Knives, Steel, and Mettle"! ...I appreciate your poking, Cherie Dee! Your updates for all your fics are always so good! akisakura, sorry to have disappointed with the shortish previous installment. I must admit I was already becoming afraid of pumping things up too much, so I sort of weaseled out when I could. (Bad pun intended.)
Leila Winters gets an extra big heaping of gratitude for all her fun reviews. I'm overjoyed to find a fellow squealer at last! I'd give you a huge smiley here if only FFnet wouldn't erase it. (pout) But I'm so glad you're enjoying things so far—even if, gomen nasai!, sometimes this unworthy one doesn't write consistently quite so well...
Of course, sniffly thanks too to those who reviewed Chapter 18. Sometimes I think I only wallow in unhealthy mudpools of angst so that the romance comes out even more enjoyable. Teehee!