It was Summer
A tale of secret love, hesitation, and the summer that changed the both of them.
.0o0.
It was summer, and to the residents of the Aoiya restaurant, the days had flown by too quickly. The Sakura trees were in bloom, as spring slowly faded away into the background, while the glowing yellow sun heightened in the azure sky, burning and giving life to the ground. Everything around was peaceful, soft and bustling, like a cold river.
It was this summer that would change everything.
.0o0.
Misao looked up with curious green eyes, at the grazing herd of sheep that was drifting away slowly in the giant blue field. She sighed contentedly, sprawled against a grassy hillside, lying down with her hands at her side, watching the clouds.
Some wind blew, ruffling her clothes gently, but that was all. Misao closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She smiled a little. The scent was intoxicating.
.0o0.
Okina was busy drinking tea by the open door of the restaurant, perched, as always, on the soft tatami mat, and sitting by the low wooden table. Above him, the silver wind chimes tinkled softly in the breeze, dancing gracefully to an indefinite rhythm.
He put the small, porcelain cup to his lips, sipping a little. It was still very hot, but his tongue was used to it, so he didn't mind. His nose sniffed a little, when he tasted the bittersweet jasmine.
Okina smiled as he drank. Life, at its end, was very, very good.
.0o0.
Soujiro was looking for her, as he always did after he was done with kitchen duty. He liked to talk to her sometimes, when he was done with his work, and she with hers, because there was something about her that he found particularly refreshing.
There was something different about today, he thought, which was the day that he was going to ask her something important. Because today, she was missing, and he had no clue as to where she had gone.
Omasu was cleaning up in the dining room, and all the customers had left. Soujiro looked around, but didn't find what he was looking for. He decided to ask the older ninja woman.
"Omasu, have you seen Misao?"
Looking up at him, she shook her head, and went back to stacking up the used plates and cups.
"Check the riverside, or the field across," she replied, not looking up. "It's where she used to play with Aoshi."
.0o0.
Aoshi was dead, and had been dead already for more than a year. They had found his body, that cold winter evening, inside the temple where he always meditated. He had collapsed on the floor.
"Tuberculosis," the doctor had said, after he'd wrapped Aoshi in a big linen blanket. "You shouldn't have let him go out in the cold like that."
Okina hadn't said anything then, just keeping his grim eyes on the body wrapped in cloth. It was true though, the man had been coughing violently for the past few days, but, despite their constant nagging, had refused to go and see a doctor.
"…and look where that got him," the doctor finished, looking at all of them calculatingly.
Misao had been inconsolable then, crying and crying for days, shutting herself up in her room, missing all of her meals, and never even getting up from her futon, just clutching the blanket, moaning and sobbing.
"Aoshi…" she wailed, tearstains covering her cheeks, "Aoshi-sama…"
No one else had said anything after that, even when the men had begun to pack away the former okashira's things into a large chest, or when they'd buried him in the graveyard, under a stone marker bearing his initials. The Oniwabanshu were stone-faced, silent, while the young Misao struggled to gain control of herself, all the while unable to let go of her beloved friend's death.
.0o0.
A month later, Soujiro had come to them, weary, bedraggled, and on the brink of death, due to heavy blood loss. He appeared at their doorstep, bleeding all over the ground, as Misao had put it.
Out of the goodness of their hearts, they had taken him in, to heal his wounds and to give him a place to stay. "Wanderer", he had called himself then, but they knew that he'd had enough.
Soon after, Soujiro began to work at the restaurant, as a waiter and a dishwasher. Quietly, the Oniwabanshu began to accept him as one of them, with Okina treating him as a student, and Shiro and Kuro, Omasu and Okon, regarding him like their own brother. Misao was the only one that had hated him from the beginning.
For without knowing it, Seta Soujiro had broken the silence that Aoshi's passing had brought upon them.
But inside, Misao knew, he would never, never replace Aoshi.
.0o0.
She was incredulous at first, when they had let him stay, but as they said, time could heal many things very easily. So it was no surprise, that, as the clouds began to change form, and as the seasons began to move on, that slowly, the girl grew to accept Soujiro as a friend, and then, maybe, later on, something a little more.
"Soujiro! SOUJIROOO!" Her footsteps thundered across, all over the Aoiya, and her voice, as well.
He was outside, hanging the laundry.
"SOU NO BAKAA! SOUUUU!"
He looked up at her, recognizing the nickname with slightly bewildered, clear blue eyes. The young man paused for a moment, leaving the white blanket to hang on the clothesline by one corner.
"Hai, Misao-san?"
She grinned at him, her pearly white canines gleaming in the noonday sun. Misao leaned closer, poking Soujiro in the chest gently.
"It's a festival, later, and Himura-san, Kaoru-chan, Yahiko-baka and that dolt Sanosuke are coming!"
At this he merely blinked, but she could see that in his eyes, the former Tenken was a little bit nervous at this sudden development. His mouth didn't move, not even to smile. Misao waited, but got no reaction out of him, until Soujiro resumed hanging the laundry.
The weasel girl's happy expression softened, and she looked at him from where she sat, on top of the platform just outside the dining room.
"Look…" Misao began, letting her chin rest on the palm of her hand, "Don't be like that, Sou…I mean…" she trailed off, and he still didn't look up. After a few minutes, the last of the laundry had been hung, drying neatly in the wind.
"…it's a good thing that they're coming."
He smiled at her.
.0o0.
"What are you making?"
Soujiro glanced up to see Misao, an expression of curiosity on her face. In his hand was a small chunk of wood, as big as his palm. Wood shavings lay at his feet, and a small knife in his other hand.
"I'm making a sculpture," he answered, getting back to his work, completely ignoring her.
"A sculpture? Of what?" She had moved closer, bending over to see it better. He pretended not to mind her, that smile of his still plastered on his face. She smelled nice; like wildflowers and thorns. They passed the afternoon like that, with no real work being accomplished.
Just a boy, a girl, and a small sculpture.
Misao held it up in her hand, admiring it. A hint of a smile was on her face, and although she didn't want to admit it, Soujiro was quite good at these types of things.
He had carved a perfect replica of an owl, down to the very last detail. Masterful work, this creation of his, and seeing the weasel girl grudgingly saying so brought a tiny, real smile to the former Tenken's face.
Suddenly, she looked at him. "Can you make paper balloons?"
.0o0.
"Just look at them!" Perched on a nearby cloud, Hannya beamed down at his former student.
"Hn." Grunted Aoshi, sipping some tea. He didn't seem to mind much. Actually, he didn't mind at all.
"Misao's grown," commented the masked one, leaning over to get a better view, "And that Tenken guy doesn't seem to be such a bad egg after all—hey, where are you going?"
Aoshi had stood up on the cloud to leave. "I'm late for my massage." Without another word, he disappeared into the air, and Hannya shook his head knowingly, turning his attention back to the two young ones.
"This should prove to be interesting," he murmured.
.0o0.
She was not at the riverside, so he went off to check the field. As he walked through the peaceful trees at a relaxed step, Soujiro realized that he could feel his heart pounding at a very quick rate. He breathed deeply, to ease his nerves, but it only provoked thoughts that probed deeper into the matter.
"Why?" he mouthed, running a hand through his hair. Why was he suddenly like this, nervous, uncertain and apprehensive? Even though the prodigy knew the answer, it would take a long time before he would admit it to anyone, even Okina.
He was in love with her.
.0o0.
The butterflies flew into the breeze, like remnants of a torn yellow flower. They moved gracefully in one small cloud, floating through the air, carried by the wind, and then, at one precise moment, scattering.
Misao woke up when she heard the shifting of the waters grow a little louder, and then realized that someone had found her. She sat up, brushing the grass from the back of her arms, and cast a long glance around.
There, at the edge of the trees. It was him, standing, as if waiting for something.
Green met Blue.
"Sou!" Misao got to her feet, walking towards him briskly, in greeting. There was a radiant quality to her smile, he thought.
"It's a bit early for dinner…why are you here? Did Jiya send you?"
He shook his head, almost afraid, but then the more sensible side of him prodded Soujiro to go ahead and do what he had to do. The young man raised his head a little, and looked straight into her eyes; something which he would regret doing later on.
Soujiro was drowning, and he couldn't swim. Not in there. Not in those eyes. In the end, it was her voice that had rescued him, pulling him out so he could breathe again.
"Sou…is there something you wanted to tell me?" Misao was looking at him, and it was evident that this question was at the tip of her tongue.
"I—" he began, but then he cut himself off, "I…" He tried again.
The weasel girl was unaccustomed to seeing him like this. Very. She blinked, wondering what he was trying to say.
"It's alright," she said, recognizing his reluctance, "You can tell me anything."
"Misao," he began, "I—"
Soujiro stopped.
He smiled, and shook his head, knowing the truth. If he told her about what he felt inside, chaos would surely ensue. He of all people should know, because without Misao seeing him, Soujiro had been watching her all this time…and he knew…he knew that her heart still belonged to someone else.
"Hey! Where are you going…?"
Her voice was carried to him by the wind, calling him back. Soujiro didn't stop. Misao never followed. This was the way things were destined to be. This was the way it was going to be.
'Turn back,' someone told him, 'She is waiting.'
'It isn't fair,' said another, 'She is claimed, and you can't…you can't…'
'I can't just take her away.'
He smiled again. The way things were could never be changed.
.0o0.
"I love you, Aoshi-sama!"
The little girl looked up at the boy in admiration, her eyes shining with delight. Aoshi couldn't quite hide the small smile that had scuttled onto his face. Instead, he settled on looking up at the blue, blue sky.
They were sitting there, on that afternoon, because Misao wanted to see the fireflies that came out by the river at night, and also because she wanted to just sit by the river with him, her big brother, her playmate, her guardian, and hopefully, her future husband, and watch as the sun sank into the earth.
.0o0.
"Soujiro…back so early?"
Okon was surprised to see him at the restaurant so soon, after he had gone to look for Misao. Usually, trips like these took the former Tenken at least an hour and a half before he retured.
But Soujiro merely smiled at her, stepping inside. From this gesture alone did the ninja woman know that he didn't want to talk about it.
.0o0.
"Seven." He looked at the notches in the wooden column of his bedroom, and nodded. Seven whole months in Kyoto, and yet, it had seemed that he had been here for so much longer. Soujiro lowered his head, kneeling on the smooth, flat floor, and looked at his open palms.
They were dirty from cleaning the dust off the tables in the dining room. He moved to wipe them on the folds of his hakama, and stood up. Blue eyes flickered to the solitary shape of his Kikuichimonji-norimune, which lay propped up against the wall.
Soujiro walked towards it, and took his sword, slinging it at his side to see if it still fit.
He was gone in the morning.
.0o0.
"Sou? SOU!...Soujiro?"
Okina looked up at Misao, who was walking all around, looking for the boy. The steam of his tea rose up to his nose, and the old man inhaled the beautiful scent once again. The young woman saw him.
"Jiya, have you seen Soujiro? I can't find him!" Her voice was irritated; impatient, as if she could still get him back…as if he was still there.
Okina shook his head, eyes now wandering out to sweep over the rest of the city. If he looked hard enough, he would see the faint footprints of a wandering swordsman, leading out of the Aoiya. He shook his head, almost sadly.
"No, Misao. I haven't."
.0o0.
It was on the table.
Misao picked it up, her green eyes running over all the details that only a month ago, Soujiro had painstakingly carved with nothing but a small knife. As she held it there, looking at it with a heavy heart, Misao noticed the small slip of paper that was carefully hidden in the wing of the bird.
"What? What's this?"
Taking it, the young woman unfolded it deftly, and read the writing that was scribbled on the piece of paper. The world seemed to stop as she did. There were only five words.
One boy speaking
Three words
Until
Until what?
She turned the paper over, but the other side was blank. Soujiro had written it; she recognized the handwriting, but…why?
"Three words…" she murmured. Words that expressed everything he ever wanted to say to her. Words that were once fresh upon his lips. Words that grew fainter as he walked farther away from her. A deep sadness began to grow inside Misao, rooting deeper than anyone could have imagined.
"Sou…" she said, taking the small wooden owl into her hand, running her thumb over its delicate surface. Something wet travelled down her cheek, but the young woman wiped it away.
"I never really did understand you."
Misao looked out, towards the path that led out of the city, to a place where she knew he was headed for. The sky was a flawless blue, stretching out far across the earth. The young woman held back tears that weren't supposed to be there.
She felt like Aoshi had died again.
Soujiro smiled as he walked, recognizing the bitter irony of it all. His feet made no sound as they treaded across the rough ground, travelling steadily through the throng of people as they exited Kyoto.
The sun was shining, high in the perfect sky.
He would always love her.
End
(dodges tomatoes)
please dont kill me...