Blades, Knives, Steel and Mettle
Frustration
Yet another Rurouni Kenshin fanfic by eriesalia
Continuity: post Jinchuu/Kaden

The murmur of voices. Even though she did not possess as keen a sense of hearing as her revered 'Aoshi-sama,' even she knew who the voices belonged to and what they were discussing.

Misao winced as she realized that instead of losing her temper just a few minutes ago, she should have stood there and fought the two men with logic, instead of a burst of emotion.

She paused slightly, only to hear Okina apologize awkwardly.

It was always like this. Okina serving as the mediator, as the one who tried to explain her to Aoshi-sama, and Aoshi-sama back to her. "She's young. She doesn't quite know how to express herself."

"Even so, those are deadly items. Even I recall what Makimachi-okashira had stated back then. These kunai have a bad habit of arcing back slightly. She could hurt herself—"

"I don't think she meant to use them— just for practice she said--"

Misao did not hear the rest of Okina's sentence. Her mind was struggling with the realization that Aoshi had not disagreed with Okina. To Okina she would always be young… but to her beloved Aoshi-sama…

You're just a child.

Aoshi's voice filtered in again, this time his voice held a cold firmness which she knew signified his displeasure. "She has been practicing near the temples. Not with just kunai, but with a multitude of weapons. "

"The others would not dare teach her behind our back."

Misao's eyes widened in concern, wondering if she should go back and correct whatever misperceptions the two held. Never mind that it would be acknowledging that she had indeed been practicing on her own – but she did not wish for any of them to bear Aoshi's wrath.

"They did not." Aoshi answered momentarily. "They do not dare defy our wishes or their own. But those techniques she learned – all were acquired from simply watching the others in battle or in their own practices. And she has mastered them."

Misao felt a stab of pride at his assessment, however given. To master so many techniques was something only the most advanced of onmitsu would do. Particularly one ready to ascend officially to adulthood. According to the stories she had heard from Kuro, had she been a boy, she would have taken her rites of initiation and battled each of the masters of their disciplines, after which she would have officially been declared a clansperson in full battle standing.

And then she could be taken seriously in her request for those kunai – to claim the things that had been kept securely in hiding for her – to use and not simply stare at fondly.

She frowned for a moment though considering the matter. Even if she hadn't battled each and every one of her remaining clansmen – hadn't she earned the right to choose as she wished in her path in life? She had done what was wanted from her. She had gritted her teeth and trained in the things Okina had so fervently hoped she would undertake – the feminine arts -- the pouring of tea, the writing of calligraphy, the proper wearing of a kimono, and even ikebana which she found enormously irritating. She was adequate in these areas, and also knowledgeable enough to know this wasn't simply the life she wanted.

Particularly since she had, more discreetly, been also continuing in her own training – watching her other clanswomen and clansmen covertly in their own practices. She could only watch, since none would or wished to teach Misao anything else which they felt wholly unnecessary in this new era.

She had to rely on the inborn skill in her as an onmitsu to pick up techniques without formal tutelage.

Even so, Okina knew she was capable of using those kunai she had found.

As did Aoshi-sama.

Although he was usually not one to speak so much – this particular topic seemed to draw him out. "Practicing is the same as intending to use them. You and I both know that. You may have trained her and guided her for many years, but remember that I trained her as well. She was raised first as the true successor to the Oniwabanshu. She does not simply 'practice.'"

"Then , I agree. I'll keep these a little longer." Okina was apologizing now. "For a little while longer. And I'll explain it to her—I'll soothe things over."

"Ah," came the usual monotonic reply. "You have my thanks."

The two men started to move away, their voices growing dimmer as they disappeared elsewhere in the compound.

"You were coming to discuss something else?" Okina changed the subject so quickly, as if this discussion were not unusual in itself. As if they talked about her all the time, Misao realized.

"There is the matter of the Americans to discuss—"

"The Americans—" Okina laughed. "Ah yes, the tourists—"

Their voices gone, Misao let out a breath and continued up the steps that led up to her quarters. She blinked back angry tears at the casual manner in which the two men talked above her and about her. She blinked them back because she did not want anyone to see her and think that she was crying over kunai. Even though she had seen their value and their worth – both as weapons but also as ties to the past she did not really truly recall, it wasn't about those blades at all.

True -- she had wanted their vote of confidence, their trust in her to make her own choices. But she knew her own skills well enough to know she could handle those knives, tricky or not. That they were in doubt about that did not explain the tears that she refused to shed. The two men who had both raised her could not be faulted for wanting to continue to protect her.


It went far deeper than that; it wasn't Okina's expressed view on her that hurt her the most. Rather it was the words of the other -- the man who she had idolized; the man who she had openly and childishly declared her love for all these years.

The tone of his voice – even though somewhat neutral – revealed so much about its speaker. And her heart was troubled by the realization that had come to mind --
that even now, at the age of twenty-one, to her beloved Aoshi-sama she was still a child.

She opened the door to her room and closed it quietly behind her.

Once inside, she let her eyes close wearily and she tried to quench the fear welling up inside her – the fear that feelings would never change.

Not now at the age of twenty-one.

Not ever.

Dammit. This isn't supposed to be updated until July. JULY!!! AFTER QUALS!!! And it's not supposed to be angsty. But IT IS! ARGH! *author tears hair out*


Because Cho wouldn't promise to be nice, I stopped here. Stupid broomhead.