The Trash Thrasher
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Summary: Being ignored, Misao needs some way to work out her frustrations… she never expected to become something of a city legend.
"She wasn't serious!"
"Yes, she was!"
Shiro and Kuro stared at one another, large sweat drops hanging from their temples as Omasu and Okon argued.
A mound of men, it could be described as nothing less, was piled out front of the Aoiya.
The sign, cleverly attached to one man's rear end read "trash".
The two men exchanged uneasy glances.
"Heh, Misao in a bad mood today?"
Shiro scratched his head. "I … didn't think so."
"Don't be stupid, you should know what this is about!" Omasu chastised turning her evil eye on the men. "Misao has only been rambling about it for days."
"Yeah, didn't you hear us tell you about the Tokyo incident, when Tsubame was robbed?" Okon added.
Shiro and Kuro were at a loss. They were expected to listen go the non-stop prattle and remain sane? What did they want, miracles!
"Um…"
"Heh, yeah... uh… well… we were…" Shiro started to explain lamely.
"Busy… Busy! Yes, it was really busy day that day, we got caught up…" Kuro interrupted, hoping to bail them out.
The women's eyebrows drew down, their entire faces shifting into glowers that could scare a man bald.
"Speaking of busy, yeah, we … uh… we … really ought to get back to work. Later."
They all turned and ran back into the Aoiya, a virtual dust cloud in their wake.
"I can't believe them! Don't they even listen?" Omasu growled.
Okon sighed. "Maybe we should find Misao… I'm a little worried. She's done this four times this week. Four. What if the police come shut us down for mischief or something?"
"It's not like we're out there beating up petty criminals," Omasu huffed in reply. "Let's just let Okina handle it… maybe he can get through to her."
"Victory is mine!"
Okina stared out the front window of the Aoiya, a deep frown etched upon his lips. He sighed and seemed to sink, bending forward, his old back curved. That girl made him feel so old.
Suddenly, she perked up, like a dog who'd heard a bunny, and then she took off running.
Misao had been going overboard with her "quest for justice". After the Tokyo shopping incident with Tsubame, Misao had become convinced that she was needed on the streets.
"Obviously," she'd said, "the police were just not cutting it, and if there is anyone who should get to jut around in a uniform with a sword, it should definitely be me."
The police hadn't agreed with that sentiment and she'd been outright rejected by the Kyoto police force. It was no wonder, aside from the fact she was female, she was also a known troublemaker in the city.
It caused some sense of amazement to his returning customers that the pile of men with the trash sign seemed to come and go. On the other hand, it was terribly bad for business.
He had meant to scold Misao that morning, but he'd forgotten about it and she'd slipped away before he realized she planned to go on a day of bashing around town.
Misao's exact motivations and goals were somewhat vague. She sputtered out about justice and keeping her town "clean" and yet at times she retreated into the Aoiya, became a waitress and abandoned her crime fighting.
Still yet, it had only been four non-consecutive days of crime fighting for Misao.
"What is that?"
The sudden voice behind the old man startled him.
Aoshi stood tall and stoic staring out the window over Okina's head. Some of the men in the pile slowly roused, rubbing their bruised heads and ego's.
Okina sighed and turned toward the young man. "Misao's latest… conquest."
"Conquest?" Aoshi inquired. "What has she been up to?"
Okina sighed again and motioned for the former leader to follow him. "Come, Aoshi, I shall explain it all. But let's head down to the restaurant area, there are some cute girls down there."
Misao pitched from rooftop to rooftop spying on those below. She could not determine what was going on exactly. After watching several long moments, she determined it was normal and moved on.
Since her return from Tokyo almost two weeks previous, Aoshi-sama had been just a tiny bit difficult.
Tiny as in massively difficult.
He had retreated to the temple, again, and decided he needed more "meditation" to "clear the path of righteous thought", whatever that meant.
She had thought it was plainly stupid, but kept her mouth shut at the time.
Instead, she'd found something new.
Something even better than pacing around the Aoiya or getting into arguments with the menaces who liked to hang around out front. She decided to make all of Kyoto proper her playground.
She'd been beating up all manner of produce thieves, pickpockets, alleyway bullies and would-be molesters. It gave her a sense of satisfaction and it worked out all her negative stresses.
Stresses induced by none other than hunky-king himself, Aoshi-sama.
She couldn't even talk it over with anyone. Okina teased her, Shiro and Kuro didn't care and Omasu and Okon made fun of her.
Her entire family was unsupportive of her plight, staring at her like a young teenager in the throes of her first crush.
Well they could all suck tofu for all she cared. Someone was going to pay!
Not that those desk huggers down at the police station cared either. They had rejected her bid to work there.
Her!
The single most talented female in all of Kyoto…
Rejected.
Losers.
They didn't know what they were missing anyway.
When a woman's voice rang out below "thief!" Misao sprang into action.
"So, she's been puttering around like this all day, it seems."
Aoshi peered once more out the window, taking no notice of the young ladies that Okina had crowded around them.
"You say she's been doing this all day?"
Okina nodded solemnly. "I'm quite worried. It's very bad for business; our usual customers think it is quite intimidating. Several of our regulars were spotted visiting establishments farther down the street, away from the 'riff-raff'."
Aoshi nodded. "I see."
"Good, take care of it then, would you? Misao has quite a thick head." The old man smiled gaily and reached for his teacup. "How are you ladies today?" he leered.
Aoshi turned back toward the window. Misao traipsing about town beating down petty criminals was going to get her into trouble.
He stood up and managed to maneuver himself out of the booth after dislocating two of the ladies beside him.
"W-Where are you going?" Okina called as the women, too, rose to leave.
"To find and stop Misao," Aoshi replied dryly.
Obviously, no one else cared if she continued to endanger herself. This behavior was foolish. If she found herself cornered and defenseless, how would she get away?
Did Misao know and understand the fright that was a man's superior physical strength? Had she experienced this lesson yet or did she fly on the wings of naivety?
He feared it was the latter.
He found her, three hours later, tied between two wooden stakes pounded into the ground. Her face reddened as he approached her, her humiliation complete and total. He eyed her a moment, not stepping any closer, merely staring at the curious situation.
"Misao," he drawled slowly, his eyes flickering over her. "Who tied you up here?"
Her mouth twisted into an ugly frown. "Stupid idiots from over at that bar, wait till I get my hands on them. Then we'll see who's laughing then…" she trailed off into a stream of profanities that surprised the former commander. Where had Misao acquired such foul language?
Tucking his fingers beneath her sash, he withdrew a kunai. He knew she kept one, at least one, there. Sliding the blade beneath the rope about her wrists, he cut her free.
She sighed heavily, taking in a deep, relieved breath, stretching her muscles. The fires of vengeance lit in her eyes as she brought her braid around to his gaze. It had been cut, midway through the cord.
"This…" she growled. "This is so… They will pay; I will rip off their arms and break their noses!"
"You're returning to the Aoiya."
Her anger deflated in one fell swoop. "Huh?"
He stood there impassively. "You need to end this foolishness."
Her anger returned abruptly, like a sudden spell of rain. She grabbed her severed braid and held it up, a testament unto itself.
"And let this go un-avenged? Aoshi-sama!" It was a wail of a sound, a shrieked pitch, the sound of a child unappeased. She growled at him. "You're not the Okashira anymore," she bitterly spat.
The statement was bold and impudent, past her lips before she realized the implications of it. He remained expressionless.
"I am your senior, regardless of that organization," he answered primly. "You are a young female, inferior in rank to myself, do you wish to contest that claim?"
She stilled, weighing the implications of the question.
She opened her mouth to argue it. "I-"
His reaction was immediate. He moved forward fluidly, a large hand sliding around her little wrist.
Her eyes widened as he pulled.
"I'm not a little kid anymore Aoshi-sama!" she screeched. "Let me go!"
"You're behaving foolishly. You are embarrassing those at the Aoiya and decreasing their business with your antics."
She dragged her feet stubbornly but he yanked and she moved forward. Her humiliation grew, her ears flaring, her cheeks tinting bright pink as others stared. The public turned back and watched, discreetly glancing or outright staring at her. A few commented, raising a fan up to their lips to hide it, but she didn't need to hear.
"If you paid any attention to me maybe I wouldn't have to go seek out other guys!"
Aoshi internally grimaced at the potential reactions those around them might have to such a comment. He kept his gaze straight ahead and said nothing. He would not indulge her further.
"You told me we could discuss me not being a little girl anymore, but you just go off and do your own thing, ignoring me… Always ignoring me… What's a girl supposed to do!"
Okina was out front, sweeping the entrance way as they approached. The grim line of his mouth quirked up into a smile as he spotted them.
Aoshi walked past without comment, Misao stared at the old man irritably.
"You're not going to say anything are you?" she asked.
He chuckled. "Discipline, my child. Learn well."
She made a sour face. "What?"
His grin grew.
Aoshi pulled her through the restaurant and through the back door into the living quarters, up the stairs and down the hall, straight past her bedroom door.
She ceased to struggle, now curious. Where was he taking her?
There were only bedrooms down the hall…
His bedroom was down the hall.
He stopped at his door and pulled it open, releasing her. She waited a moment, but he was rock still.
She stepped into the room, casting her eyes about at everything: from the sill of his window to the neatly folded yukata on the little wooden table, nothing escaped her notice. Everything was fascinating.
"Shall we discuss then?" he asked.
She turned back.
Really?
He was going to take her seriously?
"Yes," she agreed. "Let's discuss."
They stared at one another. Aoshi had his back to the door and the space between them seemed great. She crossed her arms irritably, waiting.
"Well?" she asked snappishly.
"It has not escaped my attention," he answered quietly.
She blinked. "That's it! Aoshi-sama!"
He reached forward, his fingertips extending toward her, touching and lifting her chin reminding her how much bigger he was than her.
His fingers curled, she could feel the rough pads of his fingertips as they feathered against the skin against the bottom of her jaw. Her whole body trembled.
"I've noticed," he repeated. With his other hand he reached toward her waist, drawing her closer.
She stumbled toward him dazedly, he leaned toward her.
"No more," he murmured. "No more causing trouble."
She nodded weakly, nervously licking her lips just before his lips touched hers.
"Hey, Misao, you made the front page again," Kuro remarked, his mouth quirked into a smile.
"Yeah, a local celebrity," Shiro added, reaching for his tea.
"Celebrity? Nonsense! I made KyotoHistory! Who else is famous for messing up criminals, except me?" Misao quipped, smirking.
"Yeah, right, as a criminal basher."
"Shut up," she growled irritably. "Throw it away… or frame it, I'm not sure which yet."
The others laughed as Misao glared.
"Don't make me get up!" she warned, one hand extended over her belly. Misao's mood swings were dangerous things.
The warmth of her soup was steaming away.
The paper passed from one set of hands to another as they each giggled over the headline.
Aoshi was the only one not smiling. He slipped the newspaper from Shiro's hands.
"Enough," he commented, his tone dry.
Black ink blared over the front page, "The Trash Thrasher Goes Missing."
"Oh, come on, Aoshi-sama, just read her a little bit of it, it's so funny!" Omasu pleaded.
He ignored her and reached for his tea.
Okon, feeling mischievous, grabbed the paper.
"Just this once, Aoshi-sama, we won't mention it again." She seemed to be pleading for him to giver her permission. Misao was the official leader, but Aoshi was the man of the house. He didn't respond, but rather, closed his eyes.
Okon inched toward Misao on her knees and began reading.
"Today marks the 6 month date since the last mysterious Trash Thrasher incident occurred. The suspect, whom the Kyoto Police refused to identify, was said to have become "negligible" and they expected no further attacks.
"When questioned, they stated it was the "prank of a neighborhood child who had grown up" in the past months. The petty criminals of Kyoto are breathing easier, and the Aoiya restaurant owner seemed pleased the pile of men had disappeared."
"Neighborhood child? What a jerk…" Misao glared. "As though I, Shinomori Misao should ever be written about in such a way!"
The entire room sweat dropped. "You're never going to stop saying that are you?" Omasu asked.
"Saying what?" Misao blinked innocently.
"Shinomori Misao," Omasu chirped.
Misao stared at her a moment and then frowned. "You're just jealous. Aoshi-sama is mine!"
An evil cackle followed, no one noticed Aoshi quietly smirking.
AN: Originally written for an LJ Community (rkchallenge) challenge. It turned out fairly well.