Being Okashira
Part Eleven
Watching Aoshi leave from an upstairs window, Okina suddenly had doubts. While it was, no doubt, best for the Oniwabanshuu to relieve Misao of her position, he was not sure that Aoshi was best for Misao.
The intensity of the man's stare had caused him to wonder, earlier, whether or not he was pushing on Misao something she wasn't ready for.
Aoshi wasn't the flirtatious, harmless Kamatari, or the sweet, but shy Soujiro. Aoshi was much older, a man of the world - a man with expectations and desires and probably very little restraint about acting on them. A proper man would have proper expectations of his wife, as Misao would be.
Okina stepped away from the window, trying to cease his worrying.
Dealing with Misao was Aoshi's problem and their intimacies were none of his business. Misao was plenty old enough to be married and handle her own husband.
Still...
He was probably making too much of it, he thought. Maybe he was just an old man clinging to the image of his little girl and not wanting her to grow up.
Previous to his placement at the Aoiya, traveling had been Aoshi's favorite part of any mission. It required little communication with whatever possible traveling companions, long stretches of silence, and good exercise.
Three things he liked in abundance.
However, not half a day after he'd started out toward the next city over where he'd meet Houji's go-between he was missing the place. The Aoiya, specifically.
Or, in total honesty with himself, he was missing Misao.
It wasn't, he told himself, an emotional attachment to her as much as the fact that Misao made him feel "included". It was a feeling that for many years had avoided him.
Unlike with others he'd worked with over his lifetime, he'd never felt as "needed" as he did with Misao. As though there were a true purpose for his being around. All of his team mates and commanders previously had been fairly independent and not requiring the same kind of vigil he felt Misao warranted. But, nor had they been women.
Regardless of Misao's own warrior prowess, she simply did not give off the impression, to him, that she should be allowed to be without protection. There was so much harm that could come to her in the world.
He had, for the last couple of days, fumbled over whether or not he was happy about having gotten involved in the Aoiya, but he was now certain it was one of the most beneficial things to have happened to him.
As the distance between himself and the Aoiya, specifically Misao, lengthened, he felt the need to move more quickly.
The room was bright enough to accommodate the meeting, but not sunlit. The single window on the left side had been covered over with material and two guards stood outside of the window and two more by the door.
Candles one on each side of the desk illuminated the dusty little room faintly.
"Shinomori-san, how can I help you?" The man was seated at a small western style desk. There was no other chair in the room, Aoshi was forced to stand.
It was with great surprise that Aoshi had found not a go-between at all, but Houji himself at the meeting house.
"My employer wishes to purchase the Natsume Clinic that is currently in your possession."
"The Natsume Clinic? Whatever for? It was my understanding that run down place hardly makes a profit."
"It doesn't," Aoshi replied. "But my employer lives in the area and would like to see the residents better served. It's a personal interest."
Houji had an odd forehead with hair slicked back and rather long on either side. He was groomed well and dressed in western clothes, but his eyes were cold and almost held a beady quality to them. They reminded Aoshi distinctly of the eyes of rats.
It worried him that this man should call to mind the picture of rodents and he wished he were at the Aoiya to make sure Misao was safe instead of here.
"My brother in law was quite fond of the medicinal field, so I have no interests in selling it. There's always the chance for new breakthroughs and profits to be made in medicine."
Aoshi half-turned toward the door. "Are you presently aware there is no doctor at the Natsume Clinic?"
Houji shot to his feet like a snake had bitten his behind. "What? What of Takani Megumi?"
"She has relocated to a place more suited to her circumstances."
Aoshi watched Houji grate his teeth in anger before the man himself stood and flounced out the door angrily. Houji's guard's followed, casting Aoshi derisive looks which were patently ignored.
Once alone, he walked around the other side of the desk and rifled through the drawers. He found a suitable scrap of paper, but no ink. Just as he was giving up hope of finding something to write with, he located a near empty inkwell in a bottom drawer.
With half-colored strokes he managed to scrawl a message at least readable enough to send back to Misao.
Heading out, he moved directly to town to locate one of the Oniwabanshuu's pigeon carriers.
"Call Aoshi back to the Aoiya."
Okina looked up.
"Now," she clarified, turning her back to him, two messages in hand.
Okina stood, about to inquire, but the straight line of her back caused him to back off.
She was upset. Since Misao had become Okashira the way she dealt with her feelings had changed. He'd discovered she internalized far too much, but had been unable to draw out of her the problem until she worked through it, at least partially, on her own.
It was best just to call for Aoshi to return and see what would happen.
She didn't want to call him. She didn't want him to come back, not yet. She wasn't ready for him to come back. But she didn't have any choice. It had been almost a week since Aoshi had left.
She didn't want to do what she was about to do, but did she have any choice? Any at all?
She sighed and leaned her forehead against the glass. It was rainy. Her breath fogged the glass a little.
It was an inevitability, wasn't it? Losing to Aoshi?
Most of the time she hated having so much power, with people always looking to her. Sometimes though...Sometimes she enjoyed saying "go away" and then they did. Sometimes having people listen to her without question was something she enjoyed. Anyone would.
Still, it didn't really explain this uneasiness, did it?
Ever since she'd gotten the note from Aoshi, the words etched in her mind.
"Takani is in danger - warn her."
Herapprehension had then tripled and settled over her shoulders. The first thought she'd had was of him.
Of wanting him here.
Of wanting to see him, how he would react, what would he do?
What would he do?
"Warn her..."
Obviously. She'd scrawled a note and was about to send it to Tokyo, but then she'd gotten this. A letter from Tokyo.
From Kaoru.
"I'm sorry to be bringing bad news to you, Misao-chan. Recently, a new lady appeared at Gensai-sensei's clinic by the name of Takani Megumi. She mentioned she knew you - which is why I'm writing to you. Several days ago some strange men from out of town appeared and ransacked the clinic.
"Luckily, Gensai-sensei was out at the time and the patients were able to escape the ensuing fire. Yahiko, who was visiting the clinic confronted the attackers and was hurt, but it is Tsubame who took the brunt of the injuries.
"She is seriously wounded and Yahiko blames himself for the entire incident. Gensai-sensei and Megumi are keeping Tsubame under close watch. When I told her of our acquaintance with you, she told me to write and tell you what had happened immediately.
"By the time Kenshin had arrived the attackers had fled so we weren't able to find anything out and Yahiko was too worried about Tsubame to pursue.
"What's going on? Is everything okay? Megumi is being evasive, saying she doesn't know, but I'm not sure I believe her."
Why wasn't he here, now, to help her?
But of course, he couldn't be. He was out there, doing what she'd told him to.
She sighed despairingly wondering if she looked half as distraught as she was feeling.
Uneasy, she headed back to her desk and pulled out another blank white sheet of paper and reached for her inkwell.
Kamatari had suggested keeping a journal and Okina had approved saying it would help her writing skills to practice. Her calligraphy wasn't the best but she'd improved a lot.
She hadn't managed to keep the pages in order, they were scattered here and there, tucked in the covers and pages of all her medicinal herb books.
She sighed again dipping the tip of her wolf's hair brush into the ink.
"Another day - more conflict. Aoshi is on his way back and the time as finally come. Makimachi Misao, last surviving member of the former Okashira is about to embark on her final task for the Oniwabanshuu.
"I hope I don't royally screw it up."
It took more than two agonizing hours. Misao had not once stepped out of her office and had, in fact, been totally silent. Okina had waited in the main room for Aoshi to appear reading over a paper he'd picked up from a newsboy in the street on one of the several anxious walks he'd taken.
When, finally, Aoshi showed up, he looked a bit tired but not particularly alarmed despite the urgent message Okina had sent to summon him. He had been on his way back to the Aoiya already, Okina was certain; the message had merely hastened him along.
"She's waiting for you."
Aoshi nodded and headed in the direction of her office, bag still on his shoulder.
Although curious, Okina turned back to his book, trying to quell his trepidation. He would find out soon enough.
The knock was faint, but audible and her call for him to enter the same. Aoshi stepped inside, curious and slightly troubled by the urgent summons he'd received from Okina.
He'd rushed to get back here, worrying that Misao had been injured, but there she sat. Small and bright eyed and perfectly safe.
He suddenly felt like all his rushing had been for nothing until she looked up at him. He wasn't wrong in worrying after all - she was troubled. The entire atmosphere of the room was heavy, almost foreboding.
The warning about Takani he'd thought had been warranted. Was that what had upset her this much?
No, couldn't possibly...
"I hate cowardly people so I really hate what I'm thinking about. I don't like running away from problems I've caused or having people fix them for me. That's even worse."
"But I don't want anyone to die because I didn't think things through completely."
"So that's it." She stood up, a heavy sigh escaping her pouting mouth. Her heavy western chair skidded back as she moved. "JIYA!" she called loudly.
Several moments of silence held them captive until the door slid open and the old man appeared.
"Hmm? You call, Misao?" His voice didn't foretell of his anxiety, but the message in his eyes was easy enough for Aoshi to read.
"I've made a decision."
The tone of her voice was telling. The same somber tone that was almost mournful spoke of her apparent heaviness of heart.
"What decision would that be?" Okina inquired, his slipper covered feet spread shoulder length on the floor, his hands folded together in front of him. The man's serene expression caused Aoshi even more unease. Was Okina worried about her also?
"I'm not going to be Okashira anymore."
Okina nodded in response to the flatly delivered statement. She said it almost like a petulant child, but without the gusto such tantrums usually included.
"So then you've decided to accept Aoshi as your husband and leader here?"
"Stupid rules..." she muttered, dropping back into her chair. "That's what it means... Don't make me spell it out for you; this is bad enough as it is."
She had looked away, refusing to meet either of their gazes and the still quiet that followed her comment seemed impossible to break.
It was Aoshi who disturbed the dead, dry air of the room by speaking aloud. "Would you leave us?"
The question, intended for Okina, was met with hesitation. The older man's sudden doubt and worry were apparent for all of a few seconds before they disappeared beneath another serene mask.
"Of course. I will prepare the others. I had spoken previously to the temple priest and he told us he would be ready at any time that you are. Should I request his presence also?"
Neither Misao nor Aoshi said anything. When Aoshi was convinced Misao was not going to answer, he decided to do so himself.
"Yes."
Okina looked over at him.
"If I am to take over for Misao, there is no need for her to be separate from me. It's best to marry now."
Okina, it seemed, was not quite prepared for this, was he? The old man nodded, suddenly seeming ten years older.
"If you have objections..." Aoshi turned to Misao. "Voice them now."
She just sat back in her chair and shook her head. "No use in avoiding the inevitable."
Okina sighed like the weight of re-roofing the entire Aoiya just been placed upon his shoulders. "Yes, good point, my dear. Very well. I will summon the priest as well."
Okina left them, his feet moving slow. When he was gone, Misao stood. Her tiny shoulders were hunched, her chin tilted downward toward the table.
"It was too late to warn her."
Aoshi's gaze sharpened on Misao. Was that what this was about? Had she decided to give over the position of Okashira because something had happened to Megumi?
"Gensai's clinic was attacked and set ablaze. Takani-san was not injured and everyone is all right, but Yahiko and Tsubame were hurt. Kaoru says Yahiko's friend is doing very badly."
She, no doubt, felt at fault for the entire incident. He watched her stand there a moment, shoulders drooped, eyes distant and lips turned down before he moved.
The simple forward stepping motion he made caused her head to snap up, and her eyes to follow him as he stepped around the desk.
"It's fine."
The words obviously didn't reassure her. She stared at him blankly before a sour look replaced it. "Fine? It's not fine. People are hurt and the building they had was damaged if it's not still burning and-"
He reached, pulling her away from her chair to step by her and then sat down in the Okashira's chair himself causing her look to turn even more mutinous.
He forestalled any comments she may have made further when he reached for her again. She 'yelped' as he turned her, pulling her into his lap, her back against his chest.
Her tension, he knew, was due more to the fact she was uncomfortable by the sudden intimacy.
"You- hey! I am not a little kid!"
He tucked his arms around her, plastering her little body against him. He could feel her small, uncertain trembles.
"You're going to trust me as your leader, aren't you?" he murmured.
"... Yeah. Although I feel like I'm betting my life on a game of dice," she huffed, but not even her tone could mask her restlessness.
He didn't believe she felt that way. It wasn't some fifty-fifty notion that had made her call him back here.
"You trust me, don't you?" he murmured, pressing his lips against her ear. "You called for me."
"I don't need you to take care of me," she grumbled.
Of course she would say so, but Misao's insecurities lie in her want to be appreciated as a woman. In his experience, women wanted to be taken care of, and he suspected she wanted the same.
He moved his hand to curve against her knee. Her skin was soft and she was so small in his arms, it amazed him. He slid it up, moving softly up her thigh. He felt, more than heard her gasp as she slid his hand beneath the bottom edge of her shorts.
He pushed his hand further beneath the fabric until he could feel it at his wrist, his fingertips reaching toward her hip.
"It's an honorable thing," he murmured, his voice low.
"What?" she asked breathlessly.
"The relationship between a husband and wife," he replied. "You're trembling. Are you afraid?"
She twisted around and he had to pull his hand back. "Afraid?" she repeated. Her expression changed from unsure to annoyed. "We do not have time for this! Aren't you going to do something?"
She moved to stand, but he stopped her, his hands sliding around her waist, pulling her back.
"Nothing can be done yet."
"What do you mean, 'nothing'? There are lots of things that can be done-"
Again, he stopped her. "Not until the ceremonies are over."
She attempted to twist around yet again and he let her so they stared at one another face to face.
"Houji's exact location at the moment is unknown, and we can no more stop the clinic from burning to the ground than we can save your friends from their injuries."
"That doesn't mean there aren't other things to do."
"The Aoiya will be too involved for the next few hours trying to prepare the ceremonies. Tonight is for us - tomorrow, I will send messengers out at first light. We can do nothing sooner."
Just in time to interrupt there was a soft tap, tap on the door. Aoshi beckoned the guest to enter and Okina softly petitioned Misao's presence.
She slid off his lap without his permission and left him and Okina bowed respectively before going after her.
It was four long hours later and well into the night when they had settled down in a common room. The others were joyous and happy, drinking and eating.
Misao was curled up in his lap, her cheeks flushed and eyes glassy. The nine cups of sake involved in the wedding ceremony had probably been a couple too many and they hadn't even gotten to the ceremony for him to take over as Okashira yet.
He didn't doubt that involved yet more sake and Misao really just wasn't up to it.
He hadn't yet decided to put it off for the following day or go ahead and give the word to proceed.
She'd been surprisingly quiet curled up in his lap with him, her head against his chest. Her being this intoxicated was providing him with one too many problems, least of which ended in his taking her to bed.
He didn't exactly want her passed out cold in the futon, that simply would not due and if things kept going in this direction she'd be passed out before the Okashira ceremony was over and he wasn't going to do anything to her while she was sleeping.
Inevitably, tomorrow she'd wake up with a headache and probably sick and so he wouldn't get to consummate their marriage until tomorrow night. He sighed, not liking the turn of events and yet being completely unable to do anything about them.
Aoshi nodded succinctly toward Okina and the old man rose.
"Now we shall commence the last ceremony of the evening."
He moved toward the front of the room where supplies had been laid out upon a table. He brought toward Aoshi a tightly wrapped scroll, a small sheathed dagger and a bottle of sake.
"Is it necessary for her to drink anymore?"
Okina looked up as he kneeled on the other side of the table. Old eyes glanced down at Misao, but she didn't look up at him, she stayed snuggled against Aoshi, eyes closed.
"The sake is not for drinking in this ritual," Okina informed him. "I will explain it. In any case, if you are worried, Misao is not drunk yet."
Aoshi cast a glance toward the young woman in his arms only to see her glaring at other man.
"She has a high tolerance for alcohol, don't you little one?" he cast her leering smile and she growled.
"Shut up, Jiya!"
"Normally she is bouncing around the room singing when she drinks a little too much, but she hasn't had very much tonight. They were very small cups we used for your wedding." He grinned.
She was scooped across his lap, her legs both in one direction, her back cradled by his arm. Her white kimono was not the fancy formal wear of most weddings, but they had neither the time or money for such decorum.
She was not drunk then, Aoshi wondered? He had thought her to be on the verge of being knocked out for the rest of the night. Did she want him to think that or was she just nervous?
"Shall we begin?"
Everyone was watching them and it had to be done. Sitting up straighter he shifted and Misao slipped from his lap, curling her legs under her body properly as they both faced the table.
Okina produced a strip of clean white cloth and cut it into four neat sections, folding them gently into little white pads about just greater than the span of two fingers.
Misao looked away, a moment later Okina looked up, a smile on his lips as though he were well pleased. "This ceremony is simple and quick and relatively painless. Don't squirm, Misao."
She pouted. "Do we have to do it like this?"
"Yes, it is how it is done."
She made a sour face toward him that had many of the others watching them smiling.
Okina turned solemn eyes toward Aoshi. "You will be bound to us for the entirety of your life by the blood of the Makimachi clan and our honorable founders through Misao. Breaking of this blood oath of any kind is betrayal and the punishment is death."
Aoshi nodded in acceptance.
"Misao?"
She gave a heavy sigh and shifted herself up so she was no longer sitting but kneeling up, casting her eyes about the room.
"Before this room of our people I acknowledge this man, Shinomori Aoshi, to be the one I have approved to be our new leader."
Her voice was strong and clear and there was nothing of the earlier signs he had interpreted of her drunkenness.
"Although this would really be a bad time to say, maybe it's not such a good idea. You know, Jiya, we should have done this before me and Aoshi-sama got married."
He shot her a look.
"I'm just kidding about changing my mind, but really, what if I did?"
"Misao," he warned and she settled back down with a shrug.
"You people have no sense of humor."
Wisely, no one commented, but there were a few smirks.
Okina popped the top of the sake bottle and dabbed the liquor onto the first white cloth pad and took Misao's hand. He was just about to rub her palm when Misao stopped him.
"We're probably on the eve of a fight with someone, so maybe you shouldn't cut our hands. It would make it harder to hold our weapons."
Okina looked surprised at the logic, but agreed with a slight incline of his head and instead began to rub the alcohol against the skin just below her wrist. He discarded the cloth and took the second and wiped the same area on Aoshi's arm before reaching for the blade.
Misao looked away before he pressed the blade to her skin and flinched when the knife bit her skin.
He repeated the same on Aoshi's arm.
A small trickle of crimson bubbled to the surface in one perfect droplet. It was so little the blood didn't even drip.
Okina guided their arms so they pressed together, their blood smearing against each other's skin.
"Aoshi, repeat after me," Okina guided and the other man nodded and obeyed. "With this blood offering... I hereby accept the position of Okashira... To stand against all enemies... To protect all holdings... To guide all our members... To ensure the continuation of this line... To enforce our codes and ethics... And to protect to, to the last, the core of this organization... the Makimachi bloodline."
When the last line was repeated back Okina turned his back to them.
"Oniwbanshuu brothers..."
The group replied in unison, seeming to know what was expected of them. "Yes?"
"Do you accept this man as our new leader?"
"Yes!"
Misao watched as the room of ninja's simultaneously bowed, their foreheads almost touching the floor.
Okina turned back and wet the last two pads of cloth with the sake and handed one to each. Misao winced as she touched the alcohol to her wound.
"With this then, we accept you as ours."
It was almost an hour past midnight before Aoshi and Misao left the great room and headed upstairs. Misao went before him, not interested in the general talk of the room and no one was disrespectful enough of Aoshi to make any teasing remarks about her going.
Half the room had fallen over drunk where they lay before Aoshi took his leave of them. Okina was suspiciously absent having gone to retrieve more sake and never returned. The man had consumed copious amounts of liquor and Aoshi imagined he had passed out somewhere.
He made his way to the stairs and toward her room, unable to repress the anxious feelings building within him.
He was the Okashira now, her room, her and everything in this building now belonged to him.
He laid his hand flat against the doorframe leading inside. The wood was smooth and cool against his hand. There was no jolt; no feeling that welled up in him just because he knew she was within.
He slid his hand down to tuck his fingers in the finger cup and slid open the door. She was not laying in bed waiting for him; the room wasn't dark and intimate.
The window was open on one side, but she wasn't standing beside it. The floor was bare and empty, no futon rolled out for sleeping.
She was standing with her back to him, rooting through a cabinet. "Come on in, Aoshi-sama. Sorry, nothing's ready." She stopped and turned back. "I didn't know what to do actually, but I wasn't about to sit here twisting my hands nervously waiting for you to show up, so I started cleaning and well... As you can see, nothing is... where it's supposed to be."
He didn't know where things were supposed to be, so he took her word for it.
He stepped in and slid the door closed behind him. She shifted from one foot to another.
"Well... since you're here, the futon cabinet is over there."
She pointed across the room, but made no move toward it herself, obviously intending him to lay out their bedding for the night. He did as she asked and she turned back to shuffling through the cabinet.
"It doesn't matter what I wear, right? Since... I guess I won't be wearing it long?"
He hid his grin by keeping his back to her. "Whatever you are comfortable in."
He laid out the bedding and stared at the small nest on the floor.
"Leave it."
"Huh?" she looked up.
He held out his hand. "Grab the candle, come with me."
She blinked in surprise, but did as he asked. "I'm not really dressed to leave the room, this is only a slip."
"No one is nearby, they are all still downstairs."
Finding she was unable to get out of leaving the room, she grabbed the candle and followed after.
The hall was dark and quiet and downstairs she could hear them still carrying on. They probably would be well up until dawn and then the Aoiya would be at half-staff the next morning.
Aoshi stepped into his room. A much larger bed awaited them there as prepared by Omasu and Okon. He had originally planned to bring Misao here and then changed his mind when he realized she had probably gone to her own room. Only the bed there was far too small and he didn't want to roll over onto the cold floor.
She stepped in behind him and sat the candle down beside the bed, but out of reach near the head where it wouldn't be knocked over.
"So...?"
He reached behind him to slip the knot of his yukata and she backed away a step.
He pulled it off, but kept the material closed. "Take the sash off, go ahead and get into the bed."
She turned her back to him and he didn't rush her, watching as he material uncoiled and slipped to the floor. She fumbled as she kneeled down and he could see her bare knee as the material parted and she slipped beneath the blanket.
"Do you want the candle on?"
She nodded wordlessly and he came to the bedside and kneeled down. She scooted over toward the wall and he slid into the bed beside her.
Pulling the blanket over him he paused a moment and then slid his yukata off his shoulders and reached for her.
Her eyes were luminous and beautiful by candlelight. He touched his fingertips to her jaw and leaned close, brushing a kiss to her cheek.
"Relax, I won't rush you."
He turned his head and nuzzled against her neck and she sighed softly.
End Chapter Eleven.
AN: One chapter to go and I am finished with this. Yay!
