Disclaimer: why is it impossible to come up with an original one of these?
I wanted to own RuroKen
I thought it would be quite fun
So I took the book to the manga-factory
To see what they could do
Instead they kicked me out
"Your skin will turn quite blue!"
I frowned and started walking off
And I thought it was some sort of illusion
When someone called my nameAnd said, "Hey, have you heard of fanfiction?"
They led me to the nearest computer
In the café of internet gamers
And said, "You can mess with the characters as much as you want…"
"Just, don't forget the disclaimer!"
A/N: That was odd. :sweatdrop: Anyway, Misao's story takes place a few weeks before the rest of the fic, so it's around the end of February and still very cold. If you were wondering about the whole snow thing from last chapter.
The first part of this chapter is a continuation of her story. The second part, if you'll notice, is exclusive stuff added after the original post in the beginning of the year.
Tanoshimu!
Chapter 3
Misao: For Now
-
From afternoon until twilight, Misao and Soujiro did nothing but walk and consequently began talking. Soujiro had told her almost right off the bat that he'd had no progress with his wandering, his truth-finding.
Though he didn't admit it outright, Soujiro was having trouble because he couldn't think about himself and his sins when Misao's smile was always in his head, chasing those things away. Now that she was so close, he was surprised to find his mind focused and almost serene.
Somehow, during their travels that day, their hands had become entwined. Misao glanced at his hand holding hers, every so often, as if checking to see that it was still there. Really, she just enjoyed the sight of it.
The sun went down and the two of them realized they needed to rest for the night. At that point, they were far away from any town to reasonably get an inn to stay at. But Misao wasn't Oniwaban for nothing. She quickly went to work, Soujiro at her side, and they devised a shelter.
Misao lay back on a tree, staring up at the black sky, her eyes holding on the absence of the moon. She grinned up at the stars, which seemed to smile back. She couldn't help it. She had hardly stopped grinning since she found Soujiro.
"Misao-chan!" Soujiro announced his presence as he emerged from the depths of the wood, arms full of firewood. He dumped them down in the middle of their rock circle, and went to work arranging them. He glanced over at Misao, who seemed transfixed on the sky. She lowered her vision to his face and crawled toward him, crouching to start the fire.
Once they had a pretty steady flame going, they lay back, near exhaustion. Misao arranged herself against Soujiro, her knees drawn up and clanking together between Soujiro's. She turned her torso and laced her arms around him, situating her head in the crook of his neck.
Soujiro didn't seem to mind this position, the both of them half-pretending it was for warmth. No one was around, so it didn't matter much, just to satisfy whatever tiny nagging of propriety they each harbored.
"Are you hungry?" Soujiro asked lightly.
"Not really," Misao said. "Twelve hardtacks will do that to you." She chuckled to herself. She changed her tone of voice and began again, before silence could settle over them. "Soujiro? Do you know how long it's been since you decided to wander? Not…the last time I saw you. I mean since Shishio died, and the Juppongatana broke up."
Soujiro knew exactly when she was talking about. He had a precise answer. "Almost two years." He didn't want her to think he had been counting the days.
Misao drew circles in the center of Soujiro's palm, feeling the rough skin. Soujiro felt this gentle caress that tickled him so, and somehow urged him to speak up, and tell her everything.
"The only thing I've managed so far is to make myself feel worse about my sins," he said in an almost lighthearted way.
The circles stopped. Misao dropped his hand and gazed up at him. "Oh, Soujiro…don't. You can't." She sounded sad, but her voice was steady and normal in spite of the tears that leaked from her eyes. "I care about you. You know that. You can't be truly sinful is someone cares about you the way I do. There's something that I see in you, Soujiro, and even I don't know what it is. But I know that you need someone to care, and the reason you did what you did was, well, because you wanted that love. That's not a crime. True, you had some fault, but no one is evil. Least of all, you."
Misao's speech almost made Soujiro shed the same tears.
"You know, you and Himura aren't so different," Misao said lightly, tracing a pattern down Soujiro's forearm. "You were both misguided when you were young, and that led you to make bad decisions. But it didn't make you bad. But Soujiro, you can change the way you feel about your past. In my eyes, you have already repented, if only by admitting your crimes. But people like you…you're the hardest on yourself. Listen, no matter how many people come to Kenshin seeking revenge, he is always the person who feels the worst about his crimes. It's not enough for you just to decide to repent. But someday, Soujiro, it will be."
"I wish that were true," Soujiro muttered, looking away from the sweet girl in his lap.
"It is. Believe me," Misao replied simply. She then leaned up and pecked him quickly on the lips. It was an action of comfort rather than passion, and they both realized that. But comfort was what Soujiro needed.
"Maybe…you are right," Soujiro said after a few moments. "Maybe Himura-san and I are the same. If that's true, then…someday I can have the happy life that he doesn't seem to realize he is living. If there's someone who cares about me, then there's hope."
"That's sweet," Misao told him. Her expression sobered. "But then…are you saying that…?"
"I guess I've decided not to kill anymore. Perhaps that will help me find the truth I crave."
"Seta Soujiro…has taken an oath," Misao murmured. "A vow of abstinence…from killing."
Soujiro's serious expression lightened and he smiled that familiar boyish smile. "It's funny to see you subdued like this, Misao-chan," he joked, noting the innocent expression of surprised that came over Misao's features. "Usually you're so lively."
She blushed rather angrily and turned around so she was facing him. She then proceeded to grip the front of his shirt and twist it in anger. She pushed away from him and hopped to her feet. He kneeled in front of her, and she sent a kick straight for his head. He blocked the blow, laughing at her antics. The blows she was delivering were so different from the type he had endured as a child.
She charged at him, once he had gotten to his feet, and drove her shoulder into his gut. He doubled over and, still laughing, ducked down so that he was on the ground.
Misao growled and jumped down on him as he continued to laugh at her. Misao continued to send blows, which he joyfully received and dodged. She flipped in the air toward him, planning to push off of his shoulders. Only, he ducked and Misao sailed toward the dying fire.
Still chuckling, Soujiro grabbed a hold of her foot and yanked her back toward him, laughing uproariously as she collapsed in a heap next to him. It was a little while, but eventually Misao began laughing too. Both of them were conscious of the bond they had, a secret that was not really funny at all.
But they laughed anyway.
Misao woke to the stale scent of coal and the chilling morning air. Having nothing but a thin blanket and her own body heat, she felt especially cold.
She certainly hadn't been that cold the night before. The night before she had been…warm and safe, in Soujiro's arms.
No wonder she was so cold, then. Soujiro was nowhere to be found.
She called his name softly. The quiet sound cut through the floating morning air. She shrugged, and wasn't too alarmed when Soujiro offered no answer. He could be any place, but most likely he was getting them breakfast.
She sat up and kicked the blanket off of her, only sorry that she was freezing and there wasn't much that could be done about it. Maybe she'd walk for a while, get away from the trees where the sun could penetrate the thick layers of leaves and shine down on her. It didn't look exceptionally cloudy that day, and in Shizuoka it was rarely dropped to freezing temperature, even in winter.
Before Misao could contemplate her plan, she found that her feet were already moving. She was used to that. Her body followed her instincts and her mind just went along. It wasn't only her ninja upbringing, but her own personality as well. She realized, after a few more steps, that this was what Soujiro needed.
If he were to spend his days thinking so hard, how would he be able to journey onward? He needed to get on his feet and go.
Up ahead, Misao spotted a delicious splotch of sunshine. She hummed and continued toward it and was surprised to see that the clearing was much larger than it had looked from her path. She sat down against one of the trees, its shadow facing away from her, and happily soaked up the sunlight that fell across her lap.
A minute or so later, Misao jumped to attention at the sound of scuffing footsteps. Her eyes flashed dangerously and her hand was poised to grab her kunai if need be.
The footsteps grew louder and heavier as Misao grew more tense with the impending fight. In seconds she was on her feet, her eyes scanning the panorama around her.
She stood ready to jump just as the source of her anxiety made itself known.
Through the shrubbery and branches sprung none other than Senbei. Her short-time companion had found her again. Behind him was Makkou, and Misao felt a twang of guilt, different from when she had first spotted Senbei.
Out from her hands dropped the kunai, falling uselessly to the floor. Misao stood in shock, barely able to move. She was dimly aware of no longer being on her feet, but instead, her knees.
In front of her, Senbei stood at six feet, looking tearful and betrayed.
"S-Senbei…" Misao murmured.
"Misao," he uttered in return. His tone was not surprised, and neither was it joyful. His voice was hollow, but so clearly full of hurt. "Where did you go, Misao? Why did you leave me?"
Misao clenched her hands together and wrung the hem of her ragged skirt. "I…" she didn't have an answer. She didn't have the energy to stall. Most of all, she didn't want to lie to Senbei. She knew she had done him wrong. He had trusted her, and she had been happy to give him the chance to rely on someone, but instead she forgot about him. Misao could barely stand to think about it.
She was worse than the aunt Senbei had described. Her eyes widened. She was worse than Aoshi!
The very same thing Aoshi had done to her—the very thing that had all but torn her apart as a child—she had done it to someone else. Someone who was simpler, even more naïve than she had been.
"Senbei…I'm…" she couldn't even finish. Sorry? Had she wanted to hear that Aoshi was sorry when he left her? No. She couldn't just apologize. Senbei deserved more than an apology. She wished she had never met him, and instead he had met someone he could count on.
Misao tightened her hands around the cloth of her skirt. Liquid drops poured out of her eyes and her face was scrunched up in anger and regret. "I just…c-can't believe it…" she muttered. "I can't be…relied on…"
"Misao!" was Senbei's lament. His voice was gruff, harsher than she had ever heard.
She would not look up from the ground. In frustration, Senbei seized her by the shoulders and shook her whole body. "Why did you leave me, Misao?" his voice was racked with sobs. Big, weeping sobs. He shook her harder.
And even though Senbei was three times her size—even though he could easily rip her apart, accident or no, Misao did not have fear. She only felt an overwhelming sadness, shamefulness because she couldn't keep her promise. The promise that everyone needed to be held sacred, and she had broken it.
Senbei tossed her against the tree and came forward, grabbing her closer to the neck this time and jerking her around violently. She knew he didn't mean to hurt her, and he didn't realize how much his grip was tearing into her collar. She knew that all he wanted was to be heard. To be recognized and acknowledged.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said in a whisper. It could not be heard through Senbei's tantrum. His grip tightened, and Misao began to feel the pain. "Senbei I'm sorry—you're hurting me! I'm sorry, all right? I should never have—"
Her meager apology could not be heard by the raging giant of a man.
So Misao slumped down and let herself be yanked around like a rag doll. The pain was nearly insufferable, but so was her betrayal.
Quickly, her regret overcame the feeling of pain, just as Senbei was pushed away from her. She fell backward and strained to see. Senbei was sprawled out in front of her, blood dribbling down the side of his face.
She gasped and sat up quickly, noticing how much her ribs protested, but ignoring it all the same.
To her right stood Soujiro, his sword unsheathed, and his face clouded with an expression she had never seen. He was livid.
Senbei was struggling to sit up due to the deep gash in the side of his head, but before Misao could try and heal it—she owed him that much—Soujiro had struck again, and had not missed his target.
Blood poured steadily from the wound on Senbei's heart, and out of his mouth. He slumped back down, and Misao knew with a sickening feeling, that he was dead.
"Nooo!" she cried, but she failed to move.
Senbei was dead. After all she owed him, he was dead because of her.
Soujiro had killed him. The guilt washed over her, but the tides did not flow back again. The waves of remorse clutched at her throat, forcing the air away. Soujiro had sworn, not eight hours before, that he would never kill a living soul. He had done just that.
On account of her.
Fresh tears pushed down her cheeks. The density was so heavy that she could not see through them. That was just as well, because surrounding her and Soujiro were seven-odd fighters.
Misao let the tears crowd in front of her eyes, obscuring her vision. She did not leap up to join the fight. Instead, she slumped back, unconscious.
In her state of blackness, Misao did not see Soujiro's sword raised, his voice climbing to higher and higher volumes as he slashed his opponents. She did not see the blood that gushed from the bodies he carved.
Certainly, Misao did not see the moment or two after the fighting was over. The moment in which Soujiro blinked and looked around, sheathing his sword out of habit. When he dabbed at a blood splatter on his cheek, wondering if he had really…
Broken his vow.
Because of her.
Misao.
As Misao finished her story, she turned her eyes from empty space to her friend's faces. They looked concerned, sympathetic, anguished, and Misaoknew that all of them were just trying to cope with what she had said. She looked away again.
This wasn't something she had thought about. Was she disturbing their peace, their lived which they had patched together at last? Was her story going to be a burden to them? She didn't know, she didn't know.
"Misao," Kaoru spoke up softly. "I hope you'll agree to stay here for a while. I think... I think that you should."
Misao didn't say anything, but nodded. She had hoped that Kaoru would feel that way. She felt like she needed to be somewhere. Since that morning she had lost sense of what was real. She needed to stop moving.
Kaoru kindly helped her young friend up and led Misao to what would be her temporary room in the dojo. Misao walked dazedly. She could feel her friends' forlorn gazes behind her and hear their whispered words of concern. She closed her eyes as Kaoru guided her into her new room. Misao just wanted her thoughts to stop moving.
-
The next day was gray and overcast, and the civilians of Tokyo knew to expect rain.
Misao let herself be taken to Megumi's clinic. Kenshin and Naruku had been worried that Misao had sustained some kind of injury during her journey. They didn't really have to worry, Misao thought as she returned to the dojo with Sano. She hadn't gotten hurt. At least, not physically.
By the time Misao and Sano were rounding the last bend to the dojo the sky had darkened completely and fat droplets of rain splattered to the ground. They quickened their pace before it started to rain hard.
Misao noticed something different as she approached the gate to the dojo. She could hear Kaoru and the Kamiya Kasshin students in the drill hall and could see Kenshin and Naruku talking in hushed voices just outside the front door.
Misao felt Sano stiffen behind her, and that's when she spotted him. The rain poured around her and through it she could make out the kneeling figure of Soujiro.
Sano grabbed hold of Misao's shoulders so suddenly that she jumped. She realized that she must have started to fall, so put in shock at seeing Soujiro.
"You all right itachi?" Sano said into Misao's ear as he righted her. For once she did not mind the nickname.
She stood without his help and nodded very slowly, not caring whether Sano could see her answer or not. She simply stood there, raindrops slapping at her, drenching her completely. From across the courtyard Naruku looked up from her conversation with Kenshin and gasped when she saw Misao. Misao could see Naruku turning back to Kenshin, speaking more rapidly.
Misao took a deep breath and with Sano at her side she strode across the yard, past Soujiro and past Naruku and Kenshin to the dry inside.
Once she and Sano had reached the inside of the house, Misao exhaled, realizing that she had not once breathed the whole length of the yard. She turned and looked up at Sano in gratitude.
"I'm not ready to talk to him," Misao told him, not by way of explanation. Just so she could be sure that it was true.
Sano shrugged. "It's your call."
Misao could not stop herself from turning her head to stare back at Soujiro. She could see his face almost clearly, but it hurt to even look at him. The worst part was that Misao saw a true aching in the boy's eyes. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she could also see a strong, urging need.
Unable to take any more, Misao looked away, feeling her eyes fill up with tears. She looked back at the concerned face of Sanosuke, but didn't say anything as she turned on her heel and walked down the hall to her room.
Misao quickly rung herself out and changed into dry clothes because she knew that's what she was supposed to do. And she wanted to do normal things and not have to think. Her braid was coming loose because it was so sopping wet so she undid it completely. Then she re-braided it. The rhythmic motion of her hands was soothing and helped her to stop shaking.
She was just tying off the end of her braid when Naruku opened the door. She stood their, staring steadily at Misao.
"He's been their almost since you left for Megumi's," Naruku spoke. "He didn't say anything to us. Just sat there. And now that it's raining, he still hasn't moved. Not even to keep dry."
Misao didn't say anything, feeling herself get inwardly mad at Naruku. She felt that Naruku was trying to make her feel guilt or something because she wouldn't talk to Soujiro. But Naruku didn't know. She didn't know what it was like not being able to look at the only person her heart ached for.
"Could it be that Soujiro is feeling just as torn up about this as you are?" Naruku spoke again. "I know you're thinking that I'm trying to guilt you into talking to him, but I wouldn't want that. I would rather him just sit there than talk to a guilty Misao. I just couldn't tell if you knew why Soujiro is here."
Misao snapped her out of her angry thoughts towards her older friend. She was being stupid. Of course Naruku knew what it was like to feel something like that. Misao wondered how she could have gotten so wrapped up in her own problems. Naruku had gone through a betrayal like that before. Misao looked up at her friend, wondering if she could learn to snap back completely. Someday, wouldn't she be able to return to her old demeanor, to laugh and smile and really mean it, without thinking of her tragedy?
Misao was saddened when she realized she honestly didn't know.
-
Naruku didn't know why she felt so weak against Misao. She supposed it was because the two of them had always been strong together. Now they were weak together.
She let Misao sleep in, even though the girl wasn't physically sick. No, actually, Naruku didn't let Misao sleep in, she made a point of making Misao sleep in. She tiptoed around quietly, barked at Yahiko when he was too loud and told Kenshin to save soup for Misao when she awoke.
Naruku wasn't sure what made her want to do this. Was she protecting Misao against another day? Or was she protecting herself from seeing what Misao had become? Naruku realized that she wanted Misao to find herself as well. Almost as much as Misao wanted it. Naruku wasn't sure she could be herself if Misao wasn't. But as the day progressed, Naruku would come to realize she didn't understand how not to be herself—flaws and strengths alike. She had forgotten something she knew even as a small child. She had forgotten how to pretend. And she had forgotten how to lie.
In the hallway, Naruku was startled when the front door burst open. It was only Kenshin, going outside to start on the laundry. As the door swung open, Naruku looked down the hall and out into the courtyard and discovered one crucial detail. Soujiro was not there.
She dashed down the hall and outside before the door could close. It was fairly sunny outside, and the sky predicted good weather for the day, despite the showers they had brought the day before.
Naruku looked around the yard for any sign of Soujiro and she saw none. She looked over at Kenshin who was standing at the clothesline and looked back at her perplexed face. A light breeze lifted the ends of various bedclothes that were hanging to dry. Naruku shook her head and opened the front door again, retreating inside.
It didn't make any sense. Why would Soujiro leave after spending a devastatingly rainy night just standing out there. She knew he had stayed the entire night.
But why did he leave? Could he not bear to have Misao walk past him like that again? Naruku just couldn't make sense of it.
She headed for Misao's room and when she went inside she was surprised to see Misao already dressed and rolling up her futon. Naruku stood wordlessly in the doorway like she had done the day before.
It was a moment before Misao acknowledged her. "What is it, Naruku?" she asked, not in a completely unkind way.
Naruku pursed her lips. "Soujiro is gone."
It was then that Misao's head shot up and she dropped what she was doing. "What?" she exploded.
Naruku was taken aback. She had thought that Soujiro's absence would be a good thing in Misao's eyes. Unless…
Misao jumped to her feet, hurriedly swiping her hair away from her face. "No, he can't be gone!"
She sprinted past Naruku and down the hallway to outside, or so Naruku presumed.
Naruku wondered if Misao had been planning to talk to Soujiro that day and what she was going to say. Or if Misao had realized that she needed to see Soujiro only after Naruku told her that he had left. She heard the faint sound of the dojo gate crashing closed and Naruku knew that whatever the case, Misao was going to do anything in her power to find Soujiro again.
-
Misao was convinced that she had personally looked in every corner of Tokyo for Soujiro. Even the shadiest districts. Everywhere. The proof of this was that when Misao arrived back at the dojo much later that day, she hadn't even done it on purpose. She thought she had been going somewhere else. Her search for Soujiro had been fruitless, so Misao entered the dojo yard once again, disheartened.
Naruku, who was smiling, greeted her. "Misao," she said encouragingly. "I haven't seen you like that since Aoshi left."
Misao couldn't help but to smile, realizing that what Naruku said was true. That meant that Misao was returning to her old ways in some way.
"Do you want to spar, Naruku?" Misao asked, suddenly feeling energetic despite her hours of trekking through Tokyo.
Naruku looked surprised, but also happy. "Yes."
So right then in the courtyard amongst drying laundry and muffled yells of Kamiya Kasshin students, Misao and Naruku each got into defensive positions, grinning rather stupidly.
"Kyaa!" Misao said as she made the first strike. Naruku blocked and threw a blow back. The two of them began getting into the rhythm of how their many sparring matches were, their movements fluid and precise, and their bodies knowing exactly how to respond to each other. Since they had grown up together, they'd had matches like this too many times to count, and their techniques were used to each other.
"It's kind of strange, though, isn't it?" Naruku said as she blocked Misao's kick. "That Soujiro would leave so suddenly." She sent a kick to Misao's head but the girl ducked and tried to trip Naruku up.
In return Naruku jumped and kicked Misao's kneeling form over. The ninja girl regained her stance and charged once again.
"I mean, he braved a storm just to wait for you," Naruku went on, dodging Misao's rapid punches.
"I wish he had stayed a little longer," Misao admitted. "Because it took me so long to realize that I needed to talk with him." Yet, some part of Misao knew that Soujiro's disappearance was, at that moment, for the best.
A/N: I think that now this has more closure, I will be having a much easier time with this whole fic. Whew! Thank you to everyone who has or will review! It means a lot to me, that you'd spend time to try and help me, and tell me what I'm doing right so I can keep doing it! Again, I'm sorry to have to put you through this whole "Usashi didn't think things through enough and now has to go back and fix it!" ordeal. But I really needed it, and I stillneed your support!
