Their faces still haunted his nightmares. Their final words still rang sharply through his silences. The rage within him still burned as fiercely as a wildfire, yet his thirst for revenge had diminished. He hadn't given up; he'd simply let go. He was tired. Revenge was no longer an option he could look to. All his options had changed; especially when he stepped foot back in Kyoto after so many years and met her again.
Her.
He'd almost strode past her, oblivious at how much she'd changed. He'd have continued walking too had she not stopped him by calling out. Calling out in that very voice she'd had even as a young child. Of course it had matured, but it kept that same ring she'd always been able to enchant him with. Enchanted him she did, with her innocence, her life, her obliviousness to the cruelties of the world…
"Taking Misao-chan out today, Aoshi-sama?"
Aoshi shifted against the doorframe and glanced up at eh old man standing solemn and bent at the end of the stairs before him. He nodded, leaving his arms crossed, and allowing his gaze to fall to the floor.
"I finished reading the report you sent in about your activities in Tokyo,"
"I figured that much," Aoshi replied quietly.
Okina hobbled toward him. "I can see why you wanted to write it out rather than speak it out," Aoshi kept his gaze on the floor, his eyes tracing the pattern on the western like doormat. "I take it Misao is unaware?"
Aoshi stopped and lifted his gaze up, but stopped it at the wall in front of him. He was unable to meet the eyes of the man beside hi. "I haven't exactly told her yet,"
"Are you planning to?"
He hesitated. Was he? Was he willing to break the horrible truth about what happened to his friends to her? "She has an idea of what happened. She guessed that they finally found something they were happy to do. I left it at that."
Okina let out a mocking laugh. "You'd better tell her before the truth leaks out through the cracks in the walls,"
Aoshi didn't respond. He stood fixed by the door already growing uncomfortable in his green western style shirt and black slacks.
"Forget it, Omasu!" Aoshi and Okina turned abruptly to the top of the stairs and watched as Misao flew out of her room and out of Omasu and Okon's fearful girlish grasps laughing. She turned back to the two women, her hair flying wildly around her. "Aoshi-sama said I only needed to wear a kimono. He never said anything else about make up or fancy hairstyles or any other of that girly stuff!"
Okon sighed and tried to plead with Misao. "But I'm sure that he'd appreciate it if you did!"
"It's fine, Okon," Aoshi said quietly.
Okon looked down, surprised that she had managed to hear that. She blushed and quickly grabbed hold of Omasu's upper arms and pulled her away. "O—Okay, Aoshi-sama. Sorry to have kept Misao-chan from you," They dashed down the hall and out of sight leaving Misao to deal with the two men before her.
Aoshi returned his gaze to Misao who was leaning against the stair rails and smiling down at him. He looked away, embarrassed, for a moment, and then returned her gaze. She looked pretty. A simple white kimono with a mustard green obi.
Okina clapped his hands and spoke as if no interaction between Aoshi and himself had occurred. "Ah! My pretty Misao! How…pretty you look!"
Misao pouted, attempting to hide her blush behind her long curtain of hair. When Aoshi had asked her if she wanted to go into town together with him next week, everyone who worked in the restaurant and people who were in the restaurant had managed to find out. Regular customers had started musing about how they remembered Misao as a young child sitting on Aoshi's lap, begging for a story. She descended the stairs and moved to stand beside Aoshi. "Thanks, Jiya," she turned back to Aoshi, tugging at his arm. "C'mon, Aoshi-sama! Before the market place gets all crowded!"
He willingly gave into her and followed her out the door. As they walked, Misao ranted on about all the tiny western shops opening up around town. There were some that sold candy, some books, some clothes, and, her personal favorites, porcelain dolls and music boxes. He attempted to listen. He watched the open smile dancing about her lips, the laughter that freely freed itself from her throat, and the happiness that occupied her eyes. He cherished it all; trying to memorize it all before one expression left and was overcome by another. His mind wandered.
Did he want to erase all these joyful emotions permanently from her face? Did he never want to see her smile again? Should he leave her in dark about what had really happened to Hannya, Beshimi, Hyottoko, and Shikijo? Was that fair of him? Was that fair to her?
"Aoshi-sama!" her voice once again enchanted him and brought him away from his dark, haunting thoughts. "There's a little book store from a city called Rome in Europe. There was a book there that had the prettiest pictures and I want to show them to you."
She pulled on his arm and smiled again. He stared back, his expression gentle, and took her hand. She led him through the crowding streets, and toward a small unfamiliar building.
She was all he had left. The one thing that he had left to obsess over. There was no revenge. No comrades to take care of. No men to look after and make sure they got respectful places in society. That was all dead. War was dead. Peace was 'here' or so it seemed. All he could count on from now on was her face to be among those he cared about. Alive. She was the only face that he could count on being alive.
I have made a vow never to finish stories by typing them on the computer. They always come out as crap when i do that. Starting next chapter, they'll be written out first. Two more chapters.