The one indulgence Aoshi Shinomori allowed himself was to hear his wife speak. Not just her words, but her over-exaggerated gestures, the faces that she made, and every subtle shift in her body. Even in the middle of a meeting, he would sometimes lose his focus, only seeing her infectious grin or relish in her bubbly laughter. Oftentimes, he caught Okina slanting him an exasperated glare at his inattention, but he couldn't help himself, knew it really wasn't like his usual self. She was like good sake, snaking through his system with just the right amount of warmth to be relaxing.
He had sake once and it had heated his entire body. Misao cause the same reaction to him every time he was near her. He didn't think the comparison was that off.
Of course, he would never tell anyone. That would be suicidal. It would just make everyone tease him even more. It would probably also encourage Okina to drink, just for experiment's sake.
" … It seems as though there are increasing reports of rogue shinobi operating within the bigger cities. It's been raising concerns with government officials," Misao was saying, reading a report while summarizing it for the benefit of the two men in the office with her. She glanced up at Okina, her adopted grandfather and most trusted advisor. "What do you think that means?"
Okina stroked his white beard carefully as he pondered the information. "Hmm, I'm not sure. It could be these rogue shinobi are becoming more active for some nefarious purpose. If that's the case, it may be wise to send someone to investigate this matter further."
Misao studied the scroll in her hand, brow puckered in concentration. "Hmm. I see what you mean. Even if this is a basic estimate, the sheer number of them is staggering."
"Since the end of the Revolution, there aren't that many uses left for shinobi," Okina said thoughtfully. "Instead of dying out, they would rather abandon their group and turn rogue."
Okina didn't have to add 'Just as the Oniwabanshu might have done'. But after the ordeal with Shishio and just how close the bandaged manslayer had come to burning down their beloved Kyoto, Misao and the rest of the group found a new calling in protecting their city and home. Even in an era of peace, there were still people determined to do anything to gain their own goals with no regards to the people they hurt in the process. With the Meiji government's unofficial backing, the Oniwabanshu now gathered intelligence to keep track of those who would constitute a threat to the peace.
If Aoshi or Okina found their new situation ironic, seeing as they were enemies of the fledging government not fifteen years ago, they never said anything.
Misao tapped a finger on her desk absently. "If they decide to do something drastic, even we won't have the manpower to stop them. You're right, Jiya, we need to find out what's going on before we can do something about it. I think I should send Omasu and Shiro. They've worked together on missions like these before and were pretty successful in getting the necessary information. What do you think, Aoshi-sama?"
Luckily, Aoshi managed to catch the tail end of the conversation, thanks to a well-timed kick from Okina. "That sounds fine, Misao," he said.
Misao nodded in satisfaction and scribbled a note on the paper before going onto the next scroll. "All right, then we're half-way done. Next is …"
"Next is when you two are going to give me some great-grandchildren," Okina interrupted. "You two have been married for over a year and I'm not getting any younger. Hurry up and get her pregnant already, Aoshi!"
"Jiya!" Misao shrieked, turning an alarming shade of red. She slapped the scroll in her hand down on the desk, glaring at the old man. "That's none of your business, you old pervert!"
"Hah, it is definitely my business because it's up to you two to produce the next generation of Makimachi-Shinomori children," Okina shot back. "He or she will represent the future of the Oniwabanshu. Are you two having regular s–"
"Jiya!" Misao nearly leapt over the table to clap a hand over the old man's mouth. "Don't say another word," she hissed before sneaking a quick glance at her husband to see how he was taking it.
Of course, Aoshi didn't look perturbed. At all. He hadn't even moved from his position.
Okina, despite his frail countenance, managed to pry Misao's fingers off his mouth. Not an easy feat, considering how desperately she wanted to keep him silent. "Now, now, my pretty Misao, don't get so upset. I was just thinking of the future, that's all." He sighed and added sadly, "Of course, I can't force you two to fulfill an old man's last wish …"
Aoshi reached over and plucked Misao away before she strangled her grandfather. Out loud, he said calmly, "It will happen when it is the right time, Okina. Now, shall we get back to the rest of the paperwork?"
Luckily, the rest of the morning went a little more smoothly.
After the meeting, Aoshi escaped to the temple to meditate while Okina left to terrorize the more comely looking patrons of the Aoiya. Misao sighed glumly as she saw all the paperwork strewn across her desk. She hadn't realized just how much work it took to be Okashira. If she had known it would mean being buried alive under parchment, she would have reconsidered.
Okay, maybe not. But seriously, was there enough paper in Kyoto to support the Oniwabanshu as they continued to monitor various situations as they arose?
Heaving a self-pitying sigh, Misao reached for the annual budget report for the Aoiya that supported said Oniwabanshu activities. If she didn't finish this by dinnertime, both Jiya and Okon would have her head.
Unfortunately, just looking at the numbers made her head swim. Misao was certain she would end up cross-eyed by tonight.
The cross-eyed Okashira. Her grandfather would be so proud.
Someone knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for an answer. "My pretty Misao, I almost forgot to tell you. I'm going to need the report logs for the past two weeks by tomorrow." Okina leveled a stern look in her direction. "You have been keeping up with them like I told you, right?"
Reports logged for the past two weeks? Keep up? Hah! Misao mustered what she hoped was a confident smile. "Uh, sure, Jiya. By tomorrow."
Okina eyed her for a long moment as if debating whether or not to call her bluff. Evidently, he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt because he nodded and ducked back out.
As soon as he was gone, Misao groaned and let her head fall onto her desk. Now she was going to be up all night recording those stupid logs. Who thought up the idea to log reports anyway? If they fell into enemy hands, the Oniwabanshu was in trouble as it recorded all the information they gathered and the actions taken in response to it. Was that really so wise?
Well, she was the Okashira. All she had to do was decree that it was a stupid, dangerous practice and she would no longer allow it. There. Good as done.
Okina popped his head into the room again without warning, causing Misao to jump and hit her knee against her desk. He tsked at her yelp of pain. "Shinobi – especially shinobi leaders – don't get accidental bruises, Misao."
The young Okashira glowered at her grandfather. Most people would run to their precious grandchildren to kiss their booboo but noooo, hers had to be different. "Was there something else you needed, Jiya?" she asked through clenched teeth as she mournfully rubbed her offended knee.
"Hmm? Oh, yes! Don't think you can get out of those report logs. You already tried to do that once by declaring it was dangerous to leave records lying around."
She did?
"But remember, if we don't have those logs, we can't use them as references in the future. That's all, my pretty Misao." He grinned and fingered the pink bow adorning his silver goatee. "Have fun!" He vanished again, leaving his poor grandchild alone to do endless work.
Was it too late to step down as the Okashira?
-------------
Now
Misao had always hated getting up early; after all, she was a shinobi and shinobi thrived in the dark (at least that was the excuse she gave to Okina during the times she overslept; for some reason, he never seemed to accept it). But these days, she found it more than necessary to wake up around dawn to keep up with everything that had been happening. So when she awoke, the sun had barely peeked over the horizon and the room was still dark. Beside her, she could hear Aoshi's steady breathing that was occasionally interrupted by a hiss of pain. She winced whenever she heard it, wondering how he could possibly sleep when his body was still racked with injuries. She was convinced it was only his strong constitution and determination that kept him from succumbing to the ever-present pain.
She had only slept a few hours, still too paranoid to sleep much, making her even more tired than ever. With a sigh, Misao finally wriggled out of the warm futon, careful not to wake her slumbering husband. In the chill of the early dawn, she fumbled to shed her sleeping yukata and pull on her usual outfit. Quickly, quietly, and efficiently, she scrubbed her face clean, swished around salted water to brush her teeth, and combed and braided her long hair. Finally feeling ready, she felt her way to the door, slid the shoji open, and stepped out.
The night guard was still standing in attention and bowed as he saw her. "Okashira-sama," he said softly, respectfully.
Misao nodded to him in return. "Good morning, Yoshi," she whispered. "Aoshi-sama is still sleeping so please keep an eye on him."
She could tell he was surprised – at what? she was too tired to care else she would have asked – but covered his reaction up hastily. He nodded. "Of course, ma'am."
"Good. Anything to report?"
"No, ma'am. Nothing suspicious. Master Okina stepped out for a little in the late evening, said he was going to the garden. He came back shortly afterward and no one has stirred since then."
Misao briefly wondered if the old man was having difficulty sleeping still, especially after all that had happened. She would have to check up on him later today. After all, Jiya was getting older and his health was frailer than he would admit to. "All right. Keep up the good work." She turned to head down the stairs and to her office.
Once inside her domain, Misao sat down and reached for the constant paperwork demanding her attention. She took a deep breath to focus her mind on the tasks at hand, blocking everything else out as she began to read the reports accumulated from the night before. Her attention was so complete that she didn't even hear the knock on the door until the shoji slid open and Okina poked his head in.
"Breakfast, Misao," he said gently, noticing the furrowed brow as she read some scroll.
Misao waved his words aside with a distracted gesture. "I'll eat later," she said absently. "Jiya, come look at this. Why would anyone need to buy two hundred bolts of black cloth and order extra sets weapons?"
Okina frowned and stepped to her side, peering over her shoulder as he scanned the report. "Hmm, it's from the Tokyo branch of the Oniwabanshu." He leaned in closer and blinked. "It's been ordered from the black market?"
Misao nodded, absently swatting aside his beribboned goatee that tickled her cheek as he bent down. "It's a report that came in yesterday evening from Sugarplum."
Okina snorted at the ridiculous codename as he straightened up. "Sugarplum?"
The Okashira rolled her eyes. "Don't ask me. That's what he wanted to be called. It's probably his weird idea of sarcasm. Anyway, our 'sweet' Sugarplum thought this would be of interest to us, seeing as he didn't think we needed this much equipment. He knows most of the branches are used for reconnaissance only. Tokyo is no exception." She didn't have to add that not only was it highly unusual to order such things without prior approval, but suspicious as well.
"How odd," Okina mused. "If the Tokyo branch ordered it, they had to know it would catch someone's attention. Such a large quantity is bound to make people ask questions."
"Especially since it's going to end up in the budget report that's sent to me. According to Sugarplum, it was bought in the black market through appropriate channels. Meaning they used the Oniwabanshu contacts and money."
Okina stroked his goatee, deep in thought. "Very strange indeed. I wonder what justification they would give for it? No one in the Oniwabanshu has need for all that material and weapons." He didn't voice the idea running through both their heads: the Tokyo branch may also be turning rogue.
Misao shrugged. "Only one way to find out." She stood up. "I'll head out there myself and assess the situation. I believe the shinobi in charge of Tokyo is Oroko. Arrange a meeting with her tomorrow night at the usual place. I'll the take the afternoon train."
Okina placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a grandfatherly smile. "Misao, I appreciate the hands-on approach you want to take as the Okashira, but this isn't something you have to do. In fact, you'll be needed here more than Tokyo. You'll do better to send Okon instead."
Misao scowled, shrugging off the hand. "I can't keep just sending my people out without doing anything myself. Besides, if shinobi from the Tokyo branch are turning against us, I want to be there myself to see what's going on."
The old man sighed at her stubbornness. "You're the leader of the Oniwabanshu now, Misao. You can't do whatever you please anymore. You have to do what's best for your people. And in this case, it's obvious someone else can handle it. After all, it's just gathering information." Okina paused, sliding a speculative gaze on her face. "And besides, who will take care of Aoshi while you're gone? He's gotten even more impossible to handle since … well, you know."
The fierce scowl on Misao's face was so reminiscent of how she had acted a mere three weeks earlier that it tugged at Okina's heart. He missed how she used to be, her genki-ness and her joy, but he could understand how the attack changed her into such a somber person. Misao had finally realized just how responsible she was for everyone's life. The assault on her beloved Aoshi opened her eyes to see that truth and she was now becoming the responsible leader he had always hoped she would be.
But Okina still missed her smile and bubbly personality that made Misao special. He always would, but right now, the Oniwabanshu needed her was she was: focused, driven, fiercely protective of her people and aware of the situation surrounding them. If they expected to survive, they would need the famed Makimachi strength to carry them through, just as it had during the turbulent pre-Revolution era.
"All right, Jiya, I'll send Okon," Misao said finally, breaking into his thoughts. "But be warned, I don't intend to stay behind this desk forever. If something is going to happen, I plan to be right there."
Okina beamed at his granddaughter. It was nice to know that Misao now actually listened to the good advice given. "We'll discuss that situation when it comes to it. Right now, you need to eat breakfast before you get back to work. Making decisions on an empty stomach has caused many a leader embarrassing consequences in the past."
Misao eyed the old man as she was forcefully pushed to the door. "You just made that up to get me to eat."
Okina snorted. "If you don't believe me, ask Aoshi about the time he nearly signed papers enabling the citizens to raid the Edo castle kitchen should there become a shortage of food during the Revolution. And this was after he refused to eat breakfast, stating the war needed his attention more than his stomach."
Misao had to bite back a snort of derision. "Aoshi-sama wouldn't have been so stupid as to do that, even if he was hungry."
The old man raised his eyebrows at her unswerving loyalty, trying to hide his smile. "Just ask him, Misao. I guarantee that it'll be one of the very few times you'll see him blush."
"I will." There was brief silence as they headed towards the kitchen. Then, "Jiya, are you all right?"
The concern in her voice was enough for Okina to raise his eyebrows at his granddaughter who refused to look at him in the eye. Where had this question come from? "Never felt better! Why?" He puffed his chest out to show his strength, though it was a wasted gesture as Misao was gazing elsewhere.
"Yoshi said you went to the garden last night."
Okina frowned. Yoshi? Oh, right, the night sentry guarding Aoshi and Misao.
Misao continued, not noticing his expression. "You only do that when you're planting or worrying. I just wanted to make sure everything is okay." They had stopped just short of the entrance to the kitchen and she finally turned her gaze at him. For a moment, she looked more like a vulnerable child than the confident Okashira persona she had been projecting. "With Aoshi-sama still hurt and in pain, I need you more than ever. To help me and all."
Okina couldn't speak for a moment, remembering that Misao was, in essence, still a child and new at this. He could recognize the heavy burden placed on her untried shoulders that demanded far more wisdom than she had at her age. "Don't worry, my pretty Misao," he finally managed to say. "I'm not going anywhere." Then, because it was just too weird to be this serious as advisor to Okashira instead of grandfather to granddaughter, he offered her a leery grin. "Besides, I'm still waiting for my great-grandchild to be born. You will be a dutiful girl and give me a few of them, won't you?"
Instead of a fiery blush and maybe some head smacking that Okina expected, Misao only looked more thoughtful. "We'll work on it, Jiya." And with that, she stepped into the kitchen.
AN: Please see my profile for update status on this story and others.